#I combine two prompts

[leetleartgoblin]

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 300

Danny squirms and hisses, trying to dig his claws into dark scales as the clouds whistle by. “Wait- Ancients dammit- STOP!” he shrieked, cursing how tiny his own ghost form was compared to his other not-quite-future-self. Wings that could easily dwarf the entire Ops center beat through the air, fast enough to cause his eyes to sting. 

“Dan- bring me back- stop-” he wailed, despite the grip on his scruff not even loosening. Yet the larger dragon didn’t so much as twitch back towards Amity, the city disappearing into the distance like a speck. “We have to go back-” 

The GIW were- were- They had to go back! The portal was gone (exploded, broken and all of Fentonworks a smoldering mess, oh Ancients he’s gonna be sick-), no one could return to the Realms, they were all sitting ducks- 

“Jordan please-” he begged, even though he already knew that between the city, between every other ghost and them, Dan would always choose to keep them safe. But Jazz was hurt, she wasn’t waking up from where she lay limply cradled in Dan’s claws. 

There was so much blood, and he only knew she was still alive from the weak fluttering of her core, growing stronger as her heartbeat faded. She needed help, she needed doctors- he doesn’t know if she would be able to come back, not with how they were leaving the ecto-rich city behind and he didn’t want to lose her- Dan’s blank panic was swamping his own, drowning both of them in the emotion as the dragon tore through the sky. Some part of him knew they couldn’t stay in Amity anymore, but- But Jazz needed help- Danny couldn’t help the tears that dripped from his yes, pretending it was merely the clouds as they flew to places unknown to him.

If you are interested in their designs, here is a link: HERE

Heey mutual @radiance1 Dragon buddy o' mine & @hdgnj u might enjoy

[starry-bi-sky]

*points at bruce and danny in 'late at night when the nightingale sings'* THESE TWO MFERS MEAN SO MUCH TO MEEEE

no thoughts head empty just these two socially inept fools finding family in one another. like yes you go you funky little death omens stole that one from a comment on the fic, so if you see this you know who you are, discover that family isn't only tied in blood.

bUT onto less mushy stuff: these two being shenaniganizers; tomfools. Bruce realized that Danny didn't actually know he was Bruce Wayne and instead of going "oh actually im bruce wayne" he went; "hrm... how long can i keep this going until he realizes...."

like. i think they deserve to be the sillies. just utter goobers the both of them. like, danny makes the wittiest side comments, dry quips, under his breath towards Bruce while they're out in public (Danny covering his face with a face mask) and Bruce is trying not to laugh. Meanwhile if Bruce makes one sly comment about someone to Danny, Danny's gonna collapse with laughter.

Bruce plays straightman in most of their bits, he has the best fucking poker face. But also I firmly believe he does actually enjoy Danny's puns. Look me in the eyes- look me in the eyes. Try and tell me that a man that willingly agrees to call a car "the batmobile" even after his eight year old ward grows up (thus negating the need to go along with his antics) doesn't enjoy a good, well-placed pun. Look me in the eyes and try to tell me that. That's right you can't.

He's gonna spit out a well-placed pun in the driest, most boring Batman Voice Ever one day while he's getting ready for patrol, and Danny's gonna fucking die of laughter. He's gonna lose his mind. Bruce is going to have a half-dead sickly teenager laughing his lungs out in the chair. That's a new core memory right there, every time Danny thinks about that he's gonna start giggling.

just!!! these two making each other laugh! That's so important to me. So so much. I nEED Danny to get Bruce to smile and laugh and I need Bruce to make Danny do the same. Danny's all snark and sass and Bruce is all deadpan and dry quips. Do you all see my vision.

