#could be a cracky prompt

[declamationark]

Between Danny’s constant sleep deprivation, school stress, and his villains’ differing levels of goofiness, I’m surprised he didn’t try just.. crying, like there’s a reasonable chance they immediately regret making this kid cry

like dude, you get catharsis and your enemies get Guilted into awkwardly going "there there buddy (help??? how to stop crying??? do I just pat the kid's head????)" and giving you gifts

[thevessaliuz]

[ rainfall ] sender finds receiver out alone in the rain (Oswald)

non-verbal angst prompts | @kitxkatrp

It rained down, visible threads of rain, slowly soaking through Jack's hair. His clothes were already damp. He has stood on this exact spot countless times, but never felt like he did right now with his whole body repelling against this place. It felt so strange to be here and look up at the empty tower.

Jack didn't know how much time had passed. He was pulled out of his thoughts by footsteps on the gravel, and turned to see a dark figure approaching. Ah, he must have been too lost in thought to notice. At this distance, he could recognize Oswald even through the dense rain.

"Oswald," he greets and remembers belatedly -- No, he shouldn't call him that anymore. He should call him Glen.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC PROMPT #28

(#) = Notes at the end of post

✦

Chartreuse

Due to the high levels of ambient ectoplasm, all the citizens of Amity Park gained a permanent change in eye color. They don't glow or flare in response to rampant emotions like true ghosts or the halfas though. They're just an unnaturally bright yellow-green.

The thing is, nobody else on Earth has this eye color, and it's never been seen in the human race until the recently graduated Amity Parkers started branching out to other cities to find jobs.

Nobody paid this any mind at first, though. Many just thought the individuals liked strangely colored contacts or it was a trick of the light. It's not until Danny and Tucker are both hired for positions in Wayne Enterprises that questions start popping up.

At first, the other employees thought the two might be related. It could happen, it's not that strange. However, when both of them said they're nowhere near related, just childhood best friends, it left everyone confused. If they aren't related and they aren't wearing colored contacts, then what are the odds of too completely unrelated people having the exact same strange and unseen eye color?

After a while, everyone just stops asking questions. After all, both men are easy to get along with and are excellent at their jobs, so a strange eye color isn't really something to complain about. Their stares were just a bit more intense than most people, and honestly, they've seen stranger things.

It helps that they've started seeing other people with the same eye color popping up in celebrity, sports, and activist circles. (1)

However, It's not until the power goes out during a late meeting/presentation, and Tim Drake accidentally turns on and shines his cell phone light into Tuckers eyes, that he starts seriously digging.

Needless to say, the animal-like green shine of his pupils scared the shit out of him and got him wondering if two of his new employees were part of a previously unknown alien race that'd recently settled on Earth without anyone noticing. When he looks into the middle of nowhere town they came from, this idea is even further cemented when he sees every person he finds a photo of have the exact same shade of chartreuse eyes. Ignoring the ghost rumors and "sightings" as just a strange tourist trap for the strange little town to make extra income, he brings the info he found to the other bats and birds.

They aren't exactly welcomed when they go snooping around Amity Park, unfortunately... (2 & 3)

✦

Now. To make this a bit more cracky, when confronted, do Danny and Tucker just come clean or do they milk the idea of them being aliens for all it's worth? (4) Add in a few strange, but perfectly normal for them, things they do that have people scratching their heads and make the assumption even worse/more irrefutable. This includes the unexplainable eye shine Tim discovered.

✦

(1) Paulina became a supermodel and is coveted for her striking eye color and beautiful complexion. Dash became a coach for a well known college in Metropolis, while Kwan became a fitness trainer and sponsor for health related items that actually work, also partnered with the college Dash coaches at. Sam became a notorious environmental activist and is the enemy of many companys who are determined to turn the world into a toxic wasteland. With the help of Danny's parents, she's found many eco-friendly chemical compounds that dissolve many of the toxic substances damaging ecosystems around the world. Etc, etc.

(2) Ectoplasm exposure has made everyone a bit more territorial over the town, including their protectors. They don't need outside heroes/organizations interfering with their work and don't/won't take kindly to the sudden interest hero organizations gain over them and their strange little town. That hasn't worked out too well with other government sanctioned organizations in the past and they don't want a repeat, thank you.

(3) Maybe Team Phantom even established themselves right around the same time or even before the Justice League was formed and they just flew under the radar until now. Maybe Amity Parkers feel a bit superior due to their seniority in having an excellent team in the know about the supernatural/non-human side of the world/universe? Who knows? You pick! Amity Park has been through a lot by themselves, so it's no shocker if they have an extreme amount of solidarity towards those they call their own.

(3 cont'd) Also! Since Amity Park has become so rich and saturated in ectoplasm over the years, they were eventually annexed/became an outside part of the Ghost Zone. Jack and Maddy are border patrol and any ghosts coming through need a passport now. Amity Park is basically a vacation hub for ghosts? Ghosts can freely roam the streets, they just don't wreak havoc anymore. That'd basically be terrorizing their fellow citizens at this point anyway and that's a no no. That means jail time with Walker. Amity Parkers also aren't afraid anymore and in fact CAN hit back now. This does not stop the Bat Clan and eventually the Justice League from thinking they're a town full of aliens tho. Some are just more human looking than others. Or they've been on Earth and procreating long enough with humans that their hybrid offspring have also started looking more human, is the ongoing conclusion.

(4) The Anti-Ecto Acts are not an issue here! Team Phantom already dismantled and annihilated the GIW years before they even thought of leaving Amity Park on its own. Before graduating highschool even. Yes, Team Phantom is perfectly self-sufficient and able to handle their own problems and have kept the city-wide ghost infestation pretty isolated outside a few events that were handled quickly and with the world none the wiser. So the world is still pretty ignorant of the existence of ghosts/the Ghost Zone. Would Team Phantom and Amity Park prefer to keep it that way though?

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 2

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

(Things get a bit angsty here for a bit, but don't worry, it gets back to some of the cracky-goodness!)

After allowing himself to relax for a bit and actually letting his muscles loosen for once, Jason rose from the bath and rinsed himself off under a piping hot and strong shower. He finished the rinse off with a flash of cold water to focus back up and made his way to the vanity where there was basic hotel amenities. He attempted to style his hair and after at least drying it, pulled on the fluffiest robe he has felt since he first moved into the manor all those years ago.

Fuck. The family. The Outlaws...

Jason put his face in both his hands and took a deep breath, then allowed his shoulders to slump as he dragged his hands from his face to his sides. He marched in a lazy manor over to the end of the large bed where he flopped face down. Surprisingly, it wasn't as fluffy as he was expecting and he silently thanked whatever force there was that he wouldn't have to resort to sleeping on the floor or a chair for the familiarity. Though, he turned his head to face the windows, that little reading nook looks like I could easily fall asleep there.

No, stop it. Do I remember the Dimensional Code for home?

Jason contemplated. On one hand, it could be useful, on the other, they could have an entirely different category system here. He spent the next however long trying to remember the dimensional code for his Earth and tracing the swirls of purples and greens out the large windows. A knock startled him.

"Jason? Are you decent?" He stood quickly and pulled the robe tighter together, not quite ready to show his autopsy scars to his soul-owner? A literal goddess? He wasn't quite sure what she was yet.

"Uh, yes, come in, I'm covered." He tried to stand casually next to the bed when he had just been sitting, his hands now in his pockets.

"Hi, so one of my aides figured one thing out about the ritual that is somewhat concerning and also something I probably also should have brought up. Mind if we sit at the window?" She strode in and settled herself with a pillow against the window and waited for him to do the same. Once he was settled, she hesitated for a moment before sighing and looking out the window to the haunting site outside.

"The Infinite Realms has another name, one coined from my Earth." She licked her lips before she spoke again. "It's also known as the Ghost Zone. As the dimension between dimensions, it is also where beings known as ghosts, the Restless Dead, Neverborn, Gods, and all sorts of other beings that thrive off a substance known as ectoplasm reside. As such, I am current Queen Regent of Ghosts." She let him think for a moment before turning to him. "That means I can tell when someone is death-touched." Jason froze. "I didn't mention it before because I know it's super personal, but then my aide figured out that the ritual only worked because of the fact you are and especially since you had spent time here-" She cut herself off as his eyes just bugged out larger with every word that spilled from her lips. "Sorry, I just, I'm death-touched too. I haven't died yet, but I have been around death magic, or radiation, or whatever it is, since before conception. I don't know exactly what you went through, but I know it was deeply traumatic. I can have my healers take a look at your soul and see if it's alright because it kinda radiates a bit how traumatic it was." She bit her lip with one hand raised near her chin.

Jason closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw tight and blowing the air harshly out his nose. He fell back against the window, allowing his head to knock against the glass. It was warm, as though the sunlight was gently shining upon it. "Yeah." He croaked. "Yeah, I died." He said softer. "I was dead for roughly six months." He dipped his head forward to block his face with his bangs. "Crawled outta my own grave." He laughed bitterly. "Spent a while wandering, a while more in a coma." He swallowed tickly. "Got picked up by my dad's vindictive ex and trained for a while to be an assassin." He looked up at her, making eye contact. "She dunked me in this pit of magic shit, we call it a Lazarus pit in my dimension. It cures those near death and kills the healthy. Fixed me up the rest of the way, or at least the scars and issues I had pre-death. I got to keep these." He allowed the top of the robe to fall away, showing the tops of the large y-shaped scar that ran the length of his torso. She gasped, both hands coming to cover her mouth, tears began to form in her eyes. She reached out as if to touch them and stopped herself, her face turning determined.

"I, Jazmine Nightingale, High Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms, the Mediator, the Caretaker, and all those other titles." She waved her wrist. "Declare that I will help you however you deem necessary. Whether that be helping your soul, returning you to your dimension, breaking this binding, or whatever. You are currently bound to you, and as such that makes you my responsibilities." She paused in her speech for a moment, thinking. "I mean, you're already technically one of my subjects because I think you qualify as one of the Restless Dead, but we'll figure out your classification when we take you to a healer. For now, it has been a long day. I will have one of my aides come to get your measurements for some clothes, I'm sure we have some around here somewhere that should fit you at least for dinner. The aides can get any style you like and it can be made quickly by the seamstresses we have on staff." At his hesitation she added with a smile, "They work in supernatural means, they will not overwork themselves by making an entire wardrobe in a few hours."

