#but this is my chocolate prompt

[kaisollisto]

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #14

"You foolish, stupid child," Vlad hisses, pinning Danny to the wall. Danny's eyes turn green as he wraps both his fists around the one Vlad has clenched in his collar, his feet dangling in the air. Vlad leans in, his own eyes burning red.

"When, exactly, did you plan on telling me your biological father was Bruce Wayne?" he says furiously.

Danny's hands drop in surprise. "W-What?" he gasps.

Vlad drops him unceremoniously and he lands on the floor in a heap. Vlad claws at the air in frustration.

"Don't lie to me, boy." Vlad says, omitting his often used possessive "my" in front of "boy".

"How do you know that?" Danny asks warily, propping himself up. He watches Vlad push a shaking hand through his hair. The man looks down at him before dropping in an ungainly squat beside him.

"Of all the sperm donors, Bruce Wayne, Daniel? Really?" The man asks, despairingly.

"I didn't exactly choose him, Vlad."

"No, I suppose you didn't."

"Seriously," Danny says, watching the man rock back on his heels as a growing pit forms in his stomach. "How did you know about him?"

Vlad's mouth twists bitterly. "Because he now knows about you."

"What do you—"

"Vladdy! Danno! What are the two of you doing on the floor?" Jack flops down beside them, a tray of freshly prepared fudge in his hands. "We having a heart-to-heart boys? Let me in on this!"

"Jack," Vlad says. "If you truly want to have a heart-to-heart with your son, I suggest you tell him the real reason I've come over today."

Jack's face falls.

"Vlad," Maddie says from behind him. "Thank you for coming. We're grateful for all you've done, but I think we can handle it from here."

"Madeline," Vlad says, rushing to his feet. "I must insist—"

"And I must insist you see yourself out," Maddie smiles tightly. "You know where the door is, don't you?"

"Mads," Jack says gently, looking between the two.

"I can show him out," Danny says, getting up as well.

"That's alright, Danny," Maddie says. "Why don't you go get your sister? We need to have a talk...as a family."

Danny glances at Vlad.

"Now, Danny," Maddie says. Danny heads for the stairs, pit growing ever larger.

--

The next time they meet it is Danny who has Vlad pinned, the gaudy chandelier above him shaking with the force of his rage.

"You should've told me," Danny growls.

"I thought your parents had you informed," Vlad says, utterly unbothered by the teen cracking what is thankfully not a load-bearing wall of his mansion. "Honestly Daniel, we could throw around allegations of deception on both sides, particularly mine as I assume you've known for quite some time now, if not the entire time, about your father hmm?"

Danny's eyes flick away in an obvious tell.

"Yes, I thought as much. But rather than whinging about being blindsided, I suggest we focus our energy on the solution."

Danny drops Vlad, barely biting back a snarl when the man lands gracefully on both feet.

"Which is?" Danny asks.

"First of all, your well-meaning but frankly moronic parents seem to believe that they can make a case for your custody without the assistance of my legal team. It is in both of our best interests to dissuade them of this."

"They don't like feeling indebted, Mom in particular."

"Well, to be crude for a moment Daniel, tough shit. Yes," Vlad says in response to Danny's widening eyes, "I said it. Bruce Wayne has the best of the best on his payroll and your parent's rinky-dink attorney from the local practice won't stand a chance against Friedman & Sons. Especially once he establishes paternity."

"He can do that?" Danny asks. "I mean I'm almost eighteen, can't I just refuse?"

"The keyword here, Daniel, is almost. As in, you are not. The judge can take your wishes into consideration, but I suspect Wayne will make a case for an unsafe living environment alongside his paternity to win his petition for full custody."

"Un-unsafe living environment?" Danny sputters. Vlad eyes the boy dryly before gesturing to all of him, currently clad in silver and black hazmat. Danny drops the transformation with a wince.

"In fact, I suspect that's the main reason the man filed in the first place," Vlad continues. "Lord knows he doesn't need anymore heirs to fight over his fortune once he passes—"

"Jesus, Vlad,"

"—so I believe he did some digging and found your home to be, well, wanting. On paper, Daniel, your parents sound eccentric at best, dangerous at worst. Pull the right strings, and hospital records just fall into laps. He probably thinks he's rescuing you." Vlad sneers. "If only he knew how quick you are to spit in the face of one offering you a comfortable and wealthy home."

"Fuck off," Danny says. "Is that what this is about? If you can't have me, no one can?"

Vlad rolls his eyes. "Come now, Daniel. Are you really intending to keep up this pretense?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We agreed a long time ago that no matter the nature of our quarrel, we would leave the Justice League out of it," Vlad says, taking a menacing step forward. "You think I, running in the circles I do, would have no knowledge of Bruce Wayne's alter-ego?" He takes another step, voice rising. "I have avoided drawing The Batman's attention for years, no matter how often our paths crossed. I stayed under his radar for decades, and now, BECAUSE OF YOU, I AM ABOUT TO BE RUINED."

With a creak and a groan, the chandelier drops, landing between them with a crash. Danny coughs from the dust as Vlad takes a heaving, calming breath.

"Then why get involved at all?" Danny asks, staring at the ground.

