#not!fic prompts

[rafterdarkr]

why are all these modern aus for the Odyssey set in a high school. where's the retelling where Odysseus is just a guy lost in an airport who keeps missing his connecting flights home due to a comical series of delays and disgruntled airline employees

[bebx]

in this house we don’t say “that character is dead”. we say “they’re wounded but they’re alive and are on their way towards making a full recovery on archive of our own fix-it fics”

[n0tsketchyy]

Big fan of AUs where Gotham villains have figured out the Bats' patrol schedules and have an unspoken agreement to avoid certain areas on specific nights.

Nobody wants to deal with Red Hood on Tuesdays (he's always in a bad mood after mandatory family dinner). Nightwing on Thursdays is a menace (that's when he tries out new puns). Robin on weekends is excessively violent (no homework = extra energy). Red Robin during finals week is your sign to keep away from alleyways and pray.

Batman is always Batman, but villains know he's slightly less intimidating on Monday nights (when Alfred makes cookies), because there's a 50% chance of finding him on a rooftop, cowl pushed back just enough, stress-eating.

There's a betting pool among henchmen about which Bat will show up to stop their crimes. Joker keeps sabotaging it by specifically planning his schemes to get the "full set" of Bats to show up at once.

Catwoman maintains a detailed spreadsheet that she sells to new villains for an exorbitant fee. It includes notes like "Avoid the East End on Wednesday nights - B & eldest bird do weird acrobatic challenges. You will lose." and "Third bird stress bakes after patrols. If you must commit crimes, do it before 2am so he has time for sourdough."

[cameronsbabydoll]

military!rafe marries a one-night stand, knocks her up, and obsesses over her polaroids overseas.

a/n: inspired by this anon

you were supposed to be a one-night stand. a quick fuck after too many shots, just another girl hanging around the base like a pretty little souvenir waiting to be claimed. you wore lip gloss and a crop top and called him “sir” just to tease. he fucked you in a twin-sized bed with a ripped sheet and a case of beer on the floor.

he meant to forget about you. really, he did.

but then you made him breakfast the next morning. and when you bent over in those tiny shorts, humming some pop song while his dog tags swung between your tits, he looked at you and said, “we should get married.”

you blinked, mascara smudged. “what?”

“deadass.” he leaned back in the cheap kitchen chair, beer in hand, bare chest on full display. “barracks suck. married marines get paid more. get better housing. you want benefits, right?”

you should’ve said no. should’ve laughed. but then he called you sweetheart and said he’d pay for your nails and suddenly, you were standing in front of a government official in a sundress and flip flops, signing your name next to his.

he knocked you up within a month. didn’t even mean to, but he didn’t pull out either.

“look at you,” he murmured, palm flat on your stomach, cock still buried inside you. “gonna get all swollen for me, huh?”

he deploys two weeks later. leaves behind a house full of laundry and the memory of his teeth on your neck. but he takes a shoebox with him��stuffed full of polaroids he won’t show anyone else. you in lace pink nightgowns with nothing underneath. you in the passenger seat of his truck with your thighs spread and a lollipop in your mouth. you in his bed, all flushed and fucked-out, grinning like the devil.

his squad knows when he’s thinking about you. knows when he disappears into the tent with headphones and a locked jaw. they make jokes, but nobody pushes it.

“you miss your little wife?” someone asks, smirking.

rafe just shrugs. “miss that mouth.”

and when he finally calls, scratchy and low from some godforsaken corner of the world, the first thing he asks is:

“you wearing my shirt, babydoll?”

[akelafang]

Golden Age King Arthur accidentally gets sent back in time to the beginning of his reign. While making his way to Camelot hoping to find Merlin and figure out how to get back to his own time he runs into Agravaine making his own way to Camelot for the first time. Knowing he was a traitor working for Morgana in his own timeline, Arthur kills him and decides to take his place. No one had seen Agravaine since Ygraine's death, there were no portraits of him in the castle, and Arthur's premature greying hair has to be good for something other than Merlin calling him a silver fox. He can pass as his own uncle and be the caring advisor that young him deserved damn it!

[thebat-musicman]

Bruce is working at the McDonalds in the Wayne Enterprises cafeteria as he’s trying to uncover corruption.

Tim is working at the Taco Bell because the show Undercover Boss sounded fun

Babs is pretending to work at Panda Express in order to access their cameras because SOMEHOW the fucking Panda Express has the only camera in all of Wayne Enterprises that she cant access

Jason is working at the Starbucks because