#prompt: can't sleep

[lingeringmirth]

sleepless in loch nora

Stranger Things | Steve Harrington centric | Rating: T | Words: 369 | Insomnia, nightmares, post s1, steve has bad parents, hurt no comfort, character study. | CW: use of someone else's prescription drugs (mentioned once.)

Written for @whumpril day 11. can't sleep | Also here on AO3.

-

After November 1983 Steve stopped sleeping in his bedroom, or, rather stopped trying to sleep in his bedroom, because no matter what he did to get to sleep there, rest didn’t come. Eventually he’d run out of his mothers left-over ambien, which had helped him sleep, if not kept the nightmares at bay.

He tried the guest room across the hall first, its windows weren’t on the pool side of the house where the dark shadows held secrets and death, always lurking, ready to strike at any moment. He lay awake, staring up at the popcorn ceiling by the light of the bedside lamp for hours, his eyes unwilling to close, because when they did he was back in that moment of flashing lights, adrenaline and screeching, fighting for his life. He did fall asleep some nights, eventually, caught a few moments of shut-eye here and there, but never enough.

There’s his parents' bedroom, of course, but he'd rather never sleep again than try sleeping there, it’s just… No way was he sleeping there, if he did then he’d be haunted by Barbara’s fate, the flower-faced monster at the Byers’ and the ghost of his parent’s failed marriage and hands-off parenting, which would all give him even more nightmares and insomnia than what he already had.

That left the sofa, but the living room had the door out to the patio, where the pool was and where even the outdoor lights weren’t enough to dispel the terror of the place. Apparently, there shouldn’t have been any more flower-faced horror monsters roaming around, but Steve didn’t trust the government or the lab, and was always looking over his shoulder. He’d signed an NDA and gotten his hush-money, now they knew who he was and where he lived and were likely tapping his phone, those were all reasons enough to be paranoid.

He could go to Nancy’s, maybe, climb up to her window and sneak in, see if she’d let him crash on her floor or talk with her. Those thoughts were always put aside, he couldn’t trouble her with his issues, with his inability to cope.

What did he need enough sleep for anyway? 

He was fine… until he wasn’t.

[mischievous-thunder]

Logan's madly in love with a clown

[is-this-even-relatable]

Misfortune Teller

tldr: An older Danny, apprentice to Clockwork, does a lot of field work across dimensions, resetting the timeline, queuing future events, and who knows what else. Occasionally, he warns people about such upcoming possibilities, to set them on the right path. How, you might ask? Well in this case... as a wandering fortune teller.

Crack-fic (oh god, it's getting long and my logic brain won't let it remain as crack) where Danny becomes Clockwork's apprentice after getting his GED. Living his infinite afterlife to the fullest. Inspired by this tumblr post.

Working for Clockwork had been... interesting so far. At first, Danny got frustrated by how vague and cryptic Clockwork was. He'd just shunt Danny off to some ancient time with a few words, his own time medallion (Danny carried it everywhere with him now), and then pop back into the portal, leaving Danny with only the faintest idea of where to go.

Eventually, after enough time (ha!) spent around Clockwork, Danny figured out that it just basically meant that he had free reign and to do whatever he wanted. Because if he went on the wrong path, (like that one time in Pompeii when he had almost caused the volcano to explode a few years too early), Clockwork would just pop on by, say another few cryptic words, and then it'd all be fine and dandy, or as he liked to say, "All is as it should be... Now stop practicing your wail by an active volcano."

After telling Jazz about that (it was supposed to be funny, not concerning), she just sighed and shook her head, with a forlorn "think before you act, Danny!" but hey, it'd turned out fine so far, so who cares how he does what Clockwork asks him to do, as long as it gets done, right? Even if it's with a liiiiitle more mischief than strictly required.

Besides. Danny was the one who had been doing time shenanigans across millennia, not Jazz. And he thought he'd been getting pretty good at it too! He'd actually started giving himself a different made-up background for each universe he visited. Sam and Tucker were helping him keep up with the identities on a spreadsheet, so if he had to go back to one he'd already visited, he'd remember who he'd said he was supposed to be.

