#maybe this bat guy is just. tired of humans

[envysparkler]

“Do you really know Wonder Woman?” Jason asked, peering at the trophies that were spread throughout the Cave.  There were rows and rows of costumes, Batman and Robin both, and Jason was reminded all over again that Bruce had been doing this for years.  Jason didn’t remember a time before Batman, he’d seemed as ubiquitous as the smog that choked the streets right up until he’d slammed a tire iron into the mass of shadows and learned about the human underneath.  “I mean, personally?  Outside of crime fighting?”

He might’ve believed Batman knew Wonder Woman, but Bruce Wayne had always seemed like a bit of an idiot, and watching him attempt to blearily cut pancakes with a fork and spoon this morning had only confirmed it.

“Yes, Jason,” Bruce sounded amused from all the way over by the Batcomputer.  “I know Diana.  This is the fifth time you’ve asked me that question, by the way.”

Jason rolled his eyes.  So maybe it was, but he wasn’t convinced!  “I don’t know, B,” Jason said, wrinkling his nose up at a brilliantly colored peacock of a costume with a high, flared collar and a deep neckline.  “I’m still waiting on some proof.”

“Mh-hmm,” Bruce said.  “Is that what you came down here for?  To pester me into letting you meet Wonder Woman?”

“No!” Jason whirled on him in a tone of deep outrage.  That was a secondary goal, he just didn’t want to miss an opportunity.  “Alfred said you wanted to see me.”

Bruce blinked, before his face light up with comprehension.  “Oh, yes, I nearly forgot!  I have something for you.”  Jason trotted over to the Batcomputer to watch Bruce rummage through a stack of files.  He darted a quick glance at the computer, but whatever Bruce had been working on was closed.

The man hadn’t forbade him from entering the Cave after Jason had Figured Out the Secret—read: caught Bruce dressing the massive bruise across his stomach, which on its own wasn’t suspicious, but with Bruce’s wide-eyed look of guilt and surprise, assembled the pieces together—but Jason didn’t want to test the limits.  So far, he only wandered where Bruce let him, even though he was itching to get his hands on those bat-shaped throwing stars.

“Here,” Bruce emerged with an envelope, which Jason took with a healthy degree of wariness.  It was Gotham, where ordinary packages meant fear toxin or laughing gas or a hundred other deadly gags.  “Go on, open it!”

Jason considered it for another long moment, but decided that Bruce hadn’t rigged it to explode.  He opened the envelope and peeked inside.

“This is money,” Jason stated, staring at the cash.  The bills all looked like twenties, and there was at least twenty of them in there.  Probably closer to five hundred dollars.  He looked up at Bruce, who was smiling tentatively at him, and carefully didn’t touch any of the bills.  “Uh, what’s this for?”

“It’s an allowance.”

“An allowance?” Jason stared, puzzled at the envelope.  He’d heard of allowances—Sandra from next-door-before-he-lived-on-the-streets had gotten ten bucks each week for watching her baby siblings and Ty from the-first-foster-home had gotten some spending cash if he did his chores, but Mom never had the money to spare to pay Jason to help around the house.

Not a problem for a guy as rich as Bruce, but Jason hadn’t done any chores here.  Much less five hundred dollars’ worth of chores.

“Is it enough?” Bruce asked, looking concerned.  Enough?  Enough for what?

Before Jason could open his mouth to respond, the Batcomputer emitted a shrill alert and Bruce’s countenance changed completely, going from an open, soft smile, to something harder and focused.

“I’m sorry, Jason, I have to get this,” Bruce said, not looking away from the screen.  “Why don’t you head up for bed?  And let me know if you need more.”

Jason knew better than to interrupt him and he headed up the stairs as Bruce began speaking in a low voice to someone who sounded like Commissioner Gordon.  He didn’t realize he’d taken the envelope with him until he reached his room.

He set it down on his dresser.  Bruce hadn’t told him what he had to do to earn his allowance, and Jason didn’t want to touch it until he confirmed it wasn’t like, shoveling shit or something.  He’d ask him tomorrow.

But part of him was still warmed by the gesture.  Bruce was treating him like he was his real kid, not like a foster kid only around for a stipend or to look charitable in the eyes of other people.  Jason flopped down on his bed and considered, not for the first time, how lucky he was.

He had a huge mansion to live in, and he got to go to a fancy school starting Monday, and he apparently got five hundred dollars just for doing his chores.

#my snippets #bruce&jason #baby jason gets his first allowance #from a billionaire #this is totally not a suspicious amount of cash or anything #deleted scene from paying dues

[cherrysnax]

Demeter is afraid of bats so their main villian is gonna be this like. mad scientist who prolly created the spiders that bit her who is prolly experimenting on themselves to become some sort of bat creature.. like man-bat and the lizard mixed together but I don’t think this guy is in anyway sympathetic. he’s obsessed with evolution, he’s bored of humanity he’s prolly obsessed with spider-man (whichever spider-man exists in this universe is probably going to die or sumn 😭)

#I remember this one persons idea for man-bat in which he was actually turning his wife into the bat in order to #‘’cure’’ her deafness against her will as a way to critique ableism and white guy entitlement in the next #next batman which is very interesting but like. also man #I tire of this character is a villain because of disability #maybe this bat guy is just. tired of humans #oooh im thinking bro does shit like slicing from Batman beyond #but both animals and humans are dying from the experiments #except for Demeter #yes im ripping a villain from show your spine but changing him completely #bro is obsessed with evolution and believes that Demeter belongs to him #he made them what they are when you know. they came to the wrong place got bit got killed and woke up again #its his spiders blood running thru their veins #oh yeah btw Demeter has to drink blood. she’s going a little crazy lol #Demeter and the mortician that she meets end up becoming shaky friends because the mortician wasn’t aware at all wHat was going on at this #company and now wants to help demeter take the #*take them down for some reason #ofc that’s just one villain but uhhhh omg plots #I already know the majority of semesters backstory too ^_^ #chevys making a prowler sona because they’re obsessed with hobie rn #so fun man #ask to tag

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 2)

—

Tw: canon-typical violence (Batman), emetophobia at one point

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

Danny sat in the back of one of the transport trucks currently on the way to Arkham, his hands in his lap.

So far, everything was going to plan.

About a quarter of the team had gotten themselves admitted into Arkham in the days leading up to the raid, carefully sneaking in supplies and weapons for both themselves and the rogues they were going to free.

Half of the team was on trucks, ready to storm the building with their fancy new tech. A couple others were keeping an eye out for the Bats, and the last one was holed up in a recently condemned building, ecto-modified sniper rifle in hand, ready to fire.

Danny’s hands were cold.

He hadn’t always run cold, from what he remembered. Even after he died—hell, even after he started developing his ice powers—he had always been warm.

Now, though, his body was freezing.

Maybe it was because of the ecto siphoning he and Derringer had done the day before.

He couldn’t make the ecto guns work without fueling them, after all, and the only ectoplasm he had access to was the stuff inside his body. So, he had Derringer hook him up to a GiW machine and filter the ecto out of his blood.

The process was excruciating.

Not only did he get light-headed from the loss of fluids, the machine also chilled his blood considerably during the filtering process, and when it was pumped back into his body, it was freezing. Derringer had to cover him with heating pads and thick blankets to get him to stop shaking.

Still, that had been a little over eighteen hours ago, so that probably wasn’t it.

Maybe it was just another side affect of his time with the GiW.

Overuse of his ghostly wail, he had realized earlier, was the reason that he had lost his voice permanently. Maybe he had accidentally used his ice too many times the same way, and now his body was irrevocably changed. Maybe warmth was just another tiny privilege he had taken for granted, that had now been lost forever.

Danny stared down at his hands.

Maybe his body had just given up entirely on keeping him warm, on pretending to be human.

“Kid, you alright? We’re almost there.”

Derringer’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Danny signed, “just tired. And cold.”

“We’ve got to get you a jacket, kid,” Derringer said, “it’s not even winter and I already have to worry about you freezing to death.”

“I died a long time ago, it’s fine.”

“No,” one of the other men in the truck drawled, “it means you’ve got to be extra careful. You’ve got a second chance at living, so you better not screw it up.”

“What did he say?”

“Danny thinks that because he’s died before, he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death.”

The truck went quiet for a few moments. Most of the guys in there didn’t know he had died before. He didn’t exactly like to advertise the fact.

“I have a cousin who had a heart attack, and it only made his heart worse,” one of the guys near the front of the truck offered.

“See, kid?” Derringer said, “I’m right. As soon as this is over, you’re getting a jacket.”

Danny crossed his arms, slumping over in his seat with a huff.

A few moments later, a loud clang echoed through the truck. Danny jolted, almost falling out of his seat.

The door opened, the driver looking at them with boredom written all over his face.

“Alright, up and at em. It’s go time,” he mumbled, smacking the door loudly for emphasis. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”

They all stood, hopping out of the truck and making their way to the fence line.

Danny moved his hand to the bandolier on his chest, fingers brushing against the small ecto-bombs he had attached to it.

There were five of them, their bodies made of tempered glass and black steel, and they glowed a sickly green in the night. They were designed mainly for combat; he had a few larger ones meant to blow a hole in a wall in his backpack, which was securely zipped shut.

His hand then drifted to the holster on his left side, and the ecto-gun nestled securely within it.

Most of his parents’ inventions were far too big and bulky to be practical in any real combat setting, so he had downsized them considerably. The weapon he had was modeled after a standard glock pistol, matte black paint covering the GiW white of the gun’s body.

The gun should be able to fire around fifty shots a minute without overheating, which was more than enough for Danny. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fire a single round tonight. However, for whatever reason, the words should and hopefully didn’t inspire much confidence in him.

Danny followed the group as they snuck up to the facility, Derringer by his side.

Originally, neither of them were going to go on the raid, but someone on the patient list had caught Danny’s eye, so he decided he would investigate in person. Derringer was just along for the ride because Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t willing to lose an asset as valuable as Danny.

Danny would make it up to the bodyguard later, he decided.

Entering Arkham was, all things considered, pretty easy. Mr. Cobblepot had connections to a few of the orderlies, and it was all too easy to convince them to “forget” a few steps in setting up the security system for the night.

However, since nothing can ever just be simple, they ran into an unexpected patrol of nightshift guards just a few minutes after all splitting up to find the rogues.

Danny and Derringer were able to take them down pretty quickly, but not before they sounded the alarms. And, according to a few guys on the comms, they weren’t the only ones to run into guards where they shouldn’t be.

“They must have changed their patrols,” Derringer huffed, spinning the pistol in his hands, “c’mon, let’s go see about freeing our good friend Victor Fries.”

Danny nodded, scampering after the man as he sprinted through the halls.

The inmates, who had woken up from the loud alarm’s continuous blaring, shouted at them from their cells. Danny’s pulse was loud in his ears, drowning everything out.

Distantly, he wondered if those guards were going to die. Maybe they were dead already.

He supposed that it didn’t really change much if they were.

Soon, they were at the cell. It was custom-built to hold Mr. Freeze, constantly kept at subzero temperatures to avoid killing him.

Derringer hefted his bag off of his back, pulling out the suit and freeze gun that Mr. Cobblepot had procured. As he did so, Danny took a few of the larger ecto-bombs and placed them on the joints of the door.

They carefully moved away, putting some distance between themselves and the door, and Danny detonated it.

The explosion was loud. It shook the entire building, the shockwave knocking Danny to the floor.

Danny brought his hand up to his safety goggles, yanking a small piece of metal shrapnel out of them and dropping it on the floor. He was dimly aware of more pieces sticking out of his kevlar suit. Derringer was similarly peppered with metal, luckily uninjured as well.

They had come from the body and mechanism of the bomb, he realized. He’d have to fix that later.

Mr. Freeze emerged from the cell a few moments later, a scowl on his face. Derringer quickly shoved the suit and freeze gun into his hands and he retreated back into the cell for a few moments, getting dressed.

“I could have died from that, you know,” he hissed. “Killed by some amateurs with shoddy explosives.”

“The Penguin sent us,” Derringer said, ignoring the man’s clear annoyance, “our getaway car is outside. If you’d come with us…”

Mr. Freeze nodded sternly.

“Hurry up, then.”

Derringer and Danny hurried out, Mr. Freeze right behind them. Then, at a certain hallway, Danny paused.

He had to check.

“Kid,” Derringer barked, “we have to go.”

Danny shook his head.

“You go,” he signed, hands trembling, “I have to check.”

“Oh, what’s the problem now?” Mr. Freeze asked, his frown more pronounced by the minute.

“Danny…” Derringer sighed, “Danny thinks his sister might be in here. He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s the whole reason he was a part of the Arkham raid, actually.”

Mr. Freeze paused for a moment.

“Well, lead the way, then,” he said, clearly regretting his words as soon as he said them. Danny just nodded, scurrying forward, the other two men close behind him.

They came to the right cell quickly. Danny looked in through the glass, and he felt a piece of himself shatter.

That was Jazz, his sister, sitting in a padded wall wearing a straightjacket and a muzzle.

She didn’t bother looking up at them as they arrived, not stirring even when Danny slammed his hands on the door to get her attention.

Shakily, he attached an ecto-bomb to the door, hoping with all his might that she wouldn’t get hurt.

The door blew open, and Danny rushed in.

Jazz’s head swiveled to look up at him, her eyes narrowed.

He slipped the goggles up and his bandanna down, exposing his face as he came to kneel beside her.

Slowly, her expression shifted to shock.

“Jazz,” he creaked, his broken vocal chords cracking painfully as he spoke, “it’s me.”

She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Danny?”

He nodded, pulling her into a hug, careful not to let the shrapnel dig into her skin.

“I thought you were…”

“Very heartwarming,” Mr. Freeze snapped, “but now isn’t the time. We’ve got to go, now.”

Jazz nodded, leaping to her feet. Danny stood as well, slipping his mask and bandanna back on, and grabbing onto one of her arms for support.

They left the cell, Danny doing a double-take as he saw the frozen-over pathway that they had just come from. He looked to Mr. Freeze, tilting his head questioningly.

“There were guards,” he said flatly. “Now hurry up, we need to get out of here.”

Derringer grabbed the two of them, dragging them along as he sprinted through the hallways. They had to take a bit of a detour, coming out of the main entrance instead of the side one they had entered.

