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rockstar-pornograffitti · 1 year

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Take On The World

One shot (for now)

K.K. Downing X OC {Alexandra Chrissy}

Warning(s): None

Plot: Alexandra works in a local rock radio station. When Judas Priest comes in for an interview and gives her friend and radio jockey, Lara two tickets to the show, Lara chooses her. The only issue is she suffers from some social anxiety, queue the drama unfolding.

A/N: I’m only writing more if people want it. Please comment, like and reblog this! Thanks for reading. <3

Alexandra’s POV

I take a deep breath as I finally after a few minutes of panicked searching find a quiet spot. I should have known better, me and crowds don’t mix well yet, I never learn.

I lean my back up against the cold painted brick wall, the sound of the concert in the background. I can feel my heartbeat slowing down and my breath getting more even and normal again and I find solace in being alone.

I knew deep down I should have told Lara no, but she’s my best friend, and I have a hard time saying no to people I care about. I’ve also been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone, which if you can’t tell hasn’t been going all too well.

The only reason we’re even at this Judas Priest concert is because she got the tickets for free.

We both work for the local rock radio station, she’s the disc jockey and I work behind the scenes in the sound room making sure everything is working alright. The thing about our station is I sit behind her, with a sheet of glass between us and I listen in on the conversation, and pull up the bumpers, get the songs playing, the comermicals and pull up the callers as the show is going.

Today, since they were playing our arena Judas Priest came in to conduct an interview with Lara of course. I luckily didn’t have to interact with any of them. It’s not that I wouldn't have loved to, I love the band, but as I’ve said before I’m not good with social interactions.

I’m so bad in fact, that K.K. Downing one of the two guitars, briefly glanced at me from behind the glass and I quickly looked away hoping he wouldn’t notice me.

I’m proud that I made it as far into the concert as I did, usually I’d be out of here having a panic moment way before I did tonight. So in that way I’m proud. I made it through the concert, well most of it. Just not the encores, I maybe could have if it wasn’t for the guy behind me trying to chat me up.

I’m sure lots of people would have been flattered but social interactions aren’t my thing so I freaked out. Of course I lied to Lara, and told her I had to find the bathroom, that way she wouldn’t worry too much or try and tell me to stay.

It probably also didn’t help that we were very close to the stage, and well at one point I swear to god K.K. once again was looking at me, he even pointed. I know he was most likely just pointing at the crowd generally but he looked directly at me as he did it. I’m sure most people would love that and think it’s cool, but my anxiety got in the way once again. I'd prefer to blend into the crowd.

How ridiculous am I? Sitting backstage at a Judas Priest concert, not even to meet the band just to get out of the crowd. It’s embarrassing really. Hopefully I can sneak back out before it’s too late and everyone starts making their way back here after the show.

I figure I have a few more minutes at least, so I reach into my bag and pull out my half finished book. Reading is one of the ways I escape my problems, that and music. I pull out my Walkman, which just happens to have Turbo, the very album they're touring off of right now. I just heard Turbo lover not minutes ago live, but I need to hear it again. I turn it up full volume as I begin to read.

————————————————————————

I Jump as I feel someone tapping my shoulder, knocking me out of my book and the music. Before looking up to see who it is I quickly stop my music and remove my headphones. I’m expecting it to be Lara who’s gone off to find me, after all it would have been a long bathroom break.

So when I look up and see K.K. Downing still in his full leathers, his blonde hair dripping in sweat, I can’t help but feel that all too familiar panic set in. Only I really can’t run. I backed myself into a corner, no literally.

“Can I help you with something?” He asks me, giving me curios look.

“No! I’m sorry! I was trying to get away from the crowd and got carried away reading. I'm sorry I’m in the way. I’ll leave.” I say quickly shutting my book and standing up, the words just flooding out of me in a panic.

“No. That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to ask if you wanted a signature.” He tells me and this time I notice his smooth English accent a lot more. “You work at the radio station, right?”

“Yes.” I manage to squeak out. He remembered me from earlier? I was behind the glass. We didn't even interact. He looked at me once.

“I-I um don’t have anything for you to sign, but ah thank you.”

“At least let me give you a pick.” He says, offering out one of his guitar picks in his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m K.K. by the way.”

I would be rude not to take it, and who doesn’t want a pick from K.K. Downing? so I gently take the piece of plastic from his hand and give him the best smile I can manage.

“Thank you. I’m Alexandra.”

“Not a problem, love.” He tells me with a friendly smile on his face. “I would have given it to you in the crowd at the end but you disappeared.”

I feel a blush creep across my face, he noticed? So he was looking at me? Why would he even be looking at me? I do everything possible to blend into the crowd and not stand out.

“Oh- sorry.” I say, I almost feel bad like I should explain why I suddenly got up and just left. I mean they killed it and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.

“I-it wasn’t because it was bad. I just got uncomfortable because someone was um…chatting me up.” I try my best to explain despite still being slightly nervous and still socially awkward as ever.

“Oh. I’m sorry you couldn’t enjoy the end.” K.K. says to me, “Do you want to meet everyone else? Consider it payment for someone ruining the show for you.”