[inflomora-art]

Steddie Mermay! 8/16

[starflungwaddledee]

rising from the grave to submit someone for the shipaganza event huehuehuehue

Daroach. I think they could have a pretty fun relationship, maybe Daroach could try and convince Starstruck to get into a bit of mischief with him and his gang, or maybe the flirtatious thief is just messing with her a bit to probably steal something only to actually fall for her

he sure knows how to spoil a gal

*✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ valentines shipaganza masterpost ✩˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ⋆˙⟡

[trashremover43]

@bucktommyfluffebruary

non sexual intimacy/ falling asleep/ waking up together for the first time

Unspoken, Unbreakable

The night air was cool, slipping through the cracked window of buck’s truck as they drove away from the hospital. Buck was slouched in the passenger seat, eyes half-lidded but refusing to let exhaustion win just yet. His body ached from the day’s events—searching for Chimney, the panic, the adrenaline crash, and then the sheer relief of seeing him safe and getting married in that tiny hospital room.

But none of it compared to the relief of seeing Tommy step through those hospital doors.

Even now, Buck couldn’t stop himself from glancing at him, the image seared into his brain—Tommy still in his turnout gear, his face streaked with soot, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. And yet, he had still come. He had kept his promise.

"You're staring," Tommy said without taking his eyes off the road. His voice was hoarse, tired, but laced with that dry amusement Buck had come to love.

"I'm appreciating."

Tommy huffed a laugh, shaking his head slightly. "That what we're calling it?"

"Uh-huh. It’s what we’re calling the fact that I missed you today," Buck said, shifting slightly to face him better. "We barely talked. Do you know how weird that was?"

Tommy exhaled through his nose, his grip tightening on the wheel. "Yeah. I noticed."

There it was—that quiet confession, the way Tommy always let his guard down just enough when it was Buck. Buck smiled, reaching over to squeeze Tommy’s forearm.

"You should stay over tonight."

Tommy’s eyes flicked toward him, his lips pressing together in thought. "Evan—"

Buck shivered. That name. The way Tommy said it, soft but firm, never laced with disappointment or indifference like his parents’ voices had been.

"You’re exhausted," Tommy continued, as if he weren’t just as bad off. "You should sleep."

"Yeah, and I’d sleep better if you were there," Buck shot back without thinking. Tommy’s fingers flexed on the wheel, and Buck felt the shift in the air between them. "C’mon, you missed me too. I know you did."

Tommy sighed, shaking his head again, but there was a small, fond smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. I did."

Buck beamed. "So, you’ll stay?"

Tommy glanced at him again, taking in Buck’s hopeful expression, and then let out a quiet chuckle. "Fine. But I’m picking the pizza toppings."

"Absolutely not."

"Then I’m going home."

Buck gasped dramatically. "You wouldn’t!"

Tommy smirked. "You wanna test that theory?"

"Ugh. Fine. You can pick half the toppings. But if you try putting pineapple on there, I’m breaking up with you."

Tommy barked out a real laugh at that, and Buck felt it settle deep in his chest, warm and steady.

Yeah. This was safety.

__

The pizza had arrived at the same time they did, and after a quick, exhausted argument about whether or not Tommy’s ridiculous topping choices made it inedible (they didn’t, but Buck refused to admit it), they decided that food could wait until they weren’t covered in sweat, soot, and hospital air.

Buck’s loft had only one bathroom, which usually wasn’t an issue—except now, neither of them had the patience to wait for the other to finish.

"Shower together?" Buck suggested before he could overthink it.

Tommy arched an eyebrow.

"For efficiency!" Buck rushed to add, his face heating.

Tommy’s lips twitched, but he nodded. "Alright."

And suddenly, Buck was nervous.

They had kissed, had held each other, had touched in ways that left his skin buzzing. But this—this was different. This was uncharted territory, seeing each other bare in a way that wasn’t just about skin.

When they stepped under the warm spray, Buck could barely breathe. Tommy was breathtaking, his body honed from years of discipline, muscles flexing as he ran a hand through his wet hair. But it wasn’t just that—it was the intimacy of it, the quiet way Tommy reached for the soap and, without hesitation, started washing Buck’s shoulders, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Buck swallowed hard.

"You don’t have to—"

"Let me," Tommy murmured, voice quiet, almost reverent.

Buck exhaled shakily, nodding. He let Tommy move slowly, trailing over his arms, his back, tracing over old scars like he was memorizing them. Buck did the same in return, washing away the day’s exhaustion, his fingers lingering on the dips and ridges of Tommy’s body, over the curve of his jaw, the line of his spine.