---

He was on a call with them one evening while haunting Jazz's apartment, doing just that, when he felt a familiar tingle in the back of his throat, as well as a heightened awareness of the seconds passing by, that always accompanied his mentor's appearance.

Sam was talking about his past stint posing as a god of death when he cut in. "Hey- sorry to interrupt, Sam- Clocky's here, guys, I gotta dip."

"Aw, come on! We hardly talked any this past week since you passed your certifications, man," Tucker complained.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Partly on you too though, you've been caught up outside of class, and Sam's schedule is nearly the opposite of yours."

Sam hummed in agreement despiter Tucker's scoff.

Danny missed hanging out with them as much as they had in high school, but hey, life goes on. Or at least, theirs did, to college. After finally flunking out of Casper High, he'd taken some time to get used to his responsibilities in the ghost zone, and when he had, he realized that he didn't really have much enthusiasm or timeleft for his human life.

And he didn't really want to go back home either.

But Jazz had made him tie up any loose ends before he noped-off to god knows where, which frankly, he had to thank her for. Getting his GED took a few years, but it was an accomplishment that could be attributed to Danny Fenton, no ghostliness required. Then he was able to let that tether go free.

Pulled out of his musings by a few more grumbles from Tucker, Danny said his goodbyes, promising to call the next time they were all available.

After hanging up, Danny swiveled around, anticipation already lighting up his eyes an ethereal green.

Clockwork, for his part, had been waiting patiently through Danny's lengthy goodbyes. Although he supposed that it tracked for the watcher of time to be patient. With his job, it'd be a nightmare if he wasn't.

"Phantom," Clockwork spoke, calm as always. "I have some tasks I need you to complete as my apprentice."

And Danny, always ready for adventure, didn't need him to explain any further. "Sure! When do you need me to be?"

Clockwork smiled at that. "I am fortunate you are eager. Follow me."

---

Danny popped into existence in this universe with a burst of cold air and static electricity. He found himself hovering by a clocktower above a sprawling, gothic city. Smog and light pollution obscured the stars above him, to his disappointment. He comforted himself with the fact that he'd probably have all the time he wanted to fly someplace less populated to see them later.

He started off by familiarizing himself with the city. As he flew, he followed the trail of power and met the resident city-spirit, a spooky- but kind underneath- woman draped in black lace, who told him her name was Gotham. He spoke in length with her about this universe, its heroes, and her knights. On that, she was very enthusiastic... or at least Danny thought she was, her projected emotions belaying much more than her gloomy exterior. She told him how her knights had been through a lot and would need some guidance fighting the darkness that pooled in her deepest corners, smiling with too much glee, filling lungs with fear, and terrorizing with cold hard bullets.

Danny could sense that the dangers she spoke of were growing in power, ever slowly. The longer they shadowed people's minds and hearts, an intangible thing grew that lent them more otherworldly pull than their physical forms had right to hold.

That must be what he was sent here for.

But... they were weak, pitifully so for him, infinite king as he was. And besides, he wasn't here in that sense. He was a messenger, a simple apprentice. And he could do this however he wanted.

Cue his talk with Lady Gotham, and subsequent idea to arm her knights. With what? Well, he figured knowledge would be a start. Flying high above the city invisibly, Danny noticed a sea of colors and lights by what appeared to be the city's pier. He flew down, noting that it appeared to be the setup spot for a travelling circus or carnival of some kind.

He considered what to do. One of Lady Gotham's troubles was a madman clown, right? Well maybe he'd be attracted to his ilk here... and with the danger came the knights. Maybe he could catch one of them here?

Danny was floating around at the entrance and beginning to formulate a plan when a flyer caught his eye. Looking for a mystic to read fortunes. URGENT!

Hadn't Clockwork said something about fortunes? And he hadn't made an identity in this universe yet...

A mischievous smile crept across Danny's face, splitting it in two with far too many teeth.

---

Half a city away, a man in all black, perched on the very same clocktower that Phantom had Appeared by, shivered as he felt an ominous premonition about his sanity in the near future...

Said man quickly opened his comms to check in with his many, many kids. Yet even after hearing back from each, he still felt apprehensive.

Somewhere even further, Clockwork laughed.

