#decided to try the prompt out

[goldengirlgalaxy]

The Bedazzler

After a very hazy night that... may or may not have been caused by something he found in the Ghost Zone, Danny ends up discovering in his haze he bought an absolutely outrageous amount of various craft supplies, especially shiny things like those little plastic rimstones.

Good news, everything was bought from a going out of business sale, so he didn't drain all of his funds. Bad news, everything was bought from a going out of business sale, which means he can't return them. And, frankly, he doesn't want to just throw away a bunch of stuff he paid for. But he still doesn't know what to do with it all.

At least until Clockwork decides to give Danny a small boon that lets him stop time. Then he gets some ideas.

It first starts off with Superman. He's doing his regular hero thing, when he suddenly feels his cape pulled to one side. He brushes it off as the wind, until people start pointing at his back. Clark nearly panics when he finds a bunch of green crystals on his cape, only to calm when he realizes they're plastic and attached with glue. That of course begs the question, who was able to glue gemstones to his back without him noticing?

Later that same day he's both amused and even more confused when Luthor appears again, only for a bunch of gem stickers to appear on top of his bald head, clearly arranged to spell out 'I Heart Superman' in icons.

Captain Marvel suddenly feels something appear on his head, only to discover it's some kind of cardboard crown. He's confused, but ultimately decides to wear it the rest of the day, thinking it might be from some meta fan of his.

Martian Manhunter finds a necklace appearing on him. When he pulls it off, he finds it's one of those Shrinky Dink plastics, designed to look like a medal that says '#1 Hero' on it, also with some extra plastic gems for extra bling. He wears it proudly for the rest of the day.

The Gotham Bats all get hit at the same time. Fake flowers, various colors of ribbons, Red Robin had a helium balloon attached to him for an hour, and of course plenty of shiny fake gems.

At first, everyone thought the funniest part of the mysterious crafts was Red Hood appearing with several rimstones attached to his hood where he mouth would be, several gold ones arranged in such a way that it looked like he was flashing a bunch of yellow teeth.

Then the Joker showed up. And was promptly doused in several pounds of glitter. Even better, it got into his eyes, effectively blinding him and giving the Bats a chance to capture him (after they were done laughing).

Of course, as more Leaguers get trolled, the more the stories start to paint a picture of someone running around pranking them. And many of them want to know just who this Bedazzler is.

Meanwhile, Danny is laughing his ass off and is planning on giving his friends a chance to have their own fun.

[nocek]

Given how the HQ design looks like, the mother hen thing is true. He is just being very tsundere about that ;P

Also there is pin poll still going on. Take a look if any design speaks to you ;)

[hypewinter]

I've had a brainworm for a few days now so here me out.

After an accidental reveal gone wrong, Danny is forced to flee the country with both his parents and the giw after him. While he's trying to find some place internationally to settle down, he comes across a secluded complex.

Said complex happens to have access to an ectoplasm run off which Danny is in desperate need of. Though it has been corrupted by whatever the people of the complex have been doing to it, that's no problem for Danny as he can easily purify the portion he takes in to survive.

Deciding this is the perfect place to live off the grid, Danny sets to work figuring out how to blend in. It turns out that's the easy part. With his temporary stint as a ninja, his training with his black belt mom, and his general ghost physiology, he fits in pretty well.

He fits in so well in fact that he is told he'll be training someone one of the head bosses has their eye on. A kid his age.

Basically what follows is Danny accidentally ruining Talia's plans for Jason by unconsciously purifying his corruption and just talking him through his emotions. When Jason gets back to Gotham, he returns without a clouded mentally and realizes just how much Bruce went through after his death.

Instead of unleashing his complicated plan, he quietly takes over the underworld. He loves his father but also knows there are situations in Gotham that require a more firm hand. Jason decides to be a firm hand in his dad's place.

(I imagine he is only revealed on accident yet his reunion with his family is just as dramatic as Under the Red Hood. Tbh it probably has something to do with the joker suddenly going missing.)

Meanwhile back at the League of Assassins, Talia is impressed by Jason's training and is under the impression that his failure in Gotham is due to him getting cold feet at the last second so she puts Danny in charge of Damian's training.

Danny this time takes a more conscious role in ruining the league's brainwashing by challenging Damian's beliefs and teaching him he should use his weapons to protect, not to harm. By the time Damian gets to Wayne Manor, there is significantly less deprogramming that needs to be done.

