#This fic prompt is great @_@

[ghostbsuter]

There was a teen in the cave.

A teen no one knows and looks like he could be a wayne, stands in the cave.

"Actually, I'm a wayne." He says with a shrug.

Bruce, Batman, carefully thinks of the implication.

"Not yet," The teen, Danny, doesn't say anything. Simple smiles. "You're not a wayne, yet. You will be. But not yet."

Then Bruce sighs, dropping the batman mask in order to take in the teen.

"Does future me know of the time travel?"

Dannys smile grows into a grin, deciding to take pity on the man. "You, grandbat, have..." He makes a vague gesture. "Theories, which none of your children ever confirmed."

The bat's mind short-circuits at the choice of words

Dick is sputtering incomprehensibly, there are Baffled expression all around.

Because.

Because that child isn't Bruce's, but one of theirs.

"Who is it?" Jason demands, hand clenching his gun uselessly.

Danny continues to smile, a hint of mischief now peeking out.

The cave is filled with theories, some yell, some sob, yet all eyes leave danny.

All but one pair.

She had known the moment his body language switched just enough for her to read.

She had known the moment he disappeared before the clan.

Had known when his hand found hers, shoulders bumping.

Her heart clenches, throat dry and memories of her childhood flooding to mind.

So she asks, voice soft and hesitant.

"Am I a good mother?"

And danny looks up at cass, adoration and pride laid out plain for her to see and accept.

"You're the best."

And so they both watch the clan together, silent and comfortable.

(Cass doesn't question when she finds him, how and why. All she knows is that she's more attentive when out on patrol, looking and waiting.)

(This is how Cassandra Cain-Wayne returns one night from patrol, a child, barely out of toddler stage and clinging to her form.)

(This is how the Batclan officially meets one Daniel James Cain-Wayne, freshly washed and clothed, a cookie in hand and hiding shyly behind Cass.)

(When they meet, all they say is "Welcome home, danny," and "Good to see you again.", Danny doesn't necessarily get it, but that's okay. Maybe his new mom will explain it one day when he's bigger.)

[wandixx]

I've seen a lot of different takes on Fear Toxin/other fear causing stuff (Yellow Lanterns Ring or something)(later just called Fear Toxin cause I'm lazy) but here is another one.

Danny seems like he isn't affected by Fear Toxin because his biggest fear is that his accident changed him so much he is no longer human, he can no longer truly experience human things.

So when he gets lungful of fear Toxin, he feels normal. He was antsy before, because c'mon, it's a rogue attack but it's not worse. Or so he thought. Because the anxiety lingers. Not enough to register as abnormal just this slight hypervigilance that makes you see things about yourself and your surroundings that you'd never realize otherwise. He'd realize he doesn't blink as often. He'd realize that if he doesn't consciously focus, he sometimes seems to not touch the ground. Forgets to breathe. He can't feel his own pulse at time. He'd realize people will miss him when he's walking down the street as if he was invisible (people just don't care about everyone they pass by). When he'd look straight into his reflection, he'd look slightly to the left. Not enough to actually name anything that was wrong but just stretched enough to fall on the wrong side of the uncanny valley. If he just caught his reflection in the peripheral vision, it'd be vaguely shadowy creature with glowing green eyes and white smoke instead of hair. Overall he'd be just wrong enough to be distinctly not human.

For everyone else, he'd be just a dude. Literally couldn't find more normal dude than this dude. Will pass as absolutely normal human unless someone is specifically looking for ecto-ghost stuff. Even most magic users wouldn't clock him at the glance

Tldr: Fear Toxin makes Danny perceive himself as some sort of eldritch horror but not enough to make him believe he'd actually be affected, while from outside perspective he's Just A Dude™

[ultravioletbrit]

“murder” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 312 words

“I want a crow.” Regulus announces as he passes the last of a joint back to James.

Regulus and James were bored. It’s a Sunday night, they don’t have any classes tomorrow, all their friends are busy, and James had a joint left over from the party last weekend.

One thing led to another and now Regulus is lying on his back on the floor with his hands in the air. He interlocks his thumbs and is flapping his hands like a bird.

“You want a what?” James giggles from where he’s lying on the couch.

“A crow.” Regulus repeats. “You know… like the bird.” He flaps his hands in James’ direction for emphasis.

“Why do you want a crow?”

“Because they’re really smart and if you’re going to get a bird, you should definitely get a crow.” Regulus tells him.

“Who said I wanted to get a bird?” James asks.

“I did! Right now. Aren’t you listening?” Regulus drops his hands and rolls on his side to look at James.

“Sorry, love. I thought you wanted a crow.” James smiles at him.

“We should both get crows. We should get a whole murder of crows!” Regulus says excitedly as he crawls towards the couch.

“You want to murder the crows?” James asks with wide eyes.

“No, silly, that’s what a group of crows is called.” Regulus giggles and climbs up on the couch to snuggle in beside James. “We should get a whole group of crows, and we can feed them, and they’ll bring us little gifts.” Regulus yawns and cuddles even closer to James.

“Will they, now?” James says sweetly and wraps his arms around Regulus.