I know I should no, I’ll probably end up making a fool of myself, but K.K. has been nothing but nice to me. It would be rude not to, not to mention it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’ve come this far. I'm sure I can do it.

“Okay.” I smile at him.

“Ladies first.” he says, opening the door right next to the corner I was standing in.

Wait, I was standing next to their dressing room this whole time? No wonder he came up to the weird woman sitting in the corner. I’m also a little surprised this place isn’t swarmed by groupies, unless all the other band members already took them into the dressing room.

I walk into the backstage era and sure enough there are a couple of beautiful blonde girls. The kind that used to pick on me in high school and were cheerleaders and popular.

I suddenly feel very out of place.

I’m nothing like these girls and not nearly as beautiful. I have plain dark hair, and my go-to outfit is jeans, a t-shirt, usually with a band on it and boots or sneakers depending on the time of year. I only ever wear dresses on special occasions and I’d never wear heels.

“Here.” K.K. says handing me a lanyard with a backstage pass hanging on it. “Put this on so no one tries to kick you out.”

I nod and put the pass around my neck, I do so I notice it has a signature on it.

“You signed it.” I say, looking for confirmation from him, I somehow never noticed, though that could be due to me looking at the other girls in the room.

“You said you had nothing for me to sign so yes I did.” K.K. tells me and that’s very sweet actually, I can’t help but smile at that.

“Now let me change real fast and I’ll find their other okay?” K.K. tells me and I nod in acknowledgment, standing up against the farthest wall hoping none of these girls come up to me as K.K. disappears into the back room.

—————————————————————————

K.K’s POV

“Where were you?” Rob asks, being his normal nosy self.

“With a girl.” I tell him, as I start removing my trousers.

“Oh, I see.” He says, raising an eyebrow at me. I know exactly what he’s thinking, she’s some groupie or beautiful blonde woman I’m going shag later. Usually he wouldn’t be wrong, yet it’s a bit different.

It was in intention originally, but that changed. Yes Alexandra is pretty, but she’s shy, deathly shy. Struggling to speak to strangers is shy. I could never take advantage of someone like that, especially someone who seems as inexperienced as her.

I’d settle for her number, or maybe a date. Not so much for me even, for her, she deserves it. Especially since she didn’t get to enjoy the end of the show.

“It’s not like that.” I inform him, as I take off my leathers and quickly pull my shirt over my head waiting for the shock from all the lads.

“What do you mean it’s not like that?” Ian pips up from beside me. “I’ve known you ages and it’s never been not about that.”

“She’s not interested in me like that.” I tell him as I pull on my boots.

“When has that ever stopped you?” Ian asks, giving me a very confused look. I choose to ignore that comment, yes I’m pretty president and I like to change a girls mind through flirting but I catch a hint when I’m not wanted.

“Who is this woman?” Rob asks, sounding genuinely curious, and intrigued.

“She worked at the radio station from earlier the one behind the glass.” I tell him, as I pack all my clothes into the wardrobe case for the next show.

“Oh I see.” Rob says.

“She’s very shy, but she missed the end of the show because someone made her uncomfortable so I told her I’d get you to come meet her.” I inform all of them, trying to get the topic off of me wanting to shag Alexandra.

“Fine, we'll meet your future wife.” Ian teases, making me roll my eyes, but I’m not taking that bait.

“Alright follow me.” I say, leading the four of them out into the longue era where Alexandra is standing up against the wall exactly where I left her once.

I smile as I catch her attention and she shyly smiles back. She has a beautiful genuine smile and I must say I like bringing it to her face.

“This is Alexandra.” I say introducing her to the band, because she'll struggle with that, and I want her to feel as comfortable as possible.

“Hello, Alexandra.” Rob greats, with a friendly smile. “Want me to sign that?” He points to the pass I gave her before that already sports my signature.

“That would be nice.” She manages to say.

“We’ll all sign it. I’m Glenn.” Glenn tells her, taking the marker and singing it next after rob finishes.

Alexandra nods in response, and Ian takes it nice and simply offers her a smile clearly catching she isn’t much for talking.

She may not be saying she’s greatful or happy, but it’s showing on her face with that beautiful genuine smile of hers gracing her lips. I can’t help but smile as well at that.

_____________________________________________

Alexandra’s POV

All I can think at this moment is how jealous Lara will be that I managed to get backstage, meet the whole band and get their signatures. I can’t help but smile, no matter how nervous I am. I mean this doesn’t happen everyday. How can I not?

I figured since I’m not much of a conversationalist, they’d all quickly move on to the other group of much prettier and chatters blonde. So I can slip out without making things awkward and go find Lara, I’m sure by this point she’s freaking out trying to find me.

Yet K.K. hasn’t left my side yet. I glance over at him, worried if I stare at him it might be rude. Why is he still here?

“Alexandra, I want to ask you something.” He says looking at me, and I turn to face him.

What could K.K. Downing possibly have to ask me? It’s a bit puzzling to me. Did I do something wrong?

“Yes?” I ask nervously.

“We’re here again tomorrow night. Would you like to come?” K.K. asks me, and an hour ago I might have said no considering how this one ended, but now I’m considering saying yes. I’m proud of myself. I’ve managed to talk to four rockstars and not have a panic attack. I think maybe I could handle it.