Unfortunately, there was an active gunfight going down.

Danny was roughly pulled behind a desk, just barely dodging a few rounds.

His hands shook as he pulled a small ecto-bomb from his bandolier, priming it and throwing it at a small grouping of night guards. They cried out as the pure ectoplasm collided with them, covering their bodies in burns.

The smell, while familiar to Danny, was still horrific.

They took a few shots off at the night guards, trying to take them down. Their group was efficient, but with the rate they were going at, it wasn’t going to be enough. Only adding to that, the gun Mr. Cobblepot had prepared for Mr. Freeze had broken after just a few uses, leaving them unable to create an ice wall.

Then, Danny heard the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off behind them, and his vision went white.

He grabbed onto Jazz and Derringer, making them intangible right as the night guard opened fire.

Waves of nausea hit him all at once and he doubled over, his vision swimming. Danny was only dimly aware of Jazz taking the guard down with a high kick right to the head, and Derringer pulling him into a protective hold.

Ignoring everything, he pulled the last of the large bombs from his bag, throwing it into the air, pulling everyone behind the desk.

The entire room went white.

Danny’s ears rung as he scrambled out from behind the reception desk, dragging Jazz with him.

Luckily, none of the hired hands on his team had gotten injured, but the guards…

Danny looked away, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.

It was fine. He was fine. Everything would be okay.

The next few minutes were a blur. He knew that he had puked only a few seconds after they had left the building, and that Derringer had picked him up afterwards, carrying him to the truck with Mr. Freeze and Jazz in tow.

Danny’s entire body was wracked with tremors, an unbearable phantom pain passing through the still-healing surgical wounds in his head and torso like lightning. He dry-heaved, shivering uncontrollably.

They drove off soon after. Luckily, no one had been left behind. Someone, probably Derringer, helped Danny rinse out his mouth and got him a bottle of water to drink, wrapping him in his jacket.

As soon as the truck doors were opened within one of Mr. Cobblepot’s safehouses, Danny became aware of the sound of wailing.

Hopping out of the truck, most of his mind still far away, he saw a man being rolled out of the room on a stretcher. He was one of the people who had been on the other truck, Danny realized.

Beside him was a teenager, probably only a few years younger than Danny, who was screaming and crying uncontrollably. They wailed at Mr. Cobblepot, who only stood there with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Oh shit,” Derringer breathed. Danny pulled on his sleeve, tilting his head at him questioningly.

“The guy on the stretcher, that’s his sibling.”

Danny just stared, a hollow feeling deep in his chest.

Jazz, her arms now freed from the straightjacket, pulled him away from the scene. Danny let her.

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #vengeful danny #villain danny #btw Danny’s just cold because he has an iron deficiency. lmao #girl this is what happens when you don’t eat for two years. you get deficiencies. now stop angsting and eat your veggies #also my descriptions of the ecto filter come from donating blood plasma + platelets #Danny is Going Through It™️ #btw I’m finishing this chapter at 3:03 am #just in case you thought I didn’t care about you all #btw the guy who’s injured’s sibling is a surprise tool that will help us later #also I was totally gonna kill Derringer at first. btw #but y’all avoided that with the poll. also it would have been a bit cheap imo

[nelkcats]

Danny and Vlad didn't get along so badly anymore, seriously, well, at least they're not supposed to, that doesn't stop him from persecuting Danny from time to time with proposals about being his mentor and he would claim child support in return.

For Danielle more than anything, he loved his "cousin" but he couldn't keep up with her travel purchases, nor provide her with basic necessities and Vlad was a millionaire, he should be able to do that at least.

They were arguing, as was normal, they just didn't realize they had an audience, and that their discussions could be misinterpreted, very badly, even more so because they were in human form.

Jason was considering taking one of the guns off of him while an adult he was sure he had seen at one of Bruce's galas yelled at his neighbor to go with him, his neighbor who looked very tired and on despair, but was a good guy and offered him Cocoa from time to time, the neighbor who never asked questions about his nocturnal habits but still offered help.

His neighbor, Danny, who was his friend outside the bats eye, with whom he laughed, had deep conversations and made bad jokes about death, who had started reading Pride and Prejudice for him despite hating literature for a bad experience. The one who had cried over him for not being born in the right body while he asked him to take off his folder and breathe, the one who had stroked his back during his fever.

He was deciding what to do when Danny yelled "Well maybe I'd consider going with you if you hadn't thrown Danielle away as a mistake 6 years ago and wouldn't even deign to pay for anything to do with her, YOU'RE A MILLIONAIRE VLAD, I CAN'T EVEN PAY THIS APARTMENT, JUST GIVE UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE"

¿Six years ago? Jason did the math in his mind, Danny was still a teenager back then, no more than 14 years old, ¿was this a bribery situation? ¿Threat? "Danielle" sounded like an out-of-wedlock daughter too. Had this "Vlad" caused a pregnancy on a 14-year-old? probably abandoned him too, this was a realistic situation but it really grossed him out. ¿Wasn't "Vlad" the name of his Godfather too? Damn it, this was making him sick.

Then Jason decided that yes, Vlad definitely deserved a bullet in the face, and maybe he should talk to his neighbor about ask for help when threatened, this was Crime Alley after all and he didn't want to see him death.

Being a teenage father was probably not easy, even more so if he was the illegitimate child of a millionaire, ¿is that why he moved to Gotham? ¿Was he running from the bastard? but he hadn't seen any children ¿did he have to hand her over? He needed to talk with him after punch Vlad face for sure.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #jason todd #Crime Alley rent is cheap #Danny don't have a lot of money #maybe it wasn't the best idea to move but he couldn't keep living in a house that was trying to kill him #Jason and Danny are neighbors and friends #trans danny fenton #He is a retired hero #Jason is Red Hood but Danny doesnt know it #He does know Jason died but he thinks he will share his story when he is ready #Good neighbor Danny Fenton #Jason did punch Vlad in the face #And asked Danny to share apartment if he wants #he doesn't want to lost his friend #If Danny says no he will just put a lot of money in his front door #he is a crime lord #to much money and nothing to spend on #After this Red Hood started his patrol near his own home #dc x dp #vlad plasmius #he is not bad anymore just moral grey #And very persistent #That's not a good combination with their story

[undreaming-fanfiction]

My Blessing

Back when Eddie was still human, he used to think it would be incredibly cool to be a vampire. Child of the night, Nosferatu, all that stuff from his beloved books. He would be untouchable and the people who wanted to hurt him just for being different would wither away and die of old age while he'd still be the same. Maybe he'd visit them in their dying hour and sneer at them, taunt them as they were about to see what awaits beyond. All of that used to sound so good.

As he's learned during last 80-ish years, being a vampire sucks (no pun intended).

He sees it all. World wars. AIDS epidemic. Satanic panic. More and more pain, people wasting away before his eyes. The music is cool, but he wonders if he'll grow tired of it all. Eddie is still young, he doesn't want to believe that this is all there is. But each year, each decade makes him more and more hopeless.

And he's so, so lonely. He still has Wayne, his vampire uncle (he categorically denies the term "father" or "maker"), but he sometimes too resigned, too used to all the pain and violence. He doesn't know many other vampires and making any sort of a connection with a human is painful to think about. People are so fragile.

He's always loved turning into a bat and just flying around the city, avoiding the curious eyes of humans and finding lone vantage points, observing the night life on the streets. One of his favorite spots is on top of the Harrington bank, a building from the 1920s with old bronze statues and old, tall windows. He started visiting the ledge in late 1980s, sometimes spending the entire night there. He'd land on the ledge and turn back to his real form, plopping down next to a statue of a young man. It's so human-like, Eddie forgets it's just an object, a piece of art, and talks to it. He tells it about the stuff that has been happening in the world, all that's fucked up but also the good things, how he saw a group of girls chasing away a stalker of a random lady, a homeless guy giving his last few bites to a stray dog. How a kid he used to know in the 80s is now all grown up and has children of his own. He sometimes wonders who made the statue, but there is no signature, no mark, just that pretty face looking down at the street, lost in thought.

It's on a stormy night in 2022 that it happens. Eddie lands in his favorite spot, lights up a cigarette (immortal lungs are a great thing to have) and talks to the statue, as always. Tells it how he actually wrote a novel and got it published, summers are long and the daylight doesn't kill him but it sure hurts, rambles about how he got Wayne his first flannel shirt and it was love at the first sight. The rain is thick, heavy, but Eddie likes it, it makes him feel a bit more alive. He hears thunder, closer and closer, but the lightning is probably somewhere behind him, he doesn't see it.

That is, until it hits the statue, and Eddie panics because sure, it was just an object, but it was like his friend, it was a constant in his life, what is he going to do-

And then the statue straightens its spine and groans.

Eddie's cigarette falls somewhere into the streets and burns a hole in the umbrella of a lady bitching about the undeserved help provided to the poor. Not that he notices. His eyes are glued to the statue that stretches its arms and runs its fingers through the thick hair that suddenly has color, a sun-kissed brown, and then it turns to Eddie and smiles.

"Oh finally, I was waiting for ages to introduce myself. Hi. Thanks for keeping me company all those years. I'm Steve. Steve Harrington."

Eddie shakes the offered hand in daze and mutters "Eddie, Eddie Munson" before promptly turning into a bat and...what? Does he want to run away? Does he want to shriek his little heart out and never come back? Probably not. Not with Steve smiling at him like he's the best thing in the whole world. So he just lands on Steve's outstretched hand and squeaks "Still Eddie Munson, only pocket size."

And Steve, bless his heart - does he have one? Do statues have hearts? - just laughs and tucks Eddie under his old-fashioned jacket to protect him from the rain. "Oh, I know. The first time you landed here and turned back, I thought I'd finally gone crazy."

He opens a window behind them and climbs inside with Eddie, a window that's always been dark, the only dark room in the whole building. And then they talk. Well, Steve does.

That's when Eddie learns the room is Steve's, preserved, stocked and cleaned throughout the decades. That he's the only son of the founder of the bank, Richard Harrington, now fortunately long dead and burning in hell. That even before the Great Depression hit, the bank was facing difficulties and Richard Harrington decided to make a deal with...something. Something ancient and lurking in New York, something feeding off the misery of people living there.

That's when Eddie learns that Richard Harrington offered his only son to preserve his fortune.

He just stares as Steve shrugs, retelling his story as if it was no big deal, finding a change of clothes for both of them in a huge closet full of things both old and new, a strange blend of fashion spanning last century. "It was a deal for one hundred years. One hundred years of prosperity for one hundred years of...that. I guess my father felt a little bit guilty afterwards because he included in his will that I'd always have a place to come back to. This room. And some financial security too, that's what he'd said before he passed away. He used to talk to me through that window sometimes, after my mother drank herself to death."

"Uhhh." Edward Munson, ever the eloquent fantasy book author, has nothing better to say.

He turns back to Eddie, smiling at him and offering a black t-shirt. "I don't think he knew I could hear him, that I heard and saw everything. Still, nice to know he cared...as much as he was humanly able to." The smile doesn't falter as he adds: "I don't want to sound pushy, but maybe you should turn back to change clothes? You're still wet."

And oh, Eddie is still a bat. Yep. With a sound that sounds like a plop, he transforms back and takes the t-shirt. "Thank you. Steve. Uh. That's  fucked up, man," he offers lamely.

"Oh yeah, it sucked. Well, used to," he nudges Eddie, tossing him a towel when he sees his hair dripping on the floor. "But then you started showing up. Talking to me." Now his smile is slightly smaller, sad, and Eddie wants to visit Richard Harrington's grave and punch his remains, build them into a bird feeder, revive the asshole and kill him again. "It was just...so lonely. I had no way of telling you, but when you started visiting and just, kept showing up, almost every day, it felt like a blessing."

Eddie swallows, his throat suddenly dry. "A blessing?"

"Yeah." Steve turns to him and the sincerity in his eyes is so intense Eddie feels like turning into a bat again and flying in circles, shrieking into the night. "You were my blessing, Eddie," he says as he squeezes his hand.

And Eddie just stares, his undead heart breaking for this boy, cursed just as horribly if not worse than he is. "You know I'm not...not human, right?" he whispers but his hand doesn't leave Steve's. "I guess you can probably tell from the bat thing, or that I'm literally the room temperature-"

"-or the fact that you once told me that it's a shame I'm not alive because I look delicious and you're sure my blood would be too," add Steve with a mischievous smirk.

"Uh. Shit, yeah. That too," Eddie stutters, trying to recall all the embarrassing stuff he told Steve during the last thirty or so years. "That...doesn't bother you?"

Steve snorts in laughter and shakes his head. "You literally thought I was a piece of bronze an hour ago, man. Does that bother you? Did you prefer me when I didn't talk?"

Eddie scoffs at that, offended. "Hell no. You were just a pretty face, but now you're a pretty face with a ton of personality. I...you know, you were my blessing too, I think. Even if you couldn't answer, I didn't feel as much alone next to you. Is that weird to say?" 

The squeeze of Steve's fingers gives him the answer he needs, but he still melts inside when he hears "not at all. I just hope you won't get bored of me now that I'm...different," he whispers, staring at their joined fingers. "You'll probably find me boring. I don't know much about what's going on outside. I could watch and you told me a lot, but...uh. The world seems so hectic and fast-paced, it will probably take me a while to catch up."

And Eddie has to laugh because that worry is so strange to hear voiced out loud, as if Steve being alive, breathing and next to him, as if that made him something less. "Oh just you wait, Steve. You spent over thirty years listening to me ramble, now I'm expecting at least thirty years of your monologues so we can be even. You know my dirtiest secrets now and I'm a man with a thirst for knowledge. Really," he adds because the young man next to him is still silent, "you have nothing to worry about. I've kept you company and you have done the same for me...and it works for us. So what's a little confusion about these modern days? Come on pretty boy. I will be your guide."

Steve gives him a smile that is so radiant Eddie thinks it should hurt, it should burn him like a torch, but it's just warm. Kind. "I can work with that."

Steve is the only human Eddie ever turns. He expects to agonize over it for much longer, to feel guilty, but Steve has already lived longer than he has and he still has thirst for life that is infectious, something that drives Eddie to join him, try new things, not mourn what is lost to time but be thankful that he has the chance to see it all. He finally wants to participate, to join the world again, not just observe it.

