#prompt ficlets

[charles-leclerc-official]

Add a little bit to the Max multi-universe time travel prompt—I may be mean but I can't help laughing when I think about a more "red bull" style, free to be evil Charles and the strictly pr tightened "Maxiel be decent be elegant smile and wink!" Max.

Enjoy the hiking!

"Max what are you doing?" Silvia asked.

"Making my post about the race," Max held up his phone, "what does it look like."

"That caption is going to give the wrong idea," Silvia made to snatch his phone.

"What?" Max barely kept his phone out of reach.

"Look at this," Silvia managed to pry Max's phone away from him. "You are going to make people think you aren't happy about P2."

"I'm not," Max said flatly. Why would he be happy about losing?

"Yes, you are," Silvia said, erasing his caption, selecting a better picture with him smiling and she changed his emoji to a smiling face.

What the hell?

"Okay, well that's done, come on you have a video to shoot with Carlos, we need to get you into makeup and remember to smile. Last week people were getting the wrong idea."

Makeup? Smile? Video? Did he not get to rest?

"Oh and people are worried you and Carlos aren't getting along, so make sure you stand close to him. I don't care if you flirt, just make sure you are happy teammates. Just for five minutes," Silvia added.

"Fucking hell," Max muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Max made sure to smile, his cheeks already hurt.

This is the comedy gold of the prompt, anon you are on to something!

Part one of the alternate timeline au concept

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Life With You: A Series of Mandomera Prompt Ficlets pt 8

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! IT’S HERE FINALLY!!!!! 

Prompt was Omera falling asleep on Din’s shoulder and was sent in by @agentscamander-romanoff like two whole ass years ago. Sorry it took so long but it’s finally here.

Din wakes up slowly—later than he usually does. He rolls over and frowns when he realizes there's nobody beside him, reaching out and only feeling warm sheets. It's extremely rare for Omera to wake up before him.

He sighs and opens his eyes finally, sitting up with some effort. Despite sleeping for over twelve hours he's still exhausted. Long stretches in hyperspace always throw him off. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and drags a hand down his face. He needs to shave.

Now that he's more awake he realizes the sound he's hearing is someone singing. He makes his way out of the room to investigate.

Winta is sitting at the kitchen table, humming happily to herself, and next to her is a giant pile of flowers—the blue and white ones that grow around the ponds. The baby is sitting on the table, trying to copy what his big sister is doing, which, Din realizes, is making flower crowns. He watches, amused, as Grogu grumbles and gives up—shoving the flowers into his mouth instead.

Winta giggles and pulls the plants out of Grogu's mouth. “You can't eat them, silly!” she informs her brother. Then she spots Din and says, “Hi dad!”

He smiles and comes up behind her at the table. “What's all this?” he asks, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, and stroking one of the kid's big green ears.

“They're for the wedding!” Winta explains.

Din's over-tired brain processes that information. Oh right. The wedding. He vaguely recalls Winta chattering his ear off about the two villagers who are getting married tonight. The details of that conversation are a little fuzzy—Din had promptly passed out shortly after.

“Where's your mother?” he asks.

“In the common house. She said to come find her once you woke up.”

He drops another kiss to her and Grogu's heads before moving back to the bedroom to put his armor on.

He finds Omera in the common house, preparing a feast with the other women in the village. He comes up beside her and rests his hand on her lower back. Taking a break from kneading dough, she turns to him with a wide grin. “Welcome back!”

He nudges her temple with his helmet and she leans into the contact. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks—always needing to feel useful.

“Yes,” she says, with a kiss to the cheek of his helmet. “Get some rest.”

He starts to protest but she cuts him off. “I know you're exhausted. Get some more sleep. I'll wake you up for the wedding.”

Before he leaves she introduces him to the bride—a twi'lek woman named Corvi who arrived at the village shortly after he permanently settled there. He tips his head in greeting and congratulates her on her marriage.

When he gets back to their hut he ends up passing out for another six hours.

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

The wedding ceremony is beautiful and Din finds himself reflecting on his own wedding as he watches the festivities from the sidelines. It's late, and the children have long since gone to bed, but the adults have only gotten rowdier. He sees Corvi dancing with her new husband—a human man named Fenn that Din has met only in passing. He's not actually home all that often, after all.

He spies Omera dancing and twirling in the firelight and smiles. He could—and has—watch her for hours. She sees him staring and beams at him—making her way through the crowd to say hi.

He wraps his arms around her and she leans into him—resting her hands on his chestplate.

“Dance with me?” she asks playfully—knowing full well what his answer will be.

When he doesn't respond, she laughs and pulls away, tugging on his hand—beckoning him to follow her.

She leads him to the barn and then turns around to face him. She grabs his other hand and asks again, “Now dance with me?”

“I... don't know how,” he admits sheepishly. “It's not exactly a big part of Mandalorian culture.”

“I can teach you,” she offers.

He does try his best to copy her movements but he feels clumsy and awkward in all his armor. He eventually gives up but that doesn't stop Omera. She dances happily by herself as one song bleeds into another.

He at least feels confident enough to twirl her and when she's back in his arms he pulls her close so her back is to his front. He hears her gasp at the feel of the cool beskar against her back. Leaning down, he nuzzles his helmet in the crook of her neck.

Her breathing hitches and he knows that they're both suddenly aware that they haven't seen each other in over a week.

He's not sure who moves first but suddenly his helmet is being ripped off and dropped to the floor. Their lips crash together and he hoists her off her feet. Her legs wrap around his waist and he starts walking them towards the table in the corner. He deposits her on the table and fumbles to rip his gloves off so he can touch her bare skin. Her fingers rake through his hair as his lips trail down her throat. She moans softly as he nips at her pulse point.

Her hands claw at his belt and she gasps in his ear, “Fuck me, Din!”

He drags her to the edge of the table and soon the barn is filled with the sound of their moans—both too wound up to care who might be listening.

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

Once their breathing is under control again, they just bask in the moonlight filtering in from the open window—content to just be back in each other's arms.

“I missed you,” Omera says, nuzzling her nose against his chestplate.

“Missed you too,” he mumbles, with a kiss to her hair.

Nothing else exists outside their little bubble—the party outside rages on but neither one of them is keen to rejoin it.

The music suddenly shifts to something slower and softer, and Omera pulls him closer as she hums along. His hand on her back stills as he gets an idea.

