#love these head canon prompts

[havenshereagain]

DPxDC Idea

Danny working at Wayne Enterprises as some sort of engineer, uses the in-house app for all his blueprints and stuff

He starts getting notes from a coworker in-app, and assumes its this annoying older guy in his department who constantly undermines him because of his age, despite his education and past achievements (i feel like in this AU the Fentons react well to the reveal and they work together on a number of non-lethal ecto inventions that have Danny's name attached to them)

Except one day his coworker mentions never using the app, and Danny suddenly realizes there's only one other TD he could've been arguing with in the notes of the app

[justaz]

merlin who uses his magic everyday in ways that he doesn’t realize isn’t normal. magic helping him see in the dark so he can find his way in the woods or dark rooms with no problem. connecting with the woods around him so he always knows where he is and whats in the general vicinity which allows him to sense bandits just before they attack. using magic to keep warm in the cold or to cool down in the heat. confident and willing to go toe to toe with anyone bc he knows that regardless of what they throw at him, he could always win bc he could just use magic.

then somehow someway (post magic reveal) a sorcerer takes away merlin’s magic. or well just locks it away ig. but anyways merlin doesn’t have this part of him anymore and is left feeling empty, exposed, and vulnerable. arthur, the knights, and merlin going on a quest for answers to their problem and a way to get merlins magic back. but. but. but merlin is all jumpy and he’s rambling more than ever and is often reaching out to grab onto someone (usually arthur) and everyone’s confused and then they get ambushed and merlin freezes in the middle of the path like a deer. he’s watching everything go down around him with wide eyes until he’s targeted and one of the knights have to rush in to save him. afterward merlin is constantly holding someone and his grip is rather tight. he keeps looking around, his eyes scanning the trees around them over and over. when they try and settle down for the night, merlin wont leave the camp without an escort or two and when they’re trying to go to sleep, merlin is flinching at every noise in the woods around them and ends up shuffling over toward the person closest to him and laying pressed up against them.

arthur opening his mouth to tease and call him a coward when the word registers in his mind and he realizes that that’s what he’s actually seeing, merlin scared and defenseless. he ofc doesn’t realize the true depth of it all, i mean he knows merlin is missing his magic but he doesn't know that magic has always been a part of merlin, it makes him him. he’s had magic since he was born, he’s never known life without it. as he is now, he feels bare and exposed and blind and deaf and terrified. the knights are his defense rn and for the past few years, merlins been their protector so its a complete reversal of everything he’s ever known. he’s scared. arthur bites his tongue and lets merlin hold onto his arm and snuggle up close at night for some form of comfort and security. he doesn’t tease or mock and responds to his ramblings of fear with a level of gentleness the knights weren’t aware he even possessed. merlin slowly relaxing as arthur subtly comforts him without addressing it

[starry-bi-sky]

wolfpack. aka: if not friend, then why friend-shaped?

"Hey-- uh, Danny?" There's an almost imperceptible tremor in Tucker's voice.

Danny doesn't look up from what he's doing, his pencil scritching across his notebook as he tries to do another quadratic formula question. "Hm."

"What's -- uh -- what's with the dogs?"

He looks up now, and finally sees where Tucker is -- standing in the doorway of his room with an ashy look on his face and a skewed, nervous smile. He's got a white knuckle grip on the doorknob. Sam is wide-eyed behind him, and using him as a partial meat-shield.

Danny looks down to the two giant ghost wolves sprawled next to him lazily. One large green one with his head in Danny's lap, letting him use him as a prop-up for his notebook. Another equally large black one splayed against his hip, sleeping on her side with her head tilted inward to his calf.

Automatically, a grin tilts across Danny's face, and he lifts his notebook up to scratch behind the green one's ears. He opens a lazy eye, one that is bloody red with a ring of yellow around the pupil, before slipping it shut and leaning his head into Danny's touch. "This is Sirius and Procyon," he says, and reaches down to scratch Sirius' belly. "And they're not dogs, they're wolves."

"Great," Tucker says, his voice suddenly much smaller and faint, "Love that distinction."

Sirius makes a great big groan, and Danny's grin widens, his heart swelling with fondness. His hand slips away from her belly, and before he can put his notebook back down, Procyon pushes his head up his lap until his ear is against his stomach, demanding pets now too.

Sam peeks her head up from over Tucker's shoulder, "I think what Tucker's asking here is what are they doing here, Danny."

He shrugs, scratching under Procyon's chin. "They kinda just showed up. I tried sending them back to the Zone, but they keep returning." And they were weirdly intent on just following him around, which is the only reason he gave up on returning them. They weren't causing trouble, and they knew how to hide around the living. Plus, he just loves dogs. "So now I have two wolves living with me."

This, oddly enough, did not do anything to calm Sam and Tucker down. Tucker's mouth purses into a thin line, and he presses the sides of his palms to his lips in prayer. "How have your parents not found out about this?"

Danny wordlessly raises his hand, and his sleeve slides down to reveal a thin chain bracelet hooked around his wrist. He whistles sharply, and both Procyon and Sirius jerk their heads up to look at him, ears pricked up and eyes alert.

Silently, he points to his wrist and rattles it twice, and in unison both wolves stand up and pounce. Instantly, they turn into a respective, opaque black and green mist that swirls around the bracelet and forms into two, flat wolf charms.

Both wolves are posing in the stereotypical wolf howl, with little stars indented on the sides. Procyon's charm has the Canis Minor constellation engraved on it, while Sirius has the Canis Major.

Danny faces Sam and Tucker, and points at his wrist. "Like this."

