Fandom: DC: Red Hood and The Outlaws
Pairing: Red Loving Trio
Rating: PG-13/Rish (mostly for language)
Summary: Jason knew this was a bad idea from the start.
Notes: For Akumastrife, who is so wonderful and paid for this! Thank you so much! <3
Vacation to Hell
Giggles and sighs a lot because it’s super cute okay they’re so cute and it’s not fair
thank you <33
Happy Birthday to Akumastrife! I hope you like this though I’m not certain it’s what you wanted. Also it’s kinda bad I’m so sorry I’ll write something else tomorrow when I’m less sleepy. <3
Pairing: JayDami - Aged up / future
Damian had to give Jason credit as he had completed underestimated the older man’s ability to act. When they had first gotten the intel which had led them to the deduction that they would have to play certain… roles in order to apprehend their target, Damian had been apprehensive. After all, while his acting abilities were adequate for such a farce, he didn’t necessarily feel comfortable performing without the one person he would allow himself to go on the mission with. He’d never seen Jason act in the years that he’d known him, not really, so he’d been reluctant to suggest it at all.
Oh gosh it’s absolutely wonderful. It’s really sweet.
And you’re just so thoughtful, thank you so much <3
Title: Zombie Invasions are Boring, Let’s Play Video Games Instead
jessiecoupe said: ahhh gen batfam during a zombie apocolypse, but like…funny. not tragic.
Snippet: “On the bright side,” Dick says as he shimmies down the building, “You didn’t raise a group of homicidal, raging, vengeful killers and sociopaths so much as you raised a group of emotionally-volatile, obsessive, spiteful vigilantes and paper pushers.”
Your name is Lydia Martin, and you are losing.
This is the fic I wrote for 3_ships, in all it’s fucked up glory. This definitely won’t be the last thing I write for this ship, since I’m already 25K into another fic for them (which was originally going to be for 3_ships, until I realised there was no way I could get it done in time). Ugh, I’m so glad I finally get to share this with everyone, I’ve been OT3ing these guys so hard ever since I got my assignment but I didn’t want to talk about it too much in case it made it really obvious to my recipient who I was.
This fic was inspired by two prompts, the first one being “christmas traditions” which was given to me by my recipient, ladyoneill, and the second being vociferocity’s prompt for the three sentence fic meme, “coffee shop au”. It’s possible it says a lot about me that this is the fic I wrote for two frankly adorable prompts - I’d prefer to believe it says a lot about Peter Hale, but given how much I enjoyed writing this, I’m not sure he can take all the blame. It’s also the longest thing I’ve ever completed, coming in at just over 10,000 words, and I’m super proud of it. If you read it, please let me know, I’d love to hear what you think.
I just really love second person point of view
Because Zoe’s class was gross.
(TW: terrible jokes by survivors about abuse, ableism, and epilepsy.)
Sometimes, Erica and Isaac persuade people to try the threesomes thing. Sometimes, Erica and Isaac go hunting. Sometimes, they kill people. Sometimes, Boyd calls them a pair of freaky murder twins.
Sometimes, though, they do this:
“I’d hit that,” Erica says, and Isaac says “harder than my dad hit me.”
erica probably would have gotten really nervous about junior prom, derek knows. she got nervous about stuff like that a lot, really, but always in private.
if he weren’t a werewolf, maybe he never would have known.
he’d never have heard her waking up an hour and a half before school to get ready in near-silence, to get her make up perfect as could be, her lipstick the right shade of red and her eyes smokey and lined. he never would have heard the fwumps of fabric as she pulled off six or seven outfits every morning before finally— finally— finally finding the one that made her smile at her reflection (so big her lips went a little crooked, just a little). he never would have heard the little sighs as she picked at her shirt, later, in the camaro on the way to school, sad, unsure noises— or the relieved sigh she’d give at the end of the day when she’d unstrap her heels and settle into the moth-eaten, rain-damaged couch of theirs.
if he weren’t a werewolf, maybe he wouldn’t have known, but he was a werewolf, so derek knew. erica always worried about that sort of stuff. the way she looked, the way she presented herself. maybe most girls were like that (even laura, sometimes), but erica— it was different with her.
she would have worried about junior prom, too. of course she would have. it would have been her first dance ever, since the moving lights and the music were always a risk to her. she’d always stayed at home, painting her nails, only to gnaw the paint away later when her mind started to wander.
she would have wanted to do it perfectly— the dress, the hair, the boy, the dance.
she would have worried about the dancing the most.
where to put her hands, how close to stand, where to look.
derek would have taught her.
Stiles’ aconite-rubbed bat is dripping red as he stands over the bloody mass of something that was once a werewolf.
“Yeeeeuck,” Stiles says in disgust, stepping back from the corpse with the bashed-in face. “Oh man, that is gross. Ugh, do I have blood on me? I need a shower.”
Scott is frozen in place as he takes in the scene. The scent of fresh blood coating decaying leaves is thick in his nose, mixing with the slight sting as he catches the traces of wolfsbane from Stiles’ weapon of choice. He can hear his best friend’s heartbeat pounding from the rush of adrenaline flooding his veins- a smell as rich as the blood and meat of the newly dead, and untainted by the bitterness of sorrow. Stiles isn’t feeling regret.
“I heard you screaming,” he says weakly, as if he needs to explain why he tore through the forest to skid to a halt in this clearing. Stiles frowns.
“That wasn’t a scream,” he answers, sounding defensive. “That was, you know, a, a manly battle cry.”
“-Stiles, you killed someone.”