She patted the cushion in front of her and stood. "I will meet you at dinner, it's not formal at all, don't worry about dressing fancy, I'm just still in this getup from 'official queen stuff'" she said with air quotes looking tired. "I'll see you in a bit Jason!"

"Yes, um, your majesty." He stood to bow, the robe making it a bit difficult."

"Just Jazz please, for the love of the Ancients." She said with a pained look on her face.

"Right, sorry," he stammered, straightening, "See you later, Jazz." She smiled softly before leaving him to himself. He smacked his hand to his face groaning at himself before flopping face-first into the bed again. "She's the ruler of the dead and she's so determined and nice, what the actual hell? She's so earnest, it's so cute!" he sat up leaning his elbow on his knee. "Okay, operation Romance Plot is go. She isn't put off by the fact you died, this is good, I can work with this. Okay, so castle, let's go with that aesthetic. I'm thinking let's go with a poet shirt and some black slacks for dinner tonight." He claps his hands in front of him, decision made.

As if summoned by his words, there was another knock at the door. A man with bright sky blue skin and a deep plum butler's uniform opened the door, a measuring tape casually thrown over his shoulders.

"Yes, hello good sir. What aesthetic are we thinking for this evening?" he said in a posh accent.

Jason clasped his hands together. "What should I call you? Would you possibly have a poet's shirt and a pair of black formal slacks for this evening?"

"You may call me Jeeves. Yes that Jeeves. I am the personification of the trope of the helpful butler, and as such my power set includes anything and everything that could help me complete the duties of head butler of the High Family's home. We absolutely do have that attire on hand, it would be but a moment for someone to fetch it for us. Now did you have any ideas about future attire?" Jeeves snapped his fingers and a skeleton manifested in a swirl of dust to obey his silent command to gather the requested clothing.

Jason paused for a moment, considering. "How does the Queen usually dress casually around the castle? I know she said she was from an Earth. I don't know where in the timeline her Earth is from and she mentioned that what she was wearing earlier was mostly for special occasions, so I don't want to look like an idiot." He explained.

"Very good sir, she typically dresses in either a less formal toga if she's to be seen anywhere near the public areas of the castle, her armor whilst sparring with her knights, the High Princes and Princess, and if she is only going between her room and study then her far less formal Earth clothing which is a long sleeved blouse and lightwash jeans, typical of the late 1990's and early 2000's."

Jason thought for a moment. He didn't know how long he would be stuck here, but decided that clothes enough to last a fortnight should work. For all he knew, time flowed differently between here and his home dimension. Decision made, he told the butler what he wanted. Measurements were taken, the skeleton arrived with the requested clothes and Jason was left to change into his clothes for the evening. He still is wearing his combat boots because he forgot to ask for a pair of shoes.

Once changed, he realized that he still probably had a bit before dinner and he walked over to one of the bookshelves browsing the titles. There were several classics that he recognized, his favorite, Pride and Prejudice, was there. There were a few as well with Jane Austen's name, but not titles he recognized. He decided to come back to those later and pulled what looked like a collection of fairy tales from the shelf then settled himself lounging in the window nook to read for the next few hours.

[suzukiblu]

If you feel up for it, for the writing meme prompt, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, with the song You And Me by Lifehouse? If it's not your thing I totally get it though and hope you have a great time and fun writing the things that do catch your fancy!

I think we ALL knew that I was gonna do baby Kon for this, lbr. Also ngl, this came out way more cracky than the prompt would suggest it should've but it is absolutely my favorite thing I’ve written for this meme so far, as the necessity for the following cut should help attest, haha.

Unfortunately, Lex takes one look at Cadmus’s progress report on the newly-crafted Experiment Thirteen and realizes he has paternal instincts. 

Well, that’s inconvenient. And a little disgusting, honestly. Certainly a disappointment. 

He supposes it could be worse. He could be Lionel about this. 

Anyway, that’s how he has a physiological four year-old on his lap when he hears the news about Superman coming back to life and fistfighting an evil cyborg with his own face about it, because of course the man didn’t have the decency to just stay dead. Why would he, after all? 

Lex needs a drink. That would be a bad example for the physiological four year-old, though. 

Then again, Experiment Thirteen should be completely immune to the effects of Earth-based alcohol in about another four to six months of consistent yellow sun exposure, so . . . 

Lex is halfway through his second brandy when Superman shows up on his balcony at super-speed wearing a very pretentiously dramatic black suit and looking both winded and bewildered. And still alive, unfortunately. 

“Don’t you have a murderous cyborg to be ensuring is in custody?” Lex asks dryly, deciding to just not acknowledge the presence of the physiological four year-old who’s moved on to messily but methodically coloring on the floor underneath his desk. Lex didn’t actually give Experiment Thirteen either a coloring book or crayons, mind, but he appreciates the clone’s resourcefulness in breaking into the office supplies. Anyway, it’s useful for developing its hand-eye coordination and fine motor control. 

Superman’s pupils are pin-pricks, barely even there at all. Which is an unusual reaction from him, and Lex notes that fact reflexively but doesn’t particularly care about it. Meant-to-be-dead people do unusual things, especially the alien ones. And it isn’t as if–

“Baby,” Superman blurts, his eyes wide. 

Lex . . . pauses. Takes a slow sip of his brandy. 

Alright then. 

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” he settles on eventually, raising an eyebrow at him. Experiment Thirteen peers out from under the desk, immediately decides Superman isn’t an interesting presence, and then goes back to coloring all over Lex’s floor. It seems to be drawing either a puppy or a chain of complex genetic sequencing, but judging by the kinds of things it’s been drawing so far, it’s fifty-fifty. Lex has been getting the impression the clone actually likes art, which is a baffling interest to find in his own progeny, but how does that quote go . . . “I am a warrior, so that my son may be a merchant, so that his son may be a poet”? 

Or something like that, anyway. 

“No, I–baby,” Superman stresses, looking bewildered as he floats down a little closer to the open balcony door. 

“. . . yes, I’ve noticed,” Lex repeats, raising his eyebrow again and taking another sip of brandy. Superman looks frazzled, bobbing up a little higher in the air again to get a better view of Experiment Thirteen under the desk. Experiment Thirteen keeps ignoring him in favor of its coloring, displaying no apparent interest in the most powerful uninvited guest in the history of illegal immigration. Lex experiences a moment of overwhelming paternal pride, which is such a bizarre and unanticipated experience that he doesn’t even know what to do with it. 

“Where’d he come from?” Superman asks with a wondering expression. Ugh.

“A cloning lab,” Lex replies dismissively, setting his near-empty glass down on the desk. It’s hardly worth lying about Experiment Thirteen’s origins at this point. He didn’t want to murder everyone in Cadmus to keep the secret. He might need them if there’s an issue with Experiment Thirteen’s genetics later, after all. “We mixed it up a couple weeks ago while you were off wasting everyone’s time being dead."

“You had my baby?” Superman says, tilting in the air and still staring at Experiment Thirteen, as if he's somehow forgotten both how much kryptonite Lex owns and how much kryptonite he keeps specifically in this office. “While I was dead. You had my baby while I was dead.” 

. . . alright then, Lex thinks again, both eyebrows raising this time. 

“I really wouldn’t put it that way, personally,” he says. “Also, I don’t recall saying it was in any way yours.”

“Baby,” Superman repeats inanely, then lands on the floor and ducks down into a crouch to peer under the desk better, his pupils still reduced to barely-there pinpricks. Lex is so mystified he doesn't even activate the security system or the weaponized red sun lamps. Experiment Thirteen frowns at Superman–Lex, again, basks in unanticipated paternal pride–and then turns its back on him and hides all its drawings from him as seriously and carefully as if they were under NDA. 

It's almost adorable, frankly. 

Not that Lex finds things adorable, of course. 

“His heartbeat's so cute,” Superman says, looking absolutely fascinated. Which is surprisingly useful of him to mention, actually, since Lex had previously been vaguely concerned that Experiment Thirteen's odd thrumming heartbeat might be a sign of a heart defect, but apparently it’s just a Kryptonian thing. A . . . “cute” Kryptonian thing, according to Superman. 

Lex is increasingly mystified by this interaction. 

“Can’t say I’ve spent much time listening to it, personally,” he lies, because he has in fact obsessed over that heartbeat’s health and stability since first finding out about its unusualness and has done a truly aggravating amount of research into heart murmurs and conditions and the like. But that’s hardly Superman’s business, now is it. 

“. . . what’s his name?” Superman asks hesitantly. Lex is possibly having an out of body experience. 

“Experiment Thirteen,” he says. Superman immediately looks offended. 

“We need to give him a name, Lex,” he says. Lex, again, has an out of body experience. 

“‘We’?” he repeats incredulously. “I made it, I get to decide what it’s called.” 

“He’s got my DNA!” Superman protests, looking indignant. Lex has absolutely no idea how to process that expression. 

“It has both our DNA, in fact, yours was too irritating to stabilize alone,” Lex informs him dubiously. More accurately it was literally impossible to stabilize alone, but he’s not mentioning that to Superman. “So it has my DNA, and I made it. And also put eight point two billion dollars into its production, as a lowball estimate. Therefore I’m the one who decides what its name is, thank you very much.” 

“Lex,” Superman says disapprovingly. “You can’t call a baby Experiment Thirteen.” 

“It’s physiologically developed enough to complain if it doesn’t like it,” Lex retorts, narrowing his eyes at him. Superman frowns at him. Lex has never had a more ridiculous conversation with the man, including all the times Superman’s tried to appeal to his nonexistent “better nature”. “Well it is.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Superman says, then ducks back down and peers at Experiment Thirteen again, gentling his voice to address it while Lex is still incredulously mouthing “ridiculous”? to himself. “Would you like a real name, kiddo?” 

Experiment Thirteen sticks its tongue out at him. 

Lex is finding parenthood to be a very rewarding experience, actually. 