[sunniepoo]

pls pls pls write like a headcanon for a pope fucking up in casa situation because now i cant get it out of my head 😭😭😭

🌊 ₊˚⊹🪼୨୧

❥ at first he isn’t making any crazy decisions just because his heart is warning him that it knows where it lays and that’s with you, but he genuinely starts freaking out when you go because he has no clue what you’re doing there, what if you found someone new? what if you stop caring about him? what if you never liked him to begin with? all these questions are flying through his head and that’s how he finds himself tongue deep in someone he doesn’t like nor does he particularly care about

❥ he knows what he is doing is wrong, he doesn’t like what he is doing but he can’t stop because the idea of someone liking him as much as he likes them, feels so so wrong - he in his nature can’t bring himself to lead someone on, so he inevitably cuts things off with the poor girl like very early on and just honestly wallows in guilt

❥ his heart nearly jumps out of his body when he sees you come back to see him standing alone, but it shatters the same moment when you find out what he’s been doing, i feel like for you it’s the biggest betrayal because you have sooo much trust in him and now it’s like you don’t know who’s in front of you (it lowkey gives me vibes of will and jessie s9 uk)

❥ it goes down like a whole serena and kordell showdown and he doesnt even know what to say but all he know is that he is winning you back somehow, he grovels and grovels but honestly the moment hope is restored is when you just sit down and ask him why? why did he try ruin something so good?

❥ what comes out his mouth is truly like word vomit, he’s just going on and on and on about how much he likes you and how that scares him because what if you just stop, he doesn’t even realise he’s dropped the l bomb and continues rambling till you shut him up with a kiss - safe to say your the winners of the season because no one and i mean no one shuts up about that moment

🌊 ₊˚⊹🪼୨୧

[tunastime]

Hi I’m never leaving you alone with these prompts—Ingo and Emmet (with an Apricot, if it works) in Unova + “look at the moon…” ? I’m being vague with this one to see where you may take it, but I hope it sparks somethin in your brain :>

HI myke! So I completely disregarded your prompt in favor of doing what you asked me in my dms LOL (something along the lines of putting our ocs/my oc in with the twins). So, happy belated birthday, here's this finally posted! (1182 words) (x)

Like two nesting wingull, Apricot and Marlow huddle together in the empty stands of the practice stadium. It's well after closing now, though the floodlights still cast their white-silver across the length of the astro-turf and chalk field. Apricot blows into his cupped hands, trying to warm his cold-numbed fingers. Marlow, on the contrary, looks content in his parka, scarf wound tight around his nose and mouth. Apricot grumbles.

Below them on the still-crunchy grass, Ingo and Emmet chatter among themselves. Apricot watches them knock into each other playfully as Emmet pats the massive form of Eelektross beside him. Haxorus shuffles beside Ingo, sniffing his jacket collar as the two pace back to their imaginary starting points. Apricot sinks back in his chair, still trying to warm his hands.

"You look cold," Marlow laughs. "Why didn't you bring gloves?"

Apricot frowns. "I didn't think it would be that cold, alright?" He hunkers into the fabric of his scarf, throwing a squinting glance over to Marlow. Marlow laughs, throwing himself back.

"It's not your first Unova winter, Apri!"

"That doesn't matter!" He squeaks. "It feels colder than Hisui. Maybe if my clothes were better insulated."

"Maybe if you wore gloves," Marlow hums, looking back to the field below them. The lights reflect off the white of Emmet's duster as he darts around. "Or a hat?"

Apricot grumbles. Instead, he watches the twins below shuffle around each other, throwing out barely heard words and jeers as Haxorous and Eelektross throw electric sparks and mud back and forth. Eelektross shudders out a bolt of electricity that Haxorous barely dodges, and Apricot barely restrains the groan of frustration that bubbles up in his chest. It seems that, in the midst of his complaining, he'd forgotten the real reason he and Marlow are here. He pulls his knees up, going quiet for a moment as he peers over them at the practice field below. Marlow’s expression softens in his peripheral vision. He tilts his head as he watches Ingo and Emmet, the crackle of energy and elements a few yards from the two of them. 

Only a handful of days prior, the two were sprawled out on Apricot’s living room rug, a stack of magazines and costume patterns between them as Marlow pitched outfit designs half-heartedly. It was late—maybe that was half the reason Apricot had even gotten the idea in the first place—but all at once, he had flopped onto his stomach, and said, mostly into the carpet:

“Would it be a good idea for us to ask Ingo and Emmet?”

Marlow sat up, dog-earing a magazine page.

“For what?” he asked. “For—not for outfit inspiration, right?”

“No—” Apricot squeaked. “No, not that. For—we’re having trouble syncing up, right? So why not ask the two most in-sync people we know for tips. So we can get our moves to look good.”

“Two strongest people we know, too,” Marlow hummed. Apricot peered an eye at him, half-obscured by the crush of his cheek and hair that had pooled over his shoulder. Marlow shrugged, nodding slightly.

“Do you think they’d let us shadow a practice?” Apricot asked. Another shrug, but this time, more curious and less contemplative. 

“It’ll probably be really early in the morning,” he said. “If you can stand to be up that early.”

He prodded Apricot with a socked foot, jerking back, snorting when Apricot swatted him away.

“I’ll be fine,” Apricot grumbled. 

Now, awake but cold, the tips of his ears red and nose running, Apricot sits in the stands, watching, eyes flicking back and forth between the two twins in a vain attempt to catch any sort of new movement, any sort of information he could to store away for their performance. Which is what it was, really, more than a battle. If the two of them could make a normal two-versus-two look like dance, rather than a display of strength, they would be more and more likely to look good in contest. When no damage had to be done, they could focus solely on looking the part, rather than being the strongest. From beside him, Buizel nuzzles her head into the side of Apricot’s leg, weaseling between his thigh and his shoulder. He lets her rest her large, warm head on his lap as he watches Emmet call out to Eelektross over the throw of Ingo’s voice.

Despite fighting against each other, the two seemed to move like the balance of a scale, tipping this way and that as they defended themselves. Marlow leans until they’re shoulder to shoulder, eyes wide and focused on Ingo’s movements. It isn’t long until the two are shouting over each other, promptly startling Buizel under the stand beside them. Marlow flings himself up as Haxorous manages to slam into Eelektross, and both pokemon go down in a heap. He cheers, shaking Apricot back and forth as Ingo jogs over to collect his pokemon.