[starry-songs-canvas]

Talking Him Down

Whenever Damian thought of his twin brother, he thought of his kindness. His fascination with the stars, his willingness to take the fall for Damian whenever sick or hurt animals were found in the compound. His aversion to killing or torture, which thought of as a weakness in the league, Damian had secretly admired. He thought of Danny talking him down from mistakes he knew Damian would regret.

He never thought the positions would be reversed.

Yet there his somehow alive brother was there, standing over an already bloody Vladimir Masters with rage-filled cold eyes and a knife in hand.

“You should leave, Dami. Before things get too messy.”

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 264

Danny squints at his tiny hands, eyes narrowing as Clockwork hums in the kitchen. Which he wasn’t even aware of having been in LongNow. Maybe it wasn’t. He huffed, voice too squeaky for him to continue complaining. Stupid time accidents. 

Which wasn’t even starting on the other figure awkwardly sitting at the table. 

He glowered at the Ghost King, who kept glancing at him with an unreadable look in their eyes, then looked back towards where Clockwork was. His scowl deepened over his cup of tea- which wasn’t fair, he wanted coffee but nooo, that’s not healthy for ‘little ghostlings’. Ugh.

Sometimes he wished he was fully ghost so he didn’t have to apparently worry about his living body having to grow back up.

[tarantula-wizard]

Insert An Invert Week 2: Stone Centipede (Lithobius forficatus)

I used Wigglypaint

[Image ID: An animated sketch in the form of a GIF, so that it appears to jitter or wiggle. It features the head and part of the body of a Stone Centipede. Its head comes into frame in the top left corner and part of its body is visible along the right side of the piece. It has a pink body, yellow legs, and blue antennae. There is a wavy speckled pattern in the space not taken up by the centipede. End ID.]

[tervaneula]

@witchofthemoss

Well. I have now. And let me tell you how these sudden feelings just kicked me in the chin and sent me rolling down the hill towards Emotions Town 🥺🥺🥺 Ilysm this made my NIGHT

(i listened to this on repeat while drawing, i think lyricstranslate has it in english if anyone's curious)

[fireflysugarpie]

inspired by all of the smoker SQH posts I've been seeing around, smoker!SQH x asthmatic!SQQ

I mean, imagine Shang Qinghua trying to flirt with his Cucumber Bro, but accidentally gives him an asthma attack lmao

[moonlight-stalker]

# 60 Dc x Dp

No one over the age of 19 lives in Amity Park

Everyone the age of 19 and below is liminal the government made all the adults leave and if they refuse to leave they were killed. The kids of Amity Park fought back against the government when they tried to take them in for experiments they won in the end but none of the adults that had left cared to come back for the kids and the ones that did care for their kids have been killed.

The kids of Amity Park become very wary of adults that get near their city, they have lived for 20 years without any adults, and all the adults that had come into Amity Park have hurt them and tried to take control of them. Especially when they learn that they all have some unique power. They had to learn to protect themselves and each other they don't try to contact the outside world anymore believing that they've been left for dead.

So when something happens to get the Justice League's attention and find out about a City full of kids that have been left alone for who knows how long, they decided to let sent some of them to go and speak with them and see if the kids are okay not realizing how scared the kids of Amity Park are about outsiders especially of adult.

When the kids of Amity Park heard that a couple of adults are coming into the city that worked with the government they immediately think that the government has sent people to collect them and immediately stop to prepare for a fight for when they get there

[thatonesubwaypenguin]

Day 11 - Photo

This is a photo from their first day at work!!

[goldengirlgalaxy]

Some alien royalty comes to Earth to claim Captain Marvel as their husband for his power. He manages to get out if it by proclaiming that he's already engaged to the Princess of the Infinite Realms, Princess Danielle "Ellie" Phantom.

Extra: Billy is still hiding the fact that he's actually still a child from the rest of the League. Ellie is roughly his civilian age, so when the League asks to meet her, hijinks ensue as Ellie has to keep up the appearance of being far older than she actually is, both physically and mentally.

[petit-etoile]

hi! :) i love your writing!! Could i request an Astarion fic based on the Mahmoud Darwish Quote “they asked ‘do you love her to death’ / i said ‘speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.’”?

it's  our  last  chance  ( we'll  get  it  right  )

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 2,902 content warnings: canonical discussions of death, spoilers for astarion's act iii romance, spiritual interlude to this fic, references to cann.ibalism as a metaphor for love, an exploration of how s.ex can be healing, the faintest hints of a mortal!tav but that's up to the reader, what if s.ex cures vampirism ? other tags:  canon compliant,  character study,  introspection,  codependency,  religious imagery & symbolism,  p.orn with plot archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia,  @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added to the taglist here

summary:  ‘Gale asked me tonight if I loved you,’ Astarion tells you. ‘He asked if I loved you purely. I’ve never loved anything purely in my life, but I knew what he meant. He asked, ‘Will you love them to death?’ That’s why I brought you here tonight.’