“I know you don’t like crowds. So I could give you a backstage pass. That way you could sit on the side stage. It’s much quieter and you’ll be alone except for my tech but he won’t bother you. I’ll even give you one so you can bring your friend.” K.K. adds and once again that offer is too kind for me to pass up.

“I’d like that.” I smile at him, “thank you.”

“Anytime. I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” He says. “I’ll come drop off the passes for you at the radio station.”

I nod.

“I should probably go now. I-I’m sure my friend is worried about me.” I tell him, “also I’ve got to brag to her a bit.” I add a bit of a joke, lifting up the pass.

K.K. laughs. “Just tell her we’ll sign hers tomorrow.”

“I will.” I say as I leave the backstage area feeling on top of the world.

#the bitch writes #judas priest fanfiction #kk downing fanfiction #kk downing x oc

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pixiemage · 7 months

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Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.

Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.

RIP decency indeed.

#Archive of our Own #Ao3 #Ao3 Comments #Writing #Fanfiction #Fanfic Writing #I wrote over 100k on that fic before burnout took hold #I poured my heart into what I did manage to finish #adhd’s a bitch that doesn’t always let me write what I want to write but I got that far #don’t make me feel ashamed because you didn’t get to see the ending

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sing-you-fools · 8 months

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me: this is a background character who's in one scene, has two lines, and is completely irrelevant to the rest of the story. i am going to stop obsessing over what to name him and use the random name generator on behindthename.com. i am going to accept the first thing it gives me and move the fuck on.

behindthename.com:

#guess i can call him charlie #i'll know what it's short for #and maybe someday i'll have a Fandom and someone will deep dive this far and find out the truth #a bitch can dream #writing #writeblr #naming characters #behind the name #names #character names #my writing #charizard cockburn #pokemon #sing-you-fools #1k #5k #10k #25k #50k

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master-xochimilli · 5 months

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I need to get fucked, bred, just be pounded with my face pressed against a pillow, ass up, cock pounding and thrusting stupidly into my dripping cunt, hearing their moans match with mine~

Yanking on my leash and making me choke and whimper as I feel them go faster, rougher, harder clenching around them, feeling how their cock throbs inside me as they tell me not to cum yet. Feeling them press their pretty mouth against my back as I cry and beg, as they bite me and mark me as there own

Telling me what a good girl I am as they unload themselves inside, as they fill me up. Calling me a slut and a pervert and the prettiest pet cumdump they've ever seen I sob into the pillow as they start fucking me again~

(This post is about queer t4t sex!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

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myiliterallyhavenolifegoals · 7 months

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i'm unwell!!! because in stede's eyes, ned low was right!! ned says "he [ed] only likes you because of your bumbling amateur status" and calls stede blackbeard's "pet" just like izzy did in series 1

so stede steps up as a captain, kills the man who harmed his crew, and suddenly, for once in stede's life, he isn't a joke! the gentleman pirate is taken seriously and welcomed into the pirate community!

and what happens less than 24 hours later? ed calls their night together a mistake, AND LEAVES.

yes, obviously the situation is more nuanced, and these old men are once again struggling to communicate, but i 100% understand why stede went a bit of the rails at the end of episode 7. stede's been so focused on trying to help ed, that he's completely ignored his own ongoing identity crisis and trauma, and after the incident at the academy in series 1, this meltdown was long overdue.

#yes he's being a bitch but it's IN CHARACTER #just because you don't agree with his actions doesn't make it bad writing guys c'mon it's good omens 2 all over again #ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death #stede bonnet #ed x stede #rhys darby #i'm a stede apologist first and a homie second i'm sorry lmaoo #i got so excited when i saw the flashback to him as a little boy bc finally!!! stede's trauma gets to be addressed!!!#edit: HE SLEPT WITH ED TO TAKE THE POISON AND TURN IT INTO POSITIVITY WAIT A SECOND WAIT A FUCKING SECOND

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aziraphale-is-a-cat · 7 months

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DPXDC Watch Out, He Bites

Danny did his best to be the best big brother possible, he helped his little brother learn and train to be the best, even if he knew what it meant. He protected Damian through thick and thin, and as he stared down at the corpse of his grandfather's enforcer in the sand he knew he'd just signed his own death warrant.

Danny had seen it coming for a while, even as the oldest son he'd never been what grandfather had expected of him, too soft and moral. He suspected that was why mother had Damian in the first place, to replace him as heir- and he never held it against his little brother. But stepping in the way of Grandfather's punishment for Damian would not go unnoticed, this would be the last way he would protect his little brother for a very long time.

Daniel turned to Damian, tears coming to his eyes as he wipes the blood and viscera off his hands and out from under his nails. "I can't stay." He saw his little brother's hands ball up as he started to shake. "I'm sorry, if you ever need a place to hide, then come find me."

Years later, Damian struggles to find purpose after the death of his father, and rather than be Robin to Dick's Batman he goes on a cross country road trip to find his big brother who would do anything to protect him.

But when Bruce comes back from being stuck in the time stream, Damian introduces him to his eldest son. They get along fine at first, but then some goon tries to kidnap Damian Wayne for the ransom money, and Danny gets there first.