With Emmet beaming and Ingo laughing to himself, the twins wander to the stands. Marlow meets them halfway, leaning over the small railing as Ingo rests his back against it.

“That was amazing!” Marlow says breathlessly.

“Is it starting to make sense?” Emmet asks, tilting his head toward Apricot. Apricot slowly unravels himself, shuffling over to the side of the bannister. Finally warm enough to unstick his shoulders from his ears, he grins.

“A bit—I was telling Marlow earlier, it’s… almost like a dance,” he starts, sticking his hands in his pockets. He blows away a tuft of hair as it threatens to fall in his face. “I mean,  you two know each other well enough to predict attacks and prepare for them, but even if we’re not really fighting in contest, we should probably do the same thing. Fight with each other enough to predict the next move.”

Ingo nods.

“You do a lot of fighting together,” he says, nodding. “But fighting against each other might help you cement some of your more typical move-sets. Or at least know how someone might respond.”

“Sounds like more double-battles,” Apricot snorts, elbowing Marlow beside him. “Maybe we can rope Chance and Damon in, too.”

“Sunny can ref,” Marlow grins. Apricot laughs, knocking his shoulder into Marlow hard enough for both of them to wobble. Marlow shoves back, until the two of them are leaning hard into each other as Ingo and Emmet look on. Despite the puzzles expression that crosses Emmet’s face, Ingo says:

“How about one more before we wrap up?”

Apricot beams. 

“My money’s still on Emmet,” he says, giving a weak, one-handed salute. Emmet returns the gesture enthusiastically.

“You two ready?” he asks as he paces back. With a wave of his hand, Galvantula weasels free of her pokeball, chittering happily as Emmet pats her large head. Chandelure swirls next to Ingo’s shoulder, her purple-blue lamplight throwing eerie shadows back against his face. Marlow finally slumps over the railing, still laughing to himself.

“As we’ll ever be,” he says. 

Taking their places once again, the twins start their battle. This time, Apricot tells himself, he’s going to take many mental notes.

[itsdefinitely]

💀😡

starting off strong!

💀 least favorite lord in black and why 😡 least favorite character from npmd and why

based off design... pokey. he is so swagless please i need to give him cool pants please please why doesn't he have shiny pants and a feather boa he deserves one give him heels you cowards

as for npmd (characters who have a speaking role): brenda. hearing her talk the first time made my soul float out of my body. i didn't recognize it as bryce; i thought they genuinely got a teenager to be brenda. it just took me off guard how real she was. compared to everyone else matching their stereotype, brenda acts like. a regular teenager

[sesamestreep]

30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 1

Write about a first kiss (from this list) ➸ …this is a high school AU….? don’t ask me why, it just happened….

“I thought you’d be more excited about this,” Matt says, leaning his cheek against his cane.

“I’m excited,” Foggy says, from his spot next to him on the bleachers. He’d come over to say hi when he noticed Matt loitering there after he got out of rehearsal and now they’ve been shooting the shit for thirty minutes and his mom is going to be beside herself worrying about him getting home late. That’s still not motivation enough for him to get up and leave, though.

“It is exciting,” Foggy says, aiming to sound more firm about it this time. “It’s just nerve wracking too. I don’t know.”

“It’s just pretend,” Matt says, with a smile that Foggy has categorized in his head as his charming asshole smile, the one he gives people (mostly Foggy, as far as he can tell) when he’s giving them shit just for the sake of it. He’s never called it that out loud, though, to anyone but especially not to Matt so far, thankfully. He’s not even sure why he needs a well-organized mental database of all of Matt’s smiles in the first place. “Why should you be nervous?”

“I’ve got to kiss a girl on stage,” Foggy says, and he sounds twelve. This is so embarrassing. “I mean, not yet, but eventually. We’re going to have to practice it too. What if it’s gross? What if I’m gross and it makes her cry or barf or a third worse thing I haven’t even thought of? What if she’s gross and I cry and barf and also a third thing? What if I fall in love with her and she doesn’t fall in love with me? What if we both fall in love, date for years, have children together, and years down the line, we break up because we mistook the excitement of being on stage together for love and erroneously built a life on that and not real, genuine emotion and respect for one another?!”

Matt considers him, still smiling. “Well, when you put it like that, you’ve got a lot to worry about, actually.”

“That’s not helping!”

“Okay, sorry. The girl from the play you have to kiss is Diana, right? Diana Weisfeldt?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, stretching out his legs in front of him. Diana’s nice enough, though he doesn’t know her very well, but she’s two years older than him and just pretty enough that he’s got to worry about kissing her in front of people and not embarrassing himself. He’s never thought about her much before now, when he’s suddenly got to kiss her in the spring musical.

“Okay, well, between me and you, I don’t think you have to worry about Diana falling in love with you.”

“Ouch, thanks, Matt. Between me and you, your hair looks stupid today!”

“I’m not—” Matt laughs, thrown off like he wasn’t expecting it at all. “I wasn’t trying to insult you! I just…heard something that makes me think her affections are engaged…elsewhere.”

“Oh,” Foggy says, scuffing his shoe on the metal bleacher. “Sorry. In that case, your hair looks fine.”

“Sure, like I’m going to believe that now,” Matt says, with a wide smile, like he’s being sarcastic, but he does brush his hair back from his forehead, like he actually feels awkward about it now.

“What did you hear?”

“Huh?”

“I asked what you heard,” Foggy repeats. “About Diana?”

Matt rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Oh. I couldn’t—it’s not for me to say, it’s just—don’t worry about kissing her is all I meant. I’m sure it will be fine. It’s just acting, and I’m sure you can manage a normal looking kiss with her. She’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, she seems like it,” Foggy says, hiding his disappointment. Matt always seems to know what’s going on with everybody, despite the fact that he only started at this school earlier this year.