“Yup. That’s what they do.” Regulus says but his words are slurred with sleep and his breathing evens out almost immediately.

James squeezes Regulus one more time before he also falls asleep and has a very weird dream about crows.

[the-witchhunter]

You know, I’m just imagining Danny hanging around John Constantine trying to scare/haunt him and how poorly that would go

1) Danny canonically sucks at scaring people. He resorted to stealing Fright Knight’s sword because he knew he wasn’t beating Dash making a haunted house. I repeat, the ghost could not compete with a human when it came to making a haunted house

2) Danny Phantom is rated TV-Y7, Hellblazer was printed under DC’s vertigo publishing house, meaning it 18+, John has seen some seriously messed up shit. He’s dealt with serial killers, demons, the Newcastle incident(iykyk) been to hell multiple times, has seen a lot of people die, was homeless in New York during the AIDS crisis

Danny could not traumatize that man but boy is he going to get accidentally traumatized if he hangs around John

It’s not even a power level thing, genuinely messed up things happen around John that Danny is not prepared for

[musette22]

Orpheus & Eurydice || Steve & Bucky

Moodboard for the @wintershieldbingo

Square: Mythology AU ✔️

I've always felt that the story of Steve and Bucky, particularly as told in Captain America: The First Avenger, had a lot in common with the Ancient Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. For that reason, I have chosen to fill the Mythology AU square on my Wintershield Bingo card by creating a moodboard to draw narrative and visuals parallels between these two tragic love stories.

Orpheus & Eurydice

Orpheus was an artist, the greatest lyre player in the world, who was happily married to the love of his life, the beautiful Eurydice. Their happy life together gets cut short, however, when Eurydice is bitten by a viper and dies, leaving a heartbroken Orpheus behind. Orpheus cannot accept his true love’s death, and so he travels to the Underworld on a quest to get Eurydice back.

Orpheus manages to overcome various hurdles, such as getting past Cerberus, the three-headed hound who guards the gates to the Underworld, and finally pleads with Hades, the king of the Underworld to let Eurydice live again. Hades allows this on one condition: Eurydice is to follow behind Orpheus while walking out of the darkness of the Underworld towards the light of the land of the living, but Orpheus should not turn to look at her before she is fully out in the light again. However, as they begin to ascend towards the land of the living, Orpheus, afraid that his lover is no longer behind him, looks back to make sure she is following, causing Eurydice to tragically fall back into the shadows and be trapped in the Underworld once more. 

Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

Steve and Bucky are very close friends and most likely even lovers, who live a mostly happy life together in Brooklyn. When World War II breaks out, Bucky is drafted and joins the army, while Steve stays behind in New York. In Italy, Bucky's squad is taken by the enemy, and he is kept prisoner in a dark, abandoned factory housing the lab of Hydra (incidentally also a multi-headed beast from Greek mythology).

When Steve, who received a superserum which turned him into the world's greatest soldier (as well as an artist), eventually also joins the army and gets to Italy, he is told Bucky is most likely dead. Steve point blank refuses to accept that, and embarks on a one man rescue mission - a quest, if you will - to get Bucky back. Armed with a wooden shield, the shape of which bears a similarity to a lyre, overcomes numerous obstacles, fighting Hydra goons and even Red Skull, who looks like the devil incarnate. Steve manages to free Bucky and even jumps over what strongly resembles the fiery pits of hell to get to freedom, only to lose Bucky again a short while later, when Bucky tragically falls from a train and is subsumed once more into the Underworld, i.e. Hydra’s claws.

Aside from the many narrative parallels, many visual parallels also exist between depictions of Orpheus and Eurydice in classical art and various scenes and images in CA:TFA. The moodboard above attempts to illustrate these parallels and similarities.

[tiger-grace]

SOMEONE LET HER OUT OF HONG KONG. SHE IS NEVER NOT IN HONG KONG. LET MY GIRL COME HOME 😭

[smileposting]

what are your feelings on inspekta being both a sympathetic character and a (now former) fascist?

WELL. first of all, i think it's Probably worth noting that even while GGG's representation of the conditions that can give rise to fascism are Uncannily accurate at times (as outlined in this very excellent post by elkian) it is Also a story in which the central message is "maybe talk to your friends instead of conspiracy-posting when you start to feel bad about yourself, dipshit," and therefore its representation of fascism/fascist thought As A Whole is very... how do i say this without sounding disparaging. "saturday morning cartoon"-esque. i think this is pretty apparent in how the worst that the bizzyboys' reign of terror ever gets is banning The Concept Of Art and not, like. genocide. the only Actual fatal threat (the rift) is saved for the very end, and inspekta/hector is talked down before it can actually cause any fatalities -- otherwise, inspekta and the bizzyboys would be very different antagonists that would require the narrative to treat them much more harshly, and this would result in a very different game overall (although not one i would be opposed to playing.)

