#prompt: timeline shenanigans

[tyedyeboogers]

One Choice

So this week is the busiest week ever at my job, reliably, every year lol, so I'm going to blame that for the reason I only got two fics completed in time to post for @codywanweek. Here is the second story written for day 7. I used the prompts: timeline shenanigans, faked death, and dancing.

Rating: T

Pairing: Cody/Obi-wan

No major warnings.

Featuring: a primeval fusion galaxy, anomalies, a creature incursion, blasts from the past, and a hopeful future.

This week has been absolutely incredible with all the amazing work created. Please make sure to check out as much as you can and thank the mods!

[lolottes]

Flash had to modify the time… then modify a little differently Now he has a sarcastic teenage meta who interrupted him in the middle of patrol

Meta: Flash? you're the one who changed time? well done to you, I'm immune to time change and your last change made my existence illegal, a government agency, my now ex and my own parents want to kill my hero identity and the justice league no longer remembers me! I'm not going to ask you to change the course of time, but if you could tell the Justice League to remove the anti-ecto laws that would already make a big difference for me!

Flash: uh, ok I'll watch that?

Meta: ok then, good luck, I'm going back to patrol my own city

Flash once the meta part: did the first change create a new hero and the second ruin his life? ... oh my gods, how am I going to explain this to the other???

Or Danny and Clockwork take advantage of a double change in the timeline and the Amity Park blackout to lie to Flash

BUT it's for a good cause! for the ghosts, and prevent war crimes which will end in war / massacre of the Earth

[goldengirlgalaxy]

(Cracky DP X DC AU I thought of)

Tim made plans with Danny, his loving boyfriend, the night before for the two of them to have another date the following day. However, when he woke up the next morning, checking his phone to make sure he remembered the time and place of the date, he found Danny's number was no longer on it and all of their pictures together were gone too.

Thinking it was one of his siblings playing a prank on him, he went to breakfast mildly annoyed. But annoyance turned to confusion when he noticed that all of his other siblings were in a bad mood. And when he asked Bruce if he had Danny's number, the man questioned who Danny was.

Eventually, the tension between the siblings broke out into a fight. Through the yelling, Tim was eventually able to determine that everyone was upset because they believed someone else had hacked their phones to erase all traces of their boyfriend. Their loving boyfriend, Danny.

It didn't make sense! Between all the Batkids, there was too big an age gap for it to make sense for all of them to believe Danny was dating them. Eventually deciding to look Danny up, Tim was horrified to discover that Danny Fenton was a man older than Bruce!

Something was going on here, and Tim knew it was bigger than just some soap opera drama.

[little-pondhead]

DPxDC Prompt:

[this is a long one please forgive me]

Bruce lied to the others about his trip through time. Not all of it! Just…one specific thing.

During the early parts of his timeline hijinks, before Tim realized Bruce was still alive, he had a bit of a respite in between his endless time jumps. (Maybe a certain ghost was helping him out.) With a fuzzy memory at best and a strange itch to investigate the unknown, Bruce had been taken in by an old couple who had no kids but wanted to pass on the family name. And who better than a thirty-something amnesiac stranger who could actually be related by blood?

Bruce, with nowhere to go, accepted his new name, grew out his hair, and quickly got accepted into college for engineering. There, he met two of his closest friends; a redheaded woman who could kick his ass and a wet chicken of a man who could also kick his ass. They both made him nostalgic for something he didn’t remember, and that made him sad sometimes, but the two were always there to cheer him up.

Years passed, and Bruce’s life moved on. He settled well into his new name, mourned his parents when the eventually passed, celebrated his wedding with the redhead, and grieved when the last of their trio fell out of touch. He had a daughter, and then a son! They were both so smart, even if they didn’t share the same passion he had for exploring the science behind the afterlife. (Something about the dead just itched his brain in an infuriating way, and Bruce wasn’t one to let sleeping dogs lie. He just had to find out why he was so obsessed with this stuff!)

Eventually, his and his wife’s research yielded results, and that’s when bits of Bruce’s former life started coming back to him. After the portal opened, he spent his days with his head in a fog, oblivious to the world around him as he struggled to continue his work.

Why did he remember a boy named Dick? Who would name their child that? And Jason…who was Jason? That name always made him sad. There were more names, more faces, but none of them were his. He could never remember what his name was supposed to be. All he had was the one his adoptive parents gave him.

His wife was worried. His daughter was struggling. And his son…his son sometimes hurt to look at. Bruce didn’t know why. He knew he was being a terrible father, but something in him wanted to cry whenever he gazed at those clear blue eyes, just like his own. His son was too smart for his own good, and realized his dad had started avoiding him.

The day his son purposely left the room so Bruce could relax was one that hurt him even now.

Time kept passing, and Bruce was becoming anxious. His brain fog was as bad as its ever been. He had constant headaches, and his hands kept twitching for nonexistent tools on his belt. Something was going to happen. Something had happened. A voice in his head told him it was all his fault.