---

And that's how Danny found himself seated at a fortune teller's booth at a pier in Gotham, two days later, for the Tricksy Traveling Circus's grand opening.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 74

When a new black-haired blue-eyed person appeared in the manor, one could easily be forgiven for thinking that Bruce’s adoption problem had struck again. So color many a batkid surprised that no, this kid isn’t a new sibling, no he didn’t get grabbed from the street, and actually he’s here for Alfred. Apparently Alfred never found it important to mentioned that he has a husband- that the kid kind of implies isn’t human what with the casual way he says he himself is half human- and that this kid is apparently their child. For once it’s Bruce’s turn to come home to a surprise sibling. 

Danny on the other hand just learned that his Clockpa has a semi-mortal partner who has offered to take him in, (in another dimension even! And there’s aliens!!) while the ancient takes care of some stuff at home. And yeah it’s in a rich-manor but Sam has proved that not all rich people are evil, and based off of Mr Pennyworth’s stories the Waynes weren’t bad either. Though based off of the others’ reactions perhaps he should wait to mention that there wasn’t one new family member but three…

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: Chilly

Danny doesn't feel the cold at least not natural cold. Sure, sometimes when his Core acted up he would feel cold but the weather in the Mortal World couldn't reach that level of cold with the closest thing being space, and even then it wasn't that close to the chill of an Ice Core. This made it easier for Danny to travel light after things went South in Amity Park because he didn't have to worry about packing heavy coats or thick blankets. Just a jacket, a spare change of clothes, a phone and charger. This worked best for him.

Unfortunately he didn't consider how this may look to people, especially when weather reached record lows in Gotham City, snow reached record highs, and people were looking concerned. But nobody looked more concerned than a guy with a red motorcycle helmet and more corrupted ectoplasm in his system than was probably helpful.

[whumpitisthen]

Leashed to the floor by a short lenght of chain. The chain has just enough give to let them scramble back just a couple inches, low to the ground on their hands and knees, when they get scared. They can't even look up from how hard the unforgiving leash pulls their neck back towards the ground unless they stay where they are supposed to, right where whumper wants them to be.

[starflungwaddledee]

did you remember to leave space for all your phantom limbs?

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ kirbytober 2024 #03 ★⋆ miracle // phantom // magic

[skylersprompts]

DC x DP Prompt *34*

Last night's patrol had been rough. Killer Croc got the jump on Tim, who won, but not without injuries. His son had a twisted ankle, bruised ribs and a wound on his back that needed stitches.

All of this meant that Bruce needed to find an excuse for Danny, who would be very confused why his brother was so hurt, when he was supposed to be sleeping at night.

Bruce stood up and made his way to Tim's room to make sure that the boy was still sleeping. To Bruce's surprise he not only found Tim, but also Danny in the bed. Both boys were deeply asleep. Danny's hand clasped Tim's wrist, his fingertips rested on the pulse point of his brother.

Unsure what that exactly meant, Bruce left. He would need to watch the development of this closely, to find out what was going on. If something was going on.

.

.

.

Dick got doused in fear gas. Danny sneaked into his room at night. His fingers are against the pulse of his oldest brother. Bruce closed the door, a light smile on his lips.

.

Stephanie got hurt in a fight against Freeze and stayed at the manor. Danny sat slumped on the floor of her room. His fingers securely against her wrist.

.

Damian got into a fight with Ivy and was still recovering from her pollen. Dick was sleeping and cuddling with his youngest brother. But someone else had cuddled close to the youngest bird. Danny was holding Damian's wrist close to his own chest.

.

Bruce was laying in bed with a broken arm after a run in with Bane. He wasn't surprised to hear his door open, or the smaller body that was crawling under his blanket. Danny's cold finger pressed against his wrist, until they found his pulse. The boy relaxed with a shuddering exhale. He pretended a little longer to be asleep, but before he could do anything else sleep pulled him under.

.

Duke ran into the Riddler. While he did solve the puzzle, he couldn't escape uninjured. He cracked a few ribs and wasn't able to hide his limp. When Duke was going to bed, Danny followed him to his room and slept beside the daytime vigilante.

.