The first time Steve turns to a bat, he ends up flying in circles in absolute ecstasy, laughing and making the weirdest somersaults and loops. Eddie could watch him forever and the best part is - he can. And he does.

But before all that, Eddie brings Steve to see Wayne, to introduce him to his only family. Wayne shakes his hand and gruffly laughs: "Well, look at that. My boy has finally moved on from that statue."

Without missing a beat, Steve smiles at him and announces "oh not at all, sir. I'm the statue."

Eddie has some explaining to do, but for now, he just laughs.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #vampire AU #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things ficlet

[puppetmaster13u]

Thinkin' of WOF Au for DC, but like, it's a Gothamite and Fawcett thing. (And Amity Park if crossover)

Like those are the most magical areas in the world, even if Gotham is cursed as fuck. An unspoken secret of sorts that while they present themselves as human to outsiders, they are all Very Much Not.

Which means hilariously in the league, when everyone expects Batman to be suspicious and short with the new guy- even made bets on it- they are then shooketh when both visibly relax and start talking. And half the shared complaints don't make sense!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now Gotham technically has no Queen, nor does Fawcett, but Batman and Captain Marvel are the closest things. Not in the traditional sense of back when they were in separate tribes (& maybe from a different dimension but shh that was millennia ago) but in the sense of, they're the ones patrolling and protecting the cities along with calling the shots in disasters.

Which does sort of change the dynamic they both have in their city. If one of them calls to arms, the city would follow them. They could declare war, and their cities (begrudgingly in Gotham's underbelly's case of strongest is in charge) would follow. And while Billy is oblivious, both Marvel-the-not-hivemind and Batman are. They know they have to be very careful.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm sure we all want Nightwing Bruce but no. Bruce, like both his mother and father and father's father and so on before him, is actually an Icewing. The Waynes however, have a case of melanism running in their bloodline. Thomas Wayne? Only his quills and part of his back were darker, but Bruce? Practically pitch black scales that shadow his eyes.

Now Alfred on the other hand, is a Nightwing. No special powers there, though you would hear many a child protest with how he seems to know everything.

Commissioner Gordon is a Mudwing, big stocky and very tired, which translates to his human disguise as a large trenchcoat. He finds this very amusing. Barbara similarly, is half Mudwing. Her mother was a Hivewing, making her a hybrid between both. Which does ironically mean that Batgirl does in fact have insectoid wings. Though that does ponder the question on if they'd all go by their original vigilante names.

Dick is a Silkwing. Wingless as he watches his parents fall and unable to do anything despite this place supposedly being safe for beings like them. He grows into his own, and his wings, when they come in, are dark Gotham colors through and through, with the deep blue of the sky he's come to crave.

Jason is a hybrid between a Mudwing and a Skywing. He's also an animus- not that he knew that. He doesn't find out until he's dying, telling himself to not die, to get back to Gotham, to his dad, his family- And then he wakes up in his Coffin, alive.

Now Cass, raised to be the perfect killer, is also a hybrid, just one between a Nightwing and a Rainwing, egg set out under the moon. Which succeeds, partially. She can't straight up read minds, but combined with her talent in reading body language on both human and inhuman bodies, it's a near thing.

Tim is a Seawing, borderline abandoned by his parents who seek treasures and more wealth as he's trapped back in a city where the water is dark and poisoned. But he's Gothamite, through and through, and he adapts. Scales darker than the original blues he was born with, and glow shifting to that sickly white of the Gotham's Bats.

Now Steph, is a full-blooded Rainwing, and can in fact change her scales, but can mostly be found in purples and golds. Though for a short time she was in another set of colors, thought dead before she slithered out of the shadows older and wiser than before.

Damian is his father's son, but he's also an Al-Ghul. The not-quite dragonet is half Icewing, and half Sandwing. And struggled to adjust at first, to a place so different from his first home where the only other dragons were blood related. But like any Wayne before him, he adjusts, and he adapts.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Billy wasn't a Beetlewing originally, and perhaps he would have hesitated if he'd known it would change him, would change his body and the last thing he had of his parents. But his friends, his Team and new family help. And he can pass as a Silkwing like their sort-of foster mother. All six of them can do so now, even if the others look more like hybrids themselves thanks to not being the Champion. They might not be, but they're his family. And that's enough.

#dc #dcu #batman au #batman #captain marvel #billy batson #gotham #wof #wings of fire #fuck it #prompts #batfamily #batfam prompts #dragons #dragon au #who knows why they can turn human or make people believe that's what they are #could be an animus thing could just be a gift from the City Spirits themselves #Gotham's no-man's land arc would be hella different me thinks #dragon cities gotta stick together after all #Billy when first seeing Batman: Oh thank fuck another dragon I keep having to stop myself from asking questions bout wtf they're talkin bou #Bat(oh god another vigilante child)man: ... Oh I understand that perfectly come to this place at this time & I can give you a powerpoint on #human stuff because if your home is anything like Gotham then humanity and aliens are a bit horn-scratching strange #Does Batman adopt Billy? No. #Billy & Co ends up similar to Barbara & Steph lol #They're not adopted but here have rooms & credit card & a college fund & anything else u or ur foster parents might need #y'know i bet martian manhunter would get along with most dragon people over the 'so how do human again' #also just in case someone wants to #dcxdp #dpxdc #also had a random idea that this could be a fun white-collar crossover

[mondaymelon]

𖥔 ݁ ˖⩇⩇:⩇𝟣.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⤷ a halloween event hosted by @mondaymelon !!

taglist: @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @silaswritesthings, @neigesprincess, @mintydump, @kaeffeinee !!

“...That’s the briefing. Any questions?” Sango uncrossed her arms, glancing up from the paper she was reading off of. It was a chilly evening at the Bantan Sango Detective Agency, and you regretted not bringing an extra layer of clothing with you to work.

You sighed, your exhale turning white in the frosty air. The sky had already blended black, tiny pin pricks of bright stars resembling white paint scattered on a midnight canvas hung like a dusty backdrop. The days had been growing colder of late, and the maple leaves that loosely clung to the trees now blanketed the cobblestone streets. “Typical of you to hand me over to some tiring task right before the festival… that other guy, genius detective Shikanoin Heizou, why not ask him instead and spare me the trouble?”

The brunette’s expression grew strained. “You know I don’t talk to him anymore. Besides, he quit a long time ago. He works for the Tenryou commission now, and I hear that quite the skilled man. Wherever he is, he always finds a way to boast about him, I suppose…” Her voice trailed off with an exasperated groan. “It doesn’t matter. Are you going to take the job or not?”

“Do I really have a choice?” Judging by her scammer-like smile, you already knew the answer before you asked the question.

“Nope.” And just like that, she thrusted the manila folder of information into your arms, several pieces of paper flying out of it in the process. “Have fun, I’ll see you at the Halloween Festival later!” She sprinted away before you could even get in another word.

As expected. Sango was rather stone-faced, yet she only grew more and more animated as you got to know her. You didn’t know exactly what happened between her and that redhead detective, but you weren’t one to pry for details the other wasn’t willing to provide. Besides, you still had Ryuuji to pester for help… not. He had long since gone home for a weekend vacation.

“This is why I’m miserable.” You shook your head, reluctantly glancing through the information in the files given.

[ 48 missing people.

No attacks on children. Prime targets seem to be young adults regardless of gender.

Only three bodies have been retrieved.

Bodies are drained of blood. Puncture wounds in neck. Inscriptions on body...

Last event was Oct 24. Tanaka Oda, aged 24. Inferred to have gone missing at night. Had gambling problems but otherwise was a clean slate. ]

“Shit, this sounds like something from a legend… couldn’t these just be wild animal attacks?” You examined the photos, spotting the sunken eyes and dry flesh. “Ah, but unless it was an 8 foot tall bat… and the runes. How the fuck would a bat write? The work of a cult, maybe? Human sacrifice has been a thing before, and that would certainly explain the markings on the corpses, would it not…?” You didn’t have enough evidence to come to conclusions now, nor the sufficient amount of sleep. You had never exactly been the most intelligent, which made you question why Sango had even assigned this case to you in the first place. To give it to the least capable detective in the workforce must’ve meant that it must be an insignificant mystery, right? Then it’d only be a while until all the threads came unraveled. That, at the very least, provided you with a sense of comfort.

That sensation was a fleeting one, shattered by the shrill cry of a woman in the distance. High-pitched. Terrified. You snapped your head up, hastily shoving the evidence in your arm and sprinting towards the sound. It happened again, a broken cry piercing through the misty night. Smoky tendrils swirled in the air and curled around your ankles.

Where had the civilians gone? There wasn't a soul in sight. There were no lights in the windows. Food stands were left unattended as smoke rose from their stoves.

You pulled out into a clearing. There she was. She couldn't have been more than twenty years of age, her paper-white skin contrasting with the pink on her cheeks. Her kimono was strewn, creased as if someone had grabbed her with force. You could see the blood seeping from the bite wound on her neck. Her skin was icy cold. Her pulse had gone dead.

No. Not a wild animal.

This... A word, one spoken in storybooks, flashed in your mind.

There wasn't time to dwell on it. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. There was someone. In the alleyway. They had seen everything.

"Huk...!"

He made a sound, then his body crumpled to the ground.

His inanimate corpse glowed with a sinister energy. Lines of foreign words circling around his arms and chest blazed forth, shining a deep red against the black night. A tongue you couldn't comprehend. A forgotten, ancient language that had long since been buried.

His body gave a spasm, shaking. It was as if he was a doll, and his joints creaked and groaned as they bent in upon themselves. Where his heart should have resided instead was a crystal-cut ruby, quivering in the open air. His eyes bulged, and then they were no longer there, bursting into a fountain of red. Then, he stilled.

He didn't move again.

Silence. Suffocating. There was something building in the back of your throat. You could taste the bitter bile on your tongue.

"F...Fuck."

Two bodies, cruelly bent and misshapen. The woman in the clearing, the blood pooling from her wounds growing cold. Her face was an almost ashen gray, and her dead marble eyes stared blankly into the sky. What was there to look at?

Then, the man. Twisted arms hung morbidly from his frame. His bloody, mangled sockets lay bare as they gazed at nothing at all. His bloodied body slowly dissipated as ashes in the wind. It was the smell of iron.

You exhaled a shallow breath. You could feel the tremble of your hands as you held them over your mouth. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. You wanted to scream, cry. You shouldn't. You couldn't.

Droplets of crimson lay scattered on the ground. A trail of blood.

Blackened remains of the cursed. A trail of his ashes.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ.

next

#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #genshin xiao #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #x reader #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin x you #xiao x reader #xiao x you #heizou x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x reader #venti x reader #aether x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #genshin impact imagines #x gn reader #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact headcanons #genshin #gn reader #xiao #Wanderer #Genshin wanderer #genshin headcanons

[plainclothesdisaster]

Red Knight - Chapter 3

DP x DC | Dead on Main

Jason Todd encounters one Danny Fenton in the streets of Gotham and suddenly he's thrown into a world of ghosts and monsters. Will he embrace this life? Or will it just end up with him dead again?

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

--

Jason didn’t go home. Instead, he melted into the shadows across the street from the diner and waited. A few minutes later Danny emerged and got on his motorbike. He revved the engine and began to speed away.

Jason would find out who the hell this guy was. (And if he was totally full of shit). He waited a moment before shooting a grapple line and pursuing.

Fifteen minutes later he found himself on a rooftop across the street from a simple apartment on the fourth floor of an old building. Using the binocular zoom on his helmet he watched Danny inside. He looked tired and utterly human as he went though the motions of getting ready for bed. As he took off his shirt Jason winced at the scars all across his body— most noticeably the Lichtenberg figure that cascaded up his arm and over his shoulder. The amount of electricity needed to leave that kind of mark— something like that should have killed him.

Maybe it had.

Minutes later Danny turned out the light and went to sleep. Jason didn’t leave. The pit was quiet. It stayed quiet all night.

In the morning Jason followed as Danny took the train across the city to Gotham University. Jason blended with the other students as he tailed him through the halls until Danny entered what appeared to be an upper level mechanical engineering lecture. Instead of following him in He headed back to Danny’s apartment.

He opted to pick the lock— better not to leave a trace. Inside he found a fairly typical college apartment. Sparse furnishings, a couple faded band posters tacked to the walls, game controllers strewn about. It was homey. Nice.

Jason found nothing out of the ordinary in the kitchen, nor the closets. No laptop or phone— must have taken them with him. Jason rifled through papers on the messy desk- lecture notes, sketched diagrams, grocery lists- and started to think that he really wan’t going to get anything good on this guy. Then he touched something that jolted him with an electric shock.

Jason pulled his hand away with a whispered curse while shuffling off the remaining papers, revealing some kind of metal belt. It had wires sticking out, chips exposed, clearly an unfinished project. What gave Jason pause was the faint strange glow about it, green with the same energy he saw in Danny’s palm and in his eyes.

He reached a hand toward it again. As soon as his fingers got close he felt the buzz of energy start to sharpen. The pit under his heart snarled. He pulled his hand back.

Mysterious gadgetry certainly was a little suspect, but by itself didn’t point to any nefarious intention. He thought about taking the belt to study it further, but doing proper diagnostics would require help from Tim, or worse, Bruce. No, thanks. Too many questions he didn’t want to answer.

He glanced at the papers again. He saw a full name there. Danny Fenton.

Danny Fenton. A powerful not-meta meta. Also, by the looks of it, just some average guy. That didn’t mean Jason would take his guard down. He knew that metas and monsters often hid in plain sight. And the ones that did it well were the most dangerous.

//

Jason went back to his apartment and slept through the rest of the day.

He woke up that night with a gun in his face.

A shadowed smile leered down at him. “So you are the new ghost boy. You’ll make a fine addition to my collection.”

A green blast split his bed down the middle as he leapt out of the way just in time. Who the fuck?

Jason grabbed the bat he kept next to his nightstand and took a wild swing at his assailant. As the sleep cleared from his eyes a seven foot tall robotic guy with a flaming green mohawk came into focus. His attacker stopped the bat in his hand with surprising strength.