second of all, i wanna talk more about the idea of GGG being less of a game about taking down a single power-hungry fascist and more an examination of the conditions that can eventually lead to fascism if left unchecked. for just one example, we can see that even before inspekta came into power (or at least, before he started his corruption arc) and even in a world where every god is genuinely kind and just and deserving of their position, it was generally The Norm to not really call them out To Their Face - any displeasure a character voices with a god's (apparent) decision is directed to each other and the godpoke, not to the god themselves, even when that god is perfectly open to visitors and/or feedback. and this is bad because despite the gods no longer being Physically human, they are still just as fallible - they have a tendency to jump to conclusions, they let their devotion to their interests or one another cloud their judgement, they struggle with showing vulnerability (which, ironically, makes them more vulnerable than they would be otherwise.) not only does the grove benefit from regular contact with the gods to make sure that their needs are being met -- it benefits the gods, too, by way of keeping them from getting lost in their own heads and losing touch with their own humanity.

i think it's also worth noting that the bizzyboys are not the only characters we see buying into fascist rhetoric, or at least stuff that benefits fascism in the long run. you could argue that anyone who bought into inspekta's framing of king in the first place also counts, given that to do so would probably Also require one to believe that the gods are infallible. it's also worth noting that a Lot of the more notable supporting characters who fall into this are also doing so out of a profound sense of alienation; saul can't remember the last time he talked to any of his friends and he thinks nobody takes him seriously, pollina's students don't sound like they're being taught much of anything about milldread's history and therefore they have very little to actually connect them to milldread, nobody likes rick brick and he has no interiority to speak of By Design, etc etc. all of these characters, however, are also treated with a fair amount of empathy - ol' bloom turns out to be Correct in believing that saul doesn't have what it takes to kill him and once the issue of the harvest is solved, he's welcomed back with open arms, pollina's students are like 8, and even rick brick's story ends with him beginning to realize that maybe it's okay if a story only appeals to its author and nobody else.

tl;dr: if ggg was even Slightly less cartoony than it actually is, this aspect of inspekta would come across as pretty jarring, but given the aspects of fascism that GGG chooses to focus on and how it treats smaller antagonists, i can't really imagine inspekta's story ending any other way. if i Did have any actual concerns, i'd say maybe it's that the bizzyboys being from the drain + the drain having such a negative connotation can get kinda dicey? something about the idea of fascism being an Evil Foreign Entity and not something that can just as easily start at home doesn’t sit quite right with me. but ofc a lot of emphasis is placed on the bizzyboys' humanity and potential to do good if not for inspekta's own Complexes getting the better of him (and even inspekta's own genuine capacity for leadership before that happened) so that's probably more of a potential bone to pick with fanwork, given how little exploration drain actually Gets in canon.

also i hope this doesn't Need to be said but just to be clear: i'm not trying to like, call out limbolane or Inspekta Himself, just examining what this aspect of his character was trying to Accomplish + how it relates to the game's themes and such. with that said i am very much still a novice when it comes to political analysis of media so if anybody more well-read than me wants to chime in, Please feel free to do so lol.

[phoenixcatch7]

Oh yeah story idea: percy Jackson reaches his emotional/mental limits) (annabeth gets knocked down during a huge fight and nearly gets killed) and goes absolutely ape. We're talking hurricanes, earthquakes, a zillion exploding water sources, blood bending, poison bending, pounding rain, the works.

And it starts to kill him. Like eating too much ambrosia, his mortal body is burning up, too much power too quickly.

But through sheer force of will and the amount of divine energy he's putting out, he keeps clinging on as his body crumbles to ash, divine power building stronger and stronger and higher and higher.

And he accidentally brute forces his way into godhood.

And what would have been a true power reveal and two deaths, Percy being punished for his strength ala Frank, abruptly becomes a pseudo divine political drama, with percy at risk of any dozen horrific fates the frenzied council are slinging around (minus poseidon, who is also frenzied but unwilling to let his newly immortal son die) whilst dealing with all the ramifications of divinity and the new social strata of the immortal pantheon (and EVERYONE having opinions), all while trying to get back home.

But Annabeth survives because of it, so he can't really complain.

[yutamayo]

[softmangoes]

First, I just wanna say, I adore your writing. From your word choice to the way you convey every emotion, it is nothing short of stunning.

I binged all of your writing, and I was so thrilled to find your DoL fics!!!! If you’re feeling inspired, I’d love to see your take on the LIs reacting to the PC becoming a Fallen Angel, especially if the PC fell for them (like, letting them take the PC’s purity).

In game, it feels kind of tragic falling, especially when doing the quest for the spear, but on the other hand, the whole, who needs a God’s love when I have you is a special type of romantic that I really love.

I hope you have a wonderful holiday season if you celebrate! If not, I hope you’re having a wonderful winter in general!!!

hi hello!! thank you for all your kind words and i'm so glad you liked my dol fics!! 💛

the graciousness of your message has filled my well of inspiration, so here you go and i hope you also enjoy this 🥭

"why me?" pure!sydney says between breaths, between kisses that only make you both yearn for more. your skin is hot against his, while the wall of the library's private study room is cold against his back. he knows he shouldn't be doing this, that the temple would strip him of his status, and that your embrace marks the end of something he's been building all his life.

so why him? you are a holy thing, after all. untainted. pure.

and yet, as you grind against his length, the slickness of you irrestible now that his cage lies beside him in fragments, he finds no trace of regret within him - only reverence, only devotion. only the urge to take your breast in his mouth and to finally slip his length inside you, savoring the warm wetness that anoints him with the miracle of your consummation and the sound of your song.