So in an attempt to clear his head and spend more time with his family, Bruce insisted they all go to dinner at the local diner. His son invited his friends. Even better! More people meant more distractions from his messed-up thoughts. He wouldn’t spiral with the kids around.

And then something exploded.

The last thing Bruce remembered was his son’s (green??) eyes widening in fear and horror as something yanked him violently backwards. He fell farther than expected, through a portal and a green sky full of black stars. A hand tightened on the back of his jumpsuit, hauling his giant body through another portal with a roar of a motorcycle.

And then…and then…and then what?

All of a sudden, Bruce was sprawled in some mud in the middle of a forest, dizzy and coughing from the explosion’s fumes. He’s singed all over, and his ears still rang from the force of the…what happened again?

Bruce sits up, and all of a sudden, he’s in the era of the pilgrims. His memory has been wiped clean, his new name and family forgotten thanks to the hands of time. His adventures through the time stream continue, with him assuming many different identities throughout many different decades.

The memories of being Jack Fenton don’t return to him until he’s back in 2004, once again in his own time and living as Bruce Wayne. A glowing green sticky note informs him that “The Nasty Burger Incident” had just occurred. His “other self” just had his ass dragged to another era, so the time loop would continue.

It also informed him that he had an orphaned son crying for him at Bruce’s own grave.

Well, his forgotten son (that sounded bad, even to him) was supposed to be about fourteen now, right? Bruce hopes he doesn’t have to fight anyone for custody.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Gantober #27 - An Aria For Pigs

[Downfall Timeline, Death, Grief, Mild Description of a Dead Body, Mild Body Horror]

The Hero of Time is nowhere to be found. The princess of a doomed kingdom takes matters into her own hands. As always, Impa follows right behind.

----

You can read it on Archive of Our Own Here!

I haven't beta'ed it, it's kind of weird and very Unhallowed Vespers' related, but it's also some weird Impa and Ganondorf and it's also spooky and also Impa almost says fuck. :>

----

It is unknown when or how, or even if, the Hero of Time had died.

Most people left in Hyrule still believe in heroes. They trust that a mythical figure will rise from the ashes of a golden age long since consumed, and put an end to their common misery. They are hylians after all —unused to the idea of coping with despair, its prolonged chafing. Impa can hardly blame them for it. But she knows.

She has known for a long time.

The princess had fidgeted with the idea herself, independently, but had refused to accept it for as long as she could. Denial curdled into obvious delusion until it suffocated her. Impa chose to keep her mouth shut and let her process this on her own terms. The absence of light may be Impa’s domain, but Zelda still clings to its presence, seeking it sometimes beyond reason. At seventeen, Zelda no longer identifies as a princess —princess of what? Her kingdom had been stolen, her lands scorched and torn into crude, uneven parts— and now she hid in dusty clothes Impa pulled from secret crevices near Kakariko. Bandages, daggers and bones. Zelda is now known as Sheik. Why the hell not. They had picked the name together; a title rather than a name, not that anyone still alive would know but Impa. And yet, despite that process of reshaping her identity for protection and safekeeping, the poor girl still knows to embrace her divine role within the fate of the world. So does Impa. This is what she tells the girl, in great detail: everything known about the course of time, godliness, destiny. The rules of the holy land they were born to preserve.

Perhaps this is what had convinced the princess to take the matter into her own blessed hand.

Impa arrives alone at the empty castle. Ganondorf the usurper had destroyed the old one. White stone turned to black, vulgar work. Charred oxygen and the rancidness of unearthed magma; and yet the halls are so cold.

Places Impa used to know were mangled. She had haunted these halls long before they’d been dead; and she expected some measure of longing, some heartache for the perfect gardens of green, for the flowers in bloom and the careless laughter of a content crowd. But the old thing had been obliterated. There is nothing to recognize. As always, its new master cares for dominance and symbols in a way that never once proved anything.

Impa walks through the new meaningless construction at a steady pace. Ignored by monsters, of course. Not only is she quiet, but hardly ever recognized as something worth killing. Fairies ignore her wounds just the same. She walks one step removed from reality. Shadows draping her, always.

As she rises towards the central tower through endless stairways, Impa notices the press of something against the inside of her throat.

She enters a cavernous room, cathedral-like, bathed in sickening sunset-light, and sees her.

Impa walks to the bundle of cloth, slowly. Kneels. She traces the exposed throat. Cold.

Dead.

Zelda had been dead for hours.

Impa takes it in. The off-colored, wax-like sheen of a perfect skin. Blue eyes, pale and glossy. Blonde hair, tangled in a way she thinks needs brushing. Half-open mouth. She had seen so many bodies before, just like this, or worse. Somehow, Impa had never really prepared herself to welcome this one into her memories; even though she had spent so much, so much, so much of her existence shielding the girl’s fragile life from harm. Cupping candlelight between burning fingers. But it is over now. A sheikah knife lays next to the princess, and arrows, and a bow, and Impa doubts the fight, if there had ever been any, had lasted more than a minute.

