#accidental i love you

[lulublack90]

Prompt 21 - Fool

@jegulus-microfic June 21, Word count 548

Previous part First part

When James woke, Regulus was still holding tight to the lion he’d won for him. The employee at the toss-a-hoop stand had not been impressed when he and Sirius both got all three of their hoops on the giant prize bottles. He’d reluctantly handed over the lion and the wolf to them, muttering something under his breath that James was sure he didn’t want to hear. 

He wrapped his arms tighter around Regulus, bringing him as close as possible. Regulus squirmed against him. James huffed out a breath through his nose before he nuzzled into the soft skin of Regulus’s neck, peppering kisses along the arch, gently rousing Regulus from sleep. 

“Hi,” Regulus murmured sleepily.

“What do you say we stay in bed all day today?” James asked, brushing the tip of his nose against Regulus’s ear. 

“Sirius will just barge in if we don’t get up,” Regulus said, stretching back against James. 

“Well, you see, the thing is I kinda forgot about the washing I left in your washer and I don’t have any clean clothes,” James admitted, embarrassed that he’d completely forgotten.

Regulus sat up and pointed to a neatly folded pile of clothes on the chair in the corner.

“I dried and folded your clothes for you,” James looked at him with amazement. 

“Have I told you how much I love you?” He asked, the three words slipping out before he could catch them. He forced his body not to tense up and spook Regulus. 

“No,” Regulus said after swallowing hard. Regulus hadn’t freaked out, so James relaxed a bit. 

“Then I’m a total fool. I do you know,” He didn’t know why he didn’t just stop talking, but he couldn’t help it. Now he’d said it once, he had to say it again. “Love you, that is,” 

“You do?” Regulus’s voice was quiet and oddly muffled. James lifted his head to see Regulus’s face better. He’d buried it in the lion’s mane, which explained his muffled voice. James stroked his fingers through Regulus’s hair. 

“I do, very much,” Regulus spun around, so he was facing James.

“I love you too,” He blurted out, slightly louder than the quiet moment called for, but James didn’t even notice, he was busy dragging Regulus towards him and kissing him deeply,

“Thank you for doing my washing,” He said when they broke apart to catch their breaths.

“I wish I hadn’t,” Regulus giggled into his lion, which had come with him when he rolled over. 

“I think Mr Lion can go guard the door for a bit,” James said, plucking the lion from Regulus’s hands and tossing it in the direction of the door. It bounced off the wood with a soft thump. 

“Hey, that’s my lion!” Regulus grumbled, looking at the fallen toy.

“I don’t think he wants to be between us right now,” James laughed low, feeling it vibrate through his chest. Regulus must have felt it too as he swung his leg over James’s hip and dragged himself closer. 

“Oi! Breakfast in five!” A loud bang at the door, popping the latch open and Sirius’s booming voice called louder. James sighed and, with a soft sweet kiss, released Regulus before he went over to the chair to pull out some clean clothes from the pile. 

Next part

[verfound]

FIC: "Shut Up. I Love You."

(MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Read on Ao3

Prompt 10: A: says something stupid; B: laughing “Shut up.  I love you.”

Friday nights on the Liberty were becoming something of a habit for Marinette.  It was too easy to follow Juleka, Rose, and Luka home from school for band practice.  Even if there was still some time before Ivan was expected to be there, Marinette didn’t mind.  They usually spent the time either above or below deck, depending on the weather, working on homework or hanging out.  She’d lost count of the afternoons she’d spent on a crate beside Luka, sketching her latest creation as he noodled on his guitar.

It wasn’t uncommon that she lingered after practice anymore, either.  Sometimes Luka would have to work, but she was still welcome – she was always welcome, he loved to remind her – and the creative space there was just…freeing.  Usually Juleka and Rose were still there to keep her company, but sometimes they would wander off on a date.  Usually they were all left hanging around, and those usually led to movie or game nights.

Marinette loved it.

The Liberty was, more than ever, starting to feel like a second home.

So there was nothing really unusual about that particular night, with all four of them sprawled out on the couches below deck watching some movie or documentary on…something.  Marinette wasn’t quite sure, honestly.  She was curled up against Luka’s side, her head on his shoulder and a blanket stretched over them.  She had been sketching, when the movie – the first movie? – had started, but Luka had taken her book from her when she’d first started nodding off before it could hit the floor.  Now she was…floating.  Drifting in and out of consciousness, half awake and barely aware of anything beyond the warm arm holding her against an even warmer chest.

…it felt like what all those failed dates should have felt like.  Back when.