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confessedlyfannish · 27 days

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Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff #but I also just want to post it and get it out there #fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them #im bad at multiple drafts #my writing #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #batman #i live to make everybody dramatic #but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic #lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade #and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so #he doesn't need to change for nobody #nor feels inclined to #also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable #jazz: let's unpack that #clockwork: we never do #jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true?#clockwork: ...#also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING #wish i could #that is cash money right there #shoutout to 11thsense

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naonap · 9 months

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men used to go to war

#imagine you're kunikida and you see this bitch like this at work what do you do #i gave up on the phone before i had even staryed #started #im not re writing thay #THAT #can you tell im lazy #anyway #bongou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd fanart #bongou stray dogs fanart #bsd dazai #dazai fanart #hmmm what else #dazai osamu

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guinevereslancelot · 2 years

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my favorite ship dynamic is betrayal. not when they betray each other but when one or both of them turn against their cause, their principles and/or loved ones for the other. bonus points if the person they're abandoning everything for didn't remotely expect it. ultimate declaration of love. "you mean more to me than everything i ever believed in. i am more loyal to you than my conscience. i love you more than the thing i would die for."

#seeing lots of people talking abt ship dynamics and aaaaaaa #its abt devotion to your lover above everything!!#this is the appeal of anidala and gwencelot for me <333 #ship dynamics #otp #this has been a shitpost #please tag this with your blorbos btw i want to know abt more ships like this #to me that's romance #writing #1k #this is why enemies to lovers goes so hard #i love zuko more than i fear you bitch!!!#my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder etc

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stevebabey · 1 year

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Steve hates to ask this of Eddie.

Really, it’s a last resort sort of thing. Robin’s gone for the week, some trip upstate with her family. And it’s fine, they’re close but Steve’s a big boy. He can handle a week without his best friend.

But, well, it’s just unfortunate for it to creep up on Steve when Robin’s gone. It being… shit, how did Robin explain it? She was so much better at keeping track of all those things than he was, all the terms filed away nicely in her head to be recalled as needed. Steve’s much messier— in his head, in his life.

Touch aversion, that’s what she called it. A by-product of the severe lack of touch in his childhood she had said; not enough hugs, hand holding, the works and now Steve’s grown to find it too strange. Something prickles under his skin, pulls in his gut all the wrong way, when someone’s too touchy-feely with him. Robin’s said it’s normal, and he believes her.

It just makes it harder when this comes by. That completely strange backward want that carves into his chest, creating a chasm that just aches. Suddenly, Steve wants to be touched, needs to be touched — like something behind his ribs is just begging for comfort in the form of touch, any way he can have it. Like some young part of him can still remember the hunger he had for it and it comes back in full force, a tender wound between his lungs.

It doesn’t happen that often — though, it’s more frequent than ever recently — but usually, Robin’s here. She can almost always tell before Steve works up the courage to ask. Twitchy fingers give him away. He hovers closer than normal, shoulders brushing more often.

She always gives him a smile, softer than her usual snark and says, “C’mere, dingus.” and stands on her tip-toes to envelope him in a hug. Steve can’t help but sink into it, gripping her close around the waist for as long as he needs until the hole in his chest feels a step closer to patching up.

Robin also tells him he can have as many hugs as he’d like but Steve is firm with himself; he only needs one, then he’ll be back to fine.

It what’s he needs now. One really fucking good hug. Still, he hates to ask, least of all from Eddie, because, well— okay, Steve has no reason to assume Eddie wouldn’t give him a hug.

He’s seen Eddie’s hugs before. Like everything he does, Eddie puts his everything into it- he hugs Robin til she wheezes, loves to lift Nancy off the ground, and the hug he gives Dustin is sweetest of all, a hand on the back of the littler’s head while he does some strange little sway. Dustin always laughs, playfully shoving him away by the end but Steve knows he loves them, that it helps in more than one way.

Steve is glad that Dustin has someone, besides his Mom of course, who can hug him, because Steve can’t give that to him. Maybe one day, but for now, hugs from Steve are a rarity — few and far in between. Maybe, he thinks, he doesn’t want to ask Eddie specifically because of that niggling feeling that comes up around Eddie, all gooey and soft. A feeling the swings too close to a crush that Steve has no fucking clue what to do about.

So, he hates to ask. Really. On the drive over to Eddie’s, a hangout organised before Steve started to feel the lack of touch creep in, he runs through any other options. Wait til Robin gets back? Steve’s not sure he’ll make it another 4 days. When left alone, it seems to consume him and make everything harder, everything heavier to deal with.

He’s still tossing it when he climbs the steps to Eddie’s trailer. Steve decides that he’ll see how it goes, see if there’s an opening to ask…semi-naturally or something. He’s not gonna spring it on the guy.

Eddie is wonderful company as always, devilish grins and god-awful comments about the film he picked. Steve feeds off it, drinking in the infectious energy. He tries to let it be enough; their shoulders pressed together, Eddie’s knee knocking his when he laughs, the way Eddie leans into his space to whisper even though it’s just them here tonight. Steve wants it to be enough. But even then, he can see the way his hands twitch in his lap, desperate for more.