“Dance with me?” he asks.

She looks up at him and replies, teasingly, “I thought you 'don't dance'.”

He lets out a huff of amusement. “I think I can handle slow dancing. I do owe you a wedding dance, after all.”

He pulls back and holds out a hand to help her down from the table and leads her towards the patch of moonlight visible from the window. Her hands snake around his neck and he slides his around her waist—pulling her close.

They sway back and forth for several songs before the music picks back up again. Omera doesn't lift her head from his shoulder though. That's when he realizes that she's fallen asleep on him.

He smiles and presses a soft kiss to her temple. He hates to disturb her but he knows there's no way his beskar pauldron makes a good pillow. He nudges her awake gently. “C'mon, time for bed.”

“But I'm comfy,” she whines.

He snorts. “No you're not. Now come on, I'm sure you'd much rather be sleeping in our bed.”

“You make a good pillow,” she insists.

He chuckles and readjusts so he can, first, scoop his helmet up off the floor and put it back on, and then so he can get an arm underneath her knees—hoisting her up bridal style. She nuzzles her face in his cloak as he carries her back to their hut.

She's asleep again by the time they get there and this time he can't bring himself to wake her.

He lays her down gently on the bed and gets to work getting her undressed and into her sleep attire. His next step is taking off all his beskar without too much noise—easier said than done.

She reaches out to him sleepily when he crawls into bed and he pulls her into his arms and holds her close.

Before Omera, and the kids—before finding his little clan of four, his aliit, Din didn't ever believe he could be this happy, this at peace. He didn't think he would ever feel so at home anywhere.

The warm weight of his wife against him lulls Din to sleep within minutes—it feels good to be home.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Recount Your Kids, Batman

[A loose continuation to this post]

Talia doesn't visit the Wayne manor. At least not regularly nor officially. All the batkids and Batman know she comes sometimes, just to check up on Damian and maybe bother Bruce from time to time, but this is the first time she has ever shown up to a dinner.

And, as they all take their seats, she gives Damian a long curios glance. Then, she looks to Bruce.

"Is that everyone?" She asks, easy and lighthearted. One might think she is simply not acquainted with the number of Wayne children or that she is teasing Bruce on the sheer amount of them. But Damian is looking down to his plate, and Tim knows for sure Talia keeps up with Wayne's head count, and Dick is fairly certain Talia would never tease Bruce, at least not so subtly.

It could have been some sort of a hint at Jason. If he was not here, that is. But he is, for once, so this is really all the family at one table.

"Yes?" Dick tries, looking around the table just to make sure. Steph and Babs are not here today, but that's definitely not what Talia could have meant. Bruce also looks just a little confused, which is a nice change of pace since he looked guarded and on edge from the very moment Talia showed up.

The woman hums, her eyes studying Damian. The youngest bat keeps his gaze down on his empty plate. No one really understands what's going on, but they all feel like there's something important and heavy hanging in the air.

Then, Talia stands up and turns to Alfred, "We will be dining later. It has come to my attention that kids are a lot more secretive than I thought," she explains cryptically and smiles at Bruce, "Beloved, will you come with me to the training grounds? I have something to show you."

Bruce doesn't move for a long moment, and Talia's smile becomes almost gentle, "It's about your son."

At least that makes the man move.

When they get down to the Cave - since Talia insisted this was not a matter that could be resolved in the manor's training room - it's not only her, Bruce, and the little bat there, of course. The whole family was way too intrigued, and some were even alarmed.

The most alarming part, though, was the fact that Damian had been uncharacteristically quiet on their way down. Yet, when Dick looked to Cass, she just shook her head slightly. The boy was not worried. To Cass, he looked almost resigned, if a bit displeased.

"Your sword, Damian," Talia commands, and the boy presses his lips into a thin line.

"This is not necessary, Mother."

"It is," the woman looks amused, but there's an underlying layer of concern to her tone.

"...Yes, Mother," Damian nods his head on what feels like surrender and takes his katana. Not the training one, the real blade. Bruce makes a soft, alarmed grunt, but Talia waves him off.

"Not to worry, Beloved. I will not harm our brethren."

She doesn't take a stance, nor does she pick out a weapon, simply lunges for Damian as soon as they are both on the mats. Two daggers seem to appear in her hands out of nothing, and, contrary to her words, her aim is towards Damian's neck. The boy blocks, jumps away, and blocks another attack.

Tim steps closer, "You can't just-"

"Step away, Drake," It's the first time Damian has spoken to them since they've sat down for dinner. His voice is tense, but not derisive. If anything, it sounds a bit tired.

Talia lunges for him again, faster, meaner. Metal clings against metal.

"You understand this can not keep going, my child," she tells the boy, startlingly gentle on the contrary to her definitely dangerous strikes.

Damian doesn't answer.

The rest of Batfam are forced to simply watch the encounter: Damian is mostly on defense as Talia goes for him, harder and harder with every hit. Until, without any warning, the woman strikes for Damian's arm, making him drop his katana, and-

A few things happen at once.

Talia lunges for Damian's throat. Bruce jumps onto the mats so fast that he almost trips. Tim yelps.

But Talia's blade doesn't strike.

A figure of another child, eerily similar to Damian and wearing the League of Assassins uniform, is standing in front of the littlest bat, two crystal clear blades in his hands, blocking the dagger.

Bruce halts midstep. The rest of the family holds their breath.

But Talia simply smiles and drops her daggers, backing away and looking at the boy between her and Damian with a fond gaze.

"Danyal," she greets, and the boy huffs, lowering his weapons. He doesn't drop them - they simply dissipate in the air, turning into tiny snowflakes.

"Mother," he greets back begrudgingly, and his voice is the exact replica of Damian's. A clone? No, because Damian reacts to him nothing like he had to the clones, simply clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes.

"You could have simply asked, Mother," he comments, taking a step forward and stading near the other boy. Danyal. When standing side by side, they look nearly identical - same facial features, same posture, same hair, even if Damian's is a little more tame.

But Danyal's eyes are just a few hues off. Still green but lighter than Damian's.

"I assumed if you have spent years living here and never bothered to mention your brother, I would need a little more than asking, my love," Talia doesn't laugh, but it sounds like she wants to. Both boys roll their eyes, perfectly in sync.