"because it's me," he murmurs, his hips finding the pace that makes you shudder. after all, why can't a study room be a holy place? who says the bruises from his lips can't count as praise? when he feels you tighten around him, your feathers smoldering as your voice cracks in pleasure, he has his answer. "because," he gasps, reverence threatening to spill. "there's no one better to worship you."

"all saints die," corrupt!sydney murmurs, breath hot between your thighs. his fingers are digging into your hips. the marble altar is cold against your back. you both know you aren't supposed to be here, but there is a thrill in the forbidden.

he dips his tongue into your warmth, the sensation of his veneration smoldering even moreso than the feathers charring on your back. "what is this, but another apotheosis?" he muses, pulling his midnight hair into a ponytail. "another transformation?"

you feel thrilled at the comparison, knowing how you have both changed each other.

a dark force churns within you, tight and coiling. you recognize it as hunger, as the lust you have denied yourself so long in the face of virtue. but what use is virtue, when it can be easily cleaved by the warmth of a hot tongue? when the eyes that behold you in worship reflect the same golden light that used to grace your skin every day? as if sensing your hunger, sydney slips his fingers inside you, filling you. your hips sway into his touch, wanting more. wanting to burn together.

you shake in whitney's embrace, whimpering at the pain, the burning, the visions of the world cracking open and corruption spilling through like so many hungry tentacles reaching to engulf the light. and yet, you would do it all over again to feel his breath, his skin, his desire for you all for the first time.

"hey," he says, scooping cold water onto your tender back. it does little against the fire you feel in every feather, the taint eating away at each filament. "stay with me." there's a tinge of panic in his insistence. you aren't quite sure whether it's real or a hallucination. although he is your former tormentor, this is a kind of pain he is unfamiliar with, yet committed by his hand all the same.

your eyes dull. whitney adjusts his weight, water sloshing in the bath. he jostles you, willing you to stay conscious. whatever the fuck is going on with you, you can't leave him. you can't go before he knows how to help you.

before the darkness takes you, the last thing you hear is him telling you he is sorry.

there are tears in kylar's eyes. "it hurts?" he says, daring to touch your half-singed feathers. you nod, straining to unfurl them to reveal the slow fire eating away at the soft ivory. your halo is cracked, bleeding inky corruption that sizzles upon contact with the air. "it's because we...." his voice shakes, the guilt lancing through the pleasure of your skin just moments ago. "we..."

how dare his selfishness cause your agony. if only he could unmake a moment, exercise even a minute of restraint. perhaps then, you wouldn't be in this pain. his fingernails dig into his palm, teeth sinking into his lips as tears stream down his face freely.

but your mouth covers his, your soft tongue lapping at the blood beading on his lips. your kiss, so gentle, feels nothing like lament. only the delicate grace of forgiveness.

"you're beautiful," eden says, mouth hot against the hollow of your neck. when he first saw you, wings unfurled in the light of the clearing, he thought that you were some kind of strange bird. right as he leveled his shotgun to take aim, he remembered you turning to face him, a look of surprise gracing your features as you beheld the man who would have been your end.

it was a while before he first touched you. your skin burned. the air in the cabin would ripple from your heat. even the bars of the cage threatened to warp. in the cold of the winter, your rage radiated at your confinement, a prized bird trapped in crude metal.

the hunter knew that he was not worth your beauty. your very presence made the shadows of his past all the more darker. you were an angel, a being of pure light, and all he wanted to do was take your warmth for his.

then one day, like a miracle, you came for him. he had collapsed into the cabin, his body stiffened by the cold. hair cracking with ice. he had fallen into the lake while fishing, the ice sheet far thinner than what he originally estimated. he looked at you, glowing in the dark of the cabin, teeth chattering as he unlocked the cage with his hand outstretched.

"go," he rasped as the door swayed open. "it won't be long until -"

warmth spread across his body the moment your mouth pressed against his. you tasted like honey, like sunlight, like every summer he never thought he would live to see. to his surprise, he found you breathless, lips at his neck, telling him to take you.

"why?" he asks, voice hoarse. his fingers run through your hair. because he fell, you tell him, and it was only right that you would as well.

"something's burning," robin says, fear tinging his desire. "is it you? we can stop -"

you silence him with a kiss, tongue tasting his lust for you. your feathers are charring, your halo cracking. before this, you had both talked about the consequences of what would happen. once you were intertwined, there would be no going back. the both of you would be burned into each other's lives forever.

besides, this moment feels less like falling and more like flying: robin's warm eyes on you, his soft mouth parted in pleasure, each sway of his hips bringing you both closer to sweet oblivion. all you can do is card your fingers through his hair as he whimpers against you, sending you both soaring into the heights of a new heaven.