[firenati0n]

2024 writing round up!

thank you for the tags @kiwiana-writes @cha-melodius @alasse9 :) <3

i posted 19 fics this year (whoa) ranging from 932 words to 54,284 words. wild! all were for RWRB! yay firstprince! :)

JANUARY

too scared to post shit after writing worm fic in december

FEBRUARY

An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat (T, 5k) henry needs to make something for alex's friendsgiving and comes across a thirst trapping headless food tiktoker. i wonder who it could be. deranged tiktok comments, friends to lovers

people ruin people, i don't wanna ruin you (M, WIP, 6.8k, 4/9 chapters) - this was posted anonymously until august) alex is a washed up singer, henry is his new pet project. and maybe something more. musician firstprince, v loose a star is born x greek mythology au, icarus!alex, collaborators to lovers

MARCH

each time we touch / i wanna take too much (M, 1.3k) alex puts his fingers in henry's mouth. mhm yep that's it.

keep me up all night / i wanna scratch your surface  (M, 1.4k) alex is so in love he could die. puts his mouth on other places. prose-y loverboy alex.

cause you're classic, and i'm reckless (T, 5.4k) alex and henry are costars, henry offers to help alex with intimacy research. actor au, kissing for practice leads to kissing for real, inspired by ryan gosling and rachel mcadams at the 2005 mtv movie awards, costars to lovers

who truly stuck the knife in first (M, 3.7k) alex and henry are spy partners. a mission goes sideways and they fight and fuck about it. sexually charged wrestling, partners to lovers

APRIL

and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life (T, 9999 words) angel!henry watches over lawyer!alex invisibly until one day alex sees him. now what? loose city of angels au, pining yearning longing galore, wee bit of angst with a happy ending, introspection

MAY

who would've thought that a guy like henry would double as a superstar?  (T, 6.4k) hannah montana au, crack treated seriously, henry is hannah montana and alex works at a ranch. a hot damn mess.

JUNE

busy writing and posting proposal au! :)

JULY

the full spectrum of human emotion (M, 54k) editor!henry gets assistant!alex to marry him to avoid deportation. but wait! alex hates henry! oops. the proposal (2009) au, marriage of convenience, fake dating, romantic comedy, banter and big feelings

AUGUST

you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be (T, 7.7k) angel!henry sequel, henry learning what it means to be human, very tender and full of musings on humanity and love and the little things in life

the leaves of a silver maple (assorted, 13k) collection of short standalone prompt fics for my fic fest (some of my favorite fics ever exist in this collection and they're so buried jfalksjlf)

prompt one - wicked E | 2.6k | au, sims family, fluff laced with a little crack. as a treat. henry finds something rather...wicked on alex's laptop. prompt two - sweaters T | 1k | canon-verse, fluffy, sweet, sharing clothes alex steals henry's sweater, and henry gets back at him. prompt three -  magic T | 5.2k | kiki's delivery service (studio ghibli, 1989) au, magic au, high school au, warlock!henry, baker!alex, sweet, tender, emotional, found family a tender little exploration of love, purpose, healing, and a warlock!henry finding baker!alex.  prompt four -  comfort T | 2.6k | roommate au, sickfic, hurt/comfort, taking care of each other, mutual pining, fluff, domesticity, pride & prejudice (2005) refs, first kiss, getting together three times henry took care of alex and one time alex took care of henry. prompt five - wicked once more M | 500 words | au, sims family, cracky fluff, accidental sims mpreg alex is being a menace once again in The Sims. prompt six - apron M | 200 words | au, silly, apron shenanigans henry is wearing an apron. and nothing else.  prompt seven - goodbye T | 200 words | the good place au, bittersweet alex and henry say goodbye. prompt eight - father T | 300 words | post-canon, a tinge of grief, hope henry reflects on grief.

SEPTEMBER

i like the way you blush / i like the way you bite (M, 932) henry puts his fingers in alex's mouth

OCTOBER

flip the switch and let the cauldron bubble (T, 2.7k) kiki's delivery service au sequel, warlock!henry and baker!alex and the many potions that heal them

about to bust-elo (M, 2k) alex tries Café Bustelo Instant Espresso and has a hell of a day. inspired by my fuckass coffee habits.

feeling your heart beating, wondering what you're dreaming (M, 5.7k) five times childhood best friends alex and henry share a bed platonically, and the one time (of many) they do as something more, childhood friends to lovers, one bed, pining, fluffy and tender

from all the pain our brain has made, the game is not played alone (G, 1.4k) alex has a long day and a terrible headache, and henry comforts him

NOVEMBER

brain break

DECEMBER

london's so nice, back in your seamless rhymes (T, 7.4k) alex and henry fall in love—five days a week, four bus routes, three pseudo-dates, two holiday markets, and one red scarf of fate later. strangers to friends to lovers, meet-cute, london buses, fluffy and fun

if the city never sleeps, then that makes three (T, 1.4k) london bus meet-cute universe part 2. alex and henry have a movie night and learn some things about each other and the people they thirst over

i looked into your eyes, got such a great surprise (M, 1.6k) london bus meet-cute universe part 3. alex and henry go on a walk and do some reflecting on love and happiness. fluffy and funny and sweet.

-

and that's a wrap! what a year! so grateful for everyone who read and commented and subscribed and engaged...it means so much to me. i have really leaned on this community while navigating rough waters, and deeply love all the friends and connections i have made. sending everyone a lot of love!

xoxo roop

open tag and a few under the cut :)

@ninzied @myheartalivewrites @rmd-writes @tintagel-or-cockleshells @clottedcreamfudge

@anchoredarchangel @dumbpeachjuice @smc-27 @cricketnationrise @everwitch-magiks

@orchidscript @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @run-for-chamo-miles @onward--upward @eusuntgratie

@bigassbowlingballhead @leaves-of-laurelin @porcelainmortal @getmehighonmagic @blueeyedgrlwrites

@suseagull5914 @judasofsuburbia @seths-rogens @caterpills @violetbaudelaire-quagmire

@onthewaytosomewhere @indestructibleheart @sophie1973 @fairflowered @incalamity

@smugvillanelle @anincompletelist @wordsofhoneydew @itsmaybitheway @whimsymanaged

@miss-minnelli @zwiazdziarka @sherryvalli @msmarvelouswinchester @thesleepyskipper

@thedramasummer @priincebutt @14carrotghoul @kj-bee @welcometololaland

@miharaikko @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

[mousydentist]

For reverse trope prompts: I feel like fake amnesia could be super cracky and/ or angsty for kimchay post-breakup. Kim pretending to lose his memory to see if Chay will give him a second chance, OR to try to push Chay further away. Chay using fake amnesia to see how Kim reacts if he thinks Chay doesn't remember getting his heart broken. Or Chay doing it just to fuck with Kim's head for a few mins as payback lol.

ok tysm for the ask and sorry this took a while i probably shouldnt have opened asks right before a three hour exam hdjdjd BUT here it is and. this was hard to do in 500 words so i don’t know what this is dhjdhd but i hope you enjoy

It was around noon when Chay got a text from Porsche that had him sprinting for the elevator: You know Kinn’s brother Kim, right? He’s hurt pretty bad. Chay’d been pissed at Kim for a while, of course, but in the wake of it was the fear that he’d never find someone like Kim again, someone he really, really loved, and a desire not to be alone anymore. Truthfully, he’d nearly taken Kim back after he sent the song. At that moment, he’d seen his own loneliness reflected back at him, and his heart ached. But he’d stayed stubborn and refused to forgive Kim, or even acknowledge his existence. He’d tried to pretend he didn’t care for so long - and now, rushing through winding halls to the compound’s infirmary, all he could do was pray it wasn’t too late. Porsche was right, Kim was in bad shape. His unconscious body was connected to a dozen wires and monitors, and his head was covered in a large wrap that had been bled through.  Chay said nothing as he took a post next to Kinn, and in return, Kinn didn’t ask. They stayed vigil for several hours before Kim finally showed signs of life. Kinn immediately called for the doctor when Kim blinked his eyes open, glancing blearily around the room. When he locked onto Chay, his brows furrowed.  Chay stood close to him, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Hi.” The crease in his brow got larger. “Who…?” Chay’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t have time to investigate further before the doctor came back with Kinn and started a volley of questions at Kim. “And do you know who this is?” “My brother, Kinn.” “Great, and the other person?” Kim squinted at Chay’s face. “Am I supposed to know you?” Chay bit the inside of his cheek in an effort not to cry, or throw up, or something else that wouldn’t be helpful. “I’m Porchay.” Kim seemed to understand something then, and for a second Chay thought he might have remembered, but then he said, “Nice to meet you, Porchay.” Chay really did try to listen to the doctor when she pulled him and Kinn aside, but he only heard bits and pieces like “short-term amnesia” and “brain damage” and a bunch of other horrible things. He did hear when she said he’d need to stay under observation for the next few days, and decided maybe this was the universe’s way of telling him to start over with Kim. That night, Chay told Kinn to go sleep in his own bed, that he’d watch over Kim and let him know if anything happened. Chay could tell he needed it, especially when he watched how the man drag himself out of the room. Chay refilled Kim’s water and threw a pillow to one side of the loveseat he’d be sleeping on.  “Psst, psst.” Chay turned around, and sure enough, Kim was waving him over conspiratorially. “How was that?” “Uh…” “Do you think he bought it?” Kim whispered like he was sharing a secret. “What are you talking about?” Chay squinted at him. “Do you think Kinn believed that I didn’t know you?” “Wh- you remember me?” Chay screeched, only feeling half bad when Kim cringed in pain. “Kim, why on earth would I want you to pretend you didn’t know me? He knows we’ve met!” Kim shrugged as much as he seemed to be able to. "I asked if I was supposed to know you." Chay let his face fall into his hands as he flopped to the ground, all the stress and grief of the day finally leaving his body as he cried. “Sorry,” Kim muttered, and Chay just laughed. What the fuck was his life. He did stay with Kim that night, and he spent a lot of it on the floor next to him with Kim’s hand locked in his own.

[kim's texts] Kinn: Did you pretend to have amnesia so Porchay would forgive you? Me: excuse me Me: it’s not my fault he assumed i had amnesia Me: i was drugged and delirious i didn’t know what i was saying Kinn: Whatever you say

(from a reverse trope ask game)

[tenyearsoftrash]

Ten Years of HTP: A Celebration

Hi all, I (@eatingcroutons) set up this blog with all sorts of intentions about preparation and promotion and then Life Things Happened, but I'm still hoping to go forward with the idea of encouraging some nostalgia and memory-sharing about the last ten years of the HYDRA Trash Party.

The aim here is to be more of a celebration of community rather than your typical prompt fest - if you're looking for prompts for fanworks you might want to check out the @catws-anniversary that has just kicked off and will run until the 4th of April, or of course refer back to the Trash Meme itself!

So for this blog's purposes, feel free to post informal thoughts and musings and ramblings, and to comment on each other's memories - this is all about our shared history and nostalgia, and the idea is for it to be an open dialogue and celebration of community. A few points on logistics:

Anonymous asks and submission are open on this blog if you'd prefer not to participate under a named account. We all know how hostile certain corners of fandom have become to darkfic and adjacent content.