She breathes in, and out, and closes the girl’s eyes with her thumbs, rolling loose fabric under her chin to keep her lips mended together, soft and asleep. Impa tries to look inward, with idle curiosity. She finds space between her ribs, a newfound clarity to the oxygen she breathes. She presses small hands together across her chest, across the single eye of her people, and thinks: after everything, the sheikahs and Hyrule died together as one.

Everything she ever upheld as meaningful, now tepid on the lush crimson carpet. Belief, mistakes, restraint, self-abandon. Love. Gone. It is over. It is over, and yet Impa cannot process it as defeat. Not her defeat —even though she had categorically failed at everything of import ever devised for her by fate.

The girl’s right hand no longer glows.

A guttural sound echoes from the depths of the large room, where pillars overcast the surreal gleam in strange moving shadows. Something large and grotesque. A thrill, on the edge between a demonic hiss, a human voice, and something far worse than both.

Impa lets go of the girl and stands. She breathes unburdened. No tension left in her besides the simple mechanics of motion. Taking the blade out of its sheath has nothing to do with self preservation. At most, it feels like a social cue, expected from her by a crowd she can’t see and didn’t really care for.

She walks towards the moving shadows. A quiet pace. No need to rush. Anything about to happen now is but an epilogue.

The darkness itself seems to pulse. Large shapes overlapping, the smell like untouched depths of a cave beyond cracks in the floor, fizzling char, nearly suffocating her. Something gags with labored breathing. A man. A thing . Impa focuses, invoking her perception of truth among the pit of organic tar.

A shape. Human.

Ganondorf, or rather the imprint of him, has one knee to the floor, much like the first time they spoke to each other seven years ago. His face is hidden behind bloodied hands, long hair. Light shudders underneath his fingers: a map of his veins and bones backlit with divine fire. The limits of his flesh aren’t clear anymore. His body blurs, swept away and redefined amid the moving darkness.

“So you won,” Impa says.

A hiccup, hidden behind shaky hands.

“You should have known,” replies a voice, booming and strained and breathless, surrounding her yet pinned to a singular, fragile point. “Y-y-you should have guessed I had. Reclaimed. Courage already.”

The silhouette heaves, each word like a stab wound to himself. The fingers slip; Impa sees the eyes then, the nostrils and mouth, the fine lines embedded in his dark skin.

All of them burning from within.

“W-w-what does it. Feel like.” He groans, trying to look at Impa directly; but there is so much push-and-pull of darkness, pure light, and skin that focusing on the person behind is near impossible. “To know. To know you bowed to your masters. For this.” He tries to laugh, but the voice is too broken, his effort too blinding. “Hyrule. Is. Nothing now. I am…” He gasps. His defiance almost sounds like despair. “I am all that is left.”

A shadow on the walls behind him takes a strange form; hulking, something with claws and tusks and a gaping maw. But the shadow refuses to stay put, refuses to commit yet. The old Hyrule might be dead, but it has yet to be replaced by anything new.

“You still haven’t made your wish,” Impa notes.

Blackened nails ram their points into the flood of light threatening to bubble out of his flesh. “The Triforce is mine ,” he spits out, and Impa watches on as the sad spectacle of Ganondorf’s victory leads her to the only possible conclusion she can draw.

“You’re holding the pieces together by force.” Her breath constricts, half-stuck inside her throat. “The Triforce still wants away from you.”

Ganondorf writhes, his body lined in boiling gold. The cracks of a vase about to shatter. And yet, and yet…

With a groan, the gerudo’s face shifts back together, looking somewhat human through all the searing glow. Enough for Impa to recognize a bloodshot eye. Pupil blown wide.

“I can do it,” he rasps, fractured. “I will make the gods. Obey me.”

Impa can’t help the cruel smile carved across her skin.

“The Goddesses are long gone,” she says. “No one can make them do anything.” Impa watches him struggle some more, grasping for focus to remain enough of a body to reply, or react. A shape lost in a storm of his own making. She cocks her head to the side, curious. “You’re not drawing out the full strength of the Power you secured. Why is that?”

He hurls forward with a spasm —already bestial, already a monster. “I won’t. Debase myself. For their entertainment.” He tries to stand. Fails. “Or for yours.”

“Debasing yourself,” Impa repeats, ears ringing. “You killed a child today.”

She catches the glint of a mean grin among the sizzling chaos. Impa imagines reaching for the usurper, no matter the pain; coiling both hands through the man’s fiery scalp, and pulling the skull apart. The weakened flesh would cede to any kind of pressure. She could do this, and he wouldn’t be capable of stopping her.

But she doesn’t need to do this. All she has to do is watch this man torture himself, and pretend this feels like vindication.

“This is my victory,” Ganondorf grunts, squirming inside his rupturing skin. “It’s mine . I-I-I need to rule, as myself. I won’t let them…”

“You don’t want godhood to change you,” Impa concludes. A horrible cough-like laughter shoots out of her throat. She has not laughed like this in over a decade. “Do you even hear yourself? The gods hate you. Everything sacred hates you. Hyrule will never stop resisting your claim. The Triforce will fight you like one fights a disease. Whatever you think you are… They’ve already scraped it clean off. You’re clinging to a corpse.”