Steve closes his eyes. Curls his hands up so tightly his nails bite into the skin. He tries to use it to wane off the feeling, the ache that sings out for Eddie beside him and it nearly works. Until—

“Steve? Y’okay?” Eddie’s voice pipes up, making Steve open his eyes in an instant.

“Hm?” Steve hums, hoping that his casualness will be enough for Eddie to skip over his peculiar behaviour. He blinks, tilting his head just a bit to show he was confused why Eddie was asking.

Eddie chuckles lightly, gesturing towards Steve’s lap, where his hands sit still clenched, white knuckled with his self-restraint. “You seem a bit stiff, that’s all.” Eddie rechecks. “You good?”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, forcing his hands to unclench in his lap. “I-“ he begins, then stops, unsure of what he was going to say. He did say he would look for an opening tonight. The way Eddie’s regarding him, open faced with his concern, is as good as he might get.

“This might sound a bit weird,” Steve starts, defensiveness already tingeing the words, his shoulders curling in just a bit. Eddie could say no. He’s allowed to say no. Steve really doesn’t want him to. “Like, if you think it’s weird, that’s totally fine and we can just, like, forget I said anything and—”

“Steve.” Eddie cuts him off, a linger of an amused smile on his lips. “I don’t think I’m going to find anything you say weird, sweetheart. Shoot. What’s on your mind? What troubles the great mind of Steve Harrington?”

God, it’s like a whole bunch of words designed to set Steve’s head spinning. ‘The great mind of Steve Harrington’ makes him want to scoff. ‘Sweetheart’ makes him want to swoon. He can’t decide which one he wants to do more.

“Can I-” Steve stammers, the words halting automatically. It’s too much of a habit to swallow them down. Coercing them out takes more work. He stares up at the ceiling as he grits his teeth, releases a harsh sigh, pulling himself together. “Can I… have a hug?”

There a moment of silence and Steve holds his breath.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, and Steve takes his eyes off the ceiling to see just what that Oh means. Eddie’s smiling, a soft one gracing his pretty mouth, and Steve thinks, maybe, one day he’ll have the courage to ask for a kiss as well. Relief moves sluggishly through his veins— Eddie’s smiling, this is good.

“Well, of course,” Eddie grins widely and opens his arms, inviting Steve in. Steve hesitates for only a moment before he leans in gratefully, his arms tucking around Eddie’s midriff tightly. Eddie’s arms curl around Steve’s neck, pulling him in close. It’s the easiest thing in the world, sinking into it, so much that Steve tries his best not to immediately slump against Eddie. It feels a bit too pathetic, so Steve reels himself in. He can’t make his arms relax, trying too hard to take only what he needs and not a moment more.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice teases beside his ear, his breath warm. “You call that a hug?”

He squeezes Steve a little tighter, pulling him even closer and Steve can’t help the way he melts into it— he slumps, leaning against Eddie properly and burying his quiet whine of relief into the juncture between Eddie's neck and shoulder.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs comfortingly.

Eddie takes him wholly, gives a damn good Munson hug, all warmth and comfort. He smells like, well, Eddie — a lingering scent of weed, something musky, something Eddie. His arms around Steve’s neck shuffle and Steve worries he’s trying to pull away so soon, only for one of his hands to tangle in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. He combs through, light fingernails scratching at Steve’s scalp and shit, Steve really can’t control the noise of contentment that slips out his throat.

“Can’t believe you got so worked up just to ask for a hug,” Eddie tsks, tone coloured in disbelief. Steve makes a noise of protest, trying for a moment to wind it all back in but, like Eddie can sense it, he’s squeezing him tighter again. He begins to rock them, a soft sway side to side that lets Steve lean on him even more. He hums a tune Steve doesn’t know, low and soft.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbles in reply, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologising for. For having to ask, for taking so much, for enjoying Eddie’s arms around him just a little too much.

“What the fuck for?” Eddie laughs lightly, one of his hands beginning to drum against the divots of Steve’s spin. It feels like he’s tapping pure delirium with each fingertip, shivers that make Steve’s chest glow terribly warm. It feels good, so good to be held and honestly, Steve could stay here all night if Eddie let him. Knowing Eddie, he would, because he’s that fucking nice.

That knowledge alone forces Steve to sit himself up, extracting him limbs even though so much of him mourns the warmth, the touch, that goes with it. He wants the touch but he’s had enough. Some scorned part of him burns bitterly to think Eddie would give him more just to be nice. Steve doesn’t want that— Steve wants Eddie to touch him because he wants to.

“Sorry, man, I just, uh, get like that sometimes.” Steve feels the need to explain, bringing a hand up to rub at one of his eyes. He does it half so can hide his embarrassed expression from Eddie— who’s looking at him so gently and still so so close.

“Just, aha—“ Christ, it wasn’t this awkward telling Robin. Steve’s hand moves to rub the back of his neck. “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile since,” He gnaws on his bottom lip, something alike to humiliation curling in his gut. “Since I’ve had some touch. Usually, Robin’s around but y’know.”

He waves a hand, huffing another awkward laugh. Eddie hasn’t moved much, just listening intently, his brows ever so slightly inching closer together. He looks outright concerned at Steve’s next words.