For all the themes below self-recs are also very welcome, if you want a chance to show off something you made years ago that hasn't gotten much attention in a while!

Go ahead and tag this blog at @tenyearsoftrash for a reblog of anything you post about the below themes!

All that said, here are some suggested themes and ideas to get you thinking and reminiscing:

April 4: Rewatch CA:TWS!

Take yourself right back to where it all began! With too many people across too many timezones we're not going to even try to organise a massive synchronised groupwatch, but maybe you could get a few of your old-school HTP buddies together to do a smaller one? In any case: fire up the movie, relive all the feels, and share any HTP-related thoughts that come (back) to mind after all these years!

April 5: Fanwork Recs

Go back and dig up some links to your favourite HTP fanworks - whether big or small, well-known or niche, what are the works that have really rewritten your brain chemistry, and stuck with you all this time? What was it about them that hit just the right spot? Feel free to share your thoughts on Tumblr - and to go back and drop a nostalgic comment on anything on AO3 😉

April 7: Meta Recs

Over the years there's been a lot of meta associated with HTP, from discussions of what CA:TWS and HYDRA represent in a broader social context, to endless back-and-forth about darkfic's place in fandom. Are there any posts that really made you think, or that remain relevant even now? Is there anything that came out of those meta discussions that has turned out to be particularly prescient, in hindsight?

April 8: HTP Fanon

What are your favourite bits of shared or personal fanon around HTP and its related concepts? Are there any Original Characters you're particularly fond of? Any particular tropes regarding characters or events that you will never get tired or bored of? Any ideas that might seem cracky on the surface but which you are totally into regardless?

April 8: Other Media/Fandoms

We've all had those moments where we've come across something in a new canon and immediately been like, "Oh, this is delicious trash bait," right? What other media has had a "Bucky Barnes Obediently Accepts The Bite Block" moment for you? What other characters might your fellow HTP friends enjoy as interesting targets for Trash Party Shenanigans? In what fandoms have you found yourself running into an awful lot of familiar HTP faces?

April 9: WIP Amnesty

Do you have any HTP fanworks that you never finished, or never got around to starting, for whatever reason? Now's your excuse to talk about them! Feel free to ramble about what your plans would have been, lament why they're never going to happen, or share some of those great ideas you never quite had time to plot out. Or, if you're feeling particularly inspired, go back and actually finish something off!

April 10: HTP Community Memories

To finish off the week let's talk about the community itself! What have been the good times, the interesting times, any times that have been personally significant to you, for any reason? What things have you experienced or shared or understood with or through or because of the HTP community? What new friends have you made over the years, and what old friends do you miss?

---

Apologies again for taking some time to getting around to making this post, but hopefully people will still be interested in doing some reminiscing!

[britcision]

Thinking about how people keep pushing AI as a “well not everyone can [creative skill]” and I just… I don’t understand how they don’t see the problem with that

Because no one’s born good at drawing, or writing, or building 3D models

The whole point of having creative skills is that you need to learn how to do them. By doing them badly, often for quite a while, until you’ve tried enough things to work out what you like

And being able to word a prompt to an AI to actually get what you want is certainly a skill, and it’s certainly creative, but you’re never going to learn to draw, or write, or whatever else you’re bemoaning if you just want to push a button and get a result

And sure, it’s not like we’re going to completely run out of creatives; people with moral fibre are still going to avoid using the blatant theft that is generative AI, and will still be actually creating their own things and building skills

But if you advertise your AI and intentionally sell it to people as “hey don’t learn to draw you can just poke this button and say it’s close enough”… you’re actively discouraging people from actually trying anything

Your first attempts at any art aren’t going to look like a master’s. You’re going to be unsatisfied with your own skills over and over again, usually right before you make a drastic improvement

That’s just how creation works

And giving up and trying to make an AI do it for you instead of keeping trying and actually learning and building new skills is going to kill a lot of peoples’ creativity

It’s okay if you can’t draw as well as you’d like to. It’s okay if you can’t write a beautiful novel on the first try, or even the little oneshot you really want.

You’re going to make a lot of things that are bad, and a lot of things that are meh, and a lot of things you’ll be embarrassed you made in another ten years. Because you need to make all of those things before you can make something great, and because you need to understand that everything you think was bad and meh was pretty damn good for a beginner, and some of it will be great, and in another fifteen years you’ll see that too.

You will not become a better artist by switching to AI because it’s “easier”. You will not become a better writer by writing prompts instead of stories.

Every time you’re tempted because “the AI’s will look better than anything I make”, you are the only reason that statement is true. You might redraw your old pieces every year just to see how far you’ve come, or bury them never to be seen again, but you’re the only person limiting your creativity.

People make art with typewriters, and by throwing things at a canvas, and write single scenes and cracky one shots and snippets and round robins

Trust me, every artist you’ve ever admired knows exactly how hard, and frustrating, and time consuming it is to try and get an image from your brain into the outside world. And how many times you want to give up, or feel like you failed.

Your favourite artist has trashed a thousand pieces you would love to have seen because they weren’t good enough, or didn’t work out the way they wanted

(Yes, artists, the WIP folder gathering dust counts unless you go work on it right now)

A lot of creative efforts don’t see the light of day, and every single one goes into every single piece that does get shared

I’d love to be better at drawing! To be faster, have a better grasp at proportions and perspective and honestly to have more patience for shading and such instead of just grabbing the blur tool because it’s close enough

But those skills are underdeveloped, and are going to stay that way because the time it’d take to get good at drawing would be time I could spend writing, and that is where the demons in my soul got their hooks in first

So now, after twenty years of near-continuous work, I can write very quickly, very fluidly, and damn well… and don’t have the patience or time to try and push the same inspirations into a medium I’m less good at

(I do occasionally become possessed by an image strongly enough that I draw it anyway. I do this knowing going in that it’s going to be far from perfect, but it’ll be the best I’ve got right now)

(Also reading art tutorials and tips from great artists for 20 years does also help even if you don’t practice and I have the doodles to prove it)

And if I want a visual reference for a character… I use HeroForge to make one myself, because there are a billion creative tools that offer so much more control than just “prompt an AI until it works”

They’re not perfect, but they’re the best I can do

And if I keep doing it, and keep building those skills, that best is gonna get better and better

I’m getting better at drawing the more I give in to moments of inspiration

It’s going to take much longer, since I’m not doing it every single day (every year is still questionable), but it’ll still happen as I keep doing it

The only thing stopping everyone else from doing exactly the same is the refusal to try… and giving up on themselves and just using AI instead of trying something different

[meetinginsamarra]

update july 2024

sorted by word count/series

———————

Mutual Attraction 94k , pre ASiP, different first meetings, casefic, pining

The day when a homeless drug addict and a suicidal ex-soldier met was the beginning of something until then unheard-of: Mutual Attraction. Of course, not all was what it looked like in the first place but the days of boredom, loneliness and lack of purpose were history. A case had to be solved, lives had to be saved and a developing relationship had to be tackled.

———————

Here I Am -series, the pornwithoutplot which evolved into pornwithplot with feels and whump

The Toe that didn´t belong 6.9k, Part One

Every time John thought back to the occasion the funny thing was that the first thing he had noticed to be out of place had been a…toe.

The Embers still glow when I´m sober 14,5k, Part Two

When Sherlock woke up the morning after he actually felt good. Which was completely unexpected. Although he was sort of anxious about John´s reaction when he would notice that the punk who did not belong in his bed and who had coaxed him into having shameless sex last night was still there.

Gravity is missing from everything 23.5k, Part Three

People bumped into him, cussing and throwing death glares. Blocking their way, Sherlock stood frozen in a throng of commuters. “Are you high?” one shouted into his vacant face. Funnily enough he actually was not. This was all John´s fault. Inflicting a date on him. To have dinner.

———————

Learn My Scars, 38k, written for whumptober 2022, Serbia and the aftermath

After being thrown down and strangled, Sherlock leaves John in the restaurant, angry and deeply hurt. When John follows Sherlock to 221b, he learns that Sherlock’s scars have not been acquired by “gallivanting around” for two years.

———————

The 13th Book 26.5k,  a magical realism AU with demon Sherlock

Summoning a demon was actually quite simple if you could avoid getting killed in the process. Therefore, only the powerful, the desperate or the stupid would attempt it. John Watson was likely the first, definitely the second but hopefully not one of the third kind.

———————

Wretched and Divine – series punklock and doctor John

Wretched and Divine 5.1k, Part One

Dr. John Watson is on call at the A&E when he attempts to treat a very special patient. Instead he finds himself a very special treat.

The Aftermath is Secondary 19.5k, Part Two

Will John and Sherlock really go on the agreed date in the infamous punkrock club “The Misfit”? Will their sexual tension finally be resolved? Is it really going to be dangerous? And will Sherlock really wear the promised fishnet top? (Oh God, yessss!)

———————

Sherlock’s Secret Laboratory Journal 6k, my outlet for writing cracky hilarious Sherlock, will become a series with adding a chapter for each new experiment

What does a helplessly pining but absolutely clueless Sherlock do in order to woo an oblivious John? He turns to the internet for advice on the art of seduction and notes the experiments in his secret laboratory journal.

Oyster and Mushroom Soup 9k, Sherlock’s latest attempt at seduction, Part 2 of the Secret Lab Journal series

Sherlock’s second try to win over John involves a lot of special cooking recipes.

——————

White Pony Tattoo 10.8k, different first meeting AU in a tattoo shop, happy Johnlock ending, written for calaisreno's may prompts 2024

John Watson needs a tattoo covered up. Sherlock Holmes of "White Pony Tattoo" is one of the best artists in London. He's also difficult and brilliant and beautiful as John is about to find out.

——————

The Perfect Place 10k, different first meeting AU, a cringefest with lots of fun and happy Johnlock ending, a.k.a. The Bed Shop Boys AU, written for calaisreno's may prompts 2024

Sherlock needs a flatmate and already has the perfect person in mind. Now he only needs to convince his object of desire to move in and also find out if he desires Sherlock as well.

——————

Slowly Suffocating 9.5k, TLD fix-it, written for whumptober 2023

Getting suffocated took some time. Enough time for Sherlock to ponder what went wrong. Hopefully also long enough for John to arrive and rescue him. Culverton Smith applied more pressure, impatient to turn Sherlock into a dead thing.