He’d gotten assigned to Foggy’s homeroom and Foggy, in turn, had gotten assigned by their teacher to give him a tour of the school, which was fine. Foggy likes meeting new people and Matt seemed cool, especially after Foggy recognized his name from the newspaper all those years ago. He had the gangly half-starved look of the frontman of an emo band, just without the eyeliner or the tight clothes, which made him handsome in Foggy’s estimation, which itself was entirely based on what he heard girls saying when they thought no one was around. Matt’s clothes are always a little too big for him and a little faded and completely unfussy in a way that suggests he doesn’t worry about the way he looks ever, which is how Foggy kind of wishes he was. Even on that first day, he noticed all that, and the sort of folded up way that Matt carried himself, like he really didn’t want to impose in any way. He’s also the only blind kid at their school and, despite the evidence that Matt can manage on his own and maybe the fact that it was a little patronizing to even think this way, Foggy felt an immediate responsibility towards him, from that first interaction.

It didn’t help that Matt was sort of funny in a quiet way, where he’d say something under his breath that would take you a minute to really hear and then another to fully get and then you’d be laughing at a dumb joke that no one else heard way after he’d made it. That didn’t matter, though, because Foggy always caught Matt smiling to himself, secretly pleased, when he made Foggy laugh. It certainly didn’t help when a few days later, after this handsome, mysterious kid with dark glasses and perfect manners and an even more perfect jaw (according to the cheerleaders who sat behind Foggy in Pre-Calc, at least) arrived, the rumor got around that Matt had only transferred to this school because he’d gotten kicked out of his last one—a Catholic school, of all things—for fighting too much. Some people said he’d gone after a teacher, which sounded made up to Foggy. It wasn’t hard to imagine Matt getting into a fight in general because, despite his good manners, there was an edge to his pleasantries on occasion that even Foggy could sense, a limit to his good graces that no one had, luckily, discovered yet but existed nonetheless. But fighting a teacher seemed like an exaggeration on the part of the rumor mill, for sure. Foggy had never gone to Catholic school, so he wasn’t certain, but he thought the teachers there were, like, nuns and stuff. Surely, Matt wouldn’t punch a nun, would he? That would be kind of extreme.

Still, Foggy had been grateful that fate had thrown them together and given him a chance to befriend Matt before that rumor started, because Foggy didn’t want to be the guy who was only nice to Matt after he heard he had anger issues. Matt seemed to like him too, despite an abundance of cooler, better options. It was probably just loyalty that motivated him to keep seeking Foggy out. A lot of people think Matt’s cool and even more girls want to date him, from what Foggy’s heard. He could definitely do better, but he might not know that. Or maybe he just likes that Foggy didn’t ask him anything about his old school. It’s hard to tell. Foggy’s not complaining, anyway.

“It’s like I said, don’t freak out about it,” Matt says, oblivious. “It’s just kissing.”

“Right,” Foggy says, to the middle distance. There’s a pigeon on the sidewalk carrying a lottery ticket in its beak. He hopes it wasn’t a winner. “Just kissing.”

“I mean, you’ve kissed a girl before. It’s just like that, but…on stage…”

“Right. Exactly. Just like that.”

“Foggy,” Matt says, slowly. “You have kissed a girl before, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Foggy lies, and sees Matt wince. “I mean, kind of. More or less.”

“‘More or less’? What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve…you know…the concept of kissing is not foreign to me, not entirely, but…you know, technically, I’m not exactly���I haven’t precisely, well…”

“You haven’t kissed a girl,” Matt interrupts, flatly.

Foggy shakes his head miserably. “No.”

“Not at all?”

“I don’t think there’s degrees of kissing!” he practically shouts, before catching Matt’s expression. “Oh my god, there are! Okay! I’m going to go…walk into traffic.”

“Hey,” Matt says, grabbing his arm. “It’s fine! You don’t need to be embarrassed!”

“I definitely do, actually, because I am and I will be forever!”

“No, it’s really fine. And honestly, your freaking out makes way more sense to me now.”

“I don’t want my first kiss to be in drama club,” Foggy whines, now that the thing he’d been holding back is out in the open. “That’s so weird!”

“It’s not that weird! Think of it as practice!”

“That’s honestly worse. Your first kiss is supposed to be important and, ideally, romantic. Mine’s going to be in front of Ms. Calder!”

“Well, if it helps, my first kiss was not romantic either, so…”

“When was it?” Foggy asks, too eagerly. “What happened?”

Matt looks slightly uncomfortable. “It was, uh—I was 11. It was at a birthday party.”

“That sounds nice! And normal.”

“It was a part of a game,” Matt says. “So it wasn’t special or anything. The same girl kissed two other people at that party. So did I, actually.”

“Oh my god,” Foggy says, burying his face in his hands. “So not only did you have your first kiss five whole years before me, but your second and third kiss happened the same day? With different people?!”

“And my fourth,” Matt says, looking chagrined. “But that was the first girl again.”

“How many people have you kissed?” Foggy asks, turning to give him an awed expression. Matt pulls a face, and he realizes it’s a weird question. “Right. That’s not cool to ask. It’s probably a lot, though, right?”

“I haven’t kept track,” Matt mumbles, awkwardly.

“Cool,” Foggy nods. “Okay. Reminder to self: do not keep count of number of kissing partners. If and when I ever find someone who wants to kiss me.”

“You will,” Matt replies, looking pained. “It’s not—it’s fine that you haven’t yet! You’re just—!”

“So help me god, if you call me a late bloomer right now, I’m not responsible for what I do!”

“No,” Matt laughs, shaking his head. “I wasn’t going to—everyone matures differently!”

Foggy shoves him and Matt sort of grabs his wrist to extend their scuffle a second longer. Yet another reason Foggy wouldn’t be surprised if Matt did get expelled for fighting: he loves to get up in people’s space. He does it innocently enough most of the time, being more tactile than the average guy, but Foggy can tell he kind of likes to push his luck now and then. Foggy yanks his arm away with more force than he needs to.

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbles. “You’re kissing up a storm out there!”

“Not really. I mean, I do okay.”