Vlad sighs, clapping his hands twice. Several ghosts dressed in service uniforms fly out the woodwork, gathering up bits of chandelier as others begin to mop.

"Because, little badger," Vlad says, walking away from the mess. "If we lose this, he'll have you in the palm of his hands. Which is infinitely worse."

Entering the kitchen, he pulls an open bottle of white out of the kitchen fridge and pours himself a glass, throwing a Fiji water to Danny who takes it for the peace offering it is.

"He won't."

"Won't what, Daniel? Please speak in full sentences."

"Won't have me," Danny says, letting a thin coat of frost spread over the bottle. He tips the freezing cold water into his mouth and wipes his face with his sleeve, mostly to see Vlad grimace.

"Why, because you'll run away if he wins? Until you turn eighteen? I won't have you fail to complete your education because of a cockamamie scheme, Daniel—"

"Because I have a solution, Vlad, one that doesn't involve the courts or running away."

"And what is that, exactly, Daniel?"

--

"You're going to leave my family alone."

"Danny," Mr. Wayne says, blinking in surprise at the boy on his doorstep and miles away from Illinois.

"I mean it," Danny says firmly. "You're going to drop your petition and whatever smear campaign you were planning on and leave the Fentons alone."

"Danny...why don't you come inside?"

Danny takes a step back from the manor's large doors. "You want a relationship with me? Brute force isn't the answer."

Bruce takes in the teenager, lanky but almost to his eye level. His eyes are clear and sharp, his demeanor forcibly calm.

"I debated whether going through the court was the right thing to do," Bruce says slowly, matching calm with calm. "But I wanted to be above board."

"Because my adoption wasn't?" Danny says, arms crossed. "Yeah, I'm aware. Kinda hard to adopt a kid that doesn't legally exist. And I know what you're going to say, the Fentons should've reported me to the system, but they didn't do it because I begged them not to. Because I didn't want my biological parents to find me."

"Danny..."

"You can swing your dick around and get your way, exactly the way I thought you would do things," Danny says, "Or you can have a relationship with me on my terms. A relationship where I don't despise you because you took me away from the people who've loved me no matter their faults."

"You're asking me to choose your happiness over your safety." Bruce says carefully.

"That's bullshit," Danny says. "I had a lab accident when I was fourteen and went directly against my parents' instructions. They trusted me, and I made a mistake."

"It's not a matter of trust. You were a child, Danny, and you almost died." Bruce says, not bothering to feign ignorance. Footsteps echo behind him.

"Bruce?" A voice calls. "Is that..?"

"Your son did die," Danny says. "He took a flight with your credit card to Ethiopia and got blown up. I bet you trusted him too."

Bruce reels back as a hand lands on his shoulder, the other on the door.

"Whoa, whoa, uh, Danny, right? I'm Tim, I'm—"

"I know who you are," Danny says, clenching his fists. Powering through the hurt he is causing. "I didn't come here to point out what a total hypocrite you are. I just want you to back off. And if you give me your number, we can text and I'll come to Gotham for Thanksgiving or the ski chalet in Vermont or your villa in where-the-fuck-ever and you can be Uncle Bruce that I maybe even tolerate being around once in a while. Just leave my family alone."

"Bruce, what is he talking about?" Tim asks. "Back off of what?"

"Your Dad is suing my parents for full custody," Danny says when it becomes clear Bruce isn't answering.

"What?" Tim hisses, turning to Bruce. "That isn't what we talked about!"

"Danny. I..."

"Here," Danny says, thrusting an index card forward that he's scrawled his phone number and email onto. On the other side is the past participle conjugation for 'venir'. "I won't answer until you drop the custody petition. Which I expect you to do by tomorrow morning."

"Done," Tim says, stepping past Bruce and taking the card. "Give me about noon to get it all squared away with the lawyers. Do you have a hotel? A way home? I'd be happy to reimburse your flight and accommodation."

"Overstepping already."

"Fair enough," Tim says coolly, raising his hands. "Our lawyers will reach out when it's settled."

"Great. Bye." Danny says, turning to leave. He waits until he hears the manor door close behind him before pulling out his cell phone.

Ring!

Ring!

"Hello?"

"It's done."

"What's done? Again, little badger, full sentences, I beg of you."

[highway-stars]

Cloaked in icy tempests

[comfort-character-central]

Imagine holding your f/o as they find comfort and tranquility in your embrace. Rubbing their back, kissing their forehead, running your fingers through their hair. Doing what you can to reassure them that you're here, and you always will be.

[skylersprompts]

DC x DP Prompt *30*

If anyone would ask Bruce how he could have known, he would tell them that it is obvious. Phantom - the new part-time member of the Young Justice - who seemed to be forever young and their new engineer Danny Fenton who is in his early twenties have perfectly fitting schedules. When Fenton is working in the Watchtower, Phantom will be unavailable for the Young Justice and vice versa. Also, the pranks started after both of these figures appeared. Of course one could argue that they could just be related or somehow knew each other otherwise, but the pranks that were pulled on all of the mentors of the Young Justice were only possible with Phantom Powers. And because of the new Ghost Shield the young hero wouldn't be able to just fly into the Watchtower and had to use the Zeta-Tube, what would mean that they should be able to look at the logs. But Phantom never entered the Watchtower while the pranks were under way. And as soon as his team really needed him, Fenton would make an excuse to leave work early.