Hold the fuck up, brother?

"Huh. I thought you died," Jason mentions offhandedly, and the whole family whips their heads to him. Yet, before any of them speak, it's Danyal who answers.

"I mean, I did? Kinda?" He waves his hand in the air and shrugs, and he acts so unlike Damian while also simultaneously having his face, that it makes Tim shiver a little.

"You-" Bruce starts, seeming to finally find his voice, but the boy cuts him off.

"I'm not actually yours," he snorts at Bruce's facial expression, "Yeah, I know I look like I am. Blame the ghost sewers, Chronos, and my stupid ass for making decisions while not being fully awake."

There is so much to unpack in that sentence that no one has the barest of ideas on where to start.

Damian curves his lips down in a sneer.

"The longer you stay there staring, the colder the dinner will be when we return," he reminds them, and Danyal suddenly perks up.

"Dinner? Can I join? It's been ages since I've had anything home cooked," he smiles, like there's some kind of an inside joke in that sentence. Damian rolls his eyes.

"The food doesn't come alive in this household, Danyal."

"Bummer," the boy looks a bit disappointed, but not too much. "And it's Danny, for the thousandth time."

Talia picks up her daggers, hiding them somewhere in her clothes in an unnoticeable motion. Then, she gives Bruce a small, if a bit sly, smile.

"You can not call it 'family dinner' if not all your family is there."

[mynameisjag]

For @ace-in-disgrace and their prompt: Danny gets mistaken as the love child of the disasters known as Wolverine and Deadpool.

Okay, it was not Danny's fault, he swears!

He was just experimenting with his ice, playing around with some of the younger yetis in the Far Frozen for fun. So shaping his ice to cover his hands to copy the paws of the others and seeing how well he could cut through solid hard frozen ice was just a game. The rough housing was to be expected, everyone tossing each other to see how far they could be thrown was fun.

Being picked up and tossed at the right exact moment a portal opened up was not fun or expected and he blamed Clockwork. The entity had to be responsible somehow for him not being able to enjoy a day of hanging out with Frostbite and the others.

Landing right in the middle of a what looked like a swat happening in an abandoned warehouse, armored people instantly aiming their rifles at him as he stood up wasn’t even surprising given his luck.

Fair though, he was currently looking more on the feral side to match his playmates then his normal ghost form.

“Hey, what’s with hostility? Can’t someone just pop in somewhere without-“, and he was shot in the shoulder, cutting his sentence off, “rude.”

It was just a regular bullet, so it was easy for his form to just…push it out and heal the hole up.

One of the men reached up to touch a device attached on his ear, “Unknown possible mutant has breached the facilities, age around 12-15, regeneration showed, animal like features-“

“You know it’s really rude to talk about someone like that to their face, no manners at all.”

“Unfortunately satirical.”

There was a crash from above as red and yellow forms busted through the glass, the guns swinging their aim at the two men landed.

“Sassiness is always welcomed!”, the red man had his own guns out and was already firing as he talked.

Danny had decided to dodge over to a pile of crates as all the attention was on the new intruders, eyes wide as an arc blood barely missed him as the one in yellow unsheathed long blades from his knuckles.

He glanced at his own hands, he couldn’t make a working gun from ice but…concentrating…he slowly watched as ice built up into copies, looking very much like it was growing from his skin.

An armored body was flung his way and he instinctual reacted…there were now two halves of a one man and he was covered in the viscera.

He froze…did he…oh…oh no…he had to go, he had to go now.

“Ope, looks like someone's first kill! Look at you Jack Frost,” the red guy with guns was now standing above him on a bigger crate, waving down at the teen, “awe, tiny puppy claws!”

Danny took a swing at the crate, watching as it collapsed and the man fell, laughing the entire time he went down.

He quickly turned to run, only to run into a wide chest where he promptly bounced off and landed ass first on the floor, “What in the-I have literally ran into steel walls softer then you.”

Claw man snorted as he reached down and picked Danny up by the scruff, “You alright kid?”

Said kid just hissed at him.

Claws was chuckling, “Cute, now put back your claws, I think it’s time for a chat.”

“Is it finally our turn for the found family and misunderstandings trope,” the red man was back and had swaggered up to the other two, an arm being thrown over his partners shoulders, “Hi, there and welcome, I’m Deadpool and this is Wolverine and we’re your new dads.”

“No.”

“No?”

Danny smiled, all sharp teeth, “No,” and promptly went invisible and intangible, escaping out of the warehouse while he could, leaving the other two behind.

He had to find a portal home.

Wade went limp, using Logan as a brace, “But I wanted to pull a ‘Batman’…”

The response was a snort and Wolverine sniffing his own hand, growling as he took the child’s scent in, “Don’t know what your talking about but, I can track him down, we probably need to before more of these fucks show up and get their hands on him.”

Hope you enjoyed it!

[hello-sweetheart]

Dog Groomer Eddie

Eddie who faces the facts that he needs a skill besides music to make money because he loves the band, loves playing, but man the pay is shit. And he’s a dog person, never been able to have a dog and his apartment doesn’t allow pets either so he tries his hand at dog grooming.

He’s actually like, really good at it. Works at a groomers for a couple of years, wins contest that rewards him with some cash and the notoriety needed to find an investor and start his own dog salon.

Fast forward, Steve is visits a dog groomer that was recommended to him by a friend called Metalhead Groomers. The place has metal playing from the speakers which is a weird choice, but it sticks true to the name. The guy at the front has the name tag ‘Jeff’ who has piercing and tattoos, large guy, very intimidating.

But the place looks clean, it has 5 stars, and when Jeff checks in Antoinette he’s actually super nice, like a gentle giant. So Steve’s like, “I don’t particularly care for a cut, you can do whatever.”

“Do you want the full package? It includes a bath, full hygiene routine, dye job, and a specialized cut.”

And steve does not process the ‘dye’ part and agrees.

So see, Eddie, and by extension Metalhead Groomers, is known for their really eccentric and creative work. It’s how Eddie won his first contest after all. And the best worst thing you can give an artist is full reign. But free rein of a standard poodle?? A dog groomers dream come true.