He makes a sound, that he must have hoped dismissive instead of agonizing. “I c-can’t. I can’t let them overwrite me.”

“Then stop trying to assemble the Triforce inside your body.”

“No. ”

He had barked this at her, like a child. A pang knocks behind Impa’s armor. She can’t name its cause; if it is simply anger, or a different kind of urge to scream.

“I c-c-can’t let the pieces back out,” He chokes, holding each side of his blinding face. Brute force against cosmic chaos. Somehow , he is still winning. “If I do… If I do...”

“You will be shattered,” Impa says, flatly. “Maybe you should die, then, if you can’t handle it. You should let it kill you.”

He looks at her, his smarting expression almost taken aback. The blade between her teeth had slashed thoughtlessly; the vicious evidence in her words pouring out of her like a fetid sigh, held back for far too long. There are no consequences for her cruelty anymore. She no longer has to pretend she was ever more than a body groomed to inflict pain. Light had been blotted out. And shadows always were her domain.

She allows the blade to drop; slipping from her open fingers and clanging against the muffled floor. One step. Two steps. His gaze fixates on her as she makes her way to the abomination; the warlord who had killed the only girl she had ever loved; the man who had set the ruins of her life on fire, cleansing all that remained until nothing was left . She stands tall, and he crawls.

Impa had never felt more free.

She drives her fingers through his hair —static jolts of fire and thunder and raw pain, and Impa welcomes each sensation with abandon. She yanks him closer to her; he doesn’t yelp, reaches for her wrist when she kneels besides him. His grip, for all its godlike power, is weak, unfocused, completely lost. He fights her as much as he clings to the concreteness of her body. His patheticness, not her grief, is what makes Impa want to cry.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” she murmurs through her teeth, so close to his deformed pointy ear she could bite off the excess if she wanted to. “Then do it. Go on. Become a god. Rewrite the world. Who cares what you make of it. Who cares what you once wished this would mean to you. Go on. Rip yourself apart, my lord.” He makes a choking sound, an echo of the grief she doesn't feel. He burns so bright against her. Impa stares ahead, right at the wall, at the sunset far behind, as each of her fingers sizzles and chars and fuses with him. “Do it,” she says, as her lungs threaten to collapse. “Do it, you coward, do it. ” Ganondorf’s essence shakes and sputters besides her. She can’t feel her arm anymore as he curls, as tension rises, as something wild and manic wrenches out from her accursed throat. “DO IT.”

Golden light erupts beside her in a shriek. Tears of relief boil right through her waterline.

She doesn’t close her eyes as Ganondorf implodes, blinding her.

Blinding everything.

At last, the Shape arises.

The golden light is weakened now, after the flash. Not mended together, but contained under endless blackened fur. A maw unhinges. More darkness than flesh. Timeless eyes open for the first time, pale and emptied and quieter. The walls of the castle are blown open to a darkened sky. Inky. Alive.

Ashes coat everything.

The Shape looks down at itself. Bones cling to its arm, tangled there, bleached clean off.

With terrible claws, the Shape plucks the skull off its dark fibrils. It is so small inside the palm of its hand. Boar-like eyes, fueled by divine violence and impossible dreams, stare mindlessly at the empty sockets.

The wind howls behind them both.

[randomfoggytiger]

I have an idea!! We all love it when Scully borrows(/steals) Mulder’s clothes in fic, but what about Mulder borrowing(/stealing) Scully’s clothes?

Mulder had been a good boy, restlessly applying himself to complete recovery after waking with the scars of smoked-out beetles in his throat. A little over ten days in the hospital-- a record, barring their previous quarantines-- a little under one for the flight home, a little over two to sleep off the return trip, and (he'd assumed) a few more days, a few more meds, a few more teasing touches and everything would be business as usual.

Today had not been a good day.

He'd woken coughing up an ecosystem, lungs burning and head throbbing with each heaving inhalation. Scully had insisted he stay in bed, repositioning him away from the puddle of sweat pooling under his back and mopping away the gunk he spat into his hand. She'd pulled them both back from the vivid recollection of that hand spattered with blood two weeks ago: "Excess mucous production, Mulder-- the membranes in your respiratory tract are irritated. You'll be fine." And she'd willed it so, handing him the full dosage they'd tapered off yesterday and only leaving because he'd insisted she head in to work.

Three hours in, Mulder found his second wind through sheer desperation.

Scooting and sliding his way to the bathroom, the stink of sweat and acidic saliva oozed from every pore of his skin, collected in every fiber of his clothing. His clothes hit the tile with a half-damp plop; and he gripped the sink with one hand while splashing messy water rivulets down his face and back with the other. Too exhausted to pat himself dry, Mulder monkey-branched from the wall to the doorknob, bracing himself for the incoming change in temperature. His cough predictably hacked in rebellion-- not as violently as it had for reveille, but enough to halt his forward progress in fits and stops.