What he wouldn't tell anyone, is that he saw how Fenton had transformed himself into Phantom, shortly before the Flash got up to run for a snack, just to fall down because his ankles had been cuffed together.

And maybe he helped him from time to time, with a well timed question to distract his fellow heros. Because the motive became clear really fast. Everytime someone got pranked, that someone had done something to ignite the wrath of the younger heros.

All of that also meant two things.

First of all, as soon as Danny was at work, Batman would be extra aware of his surroundings. The pranks never worked on him, which meant he had to dodge more attempts for the rest of the day.

And secondly: He should talk to Tim, after he found out how he had put his foot in his mouth this time, since he just saw his spoon move in his coffee mug without anyone's involvement. He just let his (probably salty) coffee go cold, brooding. Maybe he should go home early today and spend some quality time with his son...

[alwaysurvalentine]

tastes like autumn - st fic

Written for Day 15 of @steddie-spooktober - prompt: baking - wc: 1.7k - cw: some cussing

enjoy! 💛

Autumn has painted Hawkins in hues of orange and red, trees dropping their leaves any time the wind blows. It’s cold enough that Steve’s taken to only wearing his sweaters instead of his favorite polos. He’s got his own place now and he’s even more grateful for it this winter when he remembers how awful it was to prepare the pool for the winter. Nothing worse than deep cleaning a pool when it’s cold and windy outside. His place isn’t big by any means, a tiny apartment above one of the shops downtown, but it does the job. It’s got one bedroom, a kitchen, and a massive living/dining room. 

The big living room was a big selling point when he moved in, wanting to have enough space for everyone to come over for a movie night or more recently, a D&D session. When it’s just him he likes to open all the curtains and windows to let the sounds from outside to filter in, mostly cars driving past but sometimes he’ll catch snippets of the conversations of people walking below. Sometimes Robin will join him on the couch in front of the window so they can people watch and make up lives for everyone they see. 

Today’s a quiet one though, one where he doesn’t have any work and no one’s planned on coming over. Which means Steve gets to bake. After the last and final round with the Upside Down, he’d finally been open to going to therapy. As soon as he’d agreed, Owens had given his information to Vanessa, who ended up being a good match and now they meet once a month. It’d been a long process, first having to meet up every week to catch her up with his personal involvement with the Upside Down. Soon it turned into her helping him with more mundane things, like why he hates the sound of a completely quiet house. Didn’t take long for her to suggest getting out of the Harrington House and into his own space. 

Now on quiet days Steve isn’t haunted by the memory of his parents disapproval when he moves room to room. No, now he gets to focus on things that he actually enjoys doing. One of which happens to be baking. He’s been looking forward to making this recipe from a magazine since he found it, but Eddie’s been staying over the last few days and he wants it to be a surprise. Plus, he knows better than to think Eddie won’t distract him from making sure he doesn’t burn the loaf by accident.

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Bread stares at him from the torn magazine page and Steve smiles before pulling out the ingredients. There’s a radio sitting on his kitchen counter that he reaches over to click on, letting the sounds of Blondie fill the room. Since no one’s here but him, he shimmies his shoulders as he washes his hands, singing along as she belts about calling her anytime. 

It’s easy to sink into the methodic motions of baking. Dry ingredients get placed in his orange mixing bowl, clouds of dust and cinnamon causing him to sneeze and fan at the air before continuing. Steve hasn’t gotten around to buying an electric mixer yet, instead relying on his only whisk or his hands if the dough is particularly thick. 

Today he opts for hand mixing, rolling the sleeves of his yellow sweater up before reaching in. The pumpkin puree is sticky and thick but the eggs make everything feel slimy so he pulls his hands out almost as soon as he reaches in. Sometimes the feeling of dough in his hands makes him think of urging Eddie’s heart to start beating, reminds him of how he nearly dropped the metalhead multiple times on the way to the gate, blood making him almost slip out of Steve’s faltering grasp. A quick shake of his head and Steve tunes back into the radio, a song by Queen now filling his kitchen instead. He leans against the counter for a second, counting his inhales and exhales before trying again. This time Steve reaches in and doesn’t have to pull his hands out until he goes to add the chocolate chips. Normally the recipe calls for semi-sweet chips, but Steve’s gotten dark chocolate since those are Eddie’s favorite. 

~

The house smells like pumpkin, cinnamon, and chocolate. It brings a small smile to Steve’s face as he sits in the living room waiting for the loaf to cool. He’s feeling pretty confident so far, it didn’t rise too far out of the pan and when he stuck a fork in it the prongs came out clean. After the Biscuit Incident, Steve only tests out new recipes alone. No reason to give the party any more reasons to rag on him since they all act like glorified younger siblings anyway, knowing just the right buttons to push to get him riled up. Once he knows the best way to make a recipe, that’s when they’re offered to the party – soft cookies and moist cakes that melt just right in your mouth when you take a bite. All the dishes are next to the sink drying when he steps into the kitchen again. 