“Ah good, you do have some fight in you.”

The robot guy punched Jason in the gut, launching him across the room. That hurt, way more than a hit from a common goon. What the hell was this guy made of?

Jason pulled himself up and grabbed a gun off the kitchen counter. He leveled it with easy precision. He planted one shot in the robot guy’s chest, the other between his eyes.

His aim was perfect.

Neither shot connected.

The bullets passed right through him. Jason’s mouth went dry.

“Hah, those puny weapons won’t work on me. Now this-“ what could only be described as a rocket launcher emerged from the robotics on the robot guy’s shoulder- “this is a real gun.”

The rockets fired, fueled again by that green energy. Jason bolted for the window and crashed out onto the fire escape, taking a hit to the side as he did. The blast burned but thankfully didn’t break the skin. Still hurt like a bitch though. The pit screamed, but the rage felt more focused now than it had before. Methodically he swung his way down to the street, landing bare-footed and in his sweats, unmasked and unarmed except for the useless gun in his hand. His attacker pursued, emerging through the wall and flying after him.

Jason gritted his teeth. The green energy, the familiar powers— it was too much to be just a coincidence. Ghost, he named his attacker in his head. Like Danny.

He ran.

The ghost caught up with him before he’d made it two buildings down. “Is that all you can do? Scurry around down there like a scared little mouse?”

More blasts assailed him from more varieties of guns. Jason dodged, but just barely. If he could just make it to his safehouse then— then what? He could shoot this guy with more guns that didn’t work? Hide behind walls that the ghost could walk right through?

He heard the next shot too late. A glowing rope wrapped itself around his ankles, sending him stumbling to the asphalt face first. Weak, he thought as he spit out gravel. He’d never felt so weak, not since coming back. For the first time since he emerged from the pit he no longer felt invincible.

His attacker landed with a metallic clank. Jason glowered as the ghost cracked a jagged smile. “That’s it? Your combat is weak. Your banter is lacking. Your head is hardly worth mounting above my mantle.”

Anger smoldered beneath Jason’s heart, pulling in on itself versus the usual explosion. His legs were bound but his hands were still free. He tightened his grip on his pistol.

With a roaring yell he heaved himself half up and swung the gun on the ghost again. He focused his anger, focused that pointed energy, and pulled the trigger.

A bullet shrouded in green flame exploded from the barrel. It connected with the ghost’s stomach, sending a shower of sparks spraying as it tore through the robotics.

The ghost looked down in shock.

Jason smiled in triumph. “How’s that for a real gun.”

Then Jason unloaded, pulling the trigger as fast as he could make it go. He kept shooting even when he should have run out of ammo, each shot a flaming green spark that took a chunk out of the robot ghost with every hit.

“What is this? Impossible!” The ghost took off yelling, retreating back down the street. Jason ripped the rope from his ankles and got on his feet to chase.

Ghost or not, this part Jason knew. Bad guy on the run, him in pursuit. He let his shaken nerves melt into a familiar resolve. The ghost shot back at him but Jason’s focus was unshakeable. His phantom bullets took the guns clean off the robot suit till it was covered in shredded metal.

Finally the ghost flew up, desperate to get out of range, defeated. “I underestimated you whelp. Until next time.”

With that the ghost activated his jet pack and flew away into the night. Jason kept shooting till he vanished over the rooftops.

//

That was not the last attack. They came nightly after that, some new kind of ghost would appear and stir up trouble. He’d notice them on patrol now- glowing vultures on the roofs or a green lion stalking in the park or translucent octopi floating down the streets. Had they always been there and he just hadn’t noticed? Or had they just showed up? The more he watched the more it seemed that other people didn’t see them.

Or maybe they just didn’t care. Just another one of those Gotham things.

Most ignored him entirely but caused trouble in different ways— lurking in sewers and tugging at people’s hems or floating through stores causing electronics to malfunction. Harmless mostly. But ever present. Those ones eventually noticed Jason watching and they’d always look back at him with surprise or curiosity or a sick kind of delight.

Sometimes Jason would pick the fight. He punched a ghost creep following a lady too closely as she walked down the street. Chased off a demonic possum that was oozing some kind of goo into the river. Other times the fight would pick him. He stared too long at a vulture and it swooped down on him, brandishing impossible teeth. A headless guy jumped him outside his safe house. He looked awfully similar to one of Gothams former gang bosses.

He was getting bette at harnessing that green energy and he could reliably shoot energy bullets from any of his guns. He also found that an old fashioned punch would also do the trick.

Once he saw an oily black creature at the edges of his vision, larger and more sinister than any of the other ghosts he’d encountered. A brawl in the street broke out a moment later so he didn’t get to investigate but somehow that one made him feel more unnerved than all the rest.

He didn’t understand where they were coming from or why they were here. He knew someone who probably would.

During daylight hours he gathered intel on Danny Fenton- or at least he attempted to. It was like the kid didn’t exist before he showed up as a student at Gotham University. The internet was shockingly clean of any records or photos.

Jason was beginning to think Danny Fenton was just a pseudonym until finally he got a relevant hit. He found an article published in a now-discredited scientific journal by Dr.s Jack and Madeline Fenton, detailing their paranormal research. The paper theorized about a separate dimension of post-concious beings. Suggested ways to make a portal there. It was too similar to what Danny described to be coincidence. Those were his parents, that was the portal that killed him. Maybe it was all true.

But Jason didn’t find any evidence that they had successfully created the portal. The paper talked about it in theory, not practice. The only evidence of them making it real was Danny himself. If he even believed Danny’s story.

Using a trick he stole from Tim he searched the housing records database and found a property under their names in Amity Park, Illinois. Satellite imaging showed a house that looked like a ufo had crashed landed on top of it. He chuckled to himself. That must be the place.

He was out grabbing a bite of dinner and considering a little field trip to Illinois to investigate further when the next ghost attack happened.

One second he was biting into his sandwich, the next three giant glowing green rats, just like the nasty ones that roamed Gotham’s sewers except 10 times bigger, burst out of the kitchen of the restaurant and out into the street.

Jason abandoned the sandwich and chased them out the door, pulling out his gun as they ran down an alley.

“Quit causing trouble on my turf,” Jason growled as he loosed a few blasts in their direction.

The rats stopped and turned back toward him halfway down the alley. The biggest one sat up and looked at him with sharp eyes. “Your turf? You got it twisted buddy. This here is our turf.”

Out of nowhere a fourth rat tackled him from behind. It’s boxy teeth clamped down on his shoulder with a sickening crunch. Jason yelled as he was thrown to the ground and suddenly all of them were on him, clawing and biting.

Jason clawed and bit back. He carried a gun even in his civvies (obviously) but couldn’t reach it in the thick of it.

He was truly starting to get pissed when suddenly the temperature dropped ten degrees. A voice came from down the alley.

“Hey.”

The rats froze. As a group they all looked toward the voice. At the mouth of the alley, plastic bodega bag in hand, face stern, stood Danny.

“What the hell is this?”

The head rat spoke up. “This is our turf. Tell the new guy he needs to buzz off before we make him.”

Danny folded his arms. His face was stoic but his voice had an icy edge. “I think you should be a bit more friendly to your neighbor.”

The rats reacted immediately, untangling themselves from Jason. “Jeez your majesty we were only joking. Mi casa es su casa and all that.”

“Good. Now scram.”

They scrambled away down the alley with a skittering of claws, running like they had hellfire under their asses.

Jason let out a long breath. Danny looked at him with complete recognition even though he was bare faced and in street clothes. Of course he could clock him out of costume. Why didn’t that surprise him?

Jason propped himself up on one arm. “Your majesty?”

“They don’t mean it as a compliment.” Danny huffed as he knelt down next to Jason, reaching out a gentle hand to inspect his wounds.

Danny’s jaw tightened as he ran a thumb over a gash in Jason’s arm. Jason pulled back.

“I’m fine.”

Danny reluctantly sat back. “There has been more ghost activity lately. Sorry I didn’t catch these guys quicker.”

“It’s okay. I dealt with the rest just fine.”

Danny tensed. “The rest?”

“I’ve been dealing with them since we got coffee. Nearly every night.“

Real anger flashed in Danny’s eyes for just a moment. It surprised Jason, and reminded him how much Danny wasn’t telling him.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Danny looked at Jason with such bare concern it made his heart feel sticky.

Jason grumbled. “I had it handled.”

“How??” Danny whined.

Jason pulled out his gun, pointed upward. Danny frowned, skeptical, until Jason pulled the trigger. A green blast shot into the sky. He shouldn’t have gotten so much satisfaction from surprise on Danny’s face.

“Oh,” Danny said. “Neat trick. That’s new?”

Jason nodded.

Danny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Despite that, there’s no way I’m letting you deal with these ghosts on your own.”

“Let me?” Jason scoffed. “I don’t need your help.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “So you were planning on being rat food just now?”

“I almost had them.”

Danny chuckled. Jason didn’t waver. Then Danny got that glint in his eye.

“Okay. Then prove it.”

“What?”

“Show me you can actually handle a ghost attack and I’ll leave you alone.”

Jason wanted that, right? To not have to think about Danny Fenton popping up randomly in his life again? He ignored the twist of confusion in his gut.

“How? There’s no ghosts.”

Danny stood up and gestured to himself with a smirk.

“You’re joking.” Jason deadpanned.

“Try me.”

Guess that was always how this was gonna shake out. Sure, why not. Stone-faced and without hesitation Jason pulled a second pistol out of his belt and shot a green blast directly at Danny with a sizzling crack. Danny took the hit on the shoulder with barely a flinch. He glanced down at the burn hole on his shirt. The skin beneath was unbroken.

Danny’s smile widened, and there were those fangs again. “That it?”

Jason clenched his teeth and sprang into action. He launched to his feet as he brandished both guns in front of himself, shooting rapid fire.

Danny moved like a practiced fighter, ducking and weaving around the shots. A handful hit him but they didn’t break his focus or his stride. Jason stepped back to keep distance but Danny was quicker. Suddenly he was close enough that Jason felt the coolness of his breath.

His fist came quick. Jason threw up his arm to block. He barely managed to keep his feet under him. The next punch connected with his gut and sent him shuffling backwards, but still upright. He used the space to pull up his guns again and fired.

Danny jumped and suddenly he was lighter than air, floating and flipping over Jason’s head. Jason tracked him with the guns and spun as Danny landed, again too close.

Jason holstered the guns and opted to grab Danny by the front of his shirt with both hands. He turned and slammed Danny into the alley wall.

“You are strong I’ll give you that,” Danny said, the amused grin on his lips mere inches from Jason’s, “But ghosts have tricks.”

Suddenly Jason was holding nothing but air. His fingers clenched into fists.

Barely a breath later Jason felt a cheek next to his, behind him.

“Boo.” Danny said directly in Jason’s ear. Jason elbowed backward reflexively, connecting with Danny’s gut. Danny let out a satisfying oof before slipping out of reach.

It fell into the rhythm of a brawl then as they traded blows. But even with the bits of ghostly flair Danny threw in, it felt off. Danny wasn’t fighting like the other ghosts he’d faced. He was fighting like a human. He was holding back.

Jason ground his teeth together as his anger bubbled to a boil. Stepping back to steal enough distance, he pulled out his pistols. He let the anger swirl and coalesce under his heart. He focused and pulled both triggers at once.

A massive green fireball exploded from the combined gun barrels, hurtling toward Danny.

There was no time for Danny to dodge. Jason relished the surprise on his face. But right before the fireball collided, Danny extended a palm and a translucent green shield appeared, covering him. The fireball dissipated on impact.

Jason groaned in frustration. Another power he didn’t know about? How was that fair?

“Why are you holding back?” he demanded.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Danny’s shield disappeared. “But I could ask you the same question.”

“What?” Jason was barely keeping up as is.

“I think you can do better than this.” Danny challenged.

Jason tightened his grip on his guns. Danny relaxed his fighting stance. “Can’t you go toe to toe with Batman? Even my sister would at least be making me sweat.”

Again that roiling focused anger under his heart, swirling like a supernova. Danny just looked at him with that shit-eating grin. He let the fire of anger burn hotter to cover the rising of something else underneath.

“Be serious.” Jason growled.

“Make me.”

With a roar Jason blasted another huge fireball and the fight was back on.

Jason actually wanted to hurt Danny now. He wanted to prove to himself that he could. He moved faster, punched harder, let out more of that fire with each shot.

The next time Danny got up close and Jason swapped to his fists, Jason noticed a green fiery glow had formed around his hands. Danny did too, when he winced for the first time after a punch connected. The pit under his heart hummed in triumph.

After that it was less easy for Danny to slip away into intangibility, more easy for Jason to press the offensive. Finally Jason swept Danny’s legs from under him and pinned him to the ground, a mirror of the first night they met.

Jason’s breath came in pants. He gripped Danny’s shirt tight in his fist.

“Not bad.” Danny flashed his fangs.

Jason lifted a fist to punch that stupid smile off his jaw but Danny threw up a hand and caught his fist, inches before it hit, stopping it with unshakeable strength.

“Believe me now when I say I’ve got it handled myself?” Jason kept his tone even.

Danny eyed Jason’s still-glowing fist. “More now than before, yeah. But-“ Danny pushed Jason’s fist aside with infuriating ease. He pulled his legs out from underneath Jason with intangibility and floated smoothly to his feet.

“I’m still going to help you.”

“That wasn’t the deal. You said if I-“

A blast of green energy to his stomach cut him off, stronger and faster than any of the punches they’d traded. Danny grabbed Jason by the jacket and they flew, up to the top of the twelve story building. Danny looked at him with empty eyes. And dropped him.

Jason didn’t scream. He scrambled for his grapple gun. He was falling too fast. He got a hand on it, too late- but it didn’t matter. Danny swooped down and pushed him intangibly through the ground at the moment of impact. He felt himself being dragged up through darkness until-

He was stuck in the alley pavement up to his waist. Danny crouched next to him.

“I promise this is a warning not a threat. I didn’t realize that patching up your core would put you over the threshold to get ghostly attention. They won’t stop bothering you. And they won’t all be small fry. If you won’t let me take care of them for you, at least let me give you a fighting chance.”

Jason glowered up at him. “You’re not going to let me out of here unless I say yes.”