He refused to go back to the swamp bed, shivering towards the closet for something quick to throw on. Clutching the hangers feebly for balance, Mulder darted from shirt to shirt, wondering if he'd rather freeze than attempt to stretch one over his head.

Hello. That was new.

There was a giant men's coat tucked away in the far-left corner where he knew that Scully knew he knew coats no longer belonged. He scowled-- shivering, sweating, trembling body forgotten-- and made a grab for it, twisting the cuffs around to look for a stitched identification or insignia. There were none.

On closer inspection, it wasn't a giant men's coat, after all: it was a giant, fluffy men's robe.

Hungrily pulling it off the rack, Mulder wrapped himself up in a slice of heaven and resumed his shuffle to the couch. It defied all known laws of nature, leeching the sickness from his body, the aches from his muscles, the pounding from his head. He decided not to question it.

Mulder propped up against his favored arm rest, wiggling his toes until sleep began to fuzzily descend. Before the tide pulled him completely away, Scully's key clicked and turned the lock. Earlier than her usual lunch hour.

"Mulder...?" floated softly into the room; and, at peace, he dreamed.

*****

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic

[desertfangs]

Daniel/Armand 'It was a spectacular display of devotion to the atmosphere and what the others in the smoke fogged room called 'the vibe', but you could never tell what was going to catch Armand's imagination and he looked like he was enjoying himself."

This prompt was so fun! I like how it really set a scene but still allowed me to come up with the specifics! I have no idea what you pictured but I'm curious to hear how it compares to what I ended up with.

It was a spectacular display of devotion to the atmosphere and what the others in the smoke fogged room called ‘the vibe,’ but you could never tell what was going to catch Armand's imagination and he looked like he was enjoying himself.

Armand had somehow procured a number of neon glow sticks in various colors that now adorned his neck and wrists, the colors reflected against his pale skin. One, neon blue, sat in his thick auburn hair like a crown. He leaned against a pillar, having a conversation with someone similarly adorned. 

Daniel watched him, captivated by how easily he played the part of a young college guy at an art house rave. How effortlessly he could slip into the role like a practiced actor, adapting as he got more information or the situation changed. 

He’d seen him do it a thousand times but he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed Armand being chameleon in any setting. When Armand had first suggested they come here, when the guy had handed them the flyer as they’d left the gallery, Daniel had been dubious. As a vampire, he couldn’t drink or partake in the drugs people were definitely doing in the bathrooms, at least not directly, and he wasn’t sure coming to a loud, raucous party was the thing they needed. 

Things were still a little tenuous between them. Still new. Still strange, because while it was all so familiar, so much time had passed and so much had happened. It was easy to get comfortable only to have something jar him back to the reality that their lives had been separate for a long time. And yet he’d welcomed Daniel back easily enough and, due in part to some fraught conversations they’d forced out, things mostly felt okay. Like maybe they were finally on the same page. Only took them forty years. 

But time alone was precious—Armand’s house was full of people coming and going and Lestat kept calling him to France to deal with matters of the Court, a trip Daniel sometimes accompanied him on or sometimes opted out of—and he hadn’t been thrilled to spend this night at some loud, bombastic party. 

Armand glanced over in his direction. He could no longer hear the trepidatious thoughts whirling through Daniel’s mind but he could see him running his hand through his blond hair. Armand ended his conversation and came over to him. 

He unsnapped one of the green glow sticks from around his neck and put it around Daniel’s, giving him a grand total of one, smoothing Daniel’s t-shirt against his chest. He leaned back to admire his work. 

“Do you wish to leave?” Armand asked. His amber eyes burned into him.

Daniel was surprised by the question. They’d attended countless parties together and Daniel could count on his fingers how many times Armand had ever given him such an out. “It looks like you’re having fun.” 

Armand titled his head and studied Daniel in a way that set the hair on the back of his neck on edge. “But you’re not.” 

Daniel shrugged. He’d had fun at the gallery. And he didn’t mind being here. “I like watching you.” 

Armand smiled. He took another glow stick from his wrist, this one bright orange, and took Daniel’s hand. Armand’s hand was cool against his and the touch sent tingles up Daniel’s arm. He fastened the glow stick around Daniel’s wrist and it cast orange light on his pale skin. Armand kissed the soft skin of Daniel’s wrist, almost like a blessing, before letting it drop. 

“One dance,” Armand said. “And then if you wish, we’ll leave.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

He let Armand lead him to the dance floor, which was full of writhing, bouncing bodies, their heartbeats louder than the bass-line that thrummed in his ears as the music roared. A smoke machine pumped fog into the air and the strobe lights reflected against it, making the atmosphere surreal and neon. Armand danced elegantly in a carefree way that made Daniel’s heart ache. 

He’d missed him desperately, more than he'd even let himself realize, and seeing him like this, covered in glow sticks and dancing to the music as if nothing else mattered, really hammered that home. He thought of all the nights he’d spent in nightclubs in Rio, perfecting the art of the little drink and trying so hard to recapture the feeling that immortality had supposedly promised: an eternity unburdened. Only to find it here at this make-shift warehouse party in Soho, because eternity was empty without Armand in it. 