“You’re doing more than okay from where I’m sitting,” Foggy says, and Matt has the audacity to look guilty, which makes Foggy feel bad. He’d meant it as a compliment, but it clearly hadn’t landed that way, so he attempts to pivot. “The answer is clear. You must teach me your ways, Obi-Wan.”

Matt snorts. “Well, first you’ve got to start by skipping the Star Wars references—”

“Okay, fair enough.”

“And then—wait, you’re as handsome as me, right?”

Foggy nods vigorously, even though the physical comedy will be lost on Matt. “Absolutely,” he replies. “One might even say more handsome. In the right light.”

“Perfect,” Matt laughs. “Then, yeah, you should have no trouble with girls.”

“And yet, here I am! Unkissed! The injustice of it is hard to bear!”

“You can always just wait around for your shot with Diana…”

“Who knows how many guys she’s kissed that she’ll have to compare me to,” Foggy complains.

“Probably not a lot,” Matt says, mildly. When Foggy gives him a pointed look, he smiles in a way that’s both vague and devilish and then shrugs. “Not everyone’s as easy as me.”

“That’s certainly true,” Foggy replies petulantly and Matt laughs. “No, I mean, Diana’s nice and all, but it’s not—” He sighs, even though it’s far too dramatic under the circumstances, and continues, “It’s just not what I thought it’d be. And I’m going to be so nervous until it happens.”

“Yeah, that’s no good,” Matt says, sympathetically.

“It’s fine,” Foggy says, pushing himself to stand. It’s probably past time for him to head out. He’s been whining about this for a while and his mom is definitely going to send out a search party soon enough. And Matt probably has better things to do than listen to his problems, anyway. “I should get home. I’ve got homework and stuff to—”

Matt stands too, very suddenly, and while Foggy is still yammering on about whatever just to fill space, leans in to press his lips to Foggy’s in a brief but utterly life-altering kiss. It’s not really passionate or anything like that, but it is insistent, which helps dissipate the immediate thought that Foggy has that this is somehow an accident, that maybe Matt tripped and fell and kissed him on the mouth. He didn’t see any evidence of that and he was looking right at him when he stood up, but bleachers can be precarious and Matt’s blind and maybe Foggy blinked and missed it? It could happen, but also it seems unlikely given the way Matt is just lingering there, as if to give no room for plausible deniability. It doesn’t turn into making out and there’s no passionate embracing, like in the movies and also like Foggy was sort of hoping might happen when he finally got around to kissing somebody, just because that seems more romantic. The kiss stays closed mouthed and respectful, friendly more than anything else, really, except that Foggy now knows how soft Matt’s lips are from touching them with his lips and he’s going to be thinking about that probably forever. And even though there’s no tongues involved in this kiss, he can feel how damp Matt’s lips are from running his tongue over them right before initiating the kiss and he’s also going to need to think about that forever as well. All in all, he’s got a lot to think about and little time to really react.

The moment it’s over, Foggy is overwhelmed by the urge to do it again, because surely now that he’s not surprised, he can do better. After all, that’s why the whole stage kissing thing was bothering him, because Diana didn’t deserve his first shot at kissing ever. She deserved someone with some skill, at least, especially since she was just acting. He didn’t want to put the burden of pretending he knew what he was doing onto someone who wasn’t even getting real enjoyment out of it. He feels the same instinct with Matt, not because it’s the same situation, but because he needs Matt to know he can rise to the occasion, that he’s not thoroughly pathetic. He improves with rehearsal and he wants that on the record.

Though, of course, he can’t do that. Matt might not be acting, but he didn’t kiss Foggy just now out of genuine feeling. He was trying to help him and be a good friend, but it was an act of pity. He was putting Foggy out of his misery, which was considerate, but it doesn’t mean he wants to keep kissing him. He’s the one who pulled away first, after all.

“There,” Matt says, looking pleased and utterly unbothered. “Now you don’t have to be nervous anymore.”

Foggy nods, not knowing how to articulate that Matt has, instead, given him several new reasons to be nervous. “Thanks,” he replies, faintly.

“I know it’s still not romantic, like you wanted, but…”

Matt trails off and he doesn’t look nervous himself, but there’s something anxious to the way his gaze, never really riveted on the person he’s talking to so much as angled in the general vicinity of their face, skitters off into the distance rather than staying on Foggy that betrays the smallest chink in the armor that is Matt’s confidence. Like he thinks Foggy might actually be mad at him for this, rather than just absolutely reevaluating everything he thought about who he is as a person as of two minutes ago.

“It’ll do,” Foggy manages to say, somewhat confidently, and the shadow of doubt passes from Matt’s expression, leaving him looking as charming and dear as he’s always been to Foggy and somehow entirely different at the same time.

[yoonnamjin25]

Ok but I need a post canon, Arthur returns, slow burn, Merthur, kind of fic where we can acompany our beloved king through the different stages of grief he will go through when Merlin tells him he's been dead for over 1500 years so he lost his kingdom, knights, friends and wife. A fic where we can see Merlin introducing Arthur to the 21st century and its technology that he insists is just magic, Mer-lin, I know it, I'm no fool. I know magic when I see it. A fic where we can see Arthur still struggling to fully trust on Merlin again because yes, he forgave him and he doesn't really care about the magic (except he does because Merlin's eyes look so beautiful when they are gold and where did that come from, Arthur Pendragon? Merlin, beautiful? Ha! The clotpole must've been right when he told you you shouldn't drink a third cup of that dark, strong, addictive beverage) but he still can't get over all the years of constant lies and deceiving, and Merlin feels guilty af so he tries to win his trust once again day by day and keep the promise he made to himself that day he finally confessed his magic to Arthur to not lie to him ever again. A fic full of fluffy moments between merthur where we can see them fall for each other harder slowly but surely until one day, after 3 or 4 months since Arthur came back, he finally kisses Merlin. And then they kiss some more. And more. And they are so happy grinning like idiots between kisses because finally they are on the same page. And everything is perfect. And Arthur suddenly loses his shirt somehow and things are getting heated although everything is still so soft and sweet and tentative. And then the doorbell rings. They ignore it at first, Arthur's orders, but the person behind the door is insistent so they have to stop so Merlin can go and see who it is. And when he finally opens the door, his jaw almost hit the floor because the person in front of him is no other than the fucking Queen of Camelot, his first and beloved friend, Guinevere Pendragon, the long ago dead widow of Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot, whom he's been making out with seconds ago. And then everything goes downhill coz Gwen sees her husband and Arthur is so shocked to see her again and then they are hugging and smiling and kissing and glowing with happiness and then there's Merlin, with tears in his eyes as he sees them reunite again. As he sees Arthur reunited with his true love. And when the king finally takes a moment to process everything that is happening while having Guinevere laughing crying in his arms, his eyes find Merlin, his Merlin, the one he had in his arms minutes ago and everything comes crashing. Reality hits him so hard he can't even breathe for a second. Because he was happy with Merlin and even though he hadn't yet admitted it out loud, he knew, deep in his soul, that he was in love with him, but then Guinevere is back! His beautiful, amazing, sweet and wonderful queen who he loves with all his heart is back from the death and how is that even possible???