Danny smiled, the most brilliant thing in the dark street. “Bingo.”

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #jason todd #dead on main #dead on main ship #dp x dc fanfic #fanfic #danny x jason #dp #dp x dc #red knight fic #now we're caught up with ao3 #maybe I'll post the next chapter tomorrow

[inthememetime]

Cursed necklace DPxDC AU

Vlad is a 24yr-old student who dies in college...in the early 1900s. Since then, he has haunted the University of Wisconsin by virtue of his his old necklace.

He likes the school- and the students like him! Since photography became accessible, students, teachers, staff, and visitors alike have been trying to get photos with him, students bribe him to help with homework (after all, he's been auditing classes for a century), mainly with cheep beer, fried cheese-related foods, and (since some kid introduced him to the Green Bay Packers), Packers memorabilia.

The students leave the game on for him, and the brave ones turn the lights off and leave a spot open for him in the hopes of seeing the Wisconsin University ghost up close and personal. (If they combine this with cheese sticks and beer, it's a near guarantee).

In general, he's a beloved figure. But then the Fentons start college there. At first, it's cool! These humans have made machines to let them listen to him (with some translation errors), they're building a portal to the GZ, which means he can have other ghosts to talk to, again, and they're fun!

Oh. Wait. They're being kicked out because they tried something unethical. Oh well! Somebody just turned on a Packers game, and he can smell the cheesesticks already.

Little does he know, the Fentons have created their prototype thermos. Until his necklace (and due to the lack of ambient ectoplasm), essentially his core is in there.

For 15. Long. Years.

Danny- not as Phantom, just Danny- finds the box and, with the curiosity of a 9-year-old opens the box. Soon, he's contaminated, despite his new buddy trying to keep him safe. And dies. Yep 9 year old Phantom.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! See Damian was a TWIN! Bruce is, when he tracks down said twin, Very Displeased by the lack of safety measures, and takes his other biological son (and his son's sister who is only 12 rn) home with him.

Bruce does NOT know about his hitchhiker; a centuries-old vampire ghost. He also doesn't know Danny's dead. More under the cut!

Clark gets mind controlled and tries to start a fight. Tries being the operative word here, because his 9-year-old is fighting a grown Kryptonian. And winning.

Plasmius steals cheese a lot, turns TVs to Packers games, and is generally a nuisance. Constantine is called.

Constantine has a new best friend because holy shit, a real ghost who's willing to talk to him! He can get so much info!

Bruce: Can you get him out of my house? Plasmius: Where Danny goes, I go.

Danny: Hey, can I have this? *eats a blob ghost in front of everyone*. *shares half with Plasmius*

Constantine is both horrified and curious. Clark gets punted across state lines by a vampire ghost who was Not Happy his kiddo got in a fight. Jason gets therapy a la a 12-year-old girl, a 9-year-old half-dead kid, and a centuries-old ghost.

There's enough ambient ectoplasm to thrive on, so Plasmius can roam and Danny can start learning powers. Vlad starts teaching Jason on the sly too.

Danny starts talking to bats, cats, rats, and a snake Damian rescued. Damian takes him to break into zoos to see what else he can talk to. Bruce is tired.

Plasmius uses his doubles for housework purposes in exchange for cheese from Alfred. Alfred abuses this shamelessly to drag Bruce up from the cave and make him eat.

Jasmine is Aggressively Normal. To the point where they're considering therapy, but then she gets kidnapped, talks to Harley, and embraces her alter identity as The Mindflayer.

Ok fine, she admits that is a little villainous. Maybe she can be Wraith or something? "Look, it seems you guys are being a little too upset about-", " Jazmine, you turned the Joker into a vegetable." Jason: YEAH she did! C'mon, we're going to have some fun, kids!

Just- Bruce thought he was getting two kids from an abusive household. He did NOT sign up for 2 half-dead OP kids, a cheese and football-obsessed vampire ghost, and a...NO, Danny, you CANNOT keep the giant green hellhound. Damien, stop encouraging him!

#danny phantom #inthememetime #vlad masters #danny phantom au #dp x dc #danny fenton #redeemed vlad masters #batfam

[666writingcafe]

A Surprise Visit

Author's Note: This is the official start of my season three rewrite. To quickly recap how I ended season two, MC basically convinces Solomon to live with them in their home instead of the two of them going their separate ways. That's number one. Number two is I'm axing the whole babysitter gig setup, because I feel like it's a bit unnecessary (and weird).

So, without further ado, the first part of lesson 41 is under the cut.

MC

Solomon looks over my shoulder and examines the potion I prepared in the cauldron.

"Nicely done," he remarks. "Just the right shade of blue."

"Thanks," I reply, quickly glancing up at him.

"You know, you've done a nice job keeping up with everything I've taught you. You're certainly one of my better apprentices." I chuckle.

"I mean, I would like to not destroy my home."

"Or any surrounding ones." I turn my full attention to him, confused as to why he would say that. He merely shrugs as he adds,

"It's happened before."

"I see." Should I be worried?

"Anyway, you almost have the fundamentals down. Pretty soon, you'll be able to get your Sorcerer's License, and I can begin teaching you summoning magic."

"I'm sure the brothers would appreciate that."

"Oh, probably. They like you alright." His smirk indicates that he wants to start bantering with me. He does it on a daily basis, and I've gotten pretty good at coming up with good responses on the fly.

Suddenly, someone knocks on my door.

"I'll get it," Solomon states, patting me on the shoulder and kissing me on the temple before leaving the room. I take the opportunity to begin pouring my potion--a serum that causes people to change size--into the bottles Solomon set up in front of me.

Just as I finish filling the first bottle, Solomon returns.

"It would seem as though the brothers got tired of waiting," he tells me.

"What do you mean?" I ask, setting the cauldron down.

"Surprise!" Asmo pops his head in the room and waves excitedly at me.

At least, I think it's Asmo. His hair's a lot longer than usual, and his choice of makeup makes him look rather feminine.

As he steps into full view and reveals his outfit--a spaghetti tanktop, a denim miniskirt that barely covers his crotch, and strappy high heels--I realize that he's in drag. And it looks good.

Has he done this before?

"You alright, MC?" Solomon asks, walking over and touching my shoulder.

"I'm sure they are," Asmo answers before I can open my mouth. "They're just in awe of my beauty."

"Just the same as always," Solomon quips, causing Asmo to stick his tongue out at him.

"What are you doing here?" The question comes out a lot more quietly than I was expecting. Maybe it's because I can't stop staring at Asmo. For once, he's right; I am in awe.

"Here in your home, or here in the human world?"

"B-Both, I guess." Asmo clasps his hands together.

"Well, after you left, Diavolo started making plans for us to come visit you in the human world. He and Lucifer bought a property nearby, and we've been working on making it our own for a few months. We just finished last week." He briefly pauses. "I've actually been sent to pick you up and take you over there. That is, if that's alright with your teacher over there." He smiles at Solomon, who nods his head.

"I think we've reached a good stopping point for today," he replies, glancing over at me.

"Great! I'll help you pack." Huh?

"Asmo!" I call out before he can go too far.

"Yes, MC?" He bats his eyes at me, and I have to force myself to focus.

"As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm, I can't spend the night. I have to work tomorrow." Asmo stares at me blankly. "You know...the job that helps me pay my bills?"

"Oh right! You don't have to worry about that for a while." That can't mean what I think it means.

"Asmo...what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. It was all Diavolo." He didn't...

"MC isn't like you guys," Solomon pipes up. "They rely on their job to make ends meet. It's not like they can just leave at will." This makes Asmo widen his eyes.

"No, no, no! It's not like that at all!" he exclaims. "MC, you still have your job. Diavolo just arranged for you to be on vacation until we returned to the Devildom." He walks over and clasps my hands. "I am so sorry for worrying you like that, MC." I sigh.

"That only covers part of it. What about--"

"Check your bank account."

"What?"

"I got it," Solomon states, leaving the room and returning with my laptop. Once he pulls up my online account, he shows the screen to me, revealing...

"Is that four zeros?"

"It appears so, yes." He clicks on the checking account to view transaction details. "It looks like Diavolo's been transferring money to your account. At least, I assume that's who 'David Prince' is." Asmo nods his head.

"We thought it best to adopt human alias while we were here." Well, that explains the drag. "I decided to go with Azzy."

"The name suits you," I tell him, still staring at the screen.

I can't believe that Diavolo went out of his way to do something like this for me. It's not like I've ever expected him to provide for me or anything.

"So, am I good to start packing?" Asmo asks.

"Sure." I make sure to follow him as he enters my room. If I leave him unsupervised, there's no telling what he'd do in there.

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me solomon #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #inspo for asmo in drag: sugar from rupaul's drag race #also #reason for the money thing #felt it necessary to justify mc spending all their time with the obey me crew while they were in the human world #after all #it's not like they're an exchange student anymore #and since everyone's gonna be in the same realm #it's not like they can rely on time differences #and i'd like to think that mc has a life separate from the boys #that was already established before the start of the exchange program #end of mini tag essay

[galactic-magick]

Stranger things headcanon request please! The characters reacting to reader having been both with powers, thank you!

The reader has similar powers to Eleven and the other kids in this, but their powers didn't come from lab experiments they just were born with them. Hope you like!

Have a Stranger Things request? Read this!

Steve Harrington:

Steve is super confused when he first finds out about your powers

he knows Eleven and has heard about what she went through at the lab so he's both surprised and relieved you didn't have to go through that to be this powerful

he's in awe of everything you can do

occasionally he tries to be protective of you, even though he very well knows you don't need it

you think it's cute that he thinks he could match you in a fight with his silly little bat

Robin Buckley:

she completely loses her mind whenever you use your powers

and she will not shut up about how cool you are

she has a lot of questions though that you don't really have answers for

you don't really know why you were born with these powers, you've just always had them

she likes to joke that when you're paired up for an investigation or side quest for the party you're the brawn and she's the brains, although she hypes up all your other qualities not just your strong powers

she loves all of you and thinks you're the hottest human being in every dimension

Nancy Wheeler:

sometimes you have to tell this girl to turn her journalism brain off because she just loves finding answers and getting to the bottom of things

when you tell her about your powers she immediately is interested in how you got them

if you're also interested in that she'd offer to help you get access to old files, maybe there's some connection in your family history, and as we've seen she knows how to fake documents to get in places haha

if you're not super interested in why you were born with them she'd totally respect that too though

overall she'd just think it's super amazing that you're here and the universe blessed her with you

Eddie Munson:

this man is still very new to this so he'd be freaking out a little

if he meets you before he meets Eleven then he'd be extra freaked out because he's never seen powers like that in action before

once he gets over the initial shock of "holy shit telekinesis is real" then he'd think it's amazing and wonderful

he'd just stare at you with his beautiful big brown eyes

if he wasn't already whipped for you he'd certainly be now

as a huge fantasy nerd he'd be baffled that he's witnessing fantasy come to life in someone as awesome as you

Jonathan Byers:

Jonathan's a little tired of all this at this point lets be real, mans is just drowning all his problems out with weed

so when he first finds out about your powers he's scared of being dragged back into all the Upside Down stuff

but when you tell him you were born with them and they didn't come from Hawkins Lab or anything, he's a lot more open to it and interested in it

you become a safe space for him, and he feels like he can really take a deep breath for once around you because you could protect him if anything happened

Argyle:

he thinks your powers are sick af

the first time you use them in front of him he's high so he thinks he's just seeing things

but after it wears off he still asks you about it, cuz honestly this guy is super smart and observant and he knows when the vibes are off

you end up telling him because you trust him and you care about him enough that you want him to know this part of yourself

he's definitely the type to ask if you can do cool tricks

which of course you do cuz who can say no to him

001:

you're just like him and he can sense that immediately

he feels a super deep connection to you because you were both born with these powers, only difference is yours weren't discovered by Dr. Brenner and you weren't sent to the lab with him

he kind of wishes you had been discovered though, so he could've met you earlier

he wants you to join him, because the two of you combined would be literally unstoppable

if you say no he'd probably try to kill you cuz you'd be a huge threat to him, but if you say yes y'all would have the most villainous twisted love imaginable and could probably actually carry out his dream of remaking the world

Jim Hopper:

he wouldn't really be sure what to do with you to be honest

sure, he's dealt with being El's adopted father and her powers, but it feels a lot different since you're not a kid

he kinda just lets you do your thing, he doesn't mess with you because he knows you can take care of yourself

sometimes you like to kid around with him, making things move and jump scaring him

he doesn't think it's funny but you think it's hilarious

scaring the shit out of people is a love language I think

Dmitri "Enzo" Antonov:

Enzo literally doesn't know shit about all this horror sci-fi stuff back in Hawkins besides the bits Hopper has told him and fighting a Demagorgon

so when he hears about your powers his entire world is warped

like here you are, this person he really cares about, and you have these crazy abilities that are usually only in fiction

he might be really scared at first, he knows you'd never hurt him but people like you are so foreign to him

once he's used to the idea though, he'd love it

he'd be so filled with amazement and wonder

Joyce Byers:

you think she's protective of Will? just wait until you see how she is with you

as soon as she finds out about your powers she'd have so many questions to make sure you're safe

you assure her they're not connected to the Upside Down so she doesn't need to worry about you dealing with that

once that's out of the way she'd honestly love having your powers in her life

even just silly little domestic things, like using your powers to get her something from the top shelf of the cupboard

she'd feel safe with you around, she knows you'll protect her and her family and everyone in the house loves you

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #eddie munson x reader #jonathan byers x reader #001 x reader #argyle x reader #jim hopper x reader #dmitri antonov x reader #joyce byers x reader

[monsoon-of-art]

Donut Hole - Chapter 18

It's Alright

I got a baseball bat beside my bed

To fight off what inside my head

To fight off what's behind my meds

I'm lonely, lost in pain

It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay

You're not a monster, just a human

And you made a few mistakes

- It's Alright, Mother Mother

[hi guys :) we're almost done. Also if the format seems. Weird, it's bc I'm posting from my phone! Ao3 link might be delayed bc of that]

[ao3 link]

Barry just wanted to close his eyes for a second. That's all he wanted. Mystery was perfectly capable of flying on its own, he just wanted to rest his eyes.