A man approached Armand, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. Daniel continued dancing but kept an eye on them. The man handed Armand a sheet of something that looked like pink tabs. Drugs of some sort. Armand nodded and slipped the drugs into the pocket of his jeans. 

He danced back to Daniel and put his arms around him. 

“You saving those for later?” Daniel teased, fingers brushing his pants pocket.

Armand smiled widely, viciously, and Daniel’s pulse raced. He pressed himself against Daniel, lips at his ear, and said, “He’s laced them with poison.” Armand nodded to the man who'd given him the goods, who was now moving through the crowd, back toward the exit. “I think perhaps we’ve found dinner.” 

Daniel grinned at him as Armand took his hand and led him through the throngs of revelers in pursuit of their new-found victim. 

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

This might be a strange one but DB!Post extremis Tony and DB extremis!Tony. What would they say to each other?

[[this conversation would have to take place not in-person because otherwise cured!Tony would just immediately throw hands and 100% get murdered]]

Cured!Tony: I hope your plans for a brave new world were worth ruining our son's life, you delusional, narcissistic piece of shit.

SIM: And what kind of life are you going to be able to give him? I had a plan; you don't even know where to start picking up the pieces.

Cured!Tony: One where he doesn't have to worry I might have teenage boys locked away in a secret basement somewhere, for starters--

SIM, scoffing: He didn't think that.

Cured!Tony: Oh he did think that, he told me all about it, he thought that because you told him that's what you wanted to do to him you slimy motherf--

[[...and so on]]

[p1nkshield]

Prompt idea: Danny has been attending Wayne family dinners for weeks now and he truly doesn’t know how he got this far

Danny has been without a home or a means to get food for a while because of either identity reveal gone bad or Dan timeline shenanigans. Either way he needs to eat. As a last ditch attempt Danny tries to attend/infiltrate a Wayne family dinner. He’s seen the Wayne kids around Gotham and he’s sure that he could look and act the part enough to get in the door and out with some bread rolls at least.

Was it his best idea? No.

But he sure as sugar ain’t firing on all cylinders rn.

And Bruce already has a gaggle of blue eyed, black haired children.

What’s one more?

Batfam of course notices immediately when a whole new kid shows up, grabs some miscellaneous pieces of food and then prattles off some excuse about “not being that hungry.” (Clearly a bald faced lie) And that they were “Going to the library to study for finals, bye Dad!”

1. No one skips out on family dinners. Even Jason was here.

2. Alfred sets the table for everyone ahead of time and the kid had no place to sit.

3. Nobody in this house studies anything beyond case files.

4. Nobody in this house calls Bruce Dad.

Danny thinks he is suffering from success. No matter where he is in Gotham someone picks him up and insists he’ll be late for family dinner which is unacceptable.

Alfred just wants to feed the boy.

The batkids are amused by his efforts to look as though he’s been here all along.

Bruce is drafting adoption papers as we speak.

[psychronia]

Isekai Prompt 1

A hero is summoned into a parallel world by its managing goddess for an important duty. Not to slay a demon lord, or conquer a dungeon, or topple an empire, but just to...exist.

It turns out that the hero is from a world that operates on determinism, but this new world operated on the many worlds principle.

Now, there are too many timelines and the universe is at risk of collapsing on itself, so the goddess has charged the hero to roam the world and consolidate all the timelines into a single one around themselves as the "one true timeline".

[lolottes]

variation of yesterday's idea:

Flash makes a double change in the timeline

Danny this time does not come from this universe. He claims that Flash erased his existence as a hero AND as a civilian and not only that, HIS city doesn't even exist anymore, he doesn't know where his friends or family are now! insert eyes here wet holding fake tears

So ok it was a big lie and blatant manipulation, but the GiW had killed his friends, his family learned of his hybridization and his parents wanted to "cure" him and they gave him medicine to knock him out and he s only woken up because they made him fall down the stairs leading to the labs where the dissection table had been prepared and everything! After a hasty escape and a call from Jazz, who had inquired about their parents' plans, she sent him to get Dani and then demanded that they leave for the zone… then a few hours after confirming that they had both arrived in the area the portal had exploded!

So yes Dani and him had decided to move into another dimension and clocwork had the idea of the stratagem of using the temporal changes of a hero named flash to insert themselves

[get-back-homeward]

From Pete Shotton’s In My Life (1983), Ch. 21, page 169:

…if you could fill [Yoko] in on the Beatles and all that? She doesn’t even know who’s who!

oh shit. i just found a quote from pete shotton who, in may 1968, was told by john to fill yoko in on the beatles, since according to him she didnt even know who was who

and we know that’s a flat lie since she went to paul first, two years earlier.

so. she lied to him. had to have. and he believed it. it wasn’t calculated on his part but it was on hers. ugh.