———————

Winning a lost bet 8.2k, pole-dancing at the XMas party

A lost bet makes Sherlock and John perform a pole-dance in costumes at the Yard´s Christmas party. It was supposed to be humiliating but instead the couple nailed it.

———————

Until the final breath escapes 1.9k, spooky Halloween fic

In a world turned hostile they hold onto their love until the final breath escapes.

———————

Sherlock Ficlets for Writing Challenges series/collection of my ficlets of under 1000 words

[star-going-supernova]

Tumblr generated prompt number 50! This is a short one, and verging on cracky, but hopefully it makes you laugh!

Patch Notes: Fixed Wall Solidity Issues This Time For Sure

“Gregory! There you are!” Freddy slowed to a stop beside the boy, who was staring up at a clock on the wall. The tracker in his Faz-Watch had not shown any movement in the past five minutes. “What are you doing?”

“Is that clock broken?” Gregory asked.

Freddy examined it. The thin seconds arm ticked steadily around the face. “No, it seems to be working as it should.”

“Cool cool cool. Just. The minute hand hasn’t moved since I started staring at it.”

With a frown, Freddy turned his attention inwards. Hm. He could have sworn he had first noticed Gregory’s uncharacteristic stillness at 2:30 a.m. precisely. But even though he knew it had been more than five minutes since then, his internal clock still read as 2:30 a.m.

He said as much, and then they both watched as the seconds hand passed the twelve at the top and began a new revolution. The minute hand still did not move, and this clock also read as exactly 2:30 a.m. Gregory checked his watch to find it was similarly frozen.

“Strange,” Freddy said. And then they sat there for another few minutes, to no avail. All three time-keepers never progressed past 2:30 a.m.

“I noticed time felt really weird,” Gregory said after a while. “Sometimes, I felt like I was running around for hours, but only fifteen minutes had passed. Or the other way around. Like, I barely did anything, but an hour had gone by.”

Freddy wished he could say he had not experienced such a strange phenomenon. Instead, he admitted, “No matter how much distance is between us when you call for me, it never takes longer than thirty seconds for me to arrive. I am fast, superstar, but not that fast.”

“Huh. Huh.” Gregory began to pace restlessly. “Now that you mention it, when the stupid STAFF bots catch me, one of the others is almost always suddenly right there. But I know they weren’t before that.”

“I… cannot explain this.”

“Yeah,” Gregory said with a sigh. He stopped to slump back against the wall. “Neither can—ah!”

Freddy blinked rapidly as Gregory appeared to fall through the wall, flailing as he vanished and leaving Freddy alone. In the span of five seconds, he ran a systems diagnostic check, refreshed his memory, and examined the code in his eyes for any anomalies that would lead to “hallucinations.” But no, there was nothing.

“G-Gregory?!”

[annabawritersdream]

for the WIP ask game! 🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

Thank you for the ask! ☺️

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

So...I thought I'd share a little snippet from a one-shot I've been writing for my Writing Exercise.

It features Mírion and Éowyn (Wyn), the two oldest Elenwë children. I'm not sure whether it's actually fun (I'm good at writing sad stuff and I'm still learning to write comedy/humor, but it's the best my brain could come up with)

VALARIN WORDS

Abi: older brother

İyi mısın?: are you alright?

Kardeşim: baby Brother/sister (in the case, sister)

EXCERPT FROM WHY, ERU, WHY!?

“They will soon start again.” “Who are you talking about?” “Mother and Father. They have been having relations all night for days on end. May Eru help my poor ears.” “Is this why you can’t sleep?” He nodded. “I’d rather have my head split in half than being forced to endure yet another…” He was interrupted by giggling sounds. “Oh, no…oh, no…” Wyn’s eyes widened. “Are they awake already?” “They were enjoying their nightly routine before you came in here.” “Right before you nearly killed me? They were awake and…” “Yes, Wyn. They were clearly trying to conceive another baby for us to look after.” “It has been what? Ten minutes?” “I would say so.” “How long did they…?” “A few hours at the very least. Why do you think I’m so exhausted?” “Don’t get me wrong, I think it is very romantic, but…” “Romantic!? It’s disgusting.” “As I said earlier, they’re married.” “I know, Wyn. I am not saying they should not have relations. I only think they should be more discreet about it.” Soon the giggles turned into loud moans again. Mírion took a deep breath. “You too can hear them, can you not?” Wyn stared at him, her mouth agape. “Oh…” “I wish you could see your face, kardeşim. It is a shame I gifted Finnie the only mirror I had.” “It truly is terrifying, Abi. From what I have learned, it should not hurt, but…” “How do you know that? I am still wondering how…” “Olórin told me.” Mírion frowned and rubbed his fingers as he smothered a coughing fit, his lips pursed. Wyn poured him some water and gently patted him on his back. “İyi misin, Abi?” Mírion glanced at her as he sipped his drink. “You…” “I had questions and Olórin was kind enough to answer them.” “I hope you did not discuss the whole…” “We spoke of the Children of the Ilúvatar and we also had a very informative talk concerning procreation.” “You…and Olórin.” “Right.” “You and…our father’s herald met to exchange views on…procreation.” “Not exactly. He educated me on it.” “I beg your pardon?” “I asked him how children are created and he explained it to me.” A flabbergasted Mírion pursed his lips and brushed a hand over his face. “I…I need some air.”

I am also tagging two other people who had suggested prompts for my Writing Challenge: @saurongorthaur9 and @lucifers-legions

The full one-shot will of course be posted on AO3 when it's ready (I am working on it, please be patient with me, you know I am a slow writer). I also have more things coming up, so...be on the lookout for random stuff in the coming weeks and months. @emmanuellececchi you are included as well! I hope you like it and thank you again for the ask!

[crownonacat]

Prompt: Zip

(Or otherwise how to speed run all ascian bullshit without gaining crippling depression from losing friends

Or otherwise How to Make an Ass out of an Ascian

Or otherwise This Time White Moves First)

-

For context I wanted to write a cracky sort of what would happen if all the WoLs from people I know were to end up in I guess canon(?) ffxiv way back in the beginning? Specifically after Endwalker halfway into their time off before dawntrail WoLs so this is wholly self indulgent and features a lot of friends OCs just for fun

Also featuring a fix-it just cause and also for fun and profit (and also to drive the Ascians up the wall)

Spoilers: For the whole game until EW; this is technically part 1 I will be writing more as I go and then post it on AO3 maybe later cause this got uh Long

(Also do you know the feeling of losing all your formatting cause you wrote everything on your phone yeah ;-;)

Clow wakes up with an awful taste in his mouth and with the feeling like Titan had decided to sit directly on top of his head. If that wasn't enough to tell him he's not wheres he's supposed to be, the fact that he's leaned up against a wall in an alley in rags as well as the empty bottles of what is most definitely the cheapest gil can buy in good old Ul'dah with not a weapon or soul stone on him definitely make the case for him. He's also, for some reason, completely barefoot.

He doesn't drink. Not since Nanamo a decade or so ago.

So he'd forgotten, he thought wincing as he put one arm on the wall to at least get himself kneeling if not at least partially off the ground, how much of a bitch hangovers were. And how bloody bright and annoying the sun could be when it felt like a Morbol had passed away inside his mouth.

Right.

--

The Adventurers Guild had sounded like a decent idea as any to figure out how he'd landed up in Ul'dah of all places. Yes, the rags were a bit much, but surely it was all a misunderstanding of some kind or at the very least talking with someone would let him know how he'd ended up here when the last thing he'd remembered was conking out in Garlemald after making a visit to check on the twins.

The sharp look as well as the terrible facsimile of a polite smile on Momodi's face - sign number seven or thereabouts that something has gone horribly, horribly wrong- when he walks into the Adventurer's Guild though give him second thoughts. The sneering Roegadyn two whole fulms taller than him dressed in full set of armor with a sword the length of his torso that gets called over give him more second thoughts. Enough second thoughts that Clow - even with a headache and a sour mouth and no shoes - makes an about face almost immediately and walks through the door faster than he walked in.

Right.

--

He finds himself seated at the alleyway again leaned up against the wall and watching people walk by feeling awful, smelling quite awful, and with no clues whatsoever.

Further investigation among the empty bottles of piss masquerading as drinks turned up bone hora - again the cheapest gil could buy - that had still seemed decent enough and his Adventurer's plate scuffed with dirt but otherwise fine. No shoes though. And surprisingly, or unsurprisingly based on the general trend of awful that this whole morning has been, an empty gil pouch. Namely, his empty gil pouch.

Now.

Clow would never say he's rich in gil. That statement can be made about a great many people he knows and is, rather lovingly, rather terrified of (and what does it say that quite a few of them tend to be about knee height lalafells who looks like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths until you take a second gander at them and see the shark teeth). Not rich however is malms away from not dirt poor. So poor cannot buy shoes poor. Penniless poor.

He does however know how to stop being penniless poor and it's about this moment when a Hyur gladiator walks out of the Adventurers Guild muttering under his breath about not having enough people for a quest - some sort of subjugation for the mines near Horizon.

Clow is not ashamed to admit that he damn near ran the man over trying to get to him fast enough.

--

He has shoes. Sandals really and a new piece of leather armor that will likely help with all the coblyns and the spriggans and the giant jelly that likes the middle floor halfway through Copperbell but shoes.

His tail starts wiggling if he thinks about it too long.

Technically they're both being lent to him by the Hyur who introduces himself eventually as one Meteor "I think" - after screaming which was honestly quite fair, Clow may have been a bit too overzealous in how he'd approached him.

Making his case about being hired on as another adventurer while being hungover and generally awful was something that he worried about after immediately springing the guy, but, turns out headache or no, with enough motivation you can Thunderclap to just about anyone and, turns out, that frightening someone with martial ability to then ask them if they'd be interested in taking him to then use that frightening martial ability to dispatch some coblyns or what have you might be very convincing.

But shoes! And armor!

That he'd be able to get for free along with part of the quest reward!

The joy of clothes and the promise of gil lasts him through the first elevator ride into the mines and through the initial encounters with what is a really angry pack of coblyn. And then he's too busy bring horribly, terribly confused.

See it's not that he'd never visited Copperbell after the whole business with the hecatoncheires. Arguably both Copperbell and Haukke Manor tended to crop up fairly regularly as dispatch requisitions as the mines themselves needed to be kept clear or anything really dangerous for the Miner's Guild to work there and Haukke Manor tended to attract voidsent regularly. Something something void gates wasier to make there something something. But in the case of the mines they'd either have to approach newer sections or go through old previously detonated areas to check if it's clear and he's fairly certain that he'd seen these parts of the mines before despite the fact that there are no signs of detonations anywhere. He dismisses the feeling as a freak case of deja vu in the beginning but as they start to blow up more and more walls with firesand he starts to feel like this is that first requisition all over again.