For a brief, beautiful moment, he was on the back of his staraptor. He was back home. Soaring through the pecha colored clouds, the towns and cities below merely a speck.

And to his side was [____] on her Crobat. She smiled at him, as warm as the sun, and just as imperceivable as staring directly at it.

The moment didn’t last.

Because the next thing he knew, he was lying in a pile of broken tree branches with a hurt back, Mystery was loudly cawing, and some kid was yelling at them.

Despite being dressed like the new Galactic groups, this kid seemed harmless. Barry absolutely couldn’t say the same about the rocky behemoth that stood behind the boy, but the pokemon made no move to attack them, so Barry chose not to acknowledge it.

Clearly, General Irida didn’t brief this kid well enough.

(Definitely General Irida, because he was wearing pink. And a strange hat that Barry swore he saw somewhere else…but couldn’t remember specifics for the life of him.)

But the kid willingly gave him directions to Jubilife and let the two leave, like an idiot, so Barry did just that.

“Past…deertrack heights…” he repeated to himself, realizing he didn’t know what a ‘deertrack heights’ was. “...cross the river, then cross it…again.”

That didn’t make any sense. Maybe the directions were wrong, or maybe the kid lied to him. But Barry definitely needed to get out of this forest first.

The two eventually stumbled upon a creek, gently winding through the forest, psyducks and bunearies splashing in the crystal clear water. Combees buzzed around small patches of flowers, wurmples creeped and crawled through the underbush, burmies hung from trees.

“This isn’t a river…but it should lead to one.” Barry thought aloud. Then, he paused, turning to Mystery. “...let’s give you a break, bud. I think it might be a bit hard for you to follow me anyway.”

He recalled Mystery to its pokeball and, because he didn’t feel totally comfortable walking without a pokemon, he let Pest out of his.

“Hey buddy!” Barry cooed, scratching the side of the Mothim’s head. “Keep me company, OK? We’re looking for a river. And maybe if we run into any trouble with the bugs, you can let them know I don’t mean any harm, sound good?”

Pest chirped and chittered, fluttering around the boy affectionately.

The two followed the creek closely, Barry taking a moment to appreciate the calm of the forest and the fresh air. The pokemon seemed more skittish than he was used to back home, most fleeing from him immediately.

The exception were a few beautifly that flew over to examine him, but a few chirps and trills from Pest was enough to return to their flowers, uninterested.

Barry and Pest finally saw the forest start to thin. In no time at all, the soft soil of the forest was now the white sand of a beach, and the small creek flowed into a large river. A large dam was built over the river mouth, with several bidoofs tending to it.

Overseeing the bidoofs was a very large bibarel, it turned to the boy and his bug, pushing itself to stand on its hind legs, looming over the two with a snarl. Saliva dripped from its maw, its eyes glowing red.

Barry, at this point in his travels, wasn’t phased. He watched the bibarel with a tired expression, waiting for it to finish the threat display.

He reached into his bag for a pokeball, not taking his eyes off the enormous rodent. “Man, I’m not dealing with this. Snacks, take care of this guy.”

Snacks burst from its pokeball with a debatably fearsome squeal, pelting the bibarel with energy balls.

And Barry turned away, confident that Snacks could handle an overgrown rodent. He didn’t go far, just to the river bank, where the bidoofs fled from his presence.

He released Fern from its pokeball, and Fern - still under the influence of the hypnosis from that weird deer - promptly slumped into Barry’s arms, asleep. Under normal circumstances, Barry would love to let Fern keep sleeping, but they were so close.

Carefully laying Fern onto the soft sand, Barry scooped up a handful of water and splashed its face. “Sorry Bud, we gotta keep moving! You gotta wake up! We’re almost there!”

Fern sputtered and coughed, immediately sitting up and pawing at its face. It shot Barry an annoyed frown, and he sheepishly patted its back. “H-Heh…sorry.”

Snacks returned with a triumphant squeal, pointing at the now-unconscious bibarel, concerned bidoofs swarming around their leader. And at this, Barry smiled.

His pokemon were getting stronger. They were capable of winning battles on their own, capable of protecting themselves and him.

Of course, taking on the horde of Galactic Members that were likely on his tail was still a no-go. They had more pokemon, a defected Battle Facility Head, and Barry was fairly certain they’d find a way to cheat.

But this was good.

Now, Barry’s plan was to release his pokemon, have a quick meal, and continue their journey. But as he reached into his bag for Mystery and Jen, a tree fell in the forest.

And another. And another. When Barry looked over his shoulder, he could see the treeline shifting. Getting closer and closer-

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Barry began shoving things back into his bag, quickly recalling Snacks and was about to recall Pest when the thing chasing them finally broke through the treeline.

It was the rocky, insectoid behemoth from the woods, the little boy with the hat riding on his back. “There he is, Lord Kleavor! Prepare for punishment, troublemaker!”

Well, Barry wasn’t stupid enough to stay around to see what that entailed. With Pest clinging to his head and with Fern by his side, they ran. Splashing through the river, using the bidoof dam as extra footing.

It felt like all of Sinnoh was trying to track him down, at this point. Part of him was tempted to try and fight the thing head on, but when he glanced back, he could see ‘Lord Kleavor’ preparing for a charge attack.

“Outta the way-!” Barry pushed Fern and himself onto the opposite bank of the river just as the behemoth charged, smashing through the dam and crashing into a tree.

The ‘Kleavor’ took a moment to reorient itself, part of its rocky beak currently embedded into the tree it slammed into.

“It’s OK, Kleavor! Try again!”

“No-No, don’t, Kleavor! Don’t try again!” Barry said, already scrambling up from the beach and onto the more rocky terrain. His current theory was that this Kleavor pokemon could charge in a single direction, similar to the rampardos from before.

If he kept zig-zagging around, he should be fine.

Hopefully.

It was better than the group from before, that was certain.

"Stop running, scoundrel!" The little boy shouted, trying to sound as serious as possible. "You will face justice!"

Honestly, he sounded so…genuine. If Barry didn't know any better, he was almost convinced that he was doing something wrong.

He hadn’t done anything wrong…right? He just wanted his friend back, and Team Galactic was getting in the way! They were trying to stop him - weren’t they? They were trying to take over the world - weren’t they? They were going to kill him!

…weren’t they?

A horrible wave of nausea nearly overpowered him.

He had to be right. He couldn't afford to be wrong.

Besides, this kid was brainwashed by Team Galactic. Of course he'd get the facts wrong!

Kricketots and pichu scattered as Barry and Fern darted through the small foothills. He could hear the rocky pokemon behind them, stomping and smashing through trees to chase after them.

Slowly. Rock pokemon were generally not fast, and Barry thanked every God he knew for that.

They just needed to gain some more distance, then they could hide out and wait for the rock pokemon and the little kid to give up.

Then Barry could finally go to Jubilife. He'd finally end this. He’d punch Cyrus in his stupid, emotionless face, he’d fine him bajillions worth, he’d fine every single person working under him, he’d burn the place down-

Maybe that was too far. Maybe punching him was enough.

In the end, he just wanted Her back.

They were awfully high up in the hills now. Barry could see miles: the waterfalls, a Gyarados protectively snaking around the waters below, he could see a trail lined with unlit torches, a small bridge, and a tent.

But then he felt it. The rumbling of hoofs and paws against the earth.

Just up ahead, across a naturally formed land-bridge, the group from up in the mountains had caught up with him.

A screeching caw from above. The giant bird was circling around like a mandibuzz, the girl with green braids riding atop. "He's over here! Over here!"

Barry shouted the first thing that came to mind.

“HEY! SNITCH!”

Barry hadn't even realized he had stopped moving, only noticing when Fern began anxiously trying to nudge him forward. His legs had turned to stone. Once the feeling in his legs returned and once the adrenaline began coursing through his veins, he ran.

He thought he had more time! He thought they wouldn’t catch up that fast!

Maybe this was just his life now. Running forever. Team Galactic nipping at his heels for eternity.

Or until they killed him.

Barry turned, instinctively going back to try and retreat, only to be met with the Kleavor. It slammed its axe-shaped claws into the earth, bellowing loud enough to rattle his very bones.

Fern darted forward with an uppercut to the jaw, Kleavor stumbling back with a pained croon.

Barry started to cheer, pausing when noticing Fern wince and seeing sharp stones embedded into its fist.

“Hey, HEY! You hurt Fern!” he snapped.

“You ATTACKED a LORD?!” the boy snapped back, equally enraged, confused, and terrified.

That was the second time someone mentioned a Lord pokemon. The only thing he could think of were the Totem Pokemon from Alola. But they were meant to be challenged, weren't they? What was the issue here?

Every time he thought he had an idea of what was going on, a new, strange puzzle piece would spring out of the box and try to punch him in the face.

There was something different about this chase. The others seemed more…organized. Coordinated.

Barry's first instinct was to run down the mountain on a worn path, greeted with Irida and Gaeric riding Ursaluna. But when Barry tried to backtrack, the strange, white deer tried to cut him off.

Luckily, there was a tree Barry could climb on to escape, but he was immediately attacked by the giant bird. He had to duck and roll out of there to escape.

Upon ducking into a small crevasse, he was met with the long sneasel’s glowing eyes. It yowled as it approached, pointing at him with its long talons.

Barry bit back a yelp as he scrambled backwards, attempting to look elsewhere to hide. Every nook and cranny was crawling with the Galactic forces.

Before in the mountains it was a confused scramble; but this was planned.

He was being herded.

The thudding of hooves and paws and the yelling of Galaxy Commanders buzzed in his brain like a swarm of beedrill.

Despite all his efforts, all of his tricks, and all of his escape attempts, Barry had found himself being guided into an almost bowl-shape in the hill, the remains of a campfire and a tent laying in the middle, an enormous spire towering above.

Between a literal rock and a hard place, Barry reached into his bag and released all of his pokemon. The five placed themselves between him and the group slowly circling around, intent on fighting if need-be.

“You're not taking me." He said, voice low.

“You’re not exactly in a place to say that.” General Adaman said. “Come with us. We want to help you.”

He scowled at that.

“...ry!...”

Like being submerged underwater, every single other sound faded from Barry’s focus. The bickering between commanders, the various sounds of pokemon (both his and not), the very world around him; all drowned out.

Except for one, singular thing.

“...rry! Barry!...”

All of the air left his lungs in a shaky, wheezing breath.

The commanders had heard it this time, speaking quickly amongst themselves. Not that Barry could hear, nor could he bring himself to care.

He stepped forward. He stepped again. It was like wading through the murkiest of waters. Slowly stepping past the protective wall in his pokemon (much to their confusion) and out into the clearing.

“Baarrryy!”

There was a path that cut through the mountains, winding through the rocks with delicately carved statuettes on the sides.

He wasn't even really walking anymore. More stumbling forward, barely able to catch himself with the other foot before he fell on his face.

Nothing else mattered. Not the confused geodudes he passed, not the muffled calls of his pokemon, not the shouting from the Galactic forces-

Nothing else mattered.

Finally passing through the last of the hills and rocky cliffs, Barry saw a bridge. Made of wood. Unimportant.

Crossing the bridge, running at full speed, was a girl. She wore a blue outfit with a black sash around the middle, and she had a white covering for her head. Her long, black hair flowed as she ran.

She paused at the other end of the bridge, huffing and puffing, limbs shaking from the exertion. And she looked at him, a tired, hesitant smile on her face.

“Barry?”

Barry was thirteen. The police came to tell his mom and dad they were calling off the search soon. He had ran out of the house right then and there, despite his mother's pleas and father’s protests. He wasn't going to accept this. He wasn't.

Barry was twelve now. [___] had to be appointed as champion. It was really an excuse to throw a celebration, as Cynthia had explained, but it was still new and strange. He hated how he looked in a tuxedo, even as his mom fawned over him. [___] scrunched her nose as her mom squished her cheeks, praising ‘her little girl' for accomplishing so much. She had asked for Barry’s specifically, to stand by her side during the event, something that he was going to take very very seriously. A new champion doesn't happen every day! And once their parents had their attention elsewhere, he nudged her arm with a wink, and a promise to come fight her as champion soon.

Barry was eleven now. Pacing just outside of Hearthome. She was supposed to be here hours ago! What had taken her so long? He'd get his answer soon enough, when she'd sheepishly approach while holding a ralts. Oh, he was so mad at her. They had planned! They had arranged to meet! He was on time for once! He was never on time for anything!! But she could only hold up the ralts a little higher with a shy smile, and Barry had to reluctantly agree - that ralts was pretty cute.

Barry was ten. He held his new turtwig high into the air, smiling from ear to ear. Upon soaking in the feeling, the realization that he was indeed a pokemon trainer, he spun right around and insisted on a battle. [___] was hesitant. She wasn't totally sure if her piplup was ready. But he was quick to assure her that she was. They wanted to be trainers, right? And he would be by her side as her best friend and rival. If she was ever unsure, or ever scared, or ever alone. He would be there. And with that reassuring, she agreed to their first ever battle.

Barry was nine. He hated fourth grade. In order to prepare them for secondary school, he now had a rotating class schedule, and it was a nightmare. Now he had four classes! And all of them had homework! How was anyone supposed to juggle this?! And so [___] came to his home after school, choosing not to comment on his red cheeks and audible sniffles. She told Barry that she, too, was having issues with the multiple classes. But that was OK. This was just so they could practice for when they moved to secondary school. And she pulled all her books onto his desk, and suggested they work on homework together.

Barry was seven when his mom suggested he go over to her house across the street. He was greeted by her mother, warm as always, but there was a strange air he couldn't place. Her mother requested he go right upstairs, as she had private matters to attend to. When he walked into her room, seeing [___] sitting completely still on the bed. She told him, voice devoid of emotion, that her daddy wouldn't be coming back to visit. Ever. Even at a young age, Barry knew, intrinsically, that this was a grown-up thing, and that he couldn't solve this problem. Instead, he wrapped her up in blankets, made his best ever pillow fort, and told her stories that he made up off the top of his head until she smiled again.