[gilbirda]

DP prompt - Time Traveler Jazz

One day the Portal changes colors. Danny is convinced that is just Clockwork doing his shenanigans again, specially when what comes from the Portal is just his older sister, maybe in her mid-to-late 20s

Present Day Jazz is fascinated by her and asks her a million questions, mainly if their paper about ghost envy was published or if she went to the college she wanted.

But something is... off about her. She looks at their parents with suspicion in her eyes, she always seem to have a gun or a knife hidden in her clothes no matter how many times they assure her things are safe.

It wasn't until they learn the truth that everything makes sense — she comes from a timeline where she kills their parents for murdering Danny. And this is her attempt number 165 at preventing that future.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year two, day 8

The weathered window made sounds of protest as Robin pried it open. He felt bad for breaking into Daniels apartment, but he needed to prove that his crush had no involvement with the Fentonworks gear that had found its way to Gotham through the black market.

He didn't bother with stealth since he knew Danny was out across town with his sisters and Richard. His eldest brother would ensure they wouldn't be back until much later so Damian could take his time investigating.

Damian didn't even begin looking when he froze in his tracks.

No.

It couldn't be.

This was impossible.

But to his great dismay the objects on the shelves and desks didn't disappear when he willed them to do so. The golden yellow and black design, the familiar sight of modified batarangs, that shade of red on the figures.

Damian had to face the truth but he would have preferred Daniel to be a criminal over...this!

His crush, his beloved...was a Red Robin fan

Damian refused to take this lying down! He must show his beloved the error of his ways, and to do that he must show Daniel that Robin is superior.

Danny, also known as Clueless by his closest friends, has no idea why Damian Wayne had taken an interest in him. Well, aside from Cujo. At first it started with Cujo and Tidus meeting eachother on walks (aka Cujo went into his Big Form and dragged Danny around by his leash) and the dogs became fast friends.

Damian was enamored with the green size changing dog and Danny was thrilled to see another non ghostly animal that wasn't scared out of its gourd of Cujo. They set up puppy play dates and things just progressed naturally over time. Danny developed a crush on Damian and Damian developed a crush on Danny, but neither noticed.

Options:

1. Danny had a long standing admiration/crush on Red Robin and thats why he's a fan with so much merch

2. Danny thought Damian was Red Robin and thats why he has all the stuff

3. Phantom and Red Robin are exes who never really dated but got close enough to count.

4. Phantom and Red Robin did date but it ended after some time shenanigans erased everything in that timeline and since Phantom had the time medallion infused into him by his evil alternate future self he remembered everything that technically never happened but Tim didn't remember anything and Danny just decided to let Tim go so he could be happy

[velvet4510]

What The Sequel(s) to X-Men: Days of Future Past Should Have Looked Like

I haven’t even seen X-Men: Apocalypse or X-Men: Dark Phoenix start to finish but thanks to this app i know practically the entire plots of both films and i’m just so utterly appalled by them. Not just with the way they mess up the timeline (Jean & Scott as teenagers and Warren as a young adult in 1983?? Excuse me?? No way Logan’s time shenanigans altered people’s birth dates, what??) But also with the way they just butcher every character arc - Charles being selfish? Erik settling down with a human instead of continuing to fight for his cause and make up for his 10 years of inactivity? Giving Erik an OC daughter JUST to kill her 2 seconds later rather than focus on his fatherhood story with Peter? Erik and Ororo siding with Apocalypse to destroy the whole world? Hank turning on Charles when he alone stood by Charles post-beach divorce all those years? Raven being ungrateful to Charles for creating a better world for mutants? Trying to convince us that Charles was somehow in love with Moira and Erik was somehow in love with Raven? The X-Men throwing Charles out of his own house?? WHAT IS THIS?????

Frankly I don’t get why the writers tried (and failed) to give us more Jean and Scott and Ororo when we got plenty of them in the other movies and we know thanks to the end of X-Men: Days of Future Past that Charles will still eventually recruit them. Jean and Scott’s very presence at the end of that film shows that the sight of Logan’s memories of Jean’s original fate prompted Charles to NOT repeat his other self’s mistakes and instead use a better approach to help Jean that enabled her to keep the Phoenix under control and not hurt Scott. That’s all we need to know about them in the new timeline. We don’t need to see Charles messing up yet again when it comes to Jean when that ruins a huge layer of the meaning and impact of DOFP’s ending.

James McAvoy himself pointed out how unnecessary it felt to recycle characters from the original trilogy when the X-Men in the comics are full of plenty of other characters that could’ve been introduced in a DOFP sequel instead. He’s absolutely right.

But here’s what I really think: if any sequels to DOFP just HAD to be made, they shouldn’t have tried to stuff in even more characters. If they HAD to include another old character we’d seen before, it should’ve been Kurt Wagner and Kurt Wagner only. Why? Because he’s Raven & Azazel’s son. And this would only add to the parenthood theme already present through Erik & Peter, and Charles & his students; add a new dimension to Raven as a character as we explore how she feels about being a mother, and what happened that caused her to be separated from her child; and add a new dimension to Hank as we explore how he feels about potentially being a parental figure to Kurt as a result of following his heart toward Raven.