"the moon waxes and wanes," the wraith says, tentacles tracing the darkness of your once brilliant wings. one of them prods at the shards of your halo, corruption leaking from its fragments. you wince, the pain sharp despite the gentleness of the abomination's touch. "and even when it bleeds, it is beautiful."

tendrils, thick and strong, knead along your shoulder blades right where your wings protract from your back. this earns a sigh of relief from you - one that he drinks eagerly with his cold mouth.

"flight must make you ache," he says, his voice nothing less than a sonorous purr. "i may be able to assist."

with his lower pair of hands, the wraith lifts you against the walls of the ruin. he slips inside you with ease, your fingers grasping the silver threads of his hair as you take him. his countless tendrils suckle and writhe against your skin, drawing sounds that echo into the darkness of the ruin. the wraith is a force, a wave of pleasure that does nothing else but pull you further and further into its depths.

after all, you chose to sacrifice the love of a god for the heart of a monster. what else can he do, except devour you?

[beefcakekinard]

💖💖// bucktommy - ohithankyou/zahraa <333

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out (hi zahraa!! i'll tag you so you get the notification: @ohithankyou 🥰)

Buck is about ready to crawl out of his own skin if Tommy doesn't touch him in the next five minutes.

They're on Tommy's couch - this is already one of Buck's favourite places to be, it being (a) in Tommy's house, which smells warm like cinnamon and warm like Tommy all around him; (b) unfairly comfortable; and (c) a conveniently flat surface he can leverage against to climb his boyfriend. Case in point: he's straddled across Tommy's lap, pressed as close as he can get from chest to crotch, rolling his hips in unconscious, twitching little bursts, as unfulfilling now as they were half an hour ago when Buck first dropped himself into Tommy's lap.

"How are you doing?" Tommy asks more or less directly into Buck's mouth. Buck groans in frustration and bites Tommy's lower lip.

"About to crawl out of my own skin if you don't-"

"Copy that," Tommy chuckles. He presses a kiss to the corner of Buck's mouth. His hands slide up Buck's thighs to his belt, and as they work on it, Buck kisses a path from Tommy's lips, to his cleft, down his jaw to the spot on his neck where he's most sensitive.

The only sound in the room is both of their panting for breath - it's joined for a moment by the metal clicking of Buck's zipper. Tommy lifts his hand to Buck's face, and Buck licks up his palm with a wet noise. The sound Buck makes after that, when Tommy wastes no time in getting his hand around him in a firm, warm grip, is nothing short of wanton.

The skin of Tommy's neck is hot and damp from Buck's open-mouthed breathing. He drags his teeth across it and Tommy gasps just as he slips his thumb across the head of Buck's dick, pulling a whine from Buck's throat. The pass of Tommy's hand up and down Buck's cock, the silky, unrelenting drag of his grip, grows slicker.

"C'mere." Tommy's voice rumbles in his throat, against Buck's teeth, his lips. Tommy threads his free hand into Buck's hair and pulls him up by it, up and into a clumsy kiss.

Buck clutches Tommy's shoulders and rides the back-and-forth teetering pleasure between rutting into Tommy's hand and being held fast in a kiss. He sweeps his tongue up the roof of Tommy's mouth and swallows his groan; he fucks into Tommy's fist and loses his breath at the perfect in-and-out slide. Caught between the two, Buck feels scraped raw and primal, instinctive, following what Tommy and his body are telling him feels good. When he comes, he's pulled in two directions, caught between the competing sensations. Tommy pecks sweet little kisses over Buck's lips and wipes his hand on Buck's already-stained jeans. Buck loosens his white-knuckle grip on Tommy's shoulders, knocks their noses together, and grins.

He's just getting started.

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 7: Glitter Glue

mmmm, have some more pain, as a treat, from me to you, I was thinking about Unrequited Something by @sinister-sincerely while writing this, hope I was able to match up, the way you write unrequited feelings is SO GOOD fr fr

Word count: 877

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

"What do you think? What do you think?" A piece of paper is shoved hurriedly in your face by small hands.

You laugh, gently guiding them down, "It's very lovely, Kylee. I really love the variety in the glitter glue you used. What do you think, Sun?"

You turn in his direction, but find he's not there. Instead, he's chatting with the other helper, Kate. Not you. Right. You forgot. 

But, Kylee is determined, and makes that very clear to everyone. 

"Sunny!" She whines, startling both the other helper and the Attendant, "What do you think of my picture?"

He quickly rushes over, rays a twitter, "Oh, oh, oh! I'm sorry, Sunbeam! Let me see here."

The bot bends down then to examine it, which happens to be right beside you. You feel your face heat up and do your best to ignore him. You really needed to get over this little crush of yours. It was starting to interfere with work now. Of course it didn't help that you worked with your crush(es) and-

You slapped your cheeks a few times, get a grip!

"-Starlight?"

"Huh?" You ask, turning slightly. 

You find Sun staring at you intently, "I asked if everything was alright, that looked like it hurt!"

"O-oh, yeah. I'm good. Just, just trying to clear my head, haha," You shift your gaze to the side.

Unfortunately for you, Sun doesn't seem to like that.