Cass had a tough fight tonight. The court of owls was active again and while she was a skilled fighter, even she wasn't able to stay uninjured with too many enemies at once. She had a black eye and her wrist had a sprain. When Danny tried to sneak into her room, she looked at him and held her uninjured wrist in his direction. They both snuggled into her bed.

.

Alfred had an accident, while doing housework. He fell a few steps down the stairs with a laundry basket in hand. Luckily he only twisted his ankle. But when the old man woke up in the early hours of the morning, he found a black haired boy sleeping in a sitting position beside his bed. His fingers tightly around his wrist.

.

Jason had been shot. And while he tries to argue about being able to drive himself to his safe house, Alfred's disapproving gaze was enough to let him falter. But he stayed in the med Bay. When Bruce came to check on his second eldest, he found a smaller blackhead wrapped around him, his fingers pressed to the pulse point on his neck.

[its-all-papaya]

landoscar + 41? 🧡 maybe fake/pr-dating-turned-real-dating coded, so maybe even + 56? like, they realize the fake wasn't that fake anymore 🙈 (insert i am in love are you in love audio here)

they are both in love, anon.

(because i found it kind of impossible to explain without adding sooo much exposition... oscar is not a driver. he's just... a guy. that mclaren found. to date lando. suspend your disbelief, idk)

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

41. to pretend (or is it?) | landoscar | 1.2k

Lando is in over his head. His aching, pounding, hurts-so-bad-it’s-making-him nauseous head. If he’d known one throw-away trip to the club in Miami was going to complicate his life so irreparably, he would have tucked his P1 trophy into bed next to him and gone straight to sleep like a good, boring boy. Instead, he’d gotten catastrophically fucked-up on any number of things he doesn’t remember and tossed himself dick-first into an entire publicity nightmare. That’s the worst part, probably: Lando doesn’t even remember. He remembers taking shots with Max and Danny and he remembers – barely – stumbling to the bathroom, and the next discernable point on that mental timeline comes at approximately 6:45 a.m., when he’d woken up to go vomit and found his lock screen so full of notifications that it’d made him forget to wonder where the man he’d gone to bed next to had pissed off to so early.

Since then, every minute of Lando’s life not spent in the car has felt full wall-to-wall with interviews, and meetings with crisis management, and saying “I’d prefer not to comment on that” so many times he hears it on repeat like an ear worm when he’s falling asleep at night. And also Oscar. There’s been a lot of Oscar.

He’s waiting in the lobby of McLaren’s hospitality when Lando arrives down from his driver’s room after qualifying in Brazil. Lando wonders how he got in, if their bosses have finally decided he’s trustworthy enough to walk around unchaperoned. It’s funny that he ever didn’t have a pass, actually; he is technically a McLaren employee. Probably. Lando thinks he gets paid. They’ve never talked about the specifics.

Either way, however he got there, Oscar is by himself in the lobby, leaned back in a chair, thumbing at his phone. He looks up when he senses Lando’s arrival, and Lando must look even more pathetic than he even thought, because Oscar’s face immediately goes soft with concern and he leaps up to take Lando’s bag off his hands.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks. He slides the backpack onto his own shoulders and then steadies a hand in the middle of Lando’s back, thumb tracing comforting little circles near his spine.

Lando could lie, but there’s not really any point to that, so he lets his face fold into the grimace it wants to be in and presses his thumb between his eyebrows.

“Head’s killing me,” he says. It comes out weak.

Oscar makes a sad little sound in sympathy, and the palm on Lando’s back shifts to his side so Oscar can tug him closer. Lando doesn’t have the energy to fight Oscar on these things at the best of times lately, so he’s definitely not going to when he’s exhausted and sick with the pain behind his eyes. Even though there’s really nobody around to see them.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel, then,” Oscar says, and Lando has never agreed to anything faster.

Oscar leads the way out of hospitality and through the paddock, fingers linked securely between Lando’s own. It’s baffling that he’s already been around this circus long enough to know the way without help. Nice, though, because Lando’s not really in a state to be of any.

They run into a few people along the way – fans or sponsors or employees. Lando doesn’t get the chance to tell which are which, because every time somebody new greets them, Oscar’s fingers tighten around his own and he talks the both of them cleverly out of the conversation before Lando can even consider what he would say if he was left to his own devices. It feels nearly impossible that less than six months ago, Oscar could barely say two words to Lando without being directly asked to.