This is a night reminiscent of the day he died.

The sun has faded out over the horizon. The streets are bloodied once more, and hundreds of shadows have transformed into the shape of a bat.

Astarion’s grave is very old and covered with moss. You watch as he kneels in front of it and brushes his fingers across his name in reverence. You join him and cross your fingers together in prayer. You don’t know what you’re praying for but you mumble the words under your breath. It isn’t until you start digging that you begin to understand why you’re really here. You dig and dig and find relics of a life you never knew  —  dead flowers and childhood toys, tears that you cry. A mother and father’s love.

Astarion looks so much younger now that Cazador no longer hangs over his very being. The tension around his eyes has lessened, and even though he’s feeling something you can’t imagine, he wears the smallest smile as you uncover the gifts left behind by his family. Proof that Astarion lived, proof that Astarion existed. You dig until your fingers reach nothing and then you turn to him. He means to plant a seed and watch it grow.

He hands you seeds from a flower you can’t remember the name of. You pour them into the depths of this grave and fill it back up with dirt. You drop handfuls and wait for it to rain. You turn your chin up to the sky and wait for the storm clouds to release rapture.

‘I love you,’ Astarion says suddenly.

He looks at you like a man learning to see for the first time. The softness of his features only intensifies the longer he looks at you. Astarion is always made up of hard angles and harsh lines but tonight, he looks upon you with an earnestness you haven’t seen for him in quite some time. You’re caught off-guard when he caresses your cheek.

If Baldur’s Gate were to weather a storm tonight, Astarion would be the warmth from the cold of the rainstorm. You close your eyes at his touch and lean your cheek into it, nuzzling his palm. Astarion decides that it isn’t enough. He’s selfish, manipulative, roguish and cruel, but when he leans forward and kisses you with his plump mouth, you forget about all those things. It’s healing. You open your lips for him.

‘I love this,’ he murmurs, snaking a hand down to the small of your back. ‘And I want it all.’

The storm breaks overhead, but Astarion covers your body with his and you forget that you hate the sound of thunder. He kisses the very soul of you, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. There’s something about the way he nips at your skin that infinitely thrills you. How could a man so determined to be dangerous, so keen on becoming the most powerful man in the world melt at the sound of your voice? Had Astarion always been this weak for you, or was this a new transgression in his never ending quest to crush his desires?

Astarion kisses you.

He is the only thing that quenches your thirst.

He knows that.

When you first fell from the illithid ship, you had felt a hunger unlike any other swell up in your gut. It was freedom you had never experienced, and somehow, you came out on top. What happened after that was only like the romances you had read about. When a beast hunter falls in love with their bounty, when a mortal loves their immortal despite the difference, when an angry vampire becomes softer and softer the more he learns about kinder touch. You’re a romantic, after all.

You think that you should talk about it. You want to ask Astarion if he’s sure. But of course he’s sure, he’s never been surer of anything. Asking him now would be a disservice, you think. He’s worked so hard to come this far. You don’t ask. You kiss Astarion back like you’ve never kissed anyone before.

His mouth is yearning. Astarion pines for you like a prince pines for a sweetheart  —  and his mouth and his tongue and his teeth are so overwhelming that you can’t help but cling to his shoulders, using him as a lifeline.

He turns his cheek against yours and sighs wistfully against your skin. Slowly, carefully, Astarion presses his fingers between your legs curiously. He does it just to hear you gasp. You meet his eyes, and your cheeks burn so hotly you think you might be dizzy. Astarion consumes your soul. He presses you down in the flowers you planted above his grave. Clover, daisies, and asters grow around, twirling in your hair as Astarion collapses into your arms. You hold him as he shakes.

‘I was dead before I met you,’ Astarion whispers in the crook of your neck. ‘I was a ghost.’

‘You’re alive now,’ you promise. He cradles your soul in his hands. ‘You’re alive now and you’re the sun, and I love you.’