“It’s okay, I’ve— I’ll be good now.” Steve nods along, like the motion will help him convince himself as well as Eddie. He’ll be okay now. Usually, one hug is all it takes. He ignores the surging tidal-wave want that is still going, still aching to be held by Eddie again. It would be selfish to ask for more. Eddie didn’t invite him around to hug— it’s weird, and Steve shouldn’t- can’t ask for more.

“Sooooo,” Eddie draws out the word, an impish smile beginning to play at the corners of his lips. He opens his arms wide again. “You don’t want another hug?”

In his lap, Steve’s fingers twitch. Eddie’s eyes dart to them for a second, before fixing back on Steve. He does, he really fucking does want another hug. He can’t. He’s had enough, really, it would greedy to have more.

Steve shakes his head, forces himself to huff another laugh that accidentally comes out as a strained sigh. He smiles weakly, “No, no, I’m good, dude. It’s… I’m okay, swear.”

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s convinced him. Eddie studies his face, his mischief slipping away as he deliberates Steve’s words. His eyes narrow, arms dropping just an inch before he smiles brightly and says, “Okay, can I have a hug then?”

Which, okay, right, Steve didn’t think of that. People don’t ask him for hugs. He blinks, a bit dumbly. Eddie is waiting, face eager and for a second there’s an expression of almost smugness on his face — like he’s about to get exactly what he wants. Because he knows Steve would never be rude and say no.

“I mean,” Steve breathes, voice a bit tighter than he’s expecting. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you can have a hug.”

“Great!” Eddie replies and he wastes no time. He’s all up in Steve’s space, arms around Steve’s waist this time. The motion takes Steve by surprise, enough that because he’s not expecting it Eddie’s weight pushes him back so he’s lying on the couch.

If Eddie cares, he pays no mind, his head curling up into the crook of Steve’s neck as he hugs him closer. His hair gets in Steve’s mouth, making him splutter for a second, but Eddie just grins, wriggling closer until they’re pressed firmly against each other. Steve would go as far as to say this is closer to cuddling than a hug, with Eddie squishing him from above, his arms around Steve’s middle.

“Just so you know,” Eddie’s voice rumbles from where their chests are touching, his breath sweeping across Steve’s neck. Steve shivers without meaning to, feels Eddie’s responding grin even as he continues. “All hugs requested by me are automatically 10 minutes long. Hope you’re okay with that, sweetheart.”

Steve isn’t stupid — he knows Eddie is doing it for him, doing it because he could see right through Steve’s stupid facade, had peered his yawning hunger for touch right in the face and hadn’t blanched. Instead of feeling tricked or fooled, Steve just feels…warm. Comfortable. He works his arms around Eddie’s neck til their more comfortable and find the courage in him scrape his fingers through Eddie’s hair— like he had done to Steve. Eddie’s sighs sweetly and Steve thinks he could listen to that noise forever.

“I’m… I’m okay with that.” Steve murmurs lowly, yet he knows Eddie can hear him. Eddie noses closer, a borderline nuzzle against his neck, and further down, one his hands starts to stroke softly up and down Steve’s ribs.

Steve can’t help the way it makes him freeze, the breath in his lungs holding tight as he tries to relax, tries to ignore the prickly feeling under his skin. It’s a lot. A lot of touch that Steve just isn’t used to just yet, even if he desperately craves it.

“Relax,” Eddie whispers into his skin, a soft instruction paired with the motion, one soothing stroke up and down his ribs. Steve pushes the breath in his lungs out, forces the tension out of his body, trusts that Eddie wouldn’t be offering— wouldn’t tell him to relax if he wasn’t allowed to.

“That’s it.” Eddie praises, feeling the body beneath him settle and sink a little lower into the couch. “Now, watch the movie.” Eddie instructs, jutting at the still playing screen with his chin. Steve laughs a bit, but obeys, turning his head to see what part they’d gotten up to. They’d missed a big chunk in their hug. Steve nearly apologises for it, the words on the tip of his tongue, before he decides Eddie might smack him for it.

So, he doesn’t. He watches the film, let’s the gentle touch of Eddie on his skin relax him til sleepiness starts to fill each of his limbs, heavy like lead. Eddie’s hand stops moving eventually, when his breath gets heavier, lulled by Steve’s scratch in his hair. A snore starts up, loud and quite frankly, annoying, and yet, Steve finds that with Eddie’s arms around him, he has no trouble finding sleep.

It’s the first time in years Steve’s fallen asleep in someone else’s arms. And even if he doesn't know it yet, it’s certainly not the last.

now with a part two!

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rockstar-pornograffitti · 1 year

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Love Bites

One shot

Glenn Tipton X OC (unnamed)

Warning(s): ⚠️SMUTTY⚠️

Plot: Glenn shows her how beautiful she truly.

A/N: Please bare with me as I don’t usually write smut <3 Anyways feel free to like reblog and comment.

“Hello buddy.” I greet as I kneel down and pet Rex, he’s a big German shepherd, and one of the sweetest dogs I’ve ever met. Everytime I go and visit his dad he always greets me happily wagging his tail. Speaking of his dad, where is he? He usually meets me out front as well though he’s not nearly as cute, but close.