When Steve goes to pick up Antoinette, Eddie hands her over and…

Her ears are curled and dyed in pastel colors with bows and sparkles. Stands of hair above her eyes are streaked pink and look as if they’re some type of falsie lash. Her legs and tail have been dyed a pastel blue ombré. The rest of her body shaved down except for some plush detailed work of large light pink hearts on her sides and a detailed bow on her lower back . Her tail is fluffed and cut into the shape of a heart.

“What the fuck did you do??”

“Dude, you asked for the full package and said ‘do whatever you want’ so… tada! I took some inspiration from her name, but this is kinda mild compared to my other work tbh.”

It takes Eddie explaining that that it’s pet safe dye, she wasn’t hurt, and actually enjoyed all the attention she received for Steve to calm down.

Fast forward a week and Steve comes back into the shop to apologize for blowing up on Eddie. Turns out Antoinette (Nettie for short) is a service dog and her look actually helps people be more aware of her. Steve also feels safer that she’s more identified cuz apparently there’s actually people that steal service animals?? Eddie was not aware of that. Plus, Steve works with young kids and they love Nettie’s look, it makes them more comfortable and engage more.

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

Steve likes to take dates to the carnivals and he always tries to win them stuffed toys because he’s cheesy and romantic and proud of it thank you very much

Only, he’s absolute ass at the carnival games. He’s only ever managed to win an ugly little cap, and Tiffany had not been amused when he’d presented it to her. It never stopped him from trying of course, but it’s a little discouraging

Fast forward to now, when he’s recruited by Claudia Henderson to drag the party out to the carnival. Robin refuses to join him because “I finally have a date Steve, I’m not going to spend it chaperoning your walking headaches”. So he recruited Eddie

Of course, the party doing want to be chaperoned and they’re really old enough to go to a carnival by themselves, so he agrees to let them go off by themselves as long as they stay out of trouble.

So he and Eddie go on a few rides and grab a bite to eat, and Eddie eats like three ice cream cones and feels too queasy for more rides. So Steve decides to practice carnival games so he can win something for the next babe he brings on a date.

With Eddie cheering him on as obnoxiously and flirtatiously as he can, Steve starts playing. And he starts winning. Not just the little prizes either. Along with normal sized stuffed bears and bats and what-have-yous, he also gets a comically large stuffed rainbow unicorn wearing sunglasses, a long dragon plushie that’s taller than he is, and other oversized paraphernalia

Since he isn’t here with a date, Steve just gives all his winnings to Eddie. Eddie jokes about how this was the most romantic date he’s ever been on (only it’s not really a joke, this not-date is more romantic than any of his trysts). Then Eddie starts complaining that Steve needs to stop winning because how is he supposed to carry all this? By the time they meet up with the kids, Eddie isn’t even visible behind the mass of prizes in his arms. He stumbles over, guided by Steve’s hand in his back, wrapped in the giant dragon, and the kids mock the both of them ruthlessly

Eddie keeps all the toys and names then after the party just to bug them. Steve delighted with that, and together they always tease the kids (“wooow, rainbow unicorn Dustin would never do this” is a favourite because it makes Dustin apoplectic)

When they start dating, Eddie keeps telling people that Steve “gave me 6 kids before finally putting a ring on it”

[shushmal]

from @skepsiss: Steddie (obviously), prompt = one of them is trying to convince the other to go to the hospital for a minor thing (needs stitches from a fall, stomach bug).

"Stevie, please."

"Oh my god," Steve sighs, wrapping the gauze tight around his hand. It blooms red with blood. "It's fine, Ed."

"It really isn't." Eddie is a little pale when Steve looks up to glare at him. "Steve, please baby, I saw the bones in your hand."

"You're being dramatic."

"See," Eddie whines, high pitched and panicked. "I do understand why you're saying that. I know this is a case of boy who cried wolf. But I am begging you here. Please, let me drive you to the hospital."

Steve wrinkles his nose. "It wasn't that deep, I promise you."

"Steve."

"Ed—"

And then Eddie does this thing—where he pulls himself up to his full height, crowding up into Steve's space, until they're nose to nose, his eyes wide and intense—and it shuts Steve up every time. It's stupid, and horribly embarrassing, but it works and Eddie uses it to his advantage, pressing Steve into the edge of the counter and boxing him in, his hands tights against Steve's hips.

"Steve," he says, low and serious. "You can bitch at me all you want in the car, but I'm taking you to the hospital. Okay?"

"Okay," Steve says, against his will, face burning as Eddie pulls away. As soon as he has breathing room to think, he scowls at him. "But if I don't need stitches, you're on the hook to do dishes for the next month."

Eddie doesn't even grimace—he hates doing dishes—and gently starts herding Steve out the door. "You got it, honey," he says, distractedly. His face turns green when a line of blood drips down Steve's wrist from beneath the bandage. "Whatever you say."

Steve ends up getting 15 stitches. Eddie's stuck doing the dishes until it heals anyways.

[steddielations]

makeup artist youtuber steve who gets famous and does interviews with celebrities while doing their makeup

rockstar eddie who released a grungy eyeshadow palette and does a video with steve to promote it and their chemistry is crazy and all the comments are shipping them

the kick is that eddie didn’t even know he’d be going on steve’s show, jeff asked their manager to set it up because steve did a solo review of eddie’s palette and they’ve all been teasing eddie about watching steve’s video over and over

now they’re all watching eddie get flustered as steve softly touches his face and holds him by the chin, complimenting his eyes and letting him ramble about music and what he likes to wear on stage because steve is actually a really good interviewer

and his last question comes after the cameras shut off and he asks for eddie’s number

[ikiprian]

Clark is taking Kon and Jon out for a classic, super-style bonding flight. Just a quick jaunt around the US and back!

They don’t get far. Somewhere in Illinois airpace, they run across another family.

The three (a hulking man, a snarky teenage boy, and a cackling youngest girl, each a grayscale blur in the blue, blue sky) throw neon-lit beams of energy at one another, quips and insults flying almost as fast as they do. It looks like training. It looks like fun!

The boy of them looks like a younger version of the man. Exactly like, even. Clark is familiar with clones.

The youngest, a girl, looks like both of them, but not quite. Perhaps she will, age sharpening her childish features, but it’s hard to say. More likely, she’s the man’s daughter.

Interested, Clark introduces himself to Dan. He seems to be a hero in his own right, even if Superman’s yet to see him in action. And it’s not often Clark sees a family so like his own!