When their eyes met, the air shifted again.

Neither of them moved for a moment, water streaming over their skin, steam curling around them. Then, Buck reached up, cradling Tommy’s face, and pressed their lips together.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow, deep, a kiss that spoke of something more than need. Something permanent.

When they pulled apart, Tommy exhaled against Buck’s lips, pressing their foreheads together.

"Yeah," he whispered, almost to himself. "I missed you today."

Buck’s heart clenched in the best way.

---

They didn’t bother with shirts after the shower—partly because Tommy wouldn’t fit into any of Buck’s, and definitely not because Buck wanted an excuse to ogle him. Not at all.

They ate their pizza like an old married couple, bickering about toppings and recounting their separate days, filling in the gaps they hadn’t been able to share in real time.

And then, finally, they crawled into bed.

Buck exhaled as he pressed close to Tommy, resting his head against his chest. Tommy’s arms came around him easily, pulling him in, warm and solid and grounding.

For the first time in a long time, Buck felt safe.

He trailed his fingers absently up and down Tommy’s stomach, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breath.

"I could get used to this," he murmured.

Tommy pressed a kiss to his temple. "Yeah."

Sleep pulled at Buck almost instantly, but before he drifted off, he felt Tommy squeeze him just a little tighter.

---

Tommy woke first.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting golden light over Buck’s sleeping face, his features relaxed, his lips slightly parted.

Tommy just looked at him for a long time.

There was poetry in Buck’s existence, in the way he lived so fully, in the way he loved without hesitation.

Tommy had never believed in fate, but if anything in this world was meant to be, it was this.

Buck stirred, his lashes fluttering before his blue eyes met Tommy’s. He smiled sleepily.

"Morning, beautiful," Tommy murmured.

Buck’s smile widened, stretching into something radiant. "Morning, handsome."

And just like that, the world felt right.

[laylakeating]

@rinacentral — EVENT 1: FAVOURITES 🩵 ↳ rina and a song from each taylor swift album

[stemmmm]

its really funny how hard i fought not to get back into gf as my wife went down the billford rabbit hole when my track record for characters i get insane about now looks like this

[moonlit-minuet]

How nice of Dr Van Helsing to bring Lucy some garlic flowers during her steady recovery :)

[babychosen]

listen. hear me out. Amangela but it’s the intense all-consuming yearning as represented in the song Black Hole Fantasy by The Crane Wives

plus:

word count: 633

Let's try this again

Angela's hands gripped the worn steering wheel of her car, her knuckles turning white as she squeezed and squeezed and squeezed.

Amanda made her promise not to show up unless it was real.

Driving to Amanda’s house felt like opening an envelope from your dream university, but never actually looking at the letter inside of it. Time and time again, she drove herself to Amanda's but turned around after doing laps around the neighbourhood. No amount of talking herself down ever let her get out of the car and knock on Amanda's door.

I'm on my way to your house, guided by the stars

But this time was real.

Angela promised she would only show up if she meant it, and this time she fucking meant it.

She couldn’t deny fate when it was sitting heavy on her chest, suffocating her slowly. When it kept showing up in front of her no matter how many times she told it to leave and never come back.

Angela never told anyone that her tattoo read ‘Amanda’. 

Instead, she told them she just hadn’t gotten her tattoo—like her whole existence was a glitch in the system. Everyone knew Amanda’s tattoo read ‘Angela’, and Angela had always insisted that there was another Angela out there waiting to meet Amanda, and hold Amanda in their arms, and live happily ever after together.

She didn’t listen when everyone around her was telling her she would be a fool not to take a chance with Amanda anyway. It felt fake, like everyone was lying to her. Hell, even Amanda knew the truth—of course she did. She wasted years arguing with the ethereal connection between them, all because she couldn’t let herself have what she deserved. Angela was certain that Amanda was meant for someone else.

But it was undeniably real and tangible: they were soulmates.