He takes your head in his hands and starts moving your face this way and that, "There are better ways to focus than that, friend! What if you gave yourself a serious injury?"

"I don't think a couple slaps to the face would cause that much damage," You giggle.

His continuous scolding and fretting only makes your blush deepen and you do your best to try and get it under control. You fail miserably. 

Someone clears their throat. Immediately you both separate. 

It's Kate, "Sunny, I think you have more drawings to provide feedback on."

Sure enough, there's a, rather long, line of kids wanting Sun to praise their work. 

"Of course! All art deserves recognition after all!"

With that he's off, leaving you with your feelings which you need to let die already. Oh, and Kate.

She bends down to your level, cupping her hand around her mouth, "Why don't you just tell him?"

"Tell him what?" You question. 

She rolls her eyes, "That you like him! You should tell him, I'll bet he feels the same."

"Oh, no, no. I don't um, I don't like him, like that," You look away, mumbling, "He doesn't like me either, for that matter."

Kate raises a brow; it makes you shrink in on yourself. 

Then, both brows raise in surprise, "Wait, you're serious?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, why don't you just go ask him, come on," She grabs your hand. 

You start to panic, "No!"

Kate stops. 

"I-" You bite your cheek, sighing, "Please. I'd rather not. He, he likes someone else."

"Oh. Shi-shoot, I'm sorry. God you must think I'm a jerk."

You put your hands up, eyes widening, "No, no! You're okay, it's, it's not your fault."

But deep down, there's a very bitter, very shameful part of you that can't help but blame her. 

Because Kate is the one Sun likes. You know, because he told you.

You remember when you found out, you'd stayed late to help prep crafts for the next day. The two of you had been casually conversing when the topic had gotten brought up. 

"I just think love is such a fun emotion!" Sun's rays spin, "It's so complex, and yet so simple."

You laugh, "I guess so. Do you have anybody you love?"

"Of course! I love my friends, the children, Moon, you-"

Had he stopped there you would have melted on the spot. But unfortunately for you, he didn't.

"-And then of course," His voice grows softer, syrupy, lovesick, "Kate."

And in an instant, your heart shatters. 

Of course. Of course it wasn't you, why would it ever be you? Stupid, you were stupid for even beginning to think you had a chance. What good were you? What could you even-

"Sunshine? Is everything alright?"

You focus back in, swallowing down your feelings, "Yeah, of course."

"Did, I didn't say anything wrong, did I?" Sun's rays shrink.

"Not at all!" You beam, but inside you're crumbling. 

He perks up instantly, "Okay! So as I was saying..."

It had been a while ago, back around when you'd first started and Kate had been there some time. You think maybe he hadn't intended to let you know about the crush, and was just happy with admiring her from afar. You didn't know, or care really. It wasn't your business. 

Even if you wanted it to be.

Badly.

"Well hey, you never know," Kate says, then reaches into her pocket, handing you a handkerchief, "Here. You've got glitter glue on your face."

You take it, smiling, "Thanks."

Had you taken the chance to look at yourself before wiping off, you'd realize that the marks on your cheeks had been traced into two hearts. Your fellow helper would have told you this, but based on your insistence simply considered it a matter of coincidence. 

What a shame.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Not a spooky one, but still angsty nontheless! Hope you all enjoyed, you can find my promptober masterlist here, thanks for reading!

[magicpiano]

AU where Tucker Foley (Danny Phantom) and Richie Foley (Static Shock) are cousins.

[starsfic]

Grandpa and Great-Uncle AU: The Beginning

Summary: An hour after Shermie agrees to go to Gravity Falls, his son asks him to take his grandchildren.

AO3/ Ko-Fi

-_-

An hour after he hung up the phone, it rang again.

"Hello?" Shermie said. He wondered if it was Stanley, wanting to hammer out some last details or canceling the plans. "This is Shermie-"

"Uh, hey dad," Mark didn't sound as steady as he usually did. In fact, he sounded on the verge of tears. Shermie straightened up, concern rising. Mark calling upset was so common by now that his back didn't hurt after two years. "Uh, it's Mark... something happened..."

Ah, shit. With the state of his son's marriage, Shermie had to guess. "Did you or Ariel leave with the kids?"

"No," His daughter-in-law spoke up, her voice muffled. There was a sob in her voice that made Shermie want to hang up and drive over. However, it was ten in the evening and Piedmont was an hour away. "I fucked up and I said something really nasty to Mark and Mason..." There was the faint sound of her blowing her nose. "Mason overheard me saying something nasty about him and Mabel to Mark."

Oh. Oh boy.

"This is why I told you-"

"I know, Dad," Mark said before Shermie could start on again about marriage counseling and divorce. Everyone in the family knew that this relationship was a ticking bomb that would hurt the twins. "We know. That's why we called."

"We were hoping that you could take them for the summer," Ariel said, sounding much calmer now. "We don't want them to get caught up in the middle of us being shitty about each other." The foul language made Shermie raise a brow, but he stayed silent. At least they were taking responsibility and getting the twins out of the blast radius. "I- We know it's a lot to ask..."

"But, I would say yes," Shermie had to interrupt. "But I'm actually staying the summer with Uncle Stanley."