Phew! A fic full of drama and angst and hurt/comfort and tough decisions that Arthur will have to make eventually because he loves them both, but he only can have one and that is breaking him apart because he is a righteous man at heart and he knows that as a married man, his choice should be clear as water, but his soul is screaming at him because it wants something else, someone else, and he doesn't know what to do as he knows whatever he decides, one of the two people he loves the most in his life will end up brokenhearted. But life is unfair and cruel to everyone. Even to legendary kings.

So.

Can someone please write it?

For me???

Pretty please???

[sollucets]

I kinda want to ask you to write all touch prompts for akk and aye but because that is unreasonable and way too greedy, how about 26, 27 and maybe 33? thank you so so much! And congratulations on your followers!!!!

you know, i'd write them all too if i had the fuckin Time [sobs] thank you very much nonny

26 (kissing the top of their head) + 27 (pulling them closer) + 33 (tasting their smile) from this list for my lil event; right around 1k of height difference & nickname shenanigans and talking around another bigger issue!!!! set in the summer after ourskyy, rated t for 'tall'

💜

“Hand me that plate, Shortstop.” 

Akk does, but not without making sure to splash Aye with the water running off of it. “We’ve been over this." They have, although it's been a while since Aye had first tried it in the tent. "That’s your name.” 

With a little yelp, Aye snatches the plate from his hand and sets to drying it with slightly more force than strictly necessary. The water drops stand out against the gray material of his t-shirt. “Why can’t we switch?” 

“Do you not have eyes?” Akk takes another bowl out of Aye’s mom’s sink and starts washing it with a little grin. “Grow a bit taller and we can talk.”

He expects Aye to fire back with a water attack of his own, or an insult, so when neither comes he turns to look at his boyfriend in faint surprise. Aye is giving the plate an undeservedly contemplative look, lips pursed. It’s very cute. Akk splashes him again. 

“Akk,” snaps Aye, his nose going all scrunched the way it does when he’s actually annoyed. 

“Aye,” Akk answers, grin reaching all the way up to his eyes. 

Aye stares for a long second, then softens all at once, mouth curving up in turn. He still elbows Akk in retribution before picking up his next dish, though. “So if I was taller than you, we could switch? I could be your Bigfoot.”

“If you were taller than me, I would’ve come up with a different nickname in the first place.”

“But I wouldn’t have,” Aye says decisively. “You’d have been Shortstop to me.”

Akk shoots him a sidelong look, dubious. “It's annoying, so yes, probably. In a hypothetical parallel universe where you’re taller. Why are you suddenly so obsessed with this? Don’t you call me enough things already?” 

“Do you not like it, darling?” asks Aye, all coy and playful, and it devolves from there. He doesn’t bring up the height thing again that day. 

But apparently he didn’t actually forget, because in the time following that initial conversation Aye starts taking every possible opportunity to be taller than Akk. 

It starts small, like Aye insisting Akk sit on the ground while he’s on the couch so he can reach his hair to dry it, calling him Shortstop in a tone of such overdone honeyed affection that all he can do is laugh. Or like Aye crawling into Akk’s lap so he has a height advantage when they kiss, and Akk making sure he doesn't get a chance to use any nickname at all.

Then it escalates, as things frequently do with them. Aye sits on top of the couch backrest at Akk’s house instead of on it, buys a pair of shoes with these ridiculous heel boosts, sits on Akk's desk while Akk writes his admission essays. At one point, very memorably, he gets on a table at a party they’d attended with Kan and refuses to come down until Akk has to drag him. 

Akk doesn’t mind as much as he’s pretending he does, which is something he’s found works for them with these things. It makes Aye happy to see him annoyed, so if he gets what he wants and the behavior isn’t actually that annoying, it’s a win for both of them. And it is funny, honestly, and frequently ends with Aye hanging off of him somehow. 

Still, though, after nearly two months of their summer together being intermittently marked by Aye’s new favorite running joke, something starts to nibble at the corner of Akk’s mind. It’s late summer now, and they’re running up closer to the thing they’ve barely managed to talk about: Aye’s impending departure, and his own entry into a northern university. And— well. He can’t manage that, but he might be able to manage this.

So the next time Aye makes a point of standing two stairs up in his own home to talk to Akk, he turns and looks up at him and asks, point-blank, “Does it bother you that I’m taller?” 

Aye blinks once, twice, then laughs a little. After a second, he seems to realize that Akk is honestly asking and tilts his head with an expression of mild bemusement. “No, baby. I like it, you give great hugs and have great legs. Why?”

Akk makes a sputtering noise and tries not to get derailed thinking about Aye’s feelings about his legs, which he did already know about for— various reasons. Instead, he pointedly jerks his chin at Aye, noticeably needing to tilt his head up to do so. 

“I'm just messing with you,” Aye says, reaching a hand out with a little smile. “I thought you knew.” 