I met Glenn a year ago, he came into the pub I worked at and thought “he’s cute.” Of course, being the shy person I am, I never acted on it, especially when one of my co-workers pointed out he was Glenn Tipton, one of the guitarists of Judas Priest. I mean he’s a rockstar, why the hell would he want anything to do with me?

I’m a totally normal girl from a village in the midlands. Nothing about me is remarkable, nothing makes me stand out from anyone else, that’s why when he came up to me and started talking I was shocked. Yet here I am a year later, his girlfriend.

Hmmm…where is Glenn? He could be in his house or rather mansion, nestled between a lovely river and picturesque English countryside. Yet I don’t think so, because if he was he would have met me in the drive. I have a feeling I know where he is, his studio.

I sigh, I love Glenn but he is a self proclaimed workaholic. Once he’s got an idea for a song he’ll spend hours held up in his studio working on it until it’s just right or he’s abandoned the idea.

I walk over to the studio, it’s a second much smaller building he built next to the house. I don’t even knock, I just walk in, and climb the stairs to the upper level.

Sure enough, there is Glenn holding his phantom, the black guitar with the shiny mirrored scratchplate. I’m not a guitar expert by any means, but I know that guitar. He’s sitting down behind the control board with a notebook scribbling something with one hand while holding the guitar up right on his lap with the other.

I lean up against the door frame as I watch him, wondering how long it will take him before he realises I’m standing here. When Glenn is laser focused like this rarely does anything else distract him.

He happens to glance up in a moment of thought and notices me. He looks shocked at first but it quickly fades into a smile.

“How long have you been standing there?” He asks, setting down his pen, and leaning back in his chair, giving me a look over.

“Only for a few seconds.” I tell him before adding in a teasing nature. “A personal best for you.”

Glenn chuckles a bit at that before saying, “You’re lucky you look so bloody beautiful standing there, right now.”

This takes me aback. Me? Right now? What the bloody fuck is Glenn on about? I think he needs his glasses. I have bags under my eyes from working the late shift last night and dealing with rowdy customers. I threw on this first thing I could find, an old t-shirt and a pair of tight jeans. Hell I can’t even remember if I ran a brush through this rat's nest I call my hair. ’m not dressed to impress.

“I think you need your glasses. I'm far from beautiful right now.”

Glenn doesn’t say anything in response for a second, as he stands up and places his guitar on the stand.

“I hate it when you say that. You’re always beautiful love.” He says, “If you don’t want to see that, then I’ll have to show you.”

I’m about to protest, when he cuts me off by planting a soft tender kiss on my lips. I melt into him enjoying his touch, I need him. Like I said it was rough last night I need Glenn to kiss it all away.

He then moves down my neck to where I have faded love bites and gently places his lips back on it. He starts sucking and nipping at my flesh, and it sends electricity through my body, coaxing out a moan from my lips.

I love when he marks me up. It keeps the blokes in the pub off me and I just like that he wants to mark me up to claim me as his.

“Bloody beautiful.” He mumbles into my neck and he continues, managing to pull another moan from me.

“Glenn.” I whine as he unexpectedly pulls away, he can’t stop yet, I need him. I realised how bad till this moment but I bloody need him.

“I’m not done with you yet, love.” He says, lifting my shirt up over my head exposing my bra.

It’s not some beautiful lacy thing, it’s a plain black bra I’ve owned forever, usually this would embarrass me, but I know it won’t last long anyways. It’s an obstruction to what Glenn really wants, my tits underneath.

Sure enough he hastily unhooks the back as I shemy out of it and he tosses it some place behind him. Not to self when I try to find it later.

Glenn then starts kissing across my tits, first gently across the top, then he starts kissing my left nipple while gently rubbing his thumb over the other.

I moan again this time a little louder than the last time, I can feel the pleasure pooling in my pussy, with each pass of his tongue over my nipple I can feel myself getting wetter and wetter, thirstier and thristier for his cock.

I moan again, this time letting name slip from my lips. His mouth leaves my nipple and he starts kissing down my and over my stomach stopping at the waistband of my jeans.

He quickly pulls them down as I step out of them. The only piece of clothing left on me is my knickers and I know that won’t last long. In fact I can already feel him sliding them down my legs, revealing my soaking wet pussy to him.

“Nice and wet for me.” He says a smirk on his lips, as he spreads my legs a bit and slides a long slender finger over me.

I gasp but it quickly turns into a moan.

“What do you want my love?” He asks as he continues to tease me by sliding his finger over me softly.

“I want your cock.” I moan out, as he removes his finger from my pussy and licks all my wetness right off. Of course that makes me moan again, because honestly what can be hotter?

He takes a step back as he takes off his shirt, revealing his chest and stomach. I can’t help but stare, sure he’s not jacked but I prefer it that way, a softer place to cuddle into later.

Just as Glenn’s about to take off his jeans revealing his gorgeous rock solid cock, the thing I want badly I swear my mouth is watering in anticipation. We both hear the sound of someone coming up the stairs, we both turn to look and sure enough there stands Ken Downing.

Glenn quickly jumps in front of me to cover me up, so Ken doesn’t see anything he’s not supposed to. Then let’s put an annoyed groan.