She was dimly aware of quiet chatter on the other end of the couch.  She wasn’t at all aware of the knowing smirks and giggles Rose and Juleka kept shooting their way.  She was kind of aware of the documentary, where some comment had caused Luka to snort, the sound startling her just enough to become aware of the derisive chuckle that followed.  She shifted slightly, and his arm tightened around her.

The chuckle was a warm rumble beneath her ear, and she found herself sighing as she sank into it.  Into him.

“Because that’s what everyone wants,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and making her brow furrow in confusion.  “Xavier-Yves Roth for Mayor – Paris is doomed.”

She snorted, choking a little on a laugh.  She turned her head into his chest, smiling.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, still laughing.  He was so dumb.  “I love you.”

Now, Marinette was…not all there.  Half asleep at best.  More than half asleep, really.  Which is probably why she didn’t notice the way Luka just…froze beneath her.  And she probably wouldn’t have noticed it, if Rose hadn’t let out an ear-piercing squeal that could rival a tea kettle the next moment.  She jerked away from Luka, flailing and sending their blanket to the floor (and probably smacking him in the face – oops) – and then sending herself to the floor as she slid off the couch in the commotion.  She smacked her knees into the edge of the crate they used as a coffee table, and then Juleka was sliding off the couch as she laughed and laughed and laughed, clutching her stomach.  Marinette looked up, blinking wide, confused eyes at Luka, but Luka was…just sitting there.

Staring at her.

“What…what?” she asked, blinking owlishly at him.  But then he shook his head, and he was smiling, and oh that was…that was an awesome smile…

“Are you ok?” he asked, reaching out to help her up.  She nodded mutely, and she bent to retrieve their blanket before returning to her place against him.  “You sure?”

“I think I dozed off,” she said, rubbing at her eyes.  She smiled sheepishly at him.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean…did I miss anything good?”

“Oh, nothing too important,” Juleka cackled, and for the strangest reason the look she was giving Marinette made heat crawl up her neck.  Luka shot her a look, but then his arms were wrapping around Marinette again and tugging her back against him.  He tucked his face against the crook of her neck, and she sucked in a breath when he pressed a little kiss there.

“Ignore her.  She’s a monster,” he said.  His breath was burning against her skin, but not as much as his lips when he kissed her again.  “I love you, too.”

[s0up1ta]

"so grunkle ford how do you know bill?"

"... that's not important."

[stump-not-found]

A Lifetime Served in a Little Cup

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4

---

bill, babygirl, the red flags get outta there

[avonne-writes]

I can see Marge accidentally confessing when she's really happy. Perhaps she's laughing at something Gale/Bucky/OC said, and it slips out through her laugh. It’s the sweetest sounding accidental I love you.

Conversely, I can imagine Gale saying it when he feels at rock bottom and his negative emotions are spilling out after being bottled up for too long. In this case, he’d say I love you like something he’s grieving. Naturally, I’m picturing this happening in pouring rain. 😁

So I've just watched a show that had an accidental I love you.

How do we think the Buckies, or any other MOTA ship, would let an accidental 'I Love You' slip?

For Gale, I think would by when he's sick, injured, or like medically exhausted. Not capable of raising defenses and barely aware of where he is or what's happening. Just that John is there or that he wants him to be there.

For Bucky, I'd maybe say when he's had far too much to drink to try and cope with failed mission after failed mission. And he's just spilling out his feelings, to no one really, just to the air because he does feel something, he does. It's not necessarily a good thing, but he does. But someone hears it anyway.

Maybe Benny confesses into Meatball’s fluff as he's wrestling him trying to groom him.

Absolutely no accidental confession is getting through Brady. Man is a vault.

Crosby is 100% exhaustion or sleep talking, or like a throwaway 'love you so much' when Bubbles (or whoever you ship him with!) is rubbing his back as he throws up.

How do you think they'd confess? Any ideas for anyone else? Ooh what about Marge accidentally confessing she loves Bucky too, or Peggy or Helen?

[egophiliac]

tsum events really are just the best, huh

[buttercupshands]

Accidentally created a semi-comic (not connected as much) with melt Frin because of isat ss discord

@starry-night-sky6, @a-weepin-willow, @fastrainbowdas, @gosteon, @kitcats-1-braincell to let you all be as happy as you can be about being bubbled on Tumblr too teehee

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[camembri]

you wanted zoro to be on whole cake island to fulfil your weird desire to see zoro punish sanji. I wanted zoro on whole cake island because I think he's stupid enough to right place wrong time the plan and accidentally marry Sanji in full view of the whole wedding party in what becomes the most elaborately constructed comedy of errors ever written. we are NOT the same.