Maybe it’s not that you aren’t sure Astarion is ready. You’re nervous about the setting. It’s not that it’s inappropriate or dire, but that anyone could see at any time and you were a selfish creature. For so long, it has always been you and Astarion and everyone else. Now, Astarion presses into the space between your hips and mouths at your chest. He tastes your skin and your nipples, and you shiver at the touch. He eats your heart. You’re grateful.

‘I’m not convinced,’ Astarion says roughly. ‘Should I die, where will I go?’

‘You will go where I go,’ you say as he sinks into your flesh. ‘You are half my soul. I’ll beg the gods. We can never be one without the other.’

‘And if they deny you?’

‘I’ve already killed gods,’ you say. ‘What are a few more if they deny me my love?’

Astarion lets out a satisfied hum, content with the fruit you have given him. He ripens you with his fingers and you turn your head. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and allow him to caress your sides, closing your eyes as he touches the more ticklish parts of your body. He nibbles at your collarbones

You say, ‘This isn’t your grave.’

Astarion’s mouth ghosts over your skin, and finally, he sinks his cock into you until you’re gasping for air. It pushes and fills and causes lights to dance in the corner of your eyes. You touch the little hairs at the nape of his neck to distract yourself.

‘You’re right,’ Astarion says softly.

‘A place of rebirth.’

‘A place of happiness, my love,’ he says. ‘Now when I see it  —  ’

‘More,’ you whisper.

You feel a rush of tenderness sweeping through your veins. You are drawn to it like a moth to light, and you chase Astarion as he flees from you, sliding your hips back against his so that he’s never gone for too long. You waited patiently for Astarion. Every touch, every kiss is a feeling so rare that you can��t help but savor it. You admire the vulnerability he shows you, and when he leans back to lift your hips higher for a better angle, you moan softly and cry.

Astarion’s fingers burn holes into your skin. He leaves a wildfire against your skin. It leaves you wanting more. But you’re always going to want more, aren’t you? Even a lifetime of Astarion is not enough. You seek the warmth in his gaze.

You aren’t sure how long you’ll last. The time between your trysts and the sheer passion causes you to be needy. He likes it that way too. Likes the way that you’ll always seek him out first. The first in your heart. The first in your soul. You wish you could pour yours out of your body to give it to him. He’s half your soul regardless of what he might say. You never understood the concept of an immortal soul until now. You pull Astarion back to you and kiss him, teeth to teeth.

But it’s not enough.

You don’t think it will ever be enough. You dig your nails into his spine and hold onto him. You cry weakly. It feels too good and like it’s too much at the same time. You part your legs wider and drag him further, hypnotized by the feel of his thighs beneath yours. Astarion shows an enthusiasm you haven’t seen in a while, and you’re reminded of how much you’ve craved him. The knife at your throat, the scowl on his face, the night at the party… Astarion is all-consuming. You never thought it would happen.

At first, you thought Astarion was primed to ignore you forever. You were kind and good and sweet, and now you knew that was everything Astarion was looking for. He tastes your kindness and goodness and sweetness and becomes drunk on the taste of your shared fate.

Astarion bites you on the shoulder but for once, it isn’t to draw blood and feed upon what makes you who you are. It’s a lover’s bite. An inquisitive nibble. That part of sharing is what this is about. He meant it when he said you were more than blood, more than a fling. You always thought about it…

Astarion proving his love to you now was welcomed. You summon a new life for him here during this pale evening. A life where he will not know hurt. A life where he will not be betrayed by those he trusted. Astarion was in your hands now, a crow on your wrist. He sings you a pretty song against your neck. He’s vocal now, content with moaning and mewling as he takes his pleasure in the warmth of your body. You wish you could bottle up his pretty song and take it with you forever.

You press your mouth to the sharp curve of Astarion’s ear, sneaking a kiss against the pointy tip. ‘Come closer to me, my love,’ you whisper. ‘No one must know.’

‘Everyone must know,’ Astarion disagrees softly.

‘Even the birds?’ you ask. ‘Even the trees?’

Astarion smiles. You can feel it. ‘The entire world must.’

‘Are we in love?’ you ask him softly, looking upon him fondly.

‘We are,’ he says, laughing.

You are in love like you have never been in love before. Astarion is a romantic and he cherishes this new world with you. He’s intoxicated by the freedom of your scent. And it’s not as though it’s any different for you. You wrap your legs tightly around his hips and keep him there, and when his arms shake and tremble, you accept his weight.

You kiss his throat and he raises his chin so you can kiss it more. You’ll pretend that it doesn’t entice you. You want to sink your teeth in like he has, to share with him that quiet exaltation. Astarion gives it to you more and more, and finally, you can no longer tame that part of you set to rupture. Your pleasure causes your vision to burn almost.