Steve edges a butter knife around the edges of the pan, urging the loaf away from the edges in hopes that it’ll come out of the pan easily. He places a plate on top of the loaf and flips the pan; luckily when he lifts it, the pan is empty and the loaf is resting in the center of the plate. Some of the chocolate chips have left melted streaks in the pan and he runs a slow finger through one of the trails for a taste.

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice startles him and the pan in his hand finds its way to the floor with a loud clatter. “You okay?” Hurried footsteps bring Eddie to the doorframe of the kitchen, eyes wide as he takes in the scene: pan on the ground and Steve clutching a hand to his chest like he’s had a heart attack. He’s managed to get one shoe off but the other sits untied in his haste to identify the noise. “Glad to see your heart’s working.” It’s a joke that Steve’s heard Wayne make when he spooks Eddie coming around the corner of the trailer, it’s a way to let the other person catch their breath when they’ve just been scared. Steve takes the break for what it is and shakes his head fondly.

“Yeah, didn’t need you test it for me.” Steve fights back his own grin when Eddie smiles and winks at him, stepping forward to grab the pan from the floor. With the pan resting in the sink, Eddie kicks off his other shoe and then leans into Steve’s space. Chapped lips press against his and Steve leans in for another kiss before Eddie can pull away completely. When they do part, Steve can feel the grin stretching across his face. It’s nice having his own space that people can drop by unexpectedly but Eddie is supposed to be busy today.

“What happened to practice?” Eddie’s more focused on the plate behind Steve, already taking a step towards the counter to investigate. “Excuse me.” Brown eyes cut to Steve’s when Eddie registers the slightly bitchy tone Steve’s decided on. Steve’s smile gives away that he doesn’t really mean anything by it, just trying to get his boyfriend’s attention. Plus, there’s no way he’s going to let Eddie try it before he makes sure it actually came out correctly. 

“Gareth’s sister got sick, so he was stuck with baby sitting duty. What’d you make?” Again, Steve’s lost his boyfriend’s attention, Eddie going as far as to reach towards Steve’s loaf with a ringed finger.

“Hey! Don’t poke it. I made something new, which means-”

“Which means I don’t get to taste it until you do, yeah, yeah. Let’s cut a piece.” It’s hard pretending to be frustrated when Eddie knows him so well. With an eye roll and a playful huff Steve bumps Eddie’s hip with his before grabbing his butter knife again. 

“Go put your shoes up, then if it’s good you can have a slice.” It’s like watching Wile Coyote run off a cliff with how quickly Eddie swoops his battered Reebok up and darts into the living room. The butter knife passes through easily and a small trail of steam rises from inside the loaf. Steve can tell he put in too many chocolate chips already, the inside mostly dark instead of dotted like he expected; he figures Eddie won’t mind it either way. Gently, Steve tears off the corner of the slice, crumbs falling onto the floor when he brings it up to his mouth. It’s clearly not set enough to eat quite yet, but when Eddie’s found something sweet in the house it doesn’t take long at all for him to be digging in. Steve never complains because it just makes his kisses that much sweeter. 

The dark chocolate was a good call, blending in with the nutmeg and clove spices. It’s nice and moist too, melting in Steve’s mouth. Eddie’s come around the corner again, eyes hopeful when he takes in Steve’s relaxed expression.

“Good to eat, then?” And then he’s swooping in to tear off his own piece from the slice Steve made. As soon as he closes his mouth Eddie lets out a happy hum and closes his eyes in happiness. “You are a baking genius. This is delicious! What is this?” Another bite, and then a kiss placed on Steve’s head before Eddie starts to cut another slice. 

“It’s Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Bread. You mentioned last week not getting to the bakery early enough to get any of their seasonal stuff. And Mrs. Henderson let me have an old recipe magazine book so.” Steve shrugs and runs his hand through his hair before turning away. It’s embarrassing now, thinking about Claudia’s knowing look when he’d asked her if she knew any good recipes for fall that wasn’t pumpkin pie. 

“Baby, this is so good. And you put dark chocolate in here too, right?” All Steve does is nod, hands busying themselves with refolding his dishtowel that’s hanging on his oven door handle. “You spoil me.” There’s humor coloring Eddie’s words and Steve looks up to see a soft smile on his face. “Wanna spoil me some more?” He doesn’t have a moment to be confused, Eddie already closing the space between them and cupping Steve’s face. 

When Eddie kisses him this time, all he can taste is chocolate and cinnamon.

[halvedslab]

hiiii G8 with etho if u want!! and if u also wanna do the palette thing itd be funny if it was the one named minecraft

[mousydentist]

February 9th T-5 Days

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else came here.” Chay looks up from his phone to the door of the music room where a boy is peeking his head in. Kim, Chay thinks his name is. They sat together on the first day of classes, and Kim asked to borrow a pen. 

“No worries, you can come in, if you want. It’s just me.”

Kim hesitates for a second before grinning. “Thanks. You’re Chay, right? We have calculus together.”

Chay groans. “Please don’t remind me of that torture disguised as education.”

Kim laughs, sitting next to him and pulling a lunch box out of his bag. “So I’m not the only one who thinks that?”

“Nope,” Chay confirms. “And I bet you’re also thinking about how it’s taught by an old geezer with a stick up his ass, which I have to agree with.”