[cheer-nympho]

Steve and Eddie exchange ugly pjs on Christmas Eve, playing a dusty old board game thats missing half the pieces while Gremlins plays on TV.

They leave brandy and cookies out for Wayne for when he gets back from work before they head off to bed.

They wake up to stockings hung on the end of Eddies bed because Wayne refuses to let go of traditions, even if Eddie isn’t 13 anymore.

They don’t do much on Christmas itself. They watch shit TV, laugh and cry over presents and call around to everyone to say Merry Christmas.

The unopened Christmas presents for all the kids will be torn into when they see them the next day, but for Christmas day it sits next to their sparsely decorated tree that Wayne has had since he was little, kept in a box that is held together with tape and prayers.

Wayne spends most of his evening telling Steve to sit down and stop hovering while he makes Christmas dinner, he’s done it for years fine on his own.

They eat dinner, they exchange last presents, and they go to bed in each other’s arms, watching the snow fall past the window.

And that’s it.

Steve and Eddies Christmas is nothing special.

It’s not extravagant, not extraordinary.

To everyone else, it’s nothing much at all.

But they’re happy.

And that makes every year their best Christmas ever.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Moles

written for @steddiemicrofic July

prompt: one || wc: 111 || rating: T || cws: nudity, excessive fluff

~~~

"One.” Poke.

“Two.” Poke.

“Threeee--”

“Eddie, babe, you can't count them all,” Steve sighs, lying naked on his stomach. Eddie's soft now, pressed alongside him, fingertips roaming his back. 

“You have no idea what I'm capable of, sweetheart.” Obnoxiously waggling his eyebrows, a wicked grin paints his face.

“You tried last night and failed,” Steve chuckles.

“Maybe you're right.” Eddie bites his shoulder, and Steve yelps. “But this time, I've got a marker.”

Head lost to the clouds, Steve's eyelids feel heavy with love.

“Four. Five. Six.”

Poke. Poke. Poke.

It feels wet, smells sharp.

“Wait,” Steve gasps, flailing for Eddie's hands while his boyfriend laughs maniacally, “you've got a what?”

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Prompt idea: Omera kissing (& biting) Din's pulse points 🔥👀😳

Oh I like the way you think 👀👀👀

I can definitely do something with this 😏

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Alt Rock to the Rescue

[Inspired by this art]

"...Alright, I might have an idea," John Constantine, who was seemingly busy texting someone for the past ten - or twenty, no one really counted - minutes, puts his phone away and snaps his head up.

The room falls silent. Superman blinks in surprise, Diana frowns slightly, and Batman's mouth is pressed into a thin, stubborn line. Flash recovers first.

"You have an idea?" He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, "No offense, but I'm not sure a magic trick can help us against, you know, an alien fleet." He gestures to one of the screens on the wall, where said fleet is approaching Earth on live.

The rest of the Leaguers present don't exactly agree with him, at least not verbally, but the mood in the room shifts from tense, anxious alarm to an almost palpable annoyance. To be honest, no one was even sure why or how John Constantine of all people ended up in the meeting. It's not like JLD could actually help with an ongoing, massive invasion that was about to happen in less than three- Correction, less than two and a half hours. Besides, it's John Constantine. The man that never shows up unless outright bullied into submission.

The magician winces briefly and starts rummaging through his pockets under the weight of everyone's attention.

"I said I might," he amends gruffly, getting a cigarette out of one of his pockets and sticking it in his mouth but not lighting it. Seems like it wasn't what he was looking for, though, because after that, the man keeps going through the various places on his coat, patting himself down. "I know someone who can deal with it. Granted, I already owe him a great deal, but he won't say no," he pauses and grimaces, "At least I hope he won't."

"I do not think it would be wise to call upon gods in our situation," Diana tries carefully, but John pays her little mind.

"Or demons," Green Arrow adds, crossing his arms on his chest, "I'm not selling my soul to get rid of some rocket ships or whatever they are."

Now, that makes the magician bark a laugh. Or, maybe it's the piece of lime green paper - a sticky note, actually - that he finally finds in the depths of his pockets.

"Oh, your soul's gonna stay where it is."

"Constantine-" Batman starts, but John cuts him off instantly.

"Mine will stay wherever it is as well," he reassures the man, "It's not that kind of entity." And with that, he promptly sets the green note on fire - green fire - and uses it as a lighter for his cigarette.

The next moment after the note is reduced to ash, there's a shift in the air in front of him, and, before any of the heroes have a split second to react, there are two people floating in the middle of the room, backs pressed to each other.

Two teenagers, to be exact. A girl and a boy, both of them so pale that their skin looks gray, and both dressed in grunge, like they just came from a rock concert. Yet, that's where the 'normal' parts of their looks end - the boy's hair is so white it looks blinding, and moves in the air slowly, undeterred by gravity, and the girl's hair is neon blue, her ponytail flickering up like a flaming torch.

The boy nearly topples over as the girl leans her back on him harder and kicks her feet up slightly. The movement is awkward, like both of them were taken by surprise by the sudden relocation, and maybe the guess about the rock concert was not so far from reality; there are drumsticks in the boy's hands, and the girl is holding an electric guitar in her hands.

"The fuck?.." The boy asks no one in particular, as the girl makes an annoyed groan and straightens up, still floating in the air. Her guitar makes an aborted sound. Meanwhile, the boy's eyes land on Constantine, and his whole face scrunches in disgust, "John, for the love of Ancients, I was in the middle of something."

The girl takes a look around while her friend is busy expressing his annoyance and elbows him in the side, "Oi, look, it's the whole Comic Con in the flesh here."

Green Arrow sputters. Flash makes a wordless but very offended sound. The floating boy looks around, taking stock of faces in the room, and the disgust on his face morphs into exasperation.

He turns back to Constantine, "Really? I thought I told you I want no part in your furry parade."

"Alien invasion," the magician decidedly doesn't address any of that, instead pointing his finger to the screen behind him. "Thought you ought to know," he adds, a bit of sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

"Ooh, is it my turn to be your world saving buddy, Phantom?" The girl perks up, turning around and draping herself over the boy's shoulders with a giddy laugh. Her guitar shifts to hang in the air on her side all by itself.