I'm pulling in the driveway, I'm turning off the car

Tears ran down Angela's cheeks and dripped into her lap as she sat in Amanda's driveway. She could feel them soak through her jeans right to her skin; the sensation was cool and grounding and a reminder of the reality that awaited her.

This time, there were no loops around the block just in case. It was a straight drive to Amanda’s house because the answer had never been so crystal.

I'm running to your porch, I'm sprinting up the stairs

The sound of the car door slamming was enough to wake a small village. Angela walked up the driveway with purpose, hastily throwing a hoodie over her head.

The door swings open and you're standing there

Amanda was already opening the front door before Angela could put a foot onto the creaky wooden porch. Angela knew she wouldn't need to knock.

You're beaming down at me, you're reaching out for me

Amanda stood dumbstruck in the doorway, the faint light coming from inside her house illuminating her from behind.

Angela couldn’t speak—she was finally giving-in to fate and the silence spoke volumes.

You pull me in your arms and I feel your heart pounding

A few seconds of eye contact was enough to have Amanda throwing her arms around the woman on her front porch to embrace her in a crushing hug.

Angela inhaled deeply to calm herself down and felt Amanda’s grip around her body tighten.

I take a step back to catch my breath

Amanda stepped back from Angela and raised a curious eyebrow, allowing Angela the space to speak.

“I’m here. I’m home,” Angela spoke softly, barely above a whisper. She tried to stop the corner of her lips from curling up into a smile, but Amanda’s own grin made her crack.

And we look at each other and double over

And laugh, and laugh, and laugh

[yerichon]

Biblically accurate Malkavian

[tj3star]

🎃 Day 31 - Splatoween/Free For All🎃

Splatober • Linktober Complete!

[klutzytomb]

I never thought I'd say this, but there's no way I'm one of the only ones here that isn't chronically online. Right? Right??

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.

Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.

And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.

Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.

They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.

When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.

Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.

When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.

"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.

"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.

Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.

Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.

Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.

When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.

Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.

because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far

when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)

danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.

and god help him, he's going to help people.

[fisheito]

will i ever stop thinking about little red riding yakumo and the big bad fox.?hm. no... no, i don't think i will

[sunfloweraro]

LUtober day 7: Spices + Cosy

Four returns the favour to Sky.

Or, Four takes care of his sad friend.

Companion piece to Hearth.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Sky sat alone in the silent house. A brisk wind whipped against the window he gazed out of, gathering the piles of brown and orange leaves outside and sending them swirling through the air. The barren branches of trees swayed, as if reaching out for the leaves they had lost.

Well, almost alone.

“Here,” a voice piped up, and Sky pulled his weary gaze away from the outside world and over to his cheerful friend. Four had insisted on staying behind with him while the others scoured the town for information and supplies. Four, who had noticed his melancholy mood and refused to leave his side until it passed. Now, he handed Sky a steaming mug that smelled of delightful cinnamon and nutmeg.

“Thanks,” Sky murmured, lowering his gaze. He held the mug close to his chest, hoping its warmth would beat back the hollow emptiness within him. “You didn’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” Four cut him off. He sat down at Sky’s side on the window seat, shifting closer until their legs pressed against one another, his own steaming mug in hand. Warmth pressed into Sky where their legs met. “Did you want to talk about it?”

A heavy sigh escaped Sky. “Not really.” Homesickness was all. But Sky was tired, and speaking was taking a lot out of him.

“That’s okay,” Four said, setting his mug down on the windowsill. He grabbed a soft blanket Sky hadn’t noticed him bring over and wrapped it around his shoulders, then threw one corner over Sky’s shoulder. Despite himself, a smile tugged at Sky’s lips. He grabbed his corner of the blanket, dragging it properly over his shoulders. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

Sky hummed, and they settled in, Sky bringing his legs up underneath him and leaning into Four, seeking out comfort from the friend determined to make sure he didn’t feel alone. Four returned the affection with ease, resting his head over Sky’s shoulder. Sky took a sip of his hot drink, smiling when cinnamon and nutmeg danced across his tongue. He swallowed, and warmth settled in his chest, not nearly big enough to defeat the darkness there, but a reminder that he would feel okay again, soon enough. And for now, that was enough.