“Oscar!” he hears as they’re nearing the exit, and they’re so close to relative quiet that Lando can’t help but groan about it. Oscar squeezes his hand again like an apology as he turns to address whoever it is.

"What’s up?” Oscar asks. When Lando lifts his eyes from the pavement, it’s Max stood before them. Both of his hands are hooked in the straps of his backpack and his chest is heaving just a little, like he’d jogged to catch them up.

“You’ll of course be at the race tomorrow?” Max asks. Lando’s not sure where this conversation is going, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t have to happen right now. He hopes the look he’s giving Max is sufficiently irritated.

It must do the job, because Max’s eyes brighten and he says “Not pleased about that, Lando?”

Oscar’s hand goes from Lando’s palm to his back again, quick, and before Lando can open his mouth, Oscar’s saying, “He doesn’t feel good.”

“Ah,” Max says. Lando can’t figure out the look he’s being given.

“The race tomorrow?” Lando presses. If they’re going to chat about whatever it was right now, they could at least get to the point.

Max nods, shifting his gaze back to Oscar, “You are staying, yeah?”

“Yeah," Oscar says, "Why?”

It’s taking too long. Lando squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against Oscar’s shoulder, hoping the counterpressure might do anything at all for the hot ache in his brain. Oscar’s hand goes immediately to the back of Lando’s neck, like it’s habit, and his thumb starts drawing firm lines down the muscle there, hairline to nape. It feels…really, really nice, actually.

“You’ll fly back with us after,” he can make out Max saying, “to Monaco. Lando and I and a few others.”

That doesn’t really make sense. Oscar’s been planning to go home for a bit over the mini break, Lando knows, they talked about it nearly right away when the agreement was drawn up. Far be it from him to argue that point, though, not when Oscar’s saying “Yeah, thanks, mate,” and his thumb’s still easing the pain in Lando’s skull. Lando would blame it on the headache, but it’s not like he’ll mind the extra time with Oscar, either. Which Max knows.

Lando cracks his eyes open and shifts enough to squint suspiciously at his friend, but Max is just grinning happily at the pair of them.

“Very good,” Max says. Sure.

“That’s all?” Oscar asks. His thumb finally stills. Lando does not whine about it, but it’s a close thing.

“Yes,” Max says, “you can take grumpy home now.”

Then, before Lando can decide whether that’s worth getting upset over, Oscar squeezes the back of his neck and nudges him up off his shoulder. His eyes are apologetic when Lando meets them, and he kisses Lando once on the forehead as he slides their palms back together.

It’s nice. Domestic. Very convincing, probably. Oscar’s gotten really good at his job.

“We’ll see you, mate,” Oscar says.

Max clasps Oscar’s hand for a second, then squeezes Lando’s shoulder on his way by.

When he's a few steps off, Oscar says, “Ready?” like Lando hasn’t been begging to go this whole time.

Lando says yes, please and he can tell it's a little whiny, because Oscar says "Hey, okay love, I'm sorry" and brushes a gentle kiss against his lips. Lando thinks Max is probably too far away to see it, but Oscar would know better.

It’s not until they’re finally settled into the back of the car, sides pressed together, that Lando remembers:

“Max knows about everything. You didn’t have to… he knows.”

Oscar’s gaze is soft and maybe a little sad, for some reason, but he smiles past it and combs his fingers through Lando’s hair until he settles.

“Yeah,” Oscar says as Lando’s head falls back against his shoulder, “He does.”

[transparentgayprotector]

Lazerus water is Poop water.

Okay hear me out.

Hear me out, Lazerus water is always compared to sewage in DpxDc fanon, why not go all the way?

Danny might have to destroy some Lazarus Pits because of the Rats but he's not happy about it.

Since he always said they stink can I tell you what I think they are to him and everyone else in the Infinity Realms?

Pariah Darks Poop and Pee. He was the only one who didn't have a sewage system because he was too busy being a bitch.

That's why the color is different, like digested food looks different out of your body.

Danny can tell people when they finally ask him that too.