The boy - Phantom - rolls his eyes. Bright green, glowing eyes that definitely don't belong to a human being.

"If I had a nickel every time I had to save the world, I'd probably be able to buy myself my own guitar," he grumbles and looks back to Constantine. "Do I, like, have to? Right now? You know, I don't get paid for this bullshit, and the studio we rented for rehearsal has an hourly rate, so if we can postpone this for about an hour and a half, that'd be real nice."

"The fleet is only two hours away from Earth," Batman supplies suddenly, and, when both floating kids turn to look at him, adds, "I can pay for your next rehearsal. Or a few of them." Evidently, Phantom's comment about nickels struck a nerve. Or, maybe, the man just likes throwing money at any teenager he encounters. Who knows.

The boy blinks, taken aback by the proposition. But the girl grins, sharp and wicked, and shoves her drummer - if the drumsticks are to tell - in the side again.

"Hey, free studio. Better than the last time."

That snaps Phantom out of his stupor, and he groans, "Don't remind me." With a weary sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in the air, almost like reclining on it. "Okay, fine, sure. Do you want them, like, away from Earth- um, this is Earth, right?" He turns to Superman, surprisingly, looking for confirmation, and the man nods, thrown off guard. The boy nods back and continues, "Or you want them blasted into oblivion, or what?"

"Whatever suits your mood, kid," John waves his hand at the screen as if making a welcoming gesture, "But all the aliens gotta go."

Unexpectedly, that makes the girl's grin even wider, and she reaches for her guitar, floating around Phantom and looking him in the face. The look she gives him speaks of mischief, and the boy seems to understand what she's implying before she as much as opens her mouth.

"Ember, no," he pounts a drumstick at her.

"Ember, yes," she wiggles her eyebrows, "Come on, your wail is boring as fuck as it is, why not spice it up?"

"I'm not wailing," Phantom scrunches his nose, "My throat will hurt for weeks."

Ember runs her fingers over the strings of her guitar, and it makes a comparatively quiet, vibrating sound. A few cords shoot out of the bottom of her instrument, like ones used to plug an electric guitar to an amp. She raises her eyebrows, still looking at Phantom, a silent conversation between them.

Then, the boy huffs and rolls his eyes, twirling a drumstick in his fingers.

"Fine."

The cords fly at him like snakes, aiming at his neck. None of the Leaguers watching the encounter get to say even a word as the metal pins insert themselves into the boy's neck, acting like some twisted kind of collar. Phantom doesn't even flinch.

Ember's guitar, on the other hand, reacts to the connection quite violently: it makes a high-pitched sound all on its own and then changes color from black and blue to white and green, with lightning bolts instead of flames for design. The girl's ponytail flares up higher as she softly murmurs in delight.

Then, she turns to the people around them and smirks, "Which way is the evil alien fleet?"

Flash wordlessly points his finger to the right and up. The girl nods in satisfaction, turning in the air so her guitar is facing that way.

"You might want to cover your ears," Phantom advises, a sly smile on his face and a glimmer of anticipation to his eyes. John Constantine follows that direction immediately, and, taking his move as the best course of action, the other heroes follow as well. Except Batman, who only narrows his eyes and looks at both teens in the air apprehensively. Phantom shrugs, "Or don't, I don't hold any responsibility for your shattered eardrums."

"Pick up where we left off, then," Ember tells him, and the boy blinks:

"Wait, I thought you'd just-"

[For some wholesome experience, put your headphones in and listen to 'KULT' by Jisaiah, grandson, and Steve Aoki]

But the girl has already started a tune, nodding her head to the rhythm of it and slowly picking up the pace. Phantom huffs, but doesn't protest any further, floating up as much as the cords allow him and spinning a drumstick in his hand.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

That the world's a fucking circus

That my life feels fucking worthless," he spits the words out with a sneer, slowly rotating in the air until he is hanging upside down. His eyes are closed, and his voice becomes more and more staticky with every new sound. The volume of Ember's guitar gets up, higher and higher, until the walls and the floor of the room around them start to vibrate.

Then, Ember's voice joins Phantom's, and the boy brings his drumsticks down on thin air, mimicking the moves. Only, even with the actual drums not there, the air around him ripples like they are, and they all can hear the beat.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

When it all comes crashing down

We'll see who's laughing," both kids pause, just for a beat, and Ember uses that split second to spin the volume knob to the max before strumming her guitar in one wide, sharp move.

"NOW!"

The sound wave is not only palpable, it's visible. A wave of toxic green ripples through the air, knocking everyone present - sans the two kids in the air - to the ground, and goes beyond. The screens on the walls flicker and turn off, sending sparks in the air, and the comms give off loud, screeching noises, and-

The following silence feels almost deafening.

Batman, unsurprisingly, is the first one to stand back on his feet and see a few of the screens come back online.

Just in time to see that same green wave of... sound? energy? power?.. decimate the entire fleet like a wet cloth over a chalkboard. One moment, the spaceships were there, and the next they are gone, wiped out of existence.

Ember laughs, leaning back and almost doing a backflip in the air.

"That was nice, dipshit!" She shoves Phantom in the shoulder, and the boy snorts, plucking the cords out of his skin and grinning.

"Yeah," he agrees with a smile, not even looking at the screens around, "Maybe we should try rehearsing in space next time. Sing to the stars and all that crap."

"Sing to the stars?" Ember raises her eyebrows mockingly as the rest of the heroes scramble to their feet, bemoaning their ringing ears. "Na-ah," she clicks her tongue and turns to Batman, "You still up for paying for our studio?"

The man just grunts in a semblance of affirmation.

"Sweet," the girl grins and offers Phantom a hand for a high five, which he returns instantly. "Cheers to the world being saved once again!"

The boy just rolls his eyes and turns to Constantine, "Next time, be a dear and text me before summoning, or I'm going to sell your soul to Morpheus, and who knows what he'll do with you."

John Constantine grimaces. "I did," he offers grudgingly.

But both unearthly teenagers are already gone without a trace.

[Edit: I want everyone to know there's ART now!!!]