Kim almost chokes on his food, looking at Chay with a mixture of confusion and amusement. “I’m not sure I would’ve put it that way, but you’re not wrong.”

Chay laughs. “Do you come here a lot, by the way? I come here almost every day, but we’ve never crossed paths.”

Kim nods, swallowing a bite of food before speaking. “I do too, but I usually have student council meetings during this block.”

"Student council?"

"I'm the president."

Chay whistles, impressed. He probably should've known that, but he doesn't care much about class events.

"Cool," he says, then tilts his head. “Do you play?” he asks, gesturing at the decorative little guitar pick dangling from Kim’s necklace.

“Yeah, I do, actually. You too?” Chay nods. 

“Do you have one of your own?” Chay asks, and he sees Kim’s eyes light up.

“I do. I don’t mean to brag, but,” he says, leaning in as he pulls out his phone to show Chay a picture.

After that, the flood gates open. They talk for hours. Not hours. They talk for the whole lunch break, but it feels like hours. Chay’s never had a better first impression of someone. Whenever he meets new people, even when he first met Ohm, he tends to be very polite, smiling kindly and being slightly reserved. But today? He feels like he can’t stop talking, and Kim returns his enthusiasm in kind. It’s like they’ve been good friends for years, rather than strangers until thirty minutes ago. He's surprised how nice it is to hang out with Kim, but maybe that's his own biases about The Popular Kids creeping in.

Their interests seem perfectly aligned, and they don’t run out of things to talk about the whole time. Chay wants to invite Kim over so he can show him the guitar Porsche got him for Christmas, and they can play together. It’s very weird, since Chay’s never wanted to bring anyone over, let alone someone he just met. It’s not even that he thinks Kim would decline, Kim seems just as thrilled as he is to be sharing these kinds of conversations.

To be honest, he feels a little special to see a side of the boy he doesn’t show to just anyone. Well, at least, he’s never shown it to Chay before... He feels a little less special after that thought. This is probably how Kim is with all his friends, and since Chay’s never had a proper conversation with him before, it would make sense that he’s never seen it.

They talk all the way up until the bell rings, letting them know they have five minutes to get to their next class, which, conveniently, is one they share. Chay stands and cracks his back, stiff from how he was leaning back on his arms. Kim waits for him to grab his bag before they start walking together.

“Valentine’s Day is coming up,” Kim says, holding the door open for Chay. “Have anyone special you’re gonna buy chocolates for?”

Chay chuckles a little. “Not me. I’m too busy trying to graduate.”

Kim nods his head, looking forward as they walk through the halls.

Chay bites his cheek. It’s the first awkward silence since they started talking, and he doesn’t like it at all.

“What about you?” Chay asks to get the conversation flowing again.

Kim just shrugs.

Having no idea what to do with that, Chay keeps his mouth shut. 

When they enter the classroom, Chay walks slowly, not sure if he’s supposed to sit in his usual seat or follow Kim. When Kim sits down and doesn’t acknowledge Chay, he takes it as a sign and almost starts to walk past Kim to his seat down the aisle, but he pauses, bites his lip, working up the nerve. 

Finally, he turns back to Kim and holds out his phone.

“Can I get your number?” Chay says, which immediately sounds more forward than he was hoping for. But Kim just blinks at him, then chuckles and hands over his own phone. Chay quickly types his number in, and when he gets his phone back there’s a new contact: kim :)

[gregorovitch-adler]

Chocolate

Sherlock and John were sat on their arm chairs, facing each other, with their legs spread out.

John had been asleep for a while, unaware of the real world and his surroundings. It was Sunday, so he just wanted to relax a bit.

It had been ages since either of them had done that.

John woke up with a start at the sound of a sharp knock at the door of 221 B.

John looked around himself. The lights were out, save for the natural sunlight coming from the sitting room window, and apparently Sherlock had been gazing at him from across the coffee table for at least a few minutes.

The sofa was a complete mess with Archie stretched out on it.

John stood up and turned around to face the door of their flat.

Mariana was standing in the doorway, biting her bottom lip with a hand on her waist. "Get your lazy butts downstairs. Both of you."

"Hey, I was tired!" John made his way out of the flat and was heading towards 221 A.

"And I was studying human behaviour at its most vulnerable state!" Sherlock closed the main door behind him as he followed John and Mariana downstairs.

John and Mariana looked at each other and shook their heads slowly as they continued to walk.

"What is it, then, a client? Do we already have another case?" John patted his trousers pockets to look for his microphone.

"No, we don't have a case," said Mariana as she got down to the bottom of the flight of stairs and turned to face Sherlock and John.

Sherlock and John stopped in their tracks right there and looked at her with their eyebrows raised.

Mariana sighed. "I have a surprise for you two. I've been working on it since morning."

John and Sherlock exchanged a look, and John turned to face her with a smile. "A surprise? What for?"

Mariana shrugged. "I just felt like it. Not sure how you'll receive it, though," she said, looking at both of them.

John opened his mouth to try to reassure her, but Sherlock cut him off.

"It's a chocolate cake, isn't it?" Sherlock asked and climbed down to the ground floor too. "It's not just any cake, though. It's very important to you. That's why you tried your hand at it today even though there's no special occasion. You want our comments on it because you want the cake to be perfect. Is it a family recipe?"