[syoddeye]

someone's probably done this but,

you're six months into seeing dr. garrick on a weekly basis. you've made serious progress. setting firm boundaries with your family, managing work stress with more grace, and finally cutting ties with that incompetent, rude excuse for a boyfriend. you actually look forward to every session.

you know you're not supposed to project onto garrick. not supposed to think about him for too long outside of your appointments. picture what he's up to, imagine his life outside his office. but when he laughs at your jokes, soothes you when you cry, or, most devastatingly of all, praises you, that boundary in your mind blurs. you want more than you should. and that's something you really ought to bring up with him.

but you won't.

which makes it all the more mortifying when, as you gather your things at the end of a session, you casually let slip, "have a good rest of your week, love you," and nearly collapse on the way to the door the moment you realize what just left your mouth.

there's a beat of silence. an excruciating, long pause where your heart plummets straight to your stomach. you freeze, fingers gripping the strap of your bag like a lifeline. maybe…maybe he didn't hear you. maybe if you keep walking or break into a sprint, you can pretend this never happened and—

"well. that's certainly a first."  

oh god.

you squeeze your eyes shut, mortification hitting you like a freight train, and slowly turn to face him. "i didn't—i didn't mean–"  

he chuckles, warm and rich, and when you force yourself to meet his gaze, he's watching you with a knowing smile. still seated, relaxed in his chair, notebook in his lap. there's something to his eyes, though.

"slip of the tongue?" he muses, tilting his head.

your face burns. "oh my god, please let me leave with what's left of my dignity."  

he laughs at that, actually laughs, and the sound does dangerous, stupid things to your already frayed nerves. "no need to be embarrassed," he says, and the gentleness in his tone almost makes it worse. "it happens. and hey," he leans into his chair slightly, smirking just enough that you're afraid of melting into the floor. "at least i know i'm making an impact."  

you make an odd, strangled sound, yanking the door open so fast you nearly stumble through it. "yeahokaybye, dr. garrick."  

"see you next week." he echoes, sounding far too entertained. then, as you're halfway out, "we'll talk about this then. in depth!"

you slam the door and hope a sinkhole swallows you on the way home.

[ephemeral-gremlin]

losing a styling battle to the banshee

[taamlok]

one thing i think is so cool about veilguard that hasn't been getting the hype it deserves is that the companions are actually doing things without you. like if you're wandering around a city you might bump into them doing their own thing, or in the weisshaupt siege the companions who aren't in your party are still there and fighting in a different area. i've never played an rpg that has that degree of coordination between the player and non-party companions, i'm so excited for it!!

[verfound]

FIC: "Some People Say 'Gesundheit'" (MLB; Lukanette)

Characters/Pairings: Dingo King (OC), Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Rose Lavillant; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: She doesn’t notice it at first, but that was probably because she had had her nose buried in her sketchbook.  Their friends definitely did, though.  He definitely did.  He’s hoping he can make her notice, too.

Author’s Notes/Warnings: @rierse dropped a prompt and it was adorable.  😘  (…this is the sprinted version.  I refused to let the Wordy Bitch come out when Thousand Words is already getting longer than I intended.  😂)

“Some People Say ‘Gesundheit’”

It was just another day, much like any other day lately.  The sun was high in the sky, the weather was beautiful, an akuma hadn’t terrorized the city in…well.  It had been a few days, so they were probably due for one, but so far none had popped up, which made it a beautiful day in Hawkmoth, Paris.  In the canteen of Lycée Sant-Saëns, six friends sat around a table enjoying their lunch.  Two were hunched close together over a shared phone, one was trying to steal the lunch of another, one was absently noodling on a guitar, and one had her nose buried in a sketchbook.

It was a common sight for those friends, as of late.

What wasn’t common, even as of late, was when a girl with really strong perfume walked by, irritating the nose of the guitarist.  His face scrunched, and the next thing any of them knew his playing had cut off in a discordant twang as he sneezed.

And that maybe wasn’t the uncommon part, because it happens.  People sneeze all the time.  What was uncommon was the way the girl sitting next to him, the one with her nose in a sketchbook, smiled slightly and said, without preamble and before anyone else could say a thing: “I love you.”

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[sporeclan]

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Girl who didn't learn a single thing from all the stories she heard growing up

[criiitter]

and a version without the text!! for perhaps... a valentine's day card for ur lover ??? or bestie?? rival?? whatever u want.

based on my last post!!

second slide is 8.5 x 11" !! made for u to print out and fold in half :-)

kofi link in my bio (my carrd) if u wanted to print it n leave a tip!! (free to use without doing so as well though :3 i want to spread the sonadow bug far n wide.)