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Imagine Vampire Eddie getting scared like a cartoon cat, jumping up to the ceiling, and getting stuck. Imagine Dustin, Lucas, and Mike scaring Eddie on purpose. One day, they scare him while at Steve's house, and Steve gets pissed because his parents' house just has to have that very high ceiling in the living room. So, Steve has to get out the very tall ladder to get his claws out of the ceiling and then get him down. Eddie is very terrified of heights, so he clings to Steve’s back while Steve very shakily gets them down from the ladder. As soon Steve’s feet touch the ground, he goes off on them for scaring Eddie. To Eddie's surprise, Steve turns him around in his arms so they're facing each other and holds onto him tightly.

"And I'll you get him back when I've decided you learn your lesson," Steve said. "Until then, I'm keeping him."

He walks off, with Eddie wrapped tightly around him.

"You can't just keep an entire person, Steve!" Dustin yelled. "That's kidnapping!"

Eddie hisses at them over Steve’s shoulder and stuck his forked tongue at them, his eyes flashing red.

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love Part 2

It’s hard to listen to Eddie talk about this guy the same way Steve wished he did about him. Eddie, already so full of life and words, doesn’t seem to need to take a breather between his praises.

“Can’t believe this guy is actually into me, did you see him? Oh my god!” He groans and smacks his palms against the steering wheel, literally bouncing in his seat.

The van swerves a bit to the left.

“He’s just my type, too. Those eyes, prettiest eyes that have ever graced human existence, and they were looking at me. Me! Wow! The darkest green— I don’t think there’s any precious stone that can compare actually.”

He beams at him and Steve’s traitorous heart still flutters like a wounded bird helplessly flapping its broken wing. Eddie is smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt, eyes crinkled at the corners and teeth on full display.

Steve will close his eyes at night and replay these words, pretending that this excitement and instant adoration is about him. That Eddie’s love-struck smile is for him.

“And, to top it off, he’s a geek. A fucking nerd. He actually knows DnD! What are the chances, Stevie? I’m no religious man, but an angel must have heard mine desperate pleas.”

His name is Adiel, Eddie’s perfect guy.

Steve spends that night feeling the need to cry, the hurt is right there at the base of his throat refusing to spill.

Steve kind of wishes he did, maybe letting everything out would leave him feeling empty instead impossibly full of heartache.

Adiel is blond, a dirty blonde that means he must’ve had light locks as a kid. Face slim and cheek bones prominent, but his features are soften by button nose. Maybe Eddie is right, he looks like the angels depicted in stained church windows, but whereas angels are depicted in white, Adiel wore exclusively black.

He wasn’t decorated in rings and chains like Ed, only a few silver piercings in his ears and a couple on his lips. But it was evident they had much in common, even just by looks. More than Steve could ever say about him and Eddie.

Over the next couple of weeks they share their music, intrinsically understanding what it means to one another.

Getting it.

Getting it the way that Steve never could, even with hours of Eddie breaking it down for him. Maybe Steve never understood, but he loved those moments shared between them. Wonders if Adiel cherishes those moments too. If he takes it for granted.

They share everything with each other and Steve hears every little detail gushed between sickly sweet sighs. He’s trying to be a good friend, to listen and share Eddie’s happiness, but something inside him grows bitter. Angry. He hates feeling this way.

“I met his friends already, they’re a really cool bunch. I really think you guys would get along. They know all the best spots for people like us. There’s a whole world out there, Stevie—“

Stevie. His breath stutters.

“Of people like us with places for us. We could take Robin and Vicky and be surrounded by people that won’t, that won’t think we’re… wrong. And who knows,” he nudges Steve’s side with a suggestive smile, “maybe you’ll meet the one there, huh Stevie?”

“Stop. Just, just stop!”

Steve doesn’t mean to yell. He just can’t take it anymore. Everything that has been building up inside him has reached a point where he just can’t. He pushes Eddie away from him who looks startled. Offended and bothered and confused.

“I don’t want to meet his friends, or least of all him. I don’t get it, okay! I thought—“

What did he think? That one day he would confess to Eddie or vice versa? That they’d kiss and go on double dates with Robin and Vicky? That he would fall asleep each night in love and loved? It seemed plausible at some point. That’s what hurts the most.

“Hey, Stevie—“

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“What? Your name? You don’t want me to call you by your name?”

A bitter laugh, “yeah. My name from your mouth.”

“I, You’re not making any sense!”

Steve knows. He knows. But Stevie, Big boy, Ozzy… even his own name, can’t bear to hear them. Not from him. Can’t bare the way his heart squeezes.

Eddie’s looking at Steve with furrowed brows and down turned lips, standing still. Has Eddie ever been still before in his life?

Once. When he was still and pale and red. His chest gone quiet for the most terrifying seconds of Steve’s life.

Steve looks at him, his eyes burn. Steve’s breath from his own chest brought Eddie back to them. Eddie’s lungs still carry his desperation. His ribs healed but the cracks must still be there from the palm of his hands. He’s tasted Eddie’s blood before from his mouth—

He’s kissing him. Steve, dumb stupid in-love Steve, has his lips on Eddie’s once more, but this time they’re warm and full of life and his ringed hands are on him and,

They’re pushing him. Away.

“Eddie,” his sight is blurry, eyes hot, and breath stuttered. “I, it hurts. You with him. I can’t—I just can’t.

And Eddie looks, terrified, dark eyes searching Steve’s face. For what, he does not know. Sincerity, maybe. Truth. Maybe looking to see if he’s really shattered inside.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t…I don’t…”

And Steve?

Steve smiles. It’s watery and his lips quiver.

“I know.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it. It’s always the problem. “I know, Eddie. I’m sorry. It’s, it’s okay.”

Eddie leaves Steve there in the living room.

There’s still two cans of Coke half full on the coffee table but only one person left in the room.

Part one < 💛 > Part 3

Tagged: @bananahoneycomb @margaglitterdeath

[akela-nakamura]

DPxDC Prompt

Summoning is an imperfect art, mispronouncing a name or having an incorrect symbol can lead to unexpected, and sometimes explosive results. Summoning can open unexpected doors. No one's prepared for what--or who--steps through when a rising gang tries to summon backup.

My little ficlet for this is below the cut:

Smoke. The acrid slam of it in the nose, brought on by the screaming wind. Chanting. A chorus of voices, steady and thrumming. Pain. Everything is hazy, and it’s equal odds on it being from the smoke or the potential head injury. 