“Your timing couldn’t be worse.”

“I can always come back later.” Ken offers an amused smirk on his face.

“No, as much as it pains me to say so.” Glenn sighs, turning to me. “I’m sorry love, I promise the moment I’m done here….”

As much as it sucks, I understand and I also know he’ll make it up to me. I nod giving him a kiss as I quickly get dressed again.

On my way out I slap his ass and say, “I’ll see you later.” Leaving him with a smirk on his face and face and a promise as I leave the studio, looking forward to later.

#glenn Tipton fanfiction #judas priest fanfiction #the bitch writes

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dumplingsjinson · 4 months

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“I’ve missed you,” Character B murmurs, holding Character A closer to them, a soft noise of appreciation slipping from Character A’s mouth as they lean into Character B’s warm embrace.

“I’ve missed you...” Character B groans, hips thrusting into Character A’s as Character A lets out a soft whimper at the sensation of Character B slowly filling them up to the brim. “So fucking much, you don’t even know,” Character B breathes out, dipping their head down a little and resting their forehead against Character A’s.

“Mmm,” Character A murmurs, clenching around Character B on purpose, enjoying the soft gasp slipping out of Character B’s mouth. “I’ve missed you, too,” Character A says softly, hand wrapping around the nape of Character B’s neck. “I’ve missed this, too,” Character A says, pulling them down for a long awaited kiss.

#well-#fantasies are a bitch ???#and it also doesn’t help that I want this happening next time I see him KAKGKAKGKAKKD #i think i’m ready to be *redacted*#smut prompts #prompts #suggestive prompts #otp prompts #dialogue prompts #writing prompts #writing scenarios

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shower-phantom-ideas · 7 months

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Bruh emotional support ghost kid? Well thats what they are calling him

Suicide cases in gothem are about to fucking plummet boiz cause this one weird blue eyes, black haired boy is now heading to your location.

How does he know where to be? Having a bad day and are all alone? No the fuck your not cause don’t turn around now but theres some shiny blue eyes coming at you from that dark ally. Oh shit hes here to drop some information about you and your lost loved ones that he should know. Oh god the closure. How could you have been afraid on this sweet, creepy, boy who just helped you find your way.

Meanwhile Danny is chillin in Gothem cause the GIW hate it there (none of they equipment actually functions in Gothem so it’s either super haunted or actually not haunted at all). Then all of a sudden he gets approached by a random ghost begging for his help because their sweet baby girl is about to do something horrible. Oops now all the ghosts are following their most loved ones around just to make sure they are there to rush to Danny for help when all else fails. Now hes getting to fulfil his protection obsession double time because one hes helping protect people from themselves and two hes protecting everyone in Gothem by stopping people from becoming villains for revenge. Plus he gets to see first hand how hes making a difference because all those people he saved are sending him some good vibes from all across Gothem.

Thank god he followed Jazz around so much to slightly absorb some of her phycology knowledge over the years. Plus it was actually pretty interesting so she gave him her old text books. Shes also helping him deal with the rare events where he can’t save someone. Just a moment too late or he stops them but they later succeeded in the hospital. Neither are his fault. Now only if he could convince his core of that.

Anyway why Gothem you ask? Amity Park would have been just as good tbh but imagine Batmans face when he finally gets to be face to face with the emotional support ghost boy. Why is he here? Bruce is fine. Batman is fine. Hes not gonna do anything crazy. It’s just a hard time of year. Around their death always gives him grief. But hes an adult and can manage it.

“You know they are so proud of you.” The boy states. As if it’s clear as day, even though it’s Gothem and never a clear day. Batman blinks at him, stunned for a moment. “What?” This boy can’t possibly know that. No one will ever know that, Bruce can only hope. “They see their home, full of such life. That big house that felt so empty, so cold, to them as well for years. Then you filled it with Family and Love like they had always wanted for you. They are so proud of what you have turned it into. Somewhere full of life and warmth.” A small smile graces his face as finally “you have made your parents so proud” and its all he can do to contain himself. Emotions are running high and sue him because he really did need to hear that ok. The boy suddenly looks to Bruces right with a confused face “aren’t all basements like that though?” Before Bruce can even get a word in hes gone. Just vanished before his eyes.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dpxdc #dp x dc #batman #I just wanted to write danny walking up to the buggest toughest batman and make him cry tears of relief #danny is helping his subjects find closure while always feeding his protection obsession #let him be interested in his sisters word #also god imagine bruce just having a bad time of it cause is the anniversary of his parents death #than the ghost kid just walks up and tells him exactly what he needed to heat #yes they are proud of the word batman does #he knows he has saved lives #but what about him as a father #would his father be ashamed of his parenting skills #would his mother be discusted at how he treats his children #he always remembers his parents as good parents so he wants to do right by them by also being a good parent #anyone can risk their life for another but few can be a good father #actually it’s easy just love your kids and sont walk out and leave them with an insane bitch of a mother #dad im lookin at you #and dknt marry your fucking step sister dad #isnt our family tree circle enough. why must u follow in grandmothers footsteps #at least with him is marrage related aye?#oops im rabling about my daddy issues teehee

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