"Wait, what?" John and Mariana asked in unison.

John climbed down the rest of the stairs too.

"How do you know that?" asked Mariana with her arms folded across her chest.

"You still have some icing on your hair," Sherlock pointed out. "And I can smell it from 221 A now. You look nervous about it." Sherlock paused and looked at Mariana and John. "Oh, did I just ruin your surprise?" he asked with quite an apologetic tone.

Mariana shook her head and waved it off. "It's alright. Just come over already."

John followed Sherlock and Mariana to 221 A, looking at Sherlock with pride. "Do you ever stop being brilliant?"

Sherlock threw a glance in John's general direction, but then he looked ahead and kept walking, looking flustered.

Mariana opened the door of 221 A, walked in and stepped aside to let John and Sherlock in.

Sherlock, John, and Mariana went straight to the kitchen to see her cake.

Sherlock and John stopped right there at the sight of the kitchen table. A slow smile spread across both of their faces.

They glanced at each other before going over to the table to have a closer look at it.

The base of the cake was rectangular, looking like a sturdy, flat surface. On it, three miniature, human-shaped pieces stood together. Two men and a woman. One of the men was tall and the other one was short - almost the same height as the woman.

It was supposed to be the three of them in chocolate form. They were holding hands.

It was beautiful - not just the miniature versions of the three of them, but also the decoration, icing, and just everything about that cake.

John could not take his eyes off it. Sherlock looked awestruck too.

"Well?" Mariana broke the silence, interlacing the fingers of her hands together and pursing her mouth.

John and Sherlock went around the table and wrapped their arms around her from both of her sides.

Mariana wrapped her arms around them, too, for a long moment.

"It's beautiful," said John and held her tighter.

"It's perfect - and that wasn't even a hyperbole. Just an objective truth. A fact."

Mariana and John let out a laugh.

They let go of each other, and Mariana grabbed a knife that had been lying on the table beside the cake.

"Do you really want to cut that?" asked John, standing behind her now.

Mariana chuckled. "Yes, of course!" She carefully took out the tiny, human-shaped chocolate pieces and placed them on three different plates. She grabbed three forks from a drawer and placed each of those on the plates. "Let's eat each other, shall we?"

She handed the piece shaped like herself to Sherlock, the piece shaped like Sherlock to John, and she picked up the third piece on the plate for herself.

Sherlock took the first bite of the piece of cake on his plate. He closed his eyes in pleasure. "It's so soft and delicious."

Mariana sighed in relief. "It's my father's recipe, but the three pieces on the top were my addition to it." She looked satisfied with herself.

It was John's turn to take a bite.

John closed his eyes to focus on those amazing textures and taste on his tongue. "Mm... Mari, it's unbelievably sweet and fresh. Don't blame me if the entire cake disappears by the morning."

Mariana grinned and took a bite from her own plate and looked away from the two of them. "Hm... this one's not so good," she said in the middle of her chewing.

Sherlock and John looked at her with confusion.

She looked up at John. "Oh, maybe because it's shaped like you."

Sherlock and Mariana burst out laughing.

John stepped forward to pick up the giant plate that contained the rest of the cake. "Alright, that's it. I'm leaving with the whole cake."

Mariana and Sherlock stopped John right there, laughing some more.

The three of them looked at one another with broad smiles. They decided they could not contain themselves anymore, so they put their small plates back on the table.

Sherlock, John, and Mariana came in for a group hug, unable to wipe off their smiles.

John was still planning to steal most of the cake. That part could wait, though.

***

Prompt: Chocolate by @fluff-cember

Tags: @helloliriels @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @jamielovesjam @gaylilsherlock @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @topsyturvy-turtely , etc.

[tutterypuff]

You peek inside your mailbox on a cold winter's morning and... What's this...? An invitation to a winter ball handwritten and addressed to you! For the feast of Winter Veil, Becky is having a princess themed party, and would love to see you there!

Draw your characters in their fanciest, frilliest winter regency clothes, and tag with #WinterPrincess2023 to attend!

[moondust-artz]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CM PUNK!

Birthday boy is 46 now👴🏻

My favourite silly

[mymelodyisme]

Helloooo farmer friends!! So last night my friend @pavusprince mentioned how she doesn’t understand the toothpaste mint chocolate chip ice cream comparison and that got me thinking!! Let’s talk about food!!

Does your farmer like mint chocolate ice cream? Does it taste like toothpaste? Are they neutral, or do they hate it?

During the summer does your farmer visit Alex’s ice cream stand? What flavor/treat do they buy? What’s their least favorite flavor?

What is one treat your farmer will ALWAYS have in their home? Is it healthy or unhealthy?

If your farmer was a snack item what would they be? (It cannot be a food that could be eaten like a meal, but it may be a dessert) Here’s some examples: chips, cookies, M&ms, Twinkies, crackers, bubblegum, lollipops, etc

What’s your farmer’s comfort food, favorite meal, and least favorite meal?

What’s something they will NEVER eat?

What do they cook if they know they will have a guest over?

If the town’s potluck didn’t matter so much, what ingredient would they take? And what food would they put at an event table if you had to bring something?