Bruce stumbles to his feet, body throbbing. 

This was not how he’d planned this night. 

Of course, he hadn’t planned for Gotham to suddenly be overrun with a new…gang? They claimed to be a government organization, but Bruce has his doubts. He hadn’t had a chance to go through the GIW’s information, but according to Barbara, their claims were sketchy at best.

The shouting about ghosts and waving around sci-fi weapons with no trigger discipline certainly didn’t help their claims. 

Government organization or not, they had no right to raid homes, to drag people out onto the street, or overall threaten his city.

His ears ring, and the chanting rises in volume, impossibly. His chest reverbes with the sound. It’s steady enough to feel like a second heart. His blurry vision locks onto the center of the summoning circle. Because this night couldn’t get any worse, of course. 

First the GIW had rocketed up his list of threats with one simple move. 

They’d gone after Jason.

Jason, who even now was laid out in the middle of the summoning circle, eyes bright, bright, bright green through the haze. 

First they’d taken his son. 

Then they’d used him as a sacrifice. 

Bruce bared his teeth, locking eyes with the closest GIW agent. The man held up his weapon, a glowing baton. His form is weak. 

The baton gord flying, Bruce’s armored elbow slamming the man to the ground. The agent curls up, groaning. Nightwing’s escrima sing electric in the background, followed by the whip of Tim’s bow staff. Damian’s sword glints through the haze, and purple flashes through the crowd of white, white, white. 

He can’t see Cass, but he doesn’t expect too. 

The ground rocks under his feet, and it takes several precious seconds to regain his balance. There seems to be an almost endless flood of agents, with more and more meeting his fists as he tries to make it through the gauntlet. 

Suddenly, the air shifts, the scream of it heading for the circle instead of out. 

The circle glows toxic green, and Jason’s at the center, frozen in the light. 

“No!” Bruce shouts, the sound ripping from his soul. 

It’s echoed by Dick, who stands just outside the circle’s boundaries. His hands are pressed against the light, his blue eyes a shock against the green. 

It’s a confusion of people - GIW white and the summoner’s black. The GIW is here to end whatever it is they need Jason to summon to them. The summoners themselves seem to have broken away from the “agency” and want power from the being they’re calling. It’s a fight on multiple fronts, with the GIW fighting the summoners and Bruce and his family fighting them all. 

The temperature drops. 

“HOOD!” Dick screams, as Jason is swallowed by the green. 

The chant is all he can hear, even as he shoves towards the circle, even as he slams against the same wall Dick’s against. 

The world goes bright and he can’t keep his eyes on Jason. On his son. 

When the light fades, Jason’s not alone. 

A being sits six feet in the air, Jason collapsed over his lap, somehow hovering with the - what is he? He looks human, but there’s something wrong. Off. Bruce can’t quite pinpoint his age. A crown glows on his head, an ever shifting cape spills down his back, dragging close to the floor. His eyes are green as Lazarus, and just as deep. Jason is breathing, Bruce notes. The being’s hands curl in Jason’s hair, playing with it idly. 

The air is *rigid, and everyone’s stopped fighting. No one can draw their eyes away from the being. 

“You dare to summon me with one of my own?” The being speaks, and it’s like crackling glaciers. Someone whimpers. 

“We - wanted to give you a gift,” One of the men in black says, his voice chattering. 

It’s like breathing in ice. 

“A gift?” The being says and the sound is fury, banked in a waiting avalanche. “What kind of gift is this? A denizen of my Realms, trapped and tortured? Used to summon his king, against his will? This is no gift.” 

“B-but we didn’t know,” another speaks, and then obviously realizes he shouldn’t have. 

“Ignorance will not save you,” the being says, and it - he’s? - still holding Jason like he’s something precious. “And I am not the only one you have infuriated. 

“I am not the only one you have awoken.” 

To a man, the GIW agents cry out in panic. Bruce turns, looking for the threat but - the agents are buried to various depths in the cracked concrete floor. The ground is decidedly solid beneath Bruce’s feet but the agents would obviously not agree. They flounder, like the concrete is quicksand. The summoners are next, but it’s ice that gets them, crawling up their bodies until they’re locked into place. 

“My lord!” One cries and promptly finds himself gagged. 

Bruce can’t stay silent any longer. “Hood was used against his will to summon you,” he starts. The being’s eyes meet Bruce’s. “He didn’t want this. Is he alright?” 

“Your son is fine,” the voice is rough, but feminine, and obviously not from the being. It’s around him, dancing through the steel beams and pushing through concrete. “You are mine, my knight. You and yours are mine. The little king will not harm him, nor you.” A figure forms off to his right. 

“Holy shit,” Dick whispers. Bruce has to agree. 

She’s made of concrete, of broken brick and dust, of bone and police tape, of twisted metal and more. 

“Gotham,” Bruce breathes, and he doesn’t know how he knows but he does.

“Hello, my knight,” she says, her form shifting. She turns slightly, and there’s something sharp in her movement. “Hello, little king.” 

“Lady Gotham,” The being - the king? - returns. “You look well,” 

Lady Gotham laughs, a ringing sound - it’s bells and gravel, fresh air on a summer day and rising wind. “How you flatter me, little king. Do you fear me?” 

The being grins, mischief dancing around him, white hair floating high. “I respect you. It’s good to see you awake, Milady.”

“What is happening?” Tim asks no one in particular. Dick shrugs and Steph just leans harder on Tim. Cass holds Damian’s shoulder firmly, watching carefully. 

Bruce wishes he had an answer. 

“It is good to be awake,” Lady Gotham says, and she shifts closer to the circle, fingers skimming against the barrier of light. “How long do you intend to keep my reaper from me?” 

Reaper. Bruce thinks, and it’s a gut punch. 

It makes sense, to describe Jason. Jason can go where Bruce cannot, do what Bruce cannot. 

The king laughs lightly. “The summoning harmed him, Milady. I’m just keeping him safe. I’m not here to undermine you,” the king’s eyes glow. “But remember who is king.”

Lady Gotham smiles. “I’m aware of hierarchy little king.” 

“My son,” Bruce says, because there’s no point in pretending Jason is anything less. He’s talking to - the embodiment of gotham and a king of - something. “He’ll be okay?” 

Lady Gotham sighs. “He will be fine, my knight. The little king cares for his own.” 

“What - what are you the king of?” Tim asks, bold. 

The being smiles. 

“I am Phantom,” he says. “I am the Ghost King.” 

Jason stirs in his lap, and the implications crash over Bruce. Maybe Reaper has more meaning than he’d thought.