And then Gyges the Great who should also be the Dead but isn't breaks through a wall with his giant hammer screaming something about being free and he's too busy dodging to focus on the realization that this is the first quest into Copperbell from years and years ago. Which begs a question that Clow forgot to check the answer to because he'd thought the answer was obvious: What the hell is the year?

When they get on one of the mine shaft elevators to go back up to surface he asks. The other two - a Hrothgar conjurer that looks like they desperately need to lie down by the name of Farrah and a Lalafell archer with the name Yaya Yaniya who looks like they're still shaking from their encounter with Gyges - look at him like his mouth is making sounds they don't understand. He doesn't take it personally; Yaya had gotten almost flattened by Gyges' hammer. Frankly he's surprised she's still upright at all.

Meteor says a number in a way that sounds like he's either baffled someone's asking for the year or like he's just as shocked by the number and is still trying to convince himself of the year also. Clow's eyes roll over while trying to contend with the fact he's ten years somewhere else and, he's getting the horrible inkling, someone else.

He's not the one who took the quest from Momodi, Meteor is. From his own adventurers plate - which reads Koh'a Molkot god he's going to need a name change no wonder Momodi had been very confused when he asked for the record for the requisition to be put under Clow instead - he can tell he's not the new adventurer being asked to do missions by the owners of the different Adventurer Guilds across Eorzea, Meteor is. And that means-

He has no idea what that means.

Clow gets paid for his help in the Adventurer's Guild still dazed enough that Momodi's frowning and squinting don't really register.

He asks for a room that's very hesitantly granted to him after a long silence and watches through the inn window as Meteor deals with a merchant and then Thancred in very quick succession - and it is Thancred, or old Thancred with the carefree smile and the daggers instead of the gunblade.

He knows he's staring and the little waggle of fingers and raised eyebrow aimed at him after Meteor ambles off tells him Thancred knows that he'd had an audience but Twelve. Twelve.

Right. Fine.

--

The worst possible thing he could do right now is go to Vesper Bay.

The absolute stupidest thing to do would be to end up in Vesper Bay gawping at the Waking Sands while trying really hard not to gawp at the Waking Sands.

So of course he finds himself a couple minutes later in that very same Vesper Bay after a quick sprint down from Horizon (which forking over gil for that aetheryte travel Sucked but there's a panicked creature in his chest that makes giving it away to get to Vesper Bay as fast as possible the easier thing to do) telling himself that no, going to the Waking Sands when no one knows who he is after the Scions spymaster caught him snooping on a conversation with a potential recruit is a bad, awful, horrible idea. He's very tempted to go against all good sense and do it anyway (when was the last time he saw Papalymo or Minfilia or thought after them in a fashion that wasn't heavily tinted with the guilt of losing them; had he ever really known either of them-) so it's probably for the best that when Y'shtola of all people walks out of the Waking Sands a small hand closes around his wrist and pulls him across the street into the bar nearby.

The relief of managing to get away is larger than the initial suspicion he feels but it doesn't take very long to place the face even if the fact that he can at all just leads to more questions, "...I-uh- Lemons?"

"Hi Clow!" Lemons says brightly, and it is Lemons down to the purple hair and the face tattoo just younger the same way Clow is younger despite the fact they should not be younger let alone in the same universe at all.

"What are you-"

"I have no idea!"

"Oh."

"Yeah!"

"How did you..?"

"The same way as you probably!"

"Right."

"Probably!" Lemons says brightly.

Right.

--

Lemons takes one look at the sad sack of gil he has-

"What happened. "

"I thought you said the same thing that happened to you?"

"Clow I had more than- is that exactly two hundred gil? You had exactly two hundred gil-"

"I had more than two hundred!"

"And-"

"So what you're telling me is you didn't wake up hungover in an alley-"

"Clow-"

- and buys them both a glass of orange juice. And then he buys Clow a sandwich after Clow's stomach remembers that it hasn't eaten today and decides to protest loudly and violently to the general public.

It's after when Clow feels marginally more like a person and Lemons has stopped making faces at him from across the table that Clow gestures vaguely around him, "When did you get here? Or well- how long have you been-"

"About a week or so - I think."

"I think?"

"Well" Lemons hums, "I was half covered in cow intestine when I- landed? I guess?"

"UH-"

"I still had gil on me! And I don't think I was - what's the word - participating?"

"With the cow intestines", Clow says squeakily.

"Yes, with the cow intestines. Kinda difficult to do that when you're tied to a rock. And there were weird chanting guys in hoods. And a giant voidsent statue and- anyway! I found a staff near me so I had a focus but no sword. And y'know how I feel about black magic alone just", Lemons wrinkles his nose before suddenly beaming, "I made it work though!"

Clows nearly too afraid to ask. He feels his mouth open and close a few times before he croaks, "And, how...?"

Lemons smiles sunnily back at him, "You know how if you stab something hard enough-"

And listens in abject horror as Lemons describes what is most undoubtedly the grisly deaths of some cult idiots who'd accidentally ended up with a Warrior of Light as their sacrifice. With sound effects. And hand gestures. Too many hand gestures.

"Anyway then some adventurers came by and they helped wrap up things pretty quickly. After, I hopped on a chocobo carriage to get here because...", Lemons trails off his face turning a little wry as he shrugs. Clow knows the feeling - it's why he was here instead of in the inn he'd gotten for the night. Why he's here even if one of the Scions could catch him gawking outside.

"You wanted to see if they were alright."

"...yeah."

There's a moment of silence between them where they feel a little at a loss; being nearly ten years out of time and out of space would do that.

It's only then that Clow realizes with a weird feeling of the same deja vu he felt earlier in the mines- "Wait, you said cult? And giant voidsent statue? So this all happened in-"

"The Tam-tara Deepcroft yeah. The supposedly no longer cult harboring Tam-Tara Deepcroft", Lemons nods grimly.

Well in for a gil, Clow thinks.

"Did you ever get their names? The adventurers I mean."

"Yeah, why?"

"Were any of them a Hyur by the name of Meteor?"

"Yeah", Lemons said slowly before squinting at him, "Why?"

Right.

--

They leave the bar. For one thing, Lemons' story seemed to have attracted some unneeded attention-

(- "They like my sound effects!"

"We all like your sound effects Lemons."

"More people appreciating my sound effects isn't a bad thing Clow.") and some wide eyed looks from the average passerby. And by that Clow means hes taking pity on the fact that he saw someone hear the way Lemons described just how much viscera he'd had on him and turn green. There was also the problem of whether they had any unaccidental passerby were around;

Clow doesn't want any particular rogues listening in and trying to make more sense of what was spoken than they have already. Also because he's not sure if push came to shove he'd be able to find where Thancred was even if he actively looked. At least by walking away he'd have the benefit of being able to better spot if they had any suspicious incidental listeners.

For another thing talking about the possibility that they're in a place where they could possibly help another person not go through any of the trials and tribulations they went through and stop the near end of the Universe early is probably not something they want to do in a bar filling up with people after a days work. Even if some people don't agree on that being a possibility.

"Listen, I'm not saying its not whats going on. Just- it doesn't make any sense."

Clow sighs, "I never said it made sense. I said that just maybe-"

"I know what you said. Its just- it doesn't make any sense!"

"Still doesn't change the fact that two of the same things that happened to us way back when is now happening to someone else."

"Well", Lemons says at last, "Okay, say it is what you say it is- in a way, this is good right?"

Clow blinks, "What is?"

"Well we have each other instead of, y'know. Not that I mind the whole "being summoned to kill things" thing and then hitting the closest spot for snacks before we just kinda get kicked out-"

"True", Clow says smiling. Lemons grins back before continuing, "And we know what happens- later, right?"

"Yes...?"

"And so we can- you ever just wanted to see what colors their faces could turn?"

"Whose faces?"

Lemons grins and Clow unintentionally finds himself backing up a couple steps as Lemons curls his fingers into claws menacingly in front of his face, "Those guys."

"I hate how that's what you said instead of something like change it for the better."

"Well that too but c'mon, tell me you don't wanna put the old grump in the grave early."

Clow stops. "Oh right he's-"

"Yep."

"And he's-"

"Yeeep."

Solus Yae Galvus. Otherwise known as Emet Selch.

(Otherwise known as that Terrible Bastard by just about every Warrior of Light Clow has had the chance to meet. Whether it's said fondly, or hatefully, or sadly depends on the person but all of them universally agree - a terrible, terrible bastard.)

"And then there's Bread, Mr.I-Eat-Cigarretes, the guy from the Chrysalis thing, fire and ice lady-", Lemons counts.

And it would be wouldn't it. A whole decade of half truths and cryptic messages that they'd never really had the chance to understand in between fending for their lives but here they were back at the beginning. Back before- well, most if not everything. And it's not like messing with Ascians while dealing with with everything else were diametrically opposed to each other. Hell most of the time both of those things needed to happen at the same time anyway.

"You know what", Clow says, "You're right. You're right, it would be fun."

"Then- revenge? For all the cryptic dramatic bullshit?"

"Oh, definitely."

[dp-marvel94]

Reveal via Clones

Summary: Maddie and Jack walk in on fives clones waiting for Danny in his room.

Word Count: 2,164

Also on AO3

For @lovelyunknown, @brokeitwiththepowerofmathamatics.

Note: Losely set in my "Life and Death is All Perspective" (ie all the clones come back as full ghosts) Series. My last story for phic phight! Prompts Below: Maddie finds damning evidence in Danny's room. by LovelyUnknown Good Dad Jack identity reveal by Hazama_d20 I saw that first prompt and thought "What more damning evidence than a bunch of clones?" 😂 My original idea was a lot more cracky than what I actually ended up writing. But I'm a serious angst writer so that figures. Enjoy!

Maddie had made up her mind. Tonight was the night. She and Jack were going to talk to Danny about everything. His failing grades, skipping school, missing curfew, getting into fights. 

Ignoring the problem hadn’t worked. Punishing Danny, hoping he would change his behavior, hadn’t work. Talking to Danny, reassuring him that he could tell them anything, even that hadn’t worked. Instead, Danny took to avoiding them.

But the mother had had enough. She was getting answers out of her son tonight. Even if they had to wait in his bedroom all night for him to come home. Her son wouldn’t suffer alone in silence anymore.

As the couple approached Danny’s room, voices rang out through the door.

“Oh! What’s this?” A curious voice with a bit of a lisp asked.

“Ezekial, be careful with that.” A different voice, smoothly sophisticated, gently rebuked.

A crash. “Oops.”

The adults froze at the noise, exchanging worried looks. Jack reached for the door knob.

“That was Danny’s favorite model rocket.” A third spoke, words with a disappointed note.

Maddie’s hand rested on the other adult’s arm, stopping him with a nod of her head.

“Let’s pick it up.” A deeper male voice. “Maybe we can fix it?”

“There’s some glue in the desk.” The third speaker.

Who were these people in Danny’s room? Friends from school?

“Maybe we should wait until Danny gets back.” A pre-teen girl’s voice spoke up, sounding a bit unsure. “I don’t know how this is supposed to go together.”

The woman’s eyes widened. There was something odd about the other voices, compared to the girl who just spoke….

“I think I remember.” The third said. “This one wasn’t really that hard to put together. It was one of his first.”

The eye-roll was almost audible. “Not all of us received memories from our progenitor, Damian.”

Progenitor? What was he talking about?

“That wasn’t my fault, Neil.” A teasing point, presumably from this Damian.

“I’m pretty sure it was.” The girl quipped.

“None of us knew overshadowing could do that.” Another audible eye-roll. 

Overshadowing…. Something only a ghost could do and… A hint of dread settled in Maddie’s stomach. That is what she had been picking up on; every voice but the girl’s had a strange echo….

“Memory stealer.” The lisping voice teased. 

“It’s just copying!” Damian, the object of teasing, argued. “Pro, come on. You’ve gotta defend me. You know I’m your favorite sibling.”

“Nah, Ellie’s my favorite.” The deeper voice joked, the smile audible.

“Yes!” The girl cheered. 

Maddie didn’t understand. The echoes… these were a bunch of ghosts? Of sibling ghosts? How could ghosts even have siblings?

Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time ghosts surprised them. Phantom did, again and again showing that he genuinely wanted to help, hence their truce. Phantom wasn’t a bad ghost but, this group, joking with each other in…

“I’m your favorite brother, at least.” 

“Nah, that’s Danny.” The deeper voiced speaker again teased. “Speaking of, when is he getting back?”

In their boy’s room. Ghost might not have been as bad as she and Jack previously thought. But these were five strangers! Ghosts they’d never even heard before, waiting for their baby in his bedroom. 

With that thought, the mother pulled her ectogun out of her belt. She and Jack met eyes, the man doing the same. A silent count to three and…

The knob was turned, door kicked open. “Eat Fenton Bazzoa, ghosts!”

Maddie’s eyes quickly took in the scene. Four ghosts. One wearing a white cloak, red eyes and green skin. Phantom or… no, somehow she knew (maybe it was the way he held himself or maybe something else) this was a look-alike. Another Phantom look-alike, though all of four feet tall. And a towering ghost, covered in scars.

The woman set her sights on the big one, finger hovering over the trigger. She didn’t want to shot but she was prepared if-

“Mads!” Jack gasped in surprise beside her, his weapon lowering. “Look.”

“Jack!” Her eyes darted to the object of his interest. “What-” She cut herself off, eyes widening. 

The fifth occupant of the room, the pre-teen girl…. She was human, staring at them with wide, frightened eyes. That wasn’t the surprise. But…

The jet black hair and…. those eyes, crystal blue, exactly identical to… 

“Danny?” Maddie asked.

Her head shook. No, she wasn’t Danny, obviously, but…

“Who are you?” Jack asked, voice as numbly shocked as the woman felt.

“Clones of your son.” The Phantom look-alike’s eyes widened, mouth snapping shut as soon as the words left his mouth.

Maddie blinked, her own gun dropping at the surprise. “Excuse me.”

The ghost’s eyes panickedly flickered among the others. “We are all…. Clones of your son, Danny Fenton?” His chests turned green, in a blush(?). “We were created by your college friend, Vlad Masters. He wishes to kill Jack Fenton, blaming you for the accident which killed him and for stealing Madeline from him. He has planned to marry you, Maddie, and claim your son as his heir and apprentice.”

Neither parent reacted, numb with shock. The other ghosts and the girl also stared, jaws dropped and eyes wide with disbelief.

The lack of response seemed to just encourage the ramble. “Danny proved quite, understandably, hostile to this plan, refusing to betray his father. Despite his efforts, Vlad could not achieve his goal of acquiring Danny as a son. Therefore he decided to create his own version of the boy, one who would be amenable to his plans, hence…” He motioned awkwardly. “All of us.”

Maddie… hadn’t registered half of that. Yet her spinning minds caught on one thought. “But…. you’re all ghosts?” The words came out surprisingly quiet.

“We all died before becoming stabilized.” The Phantom (Danny?!) look-alike raised one brow, before motioning to the girl. “Except for Danielle, of course. Besides, Danny himself is half-”

Something in the statement roused the other Phantom look-alike, an elbow to the side cutting off the word. “Dude! You can’t tell them everything!”

The taller’s mouth snapped shut, visibility embarrassed. “I may have committed an error….”

“I’ll say!” The shorter raised his arms. “I thought you were the smart one, Daniel.”

The other look-alike, apparently named Daniel (?!), blinked skeptically. “Why would you think that?”

“You always use long words and…. It’s like you don’t even know what an apostrophe is.”

“Damian, I know what an apostrophe is.”

The shorter, Damian, placed his hands on his hips, an eyebrow raised challengingly. “Then use one.”

“I don’t think I will.” Daniel’s nose turned up. “You are not the boss of me.”

Maddie watched the argument like it was a tennis match. They were… arguing. Like normal siblings. Like… normal kids.

“Mads…” Jack’s uncertain voice beside her. The woman half-tuned out the ensuing argument, turning a tentative eye to him. “Mads. I think he… Daniel’s… telling the truth.” The next words came out more confident. “And if he is, then…” 

The man put down the bazooka, uncertainty still in his eyes but no doubt, the action completely deliberate. He stood, shoulders back as if steeling himself. Then, he calmly stepped forward.

The kids froze, chatter cutting off. All eyes widened with fear.

Jack put his arms out, hand up disarmingly. His gaze fixed on the largest ghost “You’re a big one. Regular chip off the ole block.” A step forward, his expression strangely soft compared to his normal boisterousness. “What’s your name, son?”

The ghost shifted nervously, frantic eyes flickering from each of the other clones to Maddie and finally to Jack. He swallowed. “Um. It’s Prometheus, sir.”

“Prometheus.” The adult tested out the name. “That sounds greek. Isn’t it?”

“It’s uhh…. A long story.” The ghost, Prometheus, rubbed the back of his neck. (And didn’t the gesture look achingly familiar). “And everyone calls me Pro.”

“It’s a good name.” Jack chuckled. “And look at you! Swimmin’ in my end of the gene pool. Those spare hazmats we made for Danny and Jazz definitely won’t go to waste now!”

Pro did not respond, trading a vaguely panicked look with the girl. But the tension didn’t deter the man from continuing. He turned to the Phantom look-alike. “And you’re Daniel. Sharing a name with our Danno, I see.”

“Well. Yes, that is true…” A nervous swallow.

“Mads picked out the name. I wasn’t the biggest fan but she let me pick out Jazzy’s name.” He shrugged. Then, taking in the embarrassed face. (Maddie’s heart ached… it reminded her of a four year old Danny, caught stealing from the cookie jar). “You’re as green as an unripe tomato.” A kind chuckle. “Don’t feel embarrassed, kiddo. You’re not the first Fenton man to panic and say something he shouldn’t. And you probably won’t be the last.”

Daniel traded a look with his shorter look-alike, a silent conversation passing through. (Jazz and Danny had done the same, even this morning. These two… they all really were siblings, weren’t they?). Both relaxed ever so slightly.

“You’re taking this well.” The shortest said cautiously.

“I’m sure it’ll hit me later.” Jack laughed. “And your name was Damain, right?”

The ghost boy, Damian, nodded, puffing out his chest slightly. “I picked that out myself.”

“It’s a good one too. And…” His eyes flickered up, over Damian’s shoulder. “And who’s the quiet one over there?”

The short ghost floated to the side, the cloaked one drifting forward. “He’s Ezekial.” Damian answered.

“Zeke.” The thin figure lisped, spelling out the name with his fingers.

“Zeke.” Jack smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Cautiously, Zeke floated forward, just two feet in front of the man. A tentative hand reached forward. Jack offered, letting the thin fingers brush his for a hand shake. “You are… kinder than I thought.”

Something in the man’s expression cracked. “Oh kiddo…” With gentle squeeze off the fingers, he removed his hand, the motion deliberate, unlike the falling of his shoulders.

Jack turned, finally smiling at the girl. “And you’re Danielle.”

“Ellie.” She shifted nervously. “Sorry for barging into your house.”

“Non-sense, princess.” He waved her off. “You, all of you are….” Maddie saw it, in the moment their eyes met. He was seconds from pulling this kid, all of these kids into his arms. “You're all….” That word, on the tip of his tongue….

“Family.” Maddie could hardly believe the word coming from her mouth. But… “You’re family.”

She knew it was true, like the way her heart ached and her hand shook, the ectogun…. Ectogun…. She should holster that. The weapon returned to her belt, eyes fixed back on the children.

The faces looking back at her… she saw Danny in them, herself and Jack’s features, despite the ghostly glow and…. The woman felt seconds from crying. That ghostly glow… meaning they, most of them, had died. Her own flesh and blood passed away, gone before she even knew about them, much less held them.

No. Not gone.

Maddie stepped forward. “How many clones…” She swallowed. “How many of you are there?”

Ellie’s brow furrowed, eyes on each sibling. “Well, there’s the five of us. And… how many does Percy count as?”

Suddenly a green swirling portal opened. Just when Maddie thought her world couldn’t be turned anymore on its head….

A ghost with four arms floated through. “I heard someone say my name.” The opening closed, leaving a sixth similar-looking figure floating in the room.

“Percy!” The quiet, cloaked ghost exclaimed. “How many do you count as?” The words, again slow and lisping.

One of his hands tapped the new ghost, Percy’s chin. “One or…” The three eyes (he had three eyes?!) blinked, brow furrowed in thought. “Twenty-six. Depending on how I feel.”

Maddie just blinked at the sight, a hand going to her forehead. “We have so much to talk about when Danny gets home….”

Still…. The woman looked over the group of kids, five(?) ghosts and one human. The girl, human and seemingly healthy was a relief. But the others… even if they were ghosts, they were her children. That was as clear as the siblinghood in-between them, an undeniable truth her heart spoke.

Though, something niggled in her mind. Their apparent relationships with Danny. Their origin, created by Vlad. That sounded insane but… her stomach turned. With his obvious obsession with her, his strange interest in Danny, and questionable behavior, it made a sick kind of sense. 

But that comment, about Vlad having… died? And Danny…. Daniel had been about to say something about him.

Her mind was flailing for connections, that familiar ache welling in her chest. That familiar spectral appearance. Phantom look-alikes, she’d thought when she’d first seen Daniel and Damian. There was a resemblance to Danny too. Almost… almost as if….

Just then, Phantom phased through the window. “Sorry that took so long.” A bright white ring of light flared from his middle as soon as he landed, passing over him. “What did I… miss?”

The light disappeared, revealing….

“Danny?!?!!?”

Note: So that's the story. :) I'm uncertain if this will remain canon to the "Life and Death is All Perspective" Series. I'd always pictured Danny choosing to tell his parent about all his clones but this is fun too. So we'll see.

Also, I can't believe that I finally wrote the "Jack and Maddie meet Ellie" story, despite hinting at it a bunch of times in other phics. And this is freaking it. 🤣🤣🤣

[saiyanmazen]

Someone has to take initiative

I want to thank everyone who took the time to read Sneak Attack yesterday. The response was overwhelming and I loved it. So thank you.

Today's ficlet for the D&D event by @vegebulocracy is quite different. The prompts used for this ficlet are initiative and spellcasting (sort of), and the whole thing is pretty cracky.

It can also be found here on AO3.

-----------------------------

Panchy had tried to let them figure it out for themselves, she really had. She'd been called meddlesome in the past and was now proving to others that she wasn't. Her involvement in her daughters' lives was perfectly normal for that of a loving mother.

When she arranged a seemingly accidental meeting between Tights and a gorgeous young man which led to a long-lasting relationship, it had merely been in her oldest daughter's best interest. After all, it had worked so well the first time she'd done it until Tights had broken up with him. Who could blame Panchy for wanting to try it again?

It was also for Bulma’s beneficence that her mother talked to Yamcha about his relationship with Bulma going nowhere and urged him to propose, or the time she showed him baby pictures of Bulma to encourage that natural protective instinct in him and his hidden longing to have children.

But neither of her daughters were happy when they learned of these small incidents. Perhaps it even contributed a little to Tights’ decision to move out. And it might have made Bulma more opposed to marriage and children than she had already been.

Therefore, when Panchy saw the undeniable mutual attraction between Bulma and Vegeta, she did nothing to interfere. She would not meddle again. Not even when her youngest daughter broke up with Yamcha for good, leaving nothing to stop her from pursuing the handsome alien who walked around shirtless all hours of the day.

It didn't escape Panchy's notice that he and Bulma would make exceptionally beautiful grandchildren. If they got together, she would surely soon become a grandmother. A strong man like Vegeta had to be very virile. She might have switched out Bulma’s birth control and removed all condoms in the house to speed things along, just in case.

But other than that, she decided to let Bulma and Vegeta work things out for themselves. Panchy knew her daughter well enough; she couldn't resist a muscular bad boy for long. And there was no denying Vegeta’s interest in Bulma’s beautiful body the way his gaze followed her when she left a room.

Yet, no matter how thick the sexual tension was between them when they fought day in and day out, none of them actually took the initiative to do something to release the tension.

Bulma wasn't getting younger; nor was Panchy. If she wanted to have a lot of time with her grandchildren, she needed to have some soon. It was really quite selfish of her daughters to make her wait so long.

There really wasn't any harm in hurrying things along. It was inevitable, after all. And no one would know her involvement; she'd make sure of that.

The worst was having to wait nearly a whole year to gather the Dragon Balls. But finding and gathering them turned out to be easy. On the pretense of wanting to fix one of her older husband's many ailments, she convinced the sweet boy, Gohan, to find them for her. She swore him to secrecy, telling him that the dear Dr. Briefs didn't want to use the balls for such things and that no one but Gohan could be trusted to keep the secret.

The boy, so fond of the old scientist, eagerly took the dragon radar that Panchy had found in one of Bulma’s drawers and came back with all the magical balls. His eyes shimmered with pure joy when she rewarded him with her famous chocolate chip cookies.

Oh, she hoped her future grandchild would appreciate her cooking just as much. With Vegeta as the father, there would be a good chance of that.

She went to a spa resort near North City to perform the ritual. It wouldn't do if anyone saw the Dragon appear, so she rented a large gym hall with enough room for the giant entity. While she hadn't done it before, she had seen the ritual performed quite a few times and it didn't take long before the Great Dragon soared in the air in front of her and asked her to state her wish.

“I wish for Bulma and Vegeta to conceive a child, so I will finally have a grandchild,” she said with a gentle smile, then added as an afterthought, “one without a widow's peak. And taller than its parents too.”

The Dragon looked back and forth as though he wasn't sure about what she was asking him. Surely, this simple request was within his capabilities!

“Vegeta? Prince Vegeta?” The Dragon questioned incredulously. “Are you certain?”

“Of course I am,” her pearly whites twinkled as she beamed at him, “It's not too much trouble for a big, powerful being such as yourself, is it?”

It sounded like the Dragon mumbled something about it not being him that was in trouble, but he cleared his throat and said what she wanted to hear: “Your wish has been granted.”

The Dragon disappeared and the balls turned to stone. She hurried to the doors to the outside and opened them to allow the stones to scatter.

She then got the full spa treatment, making sure to look her best for her return. After all, she didn't want to wake any suspension by coming back without looking splendid.

But it didn't matter because no one was there when she returned to her home. Her darling hubby was tinkering in his lab as usual, having barely noticed that she'd been gone, that silly man. However, Bulma was nowhere to be found and the gravity thingy Vegeta spent all his time in was silent.

Then Panchy noticed the broken counter in the kitchen and the discarded clothes on the stairs leading to Bulma’s room. It told her all she needed to know.

That sweet Dragon sure worked fast.

[moontyuns]

hey pretty, can i request a soobin drabble with the kiss prompt "you're gonna get lipstick all over me" please?

Word count: 0.8k Pairing: soobin x reader Genre: fluff, a bit cracky?? Rating: PG-13 Warnings: none 

Kiss prompts game; you're gonna get lipstick all over me x soobin

a/n: i’m so so sooo sorry for taking too long to write and post it!! I was just in some kind of writing block so it take quite a bit of time to write smth decent…i really hope you like it! <3

Soobin always fascinates the number of cosmetics you have and your ability to make pretty makeup. All of these eyeshadow pallets, liners, blushes, and lipsticks with different textures and colors and you can combine them on your face to make something really beautiful. He thought about it for a while but he wants you to use the magic you have in your hands and make some light and cute makeup on his face.

When you came back home this evening he decided to finally ask you, Soobin was scared a bit that you will laugh at him and turn him down but he still wanna try. “Hey, babe, how was your day?” he can’t ask it straight to your face when you just came back he needs to make sure you are fine and not very tired, cause he doesn’t want to pressure you. “Soobinie!! I’m pretty good, the day was quite tiring but every day is like that, you know” You hugged the boy, what could be better than hugs from your boyfriend at the end of the day? To you probably nothing. “Listen Y/n…I wanna ask you something..” Soobin’s voice was seeped with shyness so you pulled back a bit to have a better look at his face. “Yeah? What is it?” you can see that the boy’s nervous, which only makes you even more curious. “Can you..do makeup for me?” he blurted the last part of the question so fast that you are not even sure if you heard him right. “Um? You want me to do a makeup for you?” Soobin’s cheeks and ears got rosy and he start pulling back from you “Uh..you know forget what I ask… It's nothing!!” he almost escaped from you but you were quick to grab his wrist to stop him before he escape. “No, it's not nothing!! Binnie, let me eat and shower first and then I will do something pretty for you!” you pecked his cheek and jogged to the kitchen. Soobin stands still for a while looking at you pacing from one cabinet to another, he expected you to laugh at his request but you did agree so fast.

After an hour you already did everything you need and now you bring everything you have on the bed. Soobin patiently waited for you while sitting beside you and looking curiously at the products around. “Okay, I think it would be good if I do something light but cute at the same time..what do you think about peachy colors?” you looked at him and saw his smile growing wider “I would love that!” and you nodded to him. You come closer to him and sit on his lap because you can’t imagine how your spine will hurt if you bend over the boy. Soobin put his hands on your waist to help you sit properly and closed his eyes. You carefully started to apply the shadows on his eyelids when you heard Soobin’s quiet giggles “Hm? What’s so funny?” you paused taking a look at his face “Nothing babe, it’s just..the brush movements are slightly ticklish. Sorry if I bother you.” the boy tried to suppress the smile blooming on his face so you can work calmly. You shook your head lightly and smiled “It’s fine Soobinie, don’t worry,” you resumed your work. You didn’t want to make this makeup very bright but very natural with some peachy accents and some shimmers to make it cuter. The eye makeup didn’t take long and after this, you choose one of your lipsticks that in your opinion should suit here the best. “Binnie can you please open your mouth a bit? I need to apply lipstick on your sweet lips” A chuckle left your mouth after these words. Soobin opens his mouth just a little bit and you hold his chin between your fingers to steady his head and change the angle. Once everything was done you checked the boy’s face carefully and smiled proudly. “It’s done! You can look at yourself!” you said and got up off his thighs. “Woah, it looks so natural but at the same time, I look ten times prettier. What magic did you use, Y/n?” both of you giggled at his words “Come here” he stretched a hand to you, and you stepped closer to him and put your hand into his. One of Soobin’s hands sneaked around your waist and the other gripped your hand tighter. He looked into your eyes for a while and then suddenly you felt his lips on your cheek and then on the other one “Choi Soobin, you’re gonna get lipstick all over me! Stop it right now!” but it feels like he didn’t hear your exclaims and only giggled louder and continued placing his kisses here and there. “Gosh, you’re insufferable! Let’s get you to the bathroom and remove the makeup, then you can kiss me as long as you want ok?” you sighed, because now you need to not only remove the makeup from the boy’s face but wash the lipstick that now is all over your face. 

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