Barry was five now, on the playground, trying to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. He was a big boy now, his daddy had said so, and big boys don't cry just because the other kids on the playground won't play with you. He had always had an inkling that the other kids didn't like him; sure they tolerated him at school, under the watchful eyes of grown-ups, and yes, he received birthday party invites out of obligation, but the exclusion was still glaringly obvious and very painful. He was too loud. He didn't understand the rules of the game. He was too rough. There were so many rules. He couldn't remember them all. Then, a little hand grabbed his sweater sleeve. [___] held a bucket and shovel, and held it out to him, asking if he wanted to play in the sandbox with her and make things. He could even smash them down when she was done. Barry wiped his nose with the back of his hand and nodded.

Barry was four when he moved to Twinleaf town. He wasn't totally sure why. He knew that daddy had a new job, and that daddy and mommy were ‘taking a break', but that still didn't really explain anything. Not like he had much of a say, no matter how often he tried to argue. And now, he was standing on their new neighbors porch with his mom, pouting as hard as he could. But his demeanor changed when a woman opened the door with her young daughter, looking the same age. Barry and his mommy introduced themselves, then the woman. The woman placed a gentle hand on her daughters head, encouraging her to say her name. And with a quiet murmur, she said her name was-

“DAWN!”

Barry broke into a full sprint now. Tears streaming down his face, smiling as wide as he could muster. “DAWN! DAWN!”

Dawn opened her arms for him, so used to his usual method of greeting. And when he tackled her into a hug, she barely managed to stay on both feet.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, burying his face into the crook of her neck and jaw, “Dawn, Dawn, Dawn…Dawn…” he whispered, fearful of forgetting once more.

“Barry! Barry how, how did you- How did-” she stammered, hugging him right back, the two of them slowly spinning, orbiting around one another, locked so tight. “When Palina came to tell me-”

“I-I found you. I found you. I found you.” was all he could manage to say, burying his face deeper. “I found you…I found you….”

Dawn squeezed him tight. “You found me. You found me.”

“I…found you….I found you….found you…” he whispered, his voice growing tired. Distant. His grip started to loosen.

“Barry? Barry, you're slipping.” She said, trying to shift him back into the hug.

But Barry continued to slip, until he slumped into her arms, unconscious.

And Dawn screamed.

“Barry?! BARRY! Barry please wake up!!”

#pokemon legends arceus #pla #rival barry #donut hole #barry in hisui

[steviewashere]

Take Care of Me (Sodomy) 🔞Minors DNI🔞

Rating: ExplicitCW: Under-Negotiated Kinks, Slight Dub-Con (Unsure But to Be Safe), Physical Fight, Blood, InjuryTags: Enemies to Lovers, Enemies is too Harsh (But they ain't friends), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Making Up, Steve Harrington is a Mess, Eddie Munson Just Wants to Help, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Mean Eddie Munson, Mean Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Dom/Sub Undertones, Angry Sex, Rough Sex, Pain Kink, Painplay?, Anal Sex, Blood Kink, Emotional Sex, Tender Sex, Crying During Sex, Aftercare, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together

Listened to "Violent Pornography" by System of a Down. Then, I thought about those bats that deepen their bond by swapping blood like spit. And then I thought about Steddie having sex after a physical fight. So...this is me trying the thought I had, lol.

Can be read on AO3

🤜—————🤛 Steve’s been independent most of his life.

It was a tactic to survive. If he wanted to see his friends the next day, then he needed to shape up and take care of his mess. Needed to show strength, cleverness, and a level of stealth. Not a great level of stealth, but he needed to be able to brave his surroundings—mask worn, lips tight, body rigid. And he believes he’s done a pretty good.

When he’s tired at work and Robin places a concerned hand on his back, he shrugs her off. Claiming to her that he was up late watching TV, getting too involved in the plot of rerun episodes. She’ll roll her eyes and give him a monotonous task to do, and it’s lying, but he’s saved. Or when he’s tense and a little mean towards Dustin, he goes with the excuse of him getting a call from his dad—not that he’s got a raging migraine and can’t deal with the sun in his eyes through the windshield, and that every sharp corner makes him want to hurl. But he gets away with it all.

At least he thinks he does.

Until Eddie Munson enters his life.

The guy hardly knows him. Gets in his space anyway. Offers to do things. Take the overflowing food off of his plate—that kind of deal. Steve still uses his excuses, though after some time, he notices they waver. That he has to keep insisting for Eddie to believe him, can’t just say it once and get the dude out of his space. He thought he was good at playing hooky when it comes to himself, but it seems that Eddie knows lying—his big cow eyes seem to just stare right through the cracks of Steve’s mask, able to notice every hard crease between his eyebrows and the slight frowning turn of his lips, the heavy circles under his eyes.

He hates it. Hates the way Eddie can see him. Hates the way Eddie seems to know him. Is beginning to hate Eddie a bit in general, even if something lurches in his stomach like the heavy flap of wings. Even if, sometimes, Steve thinks about giving in and giving up and letting Eddie have the reigns. He plays into his excuses more, puts a bigger stretch of space between them, and begins to snap when Eddie asks even the semblance of: “Are you okay?”

——— The next time he sees Eddie, it’s at his own house. He’s been holed away, tired and nightmare-riddled, sweating through his clothes and agitated by the shadows. Has been alone and afraid and aching for somebody there with him, but too cagey to actually ask. And just as he thinks about draining a coffee pot empty to keep himself upright, there’s a knock at his front door.

He didn’t order anything. His parents certainly didn’t order anything, they most likely would’ve left a voicemail on the answering machine. And he didn’t invite anybody over, but of course, when he finally pulls the door open—Eddie’s there.

“What are you—“

“You look like shit,” Eddie bluntly states.

“Gee, thanks,” Steve says dryly. “You can leave now. I’m busy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Busy doing what, exactly? Having a zombie costume party? Maybe setting a new record for how long a human can stay up? Smells like you’re brewing a pot, so it must be the latter.” Steve bristles. Nostrils flaring at Eddie’s sour attitude. “Which is kinda crazy, considering the last time I saw you, I told you to call me if you were having trouble sleeping, didn’t I?”

And, sure, Steve remembers that. The quiet conversation in his kitchen during a movie night. Making popcorn on the stovetop and trying not to pass out, face first, into the hot pan. Eddie’s warm and soothing hand between his shoulder blades, voice soft and careful. “Call me, Stevie,” he had said, “I’ve got all kinds of magic up my sleeves. You’ll be sleeping like a lazy house cat in no time.”

But he keeps the front door wide open. Furrows his eyebrows. Spits, “I don’t need your help. Go away.” Before he can slam it in Eddie’s face, a firm and rather strong hand stops him. Shoving the door wider.

“Afraid I can’t do that, Steve,” Eddie states lowly. “People have been tryin’ to call you. Radio you, too. And we haven’t heard a fucking word from you. So, if you don’t mind—“ And he just walks right in. Shuts the door behind him. Keeps himself pressed against the wood so that Steve can’t open it and shove him out. “—I’m staying. I really don’t like seeing you so…out of it, man. You look thirty seconds away from becoming a heap on the floor.”

Steve scoffs. Steps forward and places a hand on the doorknob, but is immediately thrown off of it by Eddie’s hand on his wrist. “Dude, I don’t need you. Just leave. I’ve got my shit figured out.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. His voice is breathy by Steve’s ear. He raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Tell me, then, Mr. I’ve Got It All Under Control, when’s the last time you’ve slept? And I mean a whole night. Eight hours with your head on the pillow, eyes closed, limp to your bed, and drooling.”

“Like two days ago,” Steve grumbles. “Is that all you wanted? Because you can go now.”

Eddie hums. Surveying and observing. His eyes are like God’s words, scrutinizing, demanding, and genuine. He reaches out, suddenly, and grabs Steve’s face. Hand cupping his chin, fingers digging into his soft cheeks, twisting him this way and that. Drops the hold. Clicks his tongue against his teeth. “I have a joint in my pocket. And a good massage trick if you—“

“God damn it, Eddie!” Steve finally snaps, yelling, “What part of I don’t need you, do you not understand?! Can’t you just fuck off, for once in your life?!”

At those words, Eddie’s gaze goes from sincere to angry. Good, Steve thinks, even as his stomach churns at his own words. He has been positively waiting for the other shoe to drop with this guy. If it has to be now, then so be it. He squares his shoulders just as Eddie clenches his jaw, takes a step back as if inviting him in more, and crosses his arms over his chest. The gesture feels a little small, but he’s made his bed. May as well lay in it.

“I would,” Eddie states slowly, voice nothing but a rasp with how deep it goes. A chill trickles down Steve’s spine. “I’d go and leave you alone. But that’s not what you want, Stevie. You’re lonely. You’re miserable. And I’ve got a quick fix, if only you’d—for once in your life, to throw your words back at you—let somebody help.”

Steve startles. Drops his arms at his sides. And clenches his fists so hard, the beginnings of crescent scars deepen in his palms. “You don’t know what I want,” he mutters. Albeit weakly. Cracking. Petulant.

In front of him, Eddie takes a step forward. It’s a dangerous movement. His footfall heavy against the hardwood under it. The vest on his back making his shoulders broader than Steve remembers. His eyes darken, hardening. Nostrils flaring a bit. He’s not somebody people get intimidated by, but Steve feels as though that’s a fallacy.

He’s ready to turn tail and run. And this is his house.

Except, something zings through him. Part of him is…enjoying this.

“Oh, I don’t, do I?” Eddie asks him. And he grows a bit more unsure as Eddie moves forward. “Think I don’t notice when you relax into people’s touch? When you get that stupid smile of yours as you fall asleep during a movie? How you enjoy it when somebody tells you what to do?”

Each question hits Steve in his core. Each one a solid blow. His palms sweat and his heart rabbits and his face grows hot—with anger or arousal, Steve can’t discern.

“Fuck off, Eddie,” he manages to grind out. Fists clenching and unclenching. Flakes of blood tickling his fingertips. He meets Eddie where he’s at. Toe to toe, nose to nose, eyes on his. In one solid movement, he pushes the other backwards towards the door. Watches him stumble. Is sickly satisfied with the ache to his bicep as Eddie’s eyes land back on him, as he grows taller, leaner in the little foyer. As he looms.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes dangerously, “I don’t think I will.” He steps forward again, his dark eyes like voids when Steve tries to talk a half-step back. “I’ve got you figured out, Stevie. You wouldn’t be puttin’ up a fight like this if it wasn’t true.”

There’s little space between them. An undercurrent of heat radiating around them. A thrum. This sick and twisted hot satisfaction running through Steve. He kind of wants to see what Eddie will do next. So he’s back up to the plate, right fist tight, left arm protecting at his lower belly, and grinning with his eyes. “Fuck,” Steve sighs. “You,” he growls. Fist at his shoulder, twisting in front of his very face, and landing squarely on Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie grunts. A literal punched out, heavy noise. His lip ends up split. He reaches up with a light hand, gingerly tapping at the blood seeping down his chin, and stares down his nose at the red tip of his middle finger. He laughs something unbelievable, delirious. Stares up at Steve. “Fuck me?” He questions hysterically. “Fuck you, Harrington!” Then, he lunges right back. A solid fist to Steve’s own lips. Something that pulsates throughout his entire head, knocking him loose and falling back, making him falter. The metallic taste of his own blood something tangible and erratic and lusting on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Steve teases, breathless, “I’d like to see you fucking try.”

That spurs Eddie on. He speeds back into Steve’s space, grabs him roughly—a little jarringly—by the elbow, and swings them towards the stairs. Steve lets it happen. Lets them stumble their way up the stairs, grabbing at each other like they could knead the tension out of their bodies; lets Eddie shove him into his own room, door slammed behind them, standing a few feet from one another. Eddie’s eyes drop down from Steve’s bloodied face to his crotch.

“I can’t believe this is turning you on,”  Eddie teases. Licks his bloody lips. His spit noticeably red when he speaks again. “Being a bitch turns you on.”

“M’not a bitch,” Steve meekly argues, covering up his crotch. Why now does he feel small? That’s immensely embarrassing.

Eddie grunts, assessing again. “You want this? Want me to actually fuck you senseless? Want me to put you in your place, you little fucking brat?”

Instinctively, Steve flexes his hand over his crotch. Squeezing at himself. He whimpers because this already isn’t embarrassing enough. Nods loosely. Eddie’s voice is scratchy and raw, deep and vibrating through the floor. It makes Steve a little fuzzy, the blood from his head and sluggish lip going to his intense hard-on. Though, part of what Eddie says still stings, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, at least. “Yeah,” he breathes softly, all that intense anger seeping from him, even as he still sizzles. “Fuck me, Eddie.”

“Strip,” Eddie demands lowly.

And all Steve can do is oblige. Peeling himself from his clothes. Timid and quick, shaking in the air when he’s naked and goosepimpled. He eyes Eddie coming closer, his cheeks pink in the dim light of his bedroom. Watches him undress, slower than Steve had. Raking over his lithe body; the suggestion of muscles, his endearingly flat ass, and beautifully pale skin. His puckered scars that have healed neatly, how they dance with the few tattoos he has. Eddie’s reaching out to firmly grip Steve’s left bicep, and the other cupping under his chin again. Fingers digging at his cheeks once more. Then, he’s pushing forward, meeting their lips in a mess. There’s blood on Eddie’s tongue as he plunges between Steve’s lips—metallic as his own, thick and slimy. The swipe of his tongue makes Steve’s split lip sting and burn as if it’s alcohol on a fresh wound. He suckles the blood from inside each of their mouths, swapping it back and forth quite literally. Pulling away with the thinnest string of saliva Steve’s ever seen, though it’s a deep cherry red—something he’s thought of in his wildest dreams.

Eddie shuffles them towards the mattress. Topples Steve down on top, shuffles him supine and parallel. And then climbs on top, resting his full weight between Steve’s open, wanting legs. His hands on the thickest part of Steve’s thighs, thumbs brushing over the sparse hair towards the inside of his knees, eyeballing the red and leaking tip of his needy cock. He digs the sharp edge of his fingernails into the supple flesh underneath them. Scooting forward enough to tease the head of his own cock against Steve’s puckering hole.

Without warning, one of Eddie’s hands slaps over Steve’s already sensitive dick. He cries out at the hot flash of pain working its way through him. Thick and quick like the rush of blood to his heart. He squirms, but ultimately is stopped with Eddie’s weight being pressed into his legs. Including the sudden rush of Eddie’s dick bullying its way through Steve’s hole.