Finally, if your farmer was real, what would YOU give them to eat.

[christinescupofcoffee]

DAY 1 — Antagonist — Tell us about your villain! Write a little blurb or do a short little creature feature! Give us all the spooky insights on your big baddie.

Elle (Blood & Chocolate)

A clerk at the supermarket who gives Eric advice on how to please and eventually seduce Alex. Eric actually has a little inkling for her, but he soon finds out that she’s actually exploiting him and using him and Alex for her benefit—when Eric just wants to hang out and “come closer” to his best friend if you catch my drift. She seems to be part of a larger plot to farm boys and young men like the two of them, like she’s farming pigs.

if it’s any consolation, Eric actually runs her over with his car!

[enemyoflactose]

Occultshipping for @mirpuzzle I hope you like it 🥺 I did my best 🩷🩷🩷

Valentine’s Day was quickly approaching, in fact it was tomorrow, and for someone like “Ghost” Kotsuzaka, this wasn’t a good thing.

For the life of him, Ghost couldn’t figure out what kind of gift he should bestow upon the greatest person and bestest duelist he'd ever met, Yami Bakura.

And it couldn’t just be any gift either, it had to be something so special, so amazing, and so, so fantastic that surely, just surely Bakura would maybe possibly reciprocate Ghost’s romant- FRIENDSHIP!!! Friendship feelings!

His feelings were platonic! Not romantic. Not romantic at all. They were friends.

Obviously they were friends. BEST friends. They hung out at arcades and graveyards, they had nicknames for each other, and they spent so much time at one another’s place that Bakura considered Ghost’s apartment his second home.

Their friendship was so good in fact, that on Valentine's Day, Ghost thought it was necessary to give Bakura a Little gift. Because they were friends, not because Ghost was attracted to him in any kind of romantic way.

Not at all.

Besides, there was no way Bakura would ever find him attractive. Not that that mattered. Because it didn't.

Deciding it was time to actually think about Bakura’s gift and not his own insecurities for once, Ghost thought of two options: 1. Ask Bakura directly what he wanted. 2. Just guess.

Both of those had their issues. Asking Bakura directly what he'd like when Valentine's Day was tomorrow would seem disrespectful and make it seem like he was just doing it last minute because he'd forgotten, and not just had no clue what to buy for his platonic companion. Guessing had the problem of getting something that Bakura didn't like at all, and that would seem like Ghost wasn't paying attention to his friend's interests.

Feeling very anxious about this conundrum, Ghost tried to remember everything that Bakura had said he liked that would make for a good gift.

Snakes? No, pets weren't allowed in his apartment. More dice? No, that would seem lazy. A Umineko Beatrice figure? No way! That thing was way too expensive! Chocolate? That was so conventio- wait a second.

Bakura did like something that was not only chocolatey and unconventional, but would also seem like it had genuine thought put in if used as a gift.

Ghost quickly grabbed his wallet, threw on his coat, and ran out of his apartment towards that one bakery that Bakura had mentioned in passing was his favorite.

This bakery was kind of on the nicer side and sold a variety of European pastries and desserts. What Ghost was looking for was a croissant. A chocolate filled croissant.

Anyone who had even bothered to get to know Bakura closer than thinking of him as “that creepy white guy” knew that Bakura absolutely loves chocolate filled croissants. And anyone who knew Bakura closely, would also be bound to know that this was a gift he would really like.

What made this gift idea even greater, was that the bakery had just opened, the croissants were fresh, and he could actually afford one! Wait, not just one, but two croissants! So Bakura will end up getting the two presents instead of just one! He'll be so happy!

This day just couldn't get any better!

Except, it could. But only if Bakura not only likes his gift, but maybe gives him a kiss… Ghost quickly shook that thought from his head.

NO! No no no! Not a kiss! Not a kiss at all! He didn't want any kisses from him! He just wanted to, um, eat chocolate with Bakura?

Yeah. Yeah that's it. Eat chocolate. Because Valentine's Day.

Ghost decided to walk faster so he gets to his friend's apartment as soon as possible, and to focus on literally anything other than the complete NOT fact that he maybe sorta possibly kind of liked Bakura in a romantic way…

On second thought, maybe he should just go home. He'd give Bakura the croissants tomorrow, on the actual day.

“Hoi! Ko-chan!” The sudden holler of a very familiar voice rang through the morning air, and stopped Ghost in his tracks.

He slowly turned around and was met face to face with none other than, “Occult-nii…”

That was becoming the usual way they'd greet each other lately. Bakura would pop up out of nowhere and Ghost would whimper out his nickname. After only a few days of this, Bakura had become irritated with it.

“What's wrong? You sound pathetic.”

“N-nothing,” God, “ I was just getting, um something to eat,” he really did sound pathetic.

“At Madolche? Bit expensive is it not?” his pretty, bright red eyes bore right through him, staring into his very soul.

Before Ghost knew it, the bag with those croissants was snatched from his hands and held up in front of Bakura's face.

“Hey! Occult-nii! Give that back!” He reached for his croissants, but they were hoisted up further into the air. Far out of his reach.

“Nah. I've decided that since you had the audacity to go to Madolche without me, you have to share your treats.”