There is a world where you and Astarion have never met. A world where the mindflayers never devised a plan and you were still searching for enlightenment. The thought of it scares you so you cling to him and you climb into his sternum, holding onto his skin while the world is remade in your image. A world without Astarion is not a world worth living. You know that to be true. That’s why you’re here now.

Astarion follows suit in quick, frantic strokes. He loses himself in the quake of your core and digs his fingers into the dirt next to your head for stability. You watch as pleasure overtakes him and he wavers, choking on a ragged moan. You press unfocused kisses against his shoulders and sink beneath the earth.

It’s a good thing Astarion finds his confidence in the taste of your bones. He eats from you an essence that would make him strong. When he sits up, eyes soft around the edges and mouth swollen from your love, you can see the change in him. Have his shoulders always been that wide? Has his back always been that straight? Has the majesticness of his attitude always been so grandiose?

Astarion holds out his fingers and you kiss the tips of them. You give him a blessing and watch as his skin begins to glow. Cazador had unmade a proud man. You have rehabilitated a broken man.  But Astarion is not defined by his brokenness, not authenticated by his terrors and trauma, but by the whims he has shown you tonight.

When Astarion pulls you from the bed you made in the grass, you can see a dim light filtering through the overhead tree. A familiar sight, like the first time. You pull his jacket over your head to avoid any more mess and become acutely aware that Astarion is watching you breathe. He listens with that frightening vampiric hearing as your lungs exhale. He smiles as your heartbeat settles.

You distract yourself as he enjoys his orgasm by making him a crown of flowers. You twist them expertly like you once did in your youth, and when Astarion turns his head, you give him a kingdom. The fresh green of the leaves accentuates the paleness of his hair.

You know what you’ve done even if the world does not. It was an objectively stupid thing to do, Astarion said so himself. Life is a challenge, and you were not a quitter. If anything, you knew that you deserved it. A ghost called your name and you answered, unfrightened by the specter’s cold touch. Slowly, you replaced that frigid air with your own heat until there was nothing but fog in the aftermath.

‘Sometimes,’ Astarion begins when he’s ready, ‘I still have these cruel thoughts. This fear still consumes me but… It’s so unlike before I hardly recognize it.’

‘You’re not his first son anymore,’ you say.

Astarion smiles and slides the crown from his head. He twirls it between his fingers. ‘Not  —  Not that fear, no. Something else.’

‘What else could frighten you?’

‘Everything,’ Astarion confesses. ‘I listen to your heart when you sleep for any change. I check your face every day for any extra wrinkles.’

You laugh. ‘I’m still young,’ you insist. ‘We have time, Astarion. I am with you every moonrise.’

‘The worst thing about loving you is that I will never stop,’ Astarion says, staring at his headstone. ‘I don’t want you to die in a world where I could still love you.’

You think you’re going to be sick. You don’t mean to cry, but you do. You burrow your face in your hands and weep so hard Astarion wraps his jacket around you and kisses your head, shushing you until you’ve let it all out. It’s…not how you wanted to end the evening.

‘You didn’t let me finish, my love,’ he murmurs against your forehead.

‘Then go on,’ you say miserably.

‘I will never stop loving you,’ Astarion says again. ‘For a thousand more years and one.’

You twist the knuckle on your middle finger anxiously. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to feel.

‘Gale asked me tonight if I loved you,’ he tells you. ‘He asked if I loved you purely. I’ve never loved anything purely in my life, but I knew what he meant. He asked, ‘Will you love them to death?’ That’s why I brought you here tonight.’

You look at him suspiciously, and his ardor steals your breath away. His jacket slips from your shoulders. You watch as he fixes the carvings in his headstone and adds to them in a sprawling language you’re almost too exhausted to read. Eventually, you find your voice again. You lean your cheek against his shoulder, and if your eyelashes are wet against his skin, he says nothing about it.

‘Tonight,’ Astarion says, ‘and on top of my grave, you have brought me back to life. That is a debt that cannot be repaid.’

You turn to him and this time it is your turn. You take Astarion’s jaw in your hands and lift his mouth to yours, kissing him so sweetly you’re almost certain that he swoons from the touch. It’s like kissing him for the first time, a kiss that sweeps over and over, until the ocean of night sweeps over you and you melt into his sinew.

 ‘You love me?’ you ask him just to hear him say it again.