All Steve can do is scream, though it ends on a keening mewl, something only Eddie needs to bear witness to. The beading pearl of pre-come enough confirmation that he enjoys it. The stretch of his asshole, a blue lick of fire shooting through him, an ache already sore. Something he’ll soothe later, whether Eddie helps him or not.

For once, though, he likes the idea of Eddie being there to help him. Of his giant hands and the dull roughness of his callouses like balms over his skin. He wriggles again, trying to get all that Eddie’s offering inside him. He’d never thought about Eddie’s cock before, not really, but if he had to guess it—he’d never expect it to be so big, let alone thick.

“Look at you,” Eddie coos, although a bit mean. “Taking it all so well. My bitch can take it all, can’t he?”

Steve sniffs. Overcome with some odd mix of emotion, instantly quelling the nauseous anger he was holding onto. There are tears prickling in the corners of his eyes as he murmurs, “No, Eds, no—M’not a bitch. Not a—“ Steve hiccups. “Not a bitch, Eds.”

Immediately Eddie’s crowding over him. His hips are stilled and he’s wrapping Steve’s legs around his waist. Both of his arms encase Steve’s head, crouched down on his elbows. “No?” He asks softly, checking in. Genuinely gentle, no more of the macho mean guy he’d been playing up to. “No, of course not, Stevie,” he whispers. Leans in a little more to peck under Steve’s left eye, trailing lips down to the already bruised skin around his mouth. He pulls back. Eyeing Steve’s half-closed eyes. Tracing a thumb over the tear track that’s made itself known. “You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” Eddie murmurs, “Just a baby boy, huh? Just need help being sweet right now.”

“I can be sweet,” Steve mumbles. His voice a little distant, soft, and quiet. “Can be good, Eds,” he whispers.

Eddie’s got a hand cupping the back of Steve’s head. The other working its way to Steve’s chest, over his heart. Petting at the gradually sweating skin. He presses a warm kiss between Steve’s eyebrows. Murmurs against the skin, “You gonna let me help you? I’ll be gentle now, I promise, baby.”

“Gentle,” Steve echoes. “Please,” he whispers, “please be gentle.” He fully opens his eyes to stare into Eddie’s own. There’s a softness to them that wasn’t there before.

The hand in his hair pets over the crest of his skull. Digging fingers into his scalp to scratch at it. “Okay, baby,” Eddie whispers, “I’m sorry for being rough. For being mean. I’ve gotcha now, okay? Let me make you feel good. Let me help you.”

Steve hums. Melting into the hold Eddie has on him. Lets his arms go completely limp at his sides. Eyes closed, creases and wrinkles receding. “Don’t pull out,” he mumbles.

“You sure, sweetheart? I can get some lube—“

“No,” Steve squeaks. Pushes further into the hand on his head. “Feels good,” he slurs, “s’good. The pain.” He reaches up blearily, a featherlight touch to Eddie’s bare arm. Fingers grazing the taut pull of his muscles. Over his chest, naked of hair. On the hanging ball chain of Eddie’s necklace. Teases the pick between his thumb and index finger. Smiles softly to himself. “Want it hard,” he confesses breathily.

Eddie keeps his hold, his line of sight completely focused on Steve’s face. The tenderness of his stare makes Steve want to weep. Makes him watch this attention all the time. He tracks his own hand down to Eddie’s waist, squeezes him gently. Mewling at the snap of Eddie’s hips. He welcomes the keening noises that fall from his lips.

It’s a mix of touch. Eddie’s hands are soft. His hips are fast and intense. He pulls out to just his tip, but quickly resituates himself to press firmly against Steve’s prostate. Kisses the tip of Steve’s nose, kitten licks over the steady stream of tears, dully scratches at his scalp with the slow stretch of his fingers.

All of it’s enough to completely soothe Steve. To melt him. To make him come undone.

Sobbing, he murmurs, “M’sorry. So sorry, Eds.”

Eddie kisses him softly on the mouth, careful to avoid the split on his lip. “Why, baby?” He whispers, “it’s alright. I was mean, too. It’s alright.”

“Forgive me,” Steve cries out with the snap of Eddie’s hips. Chants with each movement, “Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.” His voice goes reedy. Exhausted and unlike him. Something sweeter. New. “Forgive me, Eds. M’sorry. Forgive me, forgive me.”

There’s a tight ball in his belly. Glowing warm and bright with his impending orgasm. Teetering with each word, Eddie’s hips, the stretch of his hole.

Against the side of his face, Eddie nestles himself. Cheek to cheek. And into Steve’s ear, he soothes, “Shh, baby. Shhh. I forgive you. We’ll be okay. I’ve gotcha right now.”

“Got me forever?” Steve asks wetly.

“Yeah, baby boy,” Eddie murmurs, “Forever and ever. I promise.”

With that, Steve lets go. Against his mattress, he squirms, convulses with the intensity of his orgasm. He bites down on his swollen, bleeding lip as he cries out. Hands tense on Eddie’s waist, squeezing him with all the force in his grip. Spurts of come into both their happy trails. Eddie isn’t too far behind, the hot and calming fill of his come completing Steve in a way he hadn’t been anticipating. With the weight of Eddie’s own orgasm, his sweaty body atop, and the come painting him inside—Steve is whole.

He’s exhausted when he comes down from the headspace he occupied. His face buried deep into his pillow, drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth, eyes half-closed and blurry to his surroundings. His cock is sensitive as Eddie pulls himself up. Hole sore and aching. Legs tight from digging into the small of Eddie’s back. But something in him panics as Eddie moves off him, getting back and away.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, “Please don’t go.”

“I’m not leaving, Stevie baby,” Eddie assures. “Just grabbing toilet paper from your bathroom, alright? Need to clean us up. I’ll grab a cold washcloth, too.”

“You’ll come back?” For a moment, Steve is lightly embarrassed by the tone of his voice. Like he’s a little kid, watching his parents leave for a business trip for the first time. Though, it honestly feels like that. Because back then, they didn’t come home when they promised.

“I promise, Steve. I wouldn’t leave you like this. Never ever.”

“M’kay,” Steve sighs. “M’sorry.”

He hears Eddie enter the restroom, shushing the entire time. His movements almost clumsy with how he bangs the cupboards. The sink turns on and something wrings out. And then Eddie’s back in Steve’s space, just as he promised.

There’s a damp washcloth on his lips. Pressing lightly over the split. A slow wipe with toilet paper on his legs, belly, and ass. Eddie is careful. Something tender and raw. And he lays down beside Steve, still holding the washcloth up.

He hisses quietly. “God, Steve,” he whispers, “I got you good. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have…Jesus Christ. Why’d I hit you?” The washcloth leaves for a moment, replaced by the tip of Eddie’s thumb. Pulling down gently on his lip, eyes assessing the wound.

“’T’s alright,” Steve mumbles, “hit you, too. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie quickly answers. “It bled for a little bit, but ultimately stopped. Think I got you with one of my rings, though. So yours is messier.” Rag goes back to his sluggishly bleeding lip. “Shouldn’t have pushed you. What was I thinking?” He mutters.

His words are muffled by the cloth, but he still speaks. “Forgive you, Eds. We both fucked up, we’re alright.” He places his hand back on Eddie’s waist, pulls himself into the little bit of space that’s left. His forehead lands softly on Eddie’s chest. “Sleepy,” he murmurs, “wanna go to bed.”

“You can sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie matches his volume, “I’ll be right here.”

“Wake me up later? Help me get ice?”

The gentle press of lips to his hairline. “Of course, Steve. I’ll help however you want it.”

“Help me by cuddling?”

Eddie snorts. “Okay,” he whispers. Wraps his arms around Steve’s sweaty back. Pulls him in firmly. Pets down his back. So Steve closes his eyes, breathes in deep, and goes boneless in the hold. “I’ve got you, honey. I’m sorry, but I have you now.”

🤜—————🤛 Haha, I've been trying to write this for the last six hours.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #nsft #smut #read the tags #read the content warnings

[on-leatheredwings]

to be fair dick was my favorite for a while! maybe that's just due to nostalgia but i definitely had a dick grayson era. I think my favorite (yandere wise) would be tim? I like the way you put it; he’s charming but still more approachable than dick. I think part of that is that, to a lot of people, dick never seems to get angry. tim feels a lot more human because he’s not this constant pillar of support for everyone, he gets tired and it’s pretty obvious. yandere or not all of the bats are putting up a facade most of the time. maybe their guards aren’t up 24/7 but batman definitely trained them to . dick feels distant and dissociative in a way because only a few people have seen him really ticked off. tim’s also younger, and probably knows how he’s expected to act around others or socialize with his peers. he jokes around a lot i think but part of his charm is also just his. awkwardness? i think dick’s more charismatic than charming, anyway. (not that tim is more friendly than dick, he’s just more normal. his normality is part of his charm!! he’s not perfect and it’s realistic. i think dick has more charisma because in a way, everyone’s accepted that he’s just this perfect, universal constant. he’s well rounded: he’s friendly and you can bring him home to meet your mother but at the same time, he’s intimidating and his presence demands attention. i like to think that it’s stage presence, and that he got it from his (short) time with the flying graysons.) this is very much another tangent sorry! i have a lot of thoughts on them.

I !!!! AGREE!!! ENTIRELY!!!

TIM IS ACTUALLY THE MOST 'NORMAL' OF THEM by regular person standards...

meanwhile dick is like. the Perfect Guy .

I think if his darling ever saw him truly ticked off they'd get scared, even though the anger isn't being directed at them. his family grew up seeing cracks in the surface of his facade, also saw him fighting as robin/nightwing, so it's not shocking to them, but to you... dick's only ever been smiley and teasing and kind. he's never said anything terribly negative about anybody. so seeing him punch a guy out or coldly put someone in a headlock feels obscenely wrong...

and no don't apologize i love thoughts

#timcore #ardennes' inbox #dickcore #yandere batfam

[chvoswxtch]

I feel like Foggy doesn't get enough love. I would like to request a vault track from Speak Now for him, please!

you know what, you're absolutely right. foggy nelson doesn't get enough love and i'm tired of y'all acting like he's not a babe so let's get into it

as a reminder, from the vault means it's spicy! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

innocent (foggy's version) (from the vault)*

he is anything BUT

now don't get me wrong, foggy definitely strikes me as the hopeless romantic type

I can see him enjoying some sweet, slow, passionate love making- wanting to make sure his partner feels loved and desired, that they feel every ounce of pleasure he can possibly offer (he's definitely a giver), and he always puts his partner's needs before his own

I see him being more of the submissive type in a typical setting

but do not let that sweet smile fool you

bc underneath that physical embodiment of sunshine in human form is a FREAK

alexa play freak nasty by megan thee stallion

now, while foggy is usually all sweet smiles and friendly behavior, he can get aggressive and be dominant if need be

exhibit a: beating the shit out of those guys with a bat to protect karen in s1

exhibit b: calling reyes' bluff in the precinct in s2 (basically all of s2 foggy, mans was done with everyone's shit)

exhibit c: running for district attorney in s3, publicly calling out tower and fisk despite the negative consequences, standing in bullseye's way just to protect karen even though he had no weapon or way out (he's been hanging around matty too long) and just all around being a bad bitch the whole time (he had big dick energy all season)

honorable mention: that haircut in s3, you can't tell me that man doesn't fuck

exhibit d: (pun intended) dicking marci down after the bulletin incident right there on the couch leaving her at a loss for words (i'm pretty sure she just says "wow")

it seems like when he gets pushed too hard, or when he's completely done with everyone's shit, he basically snaps and stops playing nice

I personally find this hot and I think his partner would too and would absolutely volunteer to let foggy take out his frustration on them

maybe he's having a bad day, his current case is a shitshow, matt is being a human disaster like usual, karen is out doing something that's sure to spike his blood pressure, and the only relief he can find is fucking you over his desk hard (we're talking the desk gets moved to the other side of the room, hard)

but it's not all stress related fucking

foggy is extremely playful and flirty, and I think that translates into the bedroom, or wherever the two of you find yourselves (again, I see him as normally submissive, so if you tell him to do something, he's gonna do it)

maybe you get really excited watching him win a case in the courtroom, and you decide he deserves a little reward for working so hard lately, so you shove him into an empty supply closet and blow him right there in the court house. but foggy, being the man he is, insists on returning the favor, leaving matt to rush out of that court house in horror

and don't even get me started on drunk foggy

he's definitely gotten a little handsy and fucked you in the bathroom at josie's, or out in the alley against the wall, bc neither one of you could wait until you got home

in conclusion your honor, this man fucks, I rest my case

#court's 3k followers celebration #court's 3k friends celebration #the eras tour (court's version) #foggy nelson #foggy nelson x you #foggy nelson x reader #foggy nelson headcannon #foggy nelson request #foggy nelson smut

[see-arcane]

your tags on that vampire cowboy post

you have my attention 👀

Can’t keep a good cowboy down (or human) for too long :)

I like to imagine he’s in a different branch of the vampire family tree. Vampire bats are native to Central and South America, which suggests three things to me.

1) Dracula wasn’t a literal vampire bat over in England, but likely some huge fruit bat/flying fox with a vampire’s modified fangs.

2) Mr. Morris is wearing a vampiric style that can do the modern-classic humanoid-to-bat-to-in between transformations even without Scholomance magic. So when the situation calls for it, he can put on some wings 🦇

3) The bat who bit him is technically his sire. And while I’d assume this meant it was just a regular vampire guy or girl in animal mode, it did go after a horse first. Not Draculaing around to turn people. So maybe the vampire bat is just a bat who got vampire’d. And the tiny bat-master’s commands amount to:

WANT BLOOD. FIND BLOOD TALL THING. GIVE DRINKY DRINK.

“I just fed you a pint of cow artery, you’re just being a glutton now.”

TALL THING. TALL THING I TIRE. LET RIDE ON HEAD UNDER HEAD-COVER.

“Still called a hat.”

DO NOT CARE. WANT DAY-NAP.

It’s the lamest supernatural horror take on Ratatouille, but they make do.

#Vampire Quincey Morris my underappreciated beloved #dracula #quincey morris