There was a pause. "Really?" Mark said, sounding baffled. "I thought he didn't want any of us visiting because of how dangerous the supernatural stuff could be." That decision had been made after the one and only visit to Gravity Falls that Mark had when he was three and nearly got abducted by fairies. It hadn't solely been Stan's decision, but Shermie had agreed.

"He...He said he needed backup because of how old he's getting and how busy the Shack is, plus how the portal's coming along," Shermie tried not to tremble at the memory of Stanley's voice, thick with so much regret and anguish that he was tempted to drive to where Filbrick was buried and smash his gravestone. "But, he's not doing well mentally. He didn't say it, but I know he's having a hard time, especially with how long it's been." It would be thirty years tomorrow. "I'm going to go to see what I can do, if I can maybe talk him into walking away."

Probably not, but he had to try. Stanford Pines wasn't worth this.

"Maybe the twins might help?" Ariel said, interrupting his thoughts. "You know how excited he got when he visited them in the hospital."

Oh, yeah. At the memory of Stan's elbow in his face, his nose ached.

But Stan had been delighted when he realized that there was a second pair of twins in the family. Shermie's favorite picture was of him holding the twins, their mom hugging him.

"I'll have to ask him. Give me a second." He hung up and his fingers trembled as he typed in Stan's number. Shermie wasn't sure if it was hope or anxiety, but he held his breath as it rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Stanley, um...Here's the thing. Mark and Ariel want Mason and Mabel out of the house during the summer," Shermie said, trying not to panic as he said it all in one breath. "I told them that I was going to be visiting you and Ariel suggested I take them with me to-"

SMASH.

Shermie jolted at the noise, dropping the phone. He scrambled to grab it, his heart racing at an uncomfortable rate. "Stanley?!"

"Sure, bring them!" There was another smash. "I've missed the little gremlins. I can take them fishing." Another smash. "I didn't really get to do that with Mark when he visited."

"What are you smashing?"

"Oh, my beer." There was a thump. "Anyway, let me know when you guys are coming. I have to set up the attic and find the spare bedroom and find my cigars." And with that, the line went dead. Shermie blinked before he started dialling Mark's number.

Well, that was a hell of a yes.

"Hello? Dad?"

"He said yes."

[fortytworedvines]

How about No 9? 😇

9 - Easy, easy. You're okay, I've got you."

“Easy, easy. You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Mr Farnon’s voice was calm. His hands were on her waist.

“This was a bloody stupid idea!” Audrey exclaimed. Her eyes were tight shut. She could feel the warmth of River under her hands, the sturdiness of the saddle beneath her. She was absolutely terrified.

“You’re doing very well,” he said soothingly.

“There was a reason I were in the WRENS, Mr Farnon. Give me a nice boat any day.”

River shifted, either restless or offended.

“I don’t like it,” she said tightly. “I want to get down.”

He sighed. “You did very well to get on him. Maybe we can try again tomorrow.”

“Maybe we won’t,” she retorted. “How do I get off him?”

“Just swing your leg over to this side… Mrs Hall, it really would help if you opened your eyes.”

Damn the amusement in his voice, she thought.

“Just look at me,” he said, coaxingly.

She opened her eyes. He was standing on the mounting block so he was level with her and he smiled as she looked at him.

“There you are,” he said.

“Now, swing your leg over to this side of the saddle…” he gestured.

She gritted her teeth. Carefully, clinging on to the saddle, she manoeuvred herself around. With both legs on the same side she felt even more unsafe.

“Mr Farnon,” she said, “please.”

“Take your foot out of the stirrup,” he said gently. She did as commanded. He held her firmly now, around her waist. “Now, just slide down.” She stared at him. It sounded so easy and felt so scary.

“I’ve got you, Mrs Hall. Trust me.”

She did trust him. She took a deep breath and let herself slide forward. He guided her body and in a second she felt the solid wood of the mounting block under her feet.

“Thank God!” she said with fervour. As her fear subsided, she realised how close she was standing to Mr Farnon. His hands were still on her waist and her body was a scant inch from his. “Thank you,” she breathed.

He smiled at her. “Ordeal over.”

His fingers stroked over her waist and she wondered if he knew he was doing it. She swallowed the feelings that were bubbling dangerously inside her. “Let’s go and have a cup of tea,” she said, and hurried down the steps, away from the horse and her handsome employer.

[the-broken-pen]

hi I saw your recent post I hope your moving went smoothly!

I have a loose prompt, if you wanted/had time/had WiFi to write: an interrogation room meet-cute between villain and non-field agent hero

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them the hero realized they were in the wrong room. A very wrong room.

They blinked. The villain blinked, taking them in.

“You look lost.”

“That’s rude,” they responded before they had the chance to think about it. “I work here.”

“Do you now,” the villain said, and the hero grew abruptly aware of their jacket stamped with the Agency logo, their gloves marking their designation as a touch based hero. It was a miracle they didn’t turn red with the embarrassment of it.

They tried the doorknob behind their back. It rattled, but didn’t open, and internally they started screaming. Just a little bit.