The sequel(s) should’ve focused on developing the relationships that actually had been established/hinted at, and those that would naturally branch as a result:

Erik & Peter as father and son

Raven & Kurt as mother and son

Charles’ parental relationship with his young students

Charles & Erik getting back together

Hank & Raven getting back together

Hank dealing with being Kurt’s possible stepfather

Charles & Raven reconciling as siblings once again

Charles & Peter as stepfather and stepson

Charles & Kurt as uncle and nephew

Alex seeing all of this and being reminded of his bad relationship with his own parents that led him to get locked up before Charles and Erik found him, emphasizing Charles’ place in his life as his true “father,” and foreshadowing Scott by revealing he’s not in touch with his family (meaning he doesn’t know he has a much-younger brother)

Erik bonding with Kurt and making Kurt comfortable through being the only other native German speaker in the group

Erik & Hank dealing with their rocky relationship; Hank giving Erik a proper calling out for sending Charles into such a depression for a decade

Erik bonding with Charles’ other students and slowly realizing there is a place for him at the school

(Logan may or may not work as a character in such a sequel. But whether he has a big or small role, it must be acknowledged that Raven, not Stryker, saved him from the Potomac at the end of DOFP. So now he is on a different path, and is NOT Weapon X. Either he’s still at the mansion or went his own way with the open possibility of returning; I think the latter makes more sense since he’s such a loner and considering he wouldn’t remember the events of DOFP, he’d be pretty overwhelmed. Plus his explained absence would allow space for the film(s) to focus more on the other characters.)

Regardless, any villain(s) of those hypothetical sequels should’ve been the kind of antagonist(s) whose threat inevitably brought those aforementioned characters together and, in the process, fleshed out those relationships.

Also, no stupid 10-year time jumps between every movie. Keep it to 5-7 years after DOFP, at the most.

Think of the emotional impact that would bring:

Charles & Raven dealing with the fact that she chose not to come to him for help when she became pregnant

Hank & Raven discussing Raven’s history with Azazel and both of them admitting they went to great lengths to try to get over each other but nothing worked

Raven exploring motherhood and her feelings about either having abandoned Kurt as a baby or accidentally losing him, and Hank supporting her in this

Erik exploring his newfound fatherhood, and Charles supporting him in this

Peter’s feelings toward his dad for being absent from his life for so long and also for being a terrorist

Kurt’s feelings toward his mom for being absent for so long, and possibly for intentionally leaving him

Peter & Kurt becoming besties and bonding over being super-fast travelers who have spent too many years not knowing one or both parents

Hank wishing things had been different with Raven and that Kurt could’ve been his son and thinking about stepping into a stepfather role for Kurt

Erik & Peter perhaps getting stranded/separated from the rest of the group and forced to bond while trying to find their way back

Erik saving Peter’s life in battle, cementing their new bond

Hank fully embracing his Beast form (mutant and proud) in battle while protecting Raven and Kurt

Raven, Hank & Kurt as a badass blue family

Erik finally deflecting a bullet successfully to save Charles

Charles & Erik fighting side by side once again and realizing they’re better together than apart

Erik & Hank managing to find some common ground as they both have been unexpectedly thrown into fatherhood (see, no need for female fridging!)

Erik coming up with Quicksilver as Peter’s superhero name, at least getting the chance to name his son in this way

Basically the whole group becoming a big family

Perhaps closing with a flash forward a few years: Erik & Raven are now teachers at the school; young Scott arrives at the school and meets Alex for the first time; Charles & Erik hear about young Jean and head out to meet her; Hank & Raven manage to discover Logan’s location and head out to bring him back to the mansion - tying into the finale of DOFP

Those are just a few things that could’ve, and should’ve, been prioritized in a sequel to DOFP.

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Prompt: Bruce vs Vlad

(But not the Vlad as we know him)

You remember future Vlad from the bad timeline? The one that had his ghost half ripped out and spent a decade regretting all of his life choices?

Some way, somehow, that Vlad ends up in the present day. It could be physical time travel, in which there are now two vlads competing for the same identity, which has lots of room for shenanigans, or a mental time travel where present Vlad suddenly has ten years of alt-timeline memories dumped straight into his brain.

Whichever the case, from a public perspective, Vlad Masters seems to just pivot left one day and alter his goals and business methods. That man has a million and one regrets and spent a decade thinking about all of the ways he could have done things differently, and now he has the opportunity to fix it. Dealer's choice on the exact details of how he goes about it.

Enter Bruce, who has long suspected Vlad Masters of being a villain meta, but has never had the time to really investigate someone who has nothing to do with Gotham and has been clever enough to stay off of the Justice League's radar.

Now, Bruce is all about reforming villains, and if Vlad's seeming reformation is genuine, more power to him. But in Bruce's experience, big changes like that don't happen out of the blue. He needs to investigate to either discover what triggered Vlad's change in perspective or if Vlad is planning something bigger than anything he's ever gotten away with before.