‘I love you,’ Astarion says.

Love is not always in the eyes of the goddess. Love is buried somewhere most will never find it. It is healing, it is sweeping, it is gratifying. It is watching your lover’s hair turn grey strand by strand every morning. It is chasing the sun before it falls beneath the stars every evening.

You think you get it now.

Astarion rests his cheek against your palm, and for the first night since he was turned into a vampire, he slumbers in your touch. He dreams of a future where you are both mortal and laughing.

‘I love you too,’ you confess, and Astarion smiles in his sleep.

[batbirdies]

I just read a fic with a note that said "I'm running out of creative insults to berate those who bookmark fics and don't comment, so I'll just go with a good ol' fashioned 'fuck you'." And I just have to wonder how this person doesn't realize that this is a great way to make fic writers sound entitled and convince people not to comment at all. *facepalm* I saw that note and immediately regretted leaving kudos.

Yeah the thing about this is that it doesn’t work.

A lot of people will just not care about the insults - they will ignore you. They don’t care, as established, shouting at them will not change this.

The readers with anxiety and low spoons who find commenting exhausting or stressful will feel guilty and they might comment once or twice. They might continue to comment even, but it will be under duress and will diminish their enjoyment of the story and in many cases that diminished enjoyment and stress related to reading your work will mean they eventually stop reading it all together.

It is established psychology that shame and guilt are good for stopping a behavior.

Positive reinforcement and encouragement are good for inciting a desirable behavior.

Being mean to people who don’t comment doesn’t work. You are more likely to end up with less readers AND commenters than you are to somehow convince people that commenting is right and just and like, your due as a writer.

Like I get people’s frustration but… I just disagree with the demanding attitude.

You can tell people the price of reading your fic is comments! You can! Every author is allowed to make whatever rules they want regarding the consumption of their own fic - it’s certainly not guaranteed to get people to listen, but they are allowed to do it.

But I personally think it’s stupid and counterproductive.

It’s like, we often relate fanfic to free food. Someone made cupcakes and left them in the break-room at work! That’s so nice! Some people will likely send a thank you message/email but probably many others wouldn’t, and would simply eat a free cupcake and enjoy themselves.

Imagine telling those people “I cannot believe you ate one of my cupcakes and didn’t tell me thank you for making them, fuck you.”

Like… it’s just a bit extreme don’t you think??

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 79

  When Pariah was awoken from his slumber, he wasn’t exactly expecting it. One was never expecting to awaken when they were supposed to be sealed for eternity after all. He also wasn’t expecting for the reason the sarcophagus was even opened to be a pair of literal infants. A pair of very sick infants.

  One was a newborn ancient for Realms’ sake! Two years dead, if that, and the other- Where was their guardian?! Who had let an obsession get that bad?! How long had he been sealed away that no one had caught an obsession turning toxic and harmful towards a ghostling?! 

  Why was he even sealed inside this area of the zone?! Why had his Keep been moved in the center of one of the zones where ghostlings formed?! He’d never harm a ghostling, but if he’d been any madder (And he knows he had lost it near the end there, that he’d gone too far as he cracked under the weight of the Realms, he’d had an eternity to realize) it would have been a catastrophe! 

  Who has been in charge, the observants!? … What the fuck, that was supposed to be rhetorical! No! They’re good for paperwork but they seem to have failed even at that and- what do you mean they’ve sealed Clockwork away?! 

  The already traumatized Time Primordial who was in this type of area specifically to care for ghostlings, and was now being prevented?! How long has this been going on- No! He’s fixing his realms-damned kingdom before he even thinks about conquering other ones, because who the fuck let it get this bad!

   Pspsps, here little sick ghostlings, he’s trying very hard not to hurt you but you are very tiny and he has been locked away for a long time so please stop squirming…

[read-write-thrive]

I wanted to get a head start on palasaki week and now I’m building out a reverse AU. why do I keep doing this to myself I can’t keep starting new stuff without finishing the old stuff 😭

[chaoswarfare]

dp x dc prompt #37

danny has been wandering around this new universe for a while now trying to figure out where the corrupted ectoplasm smell was coming from. It’s really a nice place, and when you take in all the frequent rogue attacks, it’s just like home.

he’s really just confused as to why the protectors of this world keep giving him snacks when they run into each other. i mean, free food is free food and danny’s not going to question it since he’s long since figured out he can’t be poisoned, it’s not really a problem either way. it would just be nice if they would stop babying the centuries old king just because he looks like a child.