“But-” he was cut off.

“What'd you get anyway?” Bakura grabbed Ghost's hand and began walking.

“Well, I uh, where are we going?” He was just trying to change the subject. For some reason.

“My place. Roo-sama has school and I wanted to play with you. What'd you get from Madolche?”

Ghost didn't answer that question. He just looked down and tried to keep up with his friend.

Bakura didn't like this at all. This was evident in the fact that he started to walk even faster, causing him to drag the other.

“H-Hey! Wait- slow down!” At this point, Ghost was starting to trip a little.

“No. We're almost there anyway.”

“C’mon! Please? I'll tell you what I got!”

“Too late! And since you wouldn't tell me before, I'll just take all of your treats as compensation.” He smirked after saying that, then picked Ghost up to hold him to his shoulder.

“Gah! Occult-nii! Put me down!”

“No. You're too slow, we'll get to my place faster this way.” Ghost let out a huff, but wrapped his arms around Bakura's neck, “besides, I have a gift for you at my place. I'd like you to have it now since I have to work an extra shift tomorrow.”

What? Bakura had gotten him a gift for Valentine's Day? Well, that certainly made things a lot less awkward.

“Ah, well I got you a gift too, but some white haired ass hat stole it from me before I could give it to you.” Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. What had he been so nervous about?

Said ass hat chuckled and said, “That's not good. I'm sure I would've enjoyed it.”

Bakura kept walking until they reached his apartment, and upon entering, he set Ghost on the ground and went to his room.

“Wait here,” he said, “I'm getting your present.”

Ghost did just that. He waited in front of the door where he'd been left, he did however take his shoes off. Bakura had said he wanted to play, so it was probably going to be another overnight stay.

“Hoi! Ko-chan! Come here, the bag ripped!” Bakura called from his room.

Ghost went to the room to see that Bakura was currently sitting on the ground with a plastic bag in front of him and an irritated look on his face. Chocolate was scattered everywhere on the ground, but the bag was somehow still mostly full.

“How much did chocolate you buy that it weighed until the bag ripped?” He got glared at.

“I didn't know what kind of chocolate you liked, so I took them all,” he explained, “the bag didn't tear on my way back, so I didn't think that'd be an issue.”

Sitting down next to Bakura, Ghost cuddled up to his side and took a piece of chocolate. It was white chocolate in the shape of a bite sized rabbit head.

“Aw, I feel bad about eating this one.” He expressed.

“Why? It's chocolate, it'll taste good.”

Ghost held the chocolate rabbit up to Bakura's face, “Because it looks just like you.”

Bakura blushed, and then ate the rabbit out of his hand.

“Hey! Occult-nii!”

“You're missing out, that tasted fantastic.”

“Yeah yeah. I would have if you didn't take it, now eat your gift before I do.”

Bakura scoffed, but grabbed the to-go bag. He opened it, and his eyes sparkled. He snatched up a croissant and immediately started eating it.

He muffled out a ‘thank you’, but it sounded more like ‘Hanhk yough’.

“No problem,” Ghost said, then thought for a bit, “hey, since you took one of my chocolates, I think I should get a bite of your croissant.”

As soon as he had finished that sentence, Bakura had already finished the first croissant and was just about to take a bite out of the second one. He looked at Ghost, then tore off a piece of the pastry and held it in front of his face.

“Say ‘ah’~” Immediately, Ghost got flustered.

“W-what?” He tried to move back, but his head was grabbed and he was forced to sit still.

“Say ‘ah’ right now.” Bakura said in a mock command.

Ghost struggled for a second, reluctantly opened his mouth, he didn't say ‘ah’ though.

The croissant piece was placed on his tongue. And for a split second, as he began to eat the pastry, that moment between them was… incredible.

Until Bakura decided it was a good idea to run his thumb across Ghost’s bottom lip the moment his mouth closed.

That made it a little weird.

Ghost swallowed the croissant, and shied away from his friend. He was yet again quickly grabbed, by the shoulders this time, and made to stay put.

“Stop being so shy around me,” Bakura demanded, “I wanna tell you something.”

“Y-yeah?” He couldn't stop stuttering.

Bakura smiled and then kissed him. He kissed Ghost. Right on the mouth.

It wasn't a very long kiss, it was short, but sweet, and just barely a step above being a peck. But a kiss was still a kiss.

“We’re dating now. There's nothing you can do about it.”

[itwoodbeprefect]

i always thought there were two ways to rediscover old stories that you don't remember writing and they are 1) oh no i can't look oh no oh no that's embarrassing, and 2) hey? this is pretty cool actually? this sort of really rocks?, but today i've discovered the secret third option. and it's 3) i guess in 2018 i wrote 1500 words of original fiction about thor (the norse god) and the easter bunny (the easter bunny) on a blind first date in a starbucks and it's a little haunting that this reads pretty much the same as most genuine fluffy scenes i've ever written, but littered with egg puns

[vukovich]

Bad Advice Day

To celebrate the Ides of March, this blog will be a Terrible Advice Column today, because stabbing Caesar probably wasn't Plan A.

Submit an issue on anon or not on anon. Get the worst advice of your life.

Or a short fic. Depends on where the Ghost of Caesar leads me.