Danny: Yeah they're bathing in the waste of the old King. The reason your acting like shit is because you've got literal shit in your chest. Gross.

The Old King was a big gu who most likely had a some holes he would just poop in on some random dimensions planet.

When the pits were put there, humans probably were small in number, and many animals stay away from waste matter in large quantity, except Rats and roaches, which The League of Assassins are now.

Damian attitude changed because he got away from the sewage and started eating Real food(Natural Ecto).

Jason was dumped in Shit after being brought back to life by the natural Ecto, but Gotham is so cursed he kinda needed a minute to process his food because he was given too much, Like a feast when your stomach is small.

That's why his mood swings were so severe. He was given good food then forced to eat shit. He's constantly trying not to vomit (pit rage) because he'll lose the good food too and probably die again. Or constipated. Yeah he's also ghost constipated because of the Lazerus Pit.

Anyway, essentially The League of Assassins are Rat people, Ra's is the King of the Rats and Now Danny has to deal with them.

Will Danny's poop do the same thing? No, because he's half human and poops in much smaller quantities than a guy the size of a building while using a proper sewage system in his paranoid parents house.

They most likely do something to the sewage anyway. Danny too after he looks at the Rat People bathing in ghost poop.

Plus, he never uses the Bathroom in his ghost form, only him human one.

[copper-sands]

mask.

stills under the cut

[whumpback-wail]

A whumpee who can astral project

Whumpee would work together in a team, team leader monitors their vitals, another team member keeps them safe while unconscious, and caretaker sits beside their bed, never leaving their side and keeping track of the time to wake them.

Whumpee would go to "sleep" and gather intel on various matters, conduct investigations, and so many more. Their team would be so well known for their skills in gathering information, not knowing how it was done.

Until one day whumpee went to "sleep" to spy on whumper. The team are on their usual positions. But this time, long before whumpee was supposed to wake up, team leader noticed whumpee's vitals dropping, and caretaker couldn't shake whumpee awake.

The team member who was guarding the room rushed in to see what the commotion was about, only to see caretaker desperately pumping whumpee's chest and team leader rushing to get the crash cart. Whumpee's heart was failing, and nothing anyone do can make them wake up.

What happened? What did whumper do? Whumpee should not be seen or heard if they are only there in spirit, so how did whumper get them? What could they do to wake whumpee?

[puppetmaster13u]

Meme Prompt 10

[jamiesfootball]

Whumptober but not Day 8

Prompt: forced to stay awake

In which my hand slipped and I made a whump prompt fluffy. Like completely fluffy, there is no whump to be found here

Picture the team in an airport while they fly to and from Champion's League matches

Everyone is tired. Their flight's delayed. It's either too late at night or too early in the morning for this, and Jamie is whining up a storm because the flight’s delayed and he wants to sleep on the plane, not waiting for the plane, because if he falls asleep and then has to wake up for boarding he’s not gonna be able to get back to sleep so he just wants to sleep on the plane, Roy, don’t let me fall asleep yet.

Roy is pretty sure at this point that Jamie's talking just to keep himself awake - he's just decided to direct that talk in Roy's ear for some reason.

Meanwhile Roy is quickly approaching the point where he’d be willing to drug him if it’ll make him stop.

The rest of the team has already vacated the surrounding seats, but if Roy moves Jamie is just going to follow him

Beard, who isn’t getting distracted from his book by the whiniest footballer in the terminal, keeps shooting Roy pointed looks that clearly say you brought this on yourself

To which Roy returns with looks that say

The real problem is that no one’s sufficiently scared of him anymore.

Which is Jamie’s fault.

Roy can snap and threaten, but the truth of the matter is he’s going to board that plane and sit down in his seat, and Jamie’s going to collapse in the seat right next to him without asking, burrow into Roy's shoulder, and fall asleep before the plane's left the tarmac. And no one’s going to blink twice

And Roy’s going to wrap his arm around him and he's finally get to read his book in peace and he’s going to be very very angry about all of it

[mintygreencake]

Sugarboo is better than me because I'd start TWEAKING, straight up losing my mind if Derek pulled that evil shit on me...

OH MY GOD??? 😨

[alienoresimagines]

Who said prompts had to be short ? 🙃