“They don’t open from the inside,” the villain said helpfully. “Security risk, or something like that.”

“I know that,” the hero snapped, and the villain raised an eyebrow. “Sorry.”

The apology blurted out before they could stop it.

“Did you just ‘apologize’ to me?” The villain looked at them incredulously.

“Uh,” they managed. “Funny question.”

“Funny—“ the villain cut themself off. “It’s not a question, I literally just heard you apologize.”

“Maybe you should get your hearing checked out,” they offered, and winced, because apparently every sane part of their brain had fled to France and left them with a singular suicidal brain cell.

The villain’s mouth was slightly open, as if they weren’t entirely sure what was happening. The hero shared the same sentiment.

The villain glanced at the camera, then back to the hero.

“You’re not a field agent,” they said, as if it was dawning on them.

“You don’t know that,” the hero said defensively.

“You’re holding a file.”

“Field agents are capable of holding files,” the hero replied. “Kind of rude of you to assume they can’t.”

The whisper of a smile tugged at the corner of the villain’s mouth.

“Sorry,” the villain said, and it was just barely mocking.

The hero rocked on their heels a bit, drumming their fingers on the file in their hands.

“They’re taking a while to get you out,” the villain observed.

“Yeah, Bob’s on duty.”

“Oh, so Bob doesn’t do his job?”

The hero jerked. “I did not say that.”

“It was kind of implied, though,” the villain said earnestly.

The hero had interacted with villains before: ending interviews for files, the odd informant. Never held a conversation though, and certainly not for this long.

This was why they didn’t do field work.

“What, no response?”

The hero smiled, sickeningly sweet. “I’m compiling commentary to add to your file.”

“So you admit to not being a field agent.”

“Continually makes assumptions, poor listening comprehension…”

“Not a very long list,” they pointed out.

The hero felt their smile sharpen. “The rest involves curse words.”

The villain barked a laugh, and the hero jerked slightly in surprise.

The villain regarded them like they were deciding something, as if they could see something within the hero that they themself couldn’t.

It had been a long time, longer than the hero would like to admit, since someone, anyone, had looked at them like that.

Like they mattered at all.

“I like you,” the villain said finally, slowly, like they weren’t entirely sure those were the words that were going to come out.

“You also like crime.”

“And you know how dedicated I am to that,” the villain said pointedly, a glint in their eye.

“How sweet,” the hero managed after a moment. “This is exactly why I became a hero. To be compared to felonies.”

The villain just smirked. They peered down at the handcuffed hands, then looked up at the hero. They weren’t sure when they had moved away from the door, closer to the villain, but somehow it had happened.

There was something warm to this; it sat in the hero’s chest, light and airy.

“I’ll text you when I get out. Say, next week?”

“You’re going to jail,” the hero reminded, mouth dry.

The villain grinned. “Right,” they drawled, amusement splashed across their face. “Jail. Which is where I am going. And where I shall stay. Absolutely.”

Something clicked, and the hero didn’t have to look under the table to know the villain had slipped their cuffs.

Despite their best efforts, their eyes flicked downwards, like they could see the now empty cuffs below the table. The villain grinned further, as if in challenge.

Are you going to tattle?

The hero swallowed.

“I’m really not supposed to be in here.”

“I’ve gathered,” the villain said. “You work the desk all the time?”

“Yes.”

“Personal choice, or…”

“I like it,” the hero said defensively. “It’s just puzzles, and I’m good at those.”

“Puzzles?”

“Putting things together,” they said vaguely. “Routes and evidence and all that.”

The villain’s brow furrowed, as if they were mulling something over. Their gaze returned to the hero, and it was searing.

“You’re the one who found me, aren’t you.”

“Oh,” the hero said, blushing. “That’s-I’m not—“

The villain leaned forward. “Am I in that file?”

The hero tucked it behind their back.

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“No,” the hero said with emphasis. The villain laughed.

“You’re bad at this,” they said, but it was fond.

“Thanks, I try,” the hero said. They were waiting for the villain to stand up, but they seemed content to just sit there and watch.

“Mhm,” the villain agreed, and for some reason, the hero flushed even further.

The villain’s gaze snapped to the door, and they tilted their head as if listening to something.

“They’ll be here in a minute,” they said. The hero blinked. “To get you out,” the villain prompted.

“Right,” the hero said. They had forgotten they couldn’t leave, but the villain didn’t need to know that. They had a feeling they knew anyways.

“I’ll call you,” the villain reminded.

“You don’t have my number,” the hero protested.

The villain gave them a look. “You’re cute. Do you like pizza? We could do pizza.”

“We could never speak again.”

“Funny, I’ve never heard of that restaurant.”

“You—”

“Oh look, they’re here!” The villain said cheerfully.

The door swung open, and someone the hero vaguely recognized stepped in.

In the next second, the hero was in the hallway.

“Oh, and love,” the villain called, and the hero cursed themself for blushing. “Don’t be jealous of the other felonies. You’ll always be my favorite crime.”

The hero ducked their face behind the file, but they couldn’t stop the pleased smile that crept from the corners of their mouth.