“I do,” says Akk, and lets Aye take his hand and pull him one step up the stairs. It doesn’t equalize their heights; Aye’s still just a little taller like this. “But... it’s been going on a long time.”

“Yeah, I guess it has,” says Aye a little thoughtfully. “I just like seeing—” 

“—My angry face. I know.” 

Aye outright giggles at that, gently intertwining his fingers with Akk’s. “If you know, then why are you worrying about it?” 

Akk can feel his resolve failing already. He sighs. 

“I guess,” says Aye thoughtfully after a moment, “I do also like it when we… switch.” He wiggles his eyebrows and continues talking over Akk’s incoherent noise in response. “So it’s fun for me, to try and turn the little nickname thing on its head. Not that you’re cooperating.” 

“You wouldn’t like it if I cooperated,” Akk says, half-sure, and tries mostly unsuccessfully to glare up at Aye.��

“Oh, but I do,” Aye says, tugging him even closer by their twined hands and putting his other one on the back of Akk’s neck, pushing his head down enough to press a kiss to the top of it. “Just not right away. I like getting you to admit things."

There's an odd-- hesitation there, a long moment of silence. Akk looks back up, their faces close enough to kiss properly now, and sees Aye looking away from him, eyes big and preoccupied. 

“What?” Akk prompts, and when he doesn’t get an answer, adds, “Bigfoot?” 

Aye’s gaze snaps back to him, suddenly focused and intent and sparkling, and he grins. “Yeah,” he says, slowly like he’s savoring the confirmation, “That’s nice.” 

Akk leans up a little further and kisses that smile, gently and then less so when the fingers on the back of his neck tighten and pull him closer. He leans into it with a sigh and tries not to think about other things Aye might like him to admit, and instead thinks about how — it is nice, sometimes, to be the smaller one. 

[paragal]

Cringetober day 4: angel x demon

[agentplutonium]

5 + 1 headcanons :O

I got tagged by @mr-laveau to share headcanons which I love doing (kinda, there's a complicated process to get my brain to cooperate) so here I am! Gonna tag @maxpaulll @angelicaether @arrowfleur and anyone reading this but no pressure!! i just like seeing what ppl are thinking :D

rules: share 5 redactedverse headcanons you hold, plus 1 headcanon you're still working on!

5 Headcanons

I might not surprise anyone with this one, but I fully believe that Sweetheart is a pretty high rank in the department. In my fics I usually write them as Head Investigator but really it's just them holding a position of power in general. Especially six+ years into the game in canon like they had to have had at least one promotion.

Sam loves the rain. This is a fairly simple one, but I hold it dear to my heart. As an extension, I headcanon that vamps can go outside during the day when it's stormy out. I'm actually writing a fic currently with Sam/Darlin' that is discussed in this ask answer that explores this idea.

I didn't want to have more than one Sweetheart headcanon but it's me are we expecting anything else? Anyway, Milo is the only serious relationship that Sweetheart has had. I haven't explored this idea much in my writing yet, but like it's true in my heart. Don't get me wrong, Sweetheart still had their occasional fling, because they're too hot not to, but I love the idea of Milo being the only one to stick around and actually put effort into their relationship. There will be a fic that explores this eventually, probably. Oh, and this so ties into my whole "Sweetheart is on the aspec" headcanon that I keep writing/raving about.

Now for someone I don't normally talk about but still love just as much: David. David learned all of his cooking skills from his father from a young age. It was his and Gabe's thing growing up, and it's how he learned to love it so much. As a proxy to this headcanon, I think that David didn't want to cook after Gabe's death for a bit. He just lost interest in it after all the memories he's made around the act. However, as he learned to cope with his dad's death, he learned to love cooking again. It brought on fond memories that stung less and less the more he cooked.

One last headcanon I have for y'all, Baabe is also pretty high on the corporate ladder. This technically goes for Angel as well, but like I'm predictable and won't be talking about that. I don't know what sparked this headcanon but I also love this one. Basically, any time I can make The Mates™ as super important I will. Especially if it's the power couples of David/Angel, Milo/Sweetheart, Asher/Baabe. There's just something that itches that scratch in my brain about this kinda headcanon.

Plus 1 :O

This isn't so much a "headcanon" but there was, a while back, a small trend on tiktok about Traitor Sweetheart and I ran with it. There's a whole storyline behind it and everything. I haven't worked on it in ages but it's still one of my favourite AUs.

[justaz]

oooouuuuu you KNOW merthur fight like them toxic couples that just love to argue. Merlin would come into arthur’s chambers, stop, look around, look at him, then go “why was george in here?” And arthur would roll his eyes and say something about him needing a competent servant every once in a while so his chambers don’t grow fungus or whatever and then they’d just go back and forth but their point would change every minute. Like in the beginning merlin is arguing that he’s a perfect servant and arthur is arguing that merlin never gets anything done, the next merlin is saying that if arthur really wants that then he should just keep george and fire merlin and arthur is like “??? wtf no ur not leaving me” and argues that merlin is being ridiculous.

Merlin storms off and sends george in to clean and arthur is just like “fine! Yeah! I would rather have george as my servant!” And merlin storms in like “wow so I’m just replaceable like that huh?!” And it’s just back and forth back and forth back and forth and poor george is just trying to do his job he didn’t want to get pulled into all this. Anyways, merlin is waiting for arthur to cave and switch his argument but he doesn’t so merlin starts ordering george to leave (EVEN THO HE BROUGHT GEORGE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE-) and arthur tells george to stay. Merlin orders him to leave. Arthur orders him to stay. For some reason, merlin’s orders have the same weight and authority behind them as the king’s…..anyways-

Merlin is still waiting for arthur to switch up and say he would rather keep merlin but he doesnt so merlin just goes “fine. keep him then.” And goes to walk out but arthur grabs his arm and orders george to leave (he leaves with extraordinary haste and refuses to be within fifty feet of either merlin or the king for the next week) then pulls merlin towards him and is like “don’t be stupid. You’re my servant not him.” And merlin just huffs and puffs until arthur looks away and then he’s giggling and twirling his hair OOOOUUUUUU THEY THRIVE OFF THE TOXICITY IM TELLING YOU LISTEN TO ME IM RIGHT-

[toxicrevolver]

Tagged by @serendipminie thanks for the tag!!!

1) Make yourself as a villain

2) Write a simple origin story if you want (etc. what happened to drive you into becoming this way)

Have 2 pics bcs l couldn’t decide if I liked the top layer filter thingy or not. The concept was inspired by the fact I don’t sleep enough. (Heads up my pronouns are it/they hence the use of ‘it’ so often)

After suffering from so many sleepless nights, it finally gave in. It allowed the darkness to overtake them, hoping to finally end its sleepless suffering. But instead, the darkness consumed their soul, turning them into the thing everyone feared. It just wanted sleep, but alas, now they never will.

Now, instead of being tortured, tormented, and ridiculed by the monsters that go bump in the night, it became that very thing. Suffering more and more. Sleep now evading them for all eternity. Its red eyes pierce the darkness, shrouding those who see it in fear. Inky claws reach forward, yet they grasp at nothing, eventually scraping along the walls and floors.

It just wanted to sleep for fucks sake. But now. Now they’re the monster everyone will be raised to fear.

Tagging (no pressure!): @haahka @boysbeloving @loveable-sea-lemon @we-survive-endlessly @rainknow and anyone who wants to participate can blame me if they’d like!

[fangomango]

Any weather that isn't super hot is rather romantic to me

Like it may be heavily pouring but all I want to do is take you outside and absorb the rain like a cactus

Texas for the sake of my now single life make every day not hot so I can think about my otps

:) thank you

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Wayfarer (if)

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Enna Cenric x Sabien Quirinus

Word Count: 853

Savior

She wakes to filtered blue light, hands grasped around the softest sheets she’s ever felt. Her head, though still pounding, rests on a pillow that she doesn’t ever want to get up from. It smells of sandalwood and something citrus and she realizes she’s not in a dream. She shoots up with a start. Hand flies to her beating chest and she’s still in her attire from the night before.

“Oh good, you’re finally awake.”

She hates that she knows his voice already and of course she’s in his room. The details come back sudden, if blurry. She was a fool to drink so much the night before and as much as she hates to admit it, “I didn’t need you to save me, you know.”

“No need to call it salvation. Think of it as calling in a favor.” Quirinus sits at the vanity, pulling his shoulder length locks half up into a braided bun.

“What do you want?”

There’s a low hum in his throat and a little tsk. “You’ve barely had a chance to gain your bearings. We can get to business in a moment.”

Suspicious. That kind of statement is almost nice. The archmage doesn’t do nice. Especially when she’s now indebted to him.

Her legs are bricks as she slides them around the side of the bed. Fingers to her temples, she rubs at the growing pain.

“There’s a drink there by your bed. I suggest you make use of it.”

“Why would I drink anything from you?”

“If I were going to kill you, Enna. I would have done it already.” His eyes crinkle around the edges in the mirror’s reflection.

She knows before those words were spoken that he’s right. He could’ve, no would have killed her already if that was his intent.

She drinks and she waits for her throat to swell up or her limbs to go numb or something. Anything. But he just watches and it soothes. Sleep hits her softly but quickly and she manages to mutter it’s what she expected but his last words are, “rest” before her world washes away again.

—

It’s afternoon and he’s brought her food that she eats reluctantly. New attire and her sword which she thought for sure would be gone. He probably did something with it that she’ll figure out later when it’s too late because having too much to drink around him was already her biggest fuck up.

But his eyes are the color of escape in low tide and she makes the dumbest mistake of all. She kisses him. Tentative and hard and definitely with too much gusto. What’s worst of all is the way he smiles as he kisses her back. Like he’s won and maybe he has but what’s she to do?

Her fingers grasp at his collar, yanking and pulling upward, getting caught on his arms because she’s fumbling and it’s been a long time. One step back and he’s free of those stupid robes she hates and there’s no other thought but to rake her fingernails down his chest before she shoves him, hard, onto the bed. He lets out a small pleasurable sound. He likes it. Because of course he fucking does. And he uses his magic to remove her clothes, a simple snap of his fingers. It’s sexy and she’s definitely wet from that but it’s a secret he’ll never get out of her. He’s too eager with it all though and she briefly wonders how long he’s been wanting to disrobe her. But it’s not really the time for thinking. No minds. Just bodies. Messy and imperfect. Rough and primal.

She inwardly toasts to some kind of small victory from that.

Straddling him on his bed, she takes what she wants of him. Nips at his ears. Pulls on his hair. Coaxes a groan. Elicits a sigh. Hands around his throat.

She sinks down on him and he moans.

“I could kill you now,” she whispers into his ear.

His hands dig into her ass. The pressure of his rings are leaving imprints in her skin.

“No guards.” She squeezes his neck just a little tighter. “And you may be the archmage, magic on clothes but your magic won’t work on me.”

He thrusts into her, leaving her gasping for breath. Her grip on his throat weakens and he’s smirking.

“It’s a shame because I could’ve given you quite the experience. But you will see that I am talented in many areas, even those without magic.”

She grits her teeth together and then kisses him again, too hard. “Just shut up.” Then she saves her kisses because he doesn’t deserve her lips. Her tenderness. Even if he was nice enough to bring her a meal. Share his bed.

He obeys. Until he doesn’t. But at least he isn’t muttering his arrogant ramblings. He only grunts and groans just like her. She pushes him to her own climax then leaves him breathing heavy, tangled in the sheets. She puts on her attire and belts her sword, not bothering to look back as she walks out his door.

[ncruuk]

AI generation isn't about making anything.

AI generation is about avoiding needing to engage with humans to make something.

AI generation is about avoiding needing to reward humans when they have made something (not necessarily/just financially - the absence of engagement/feedback/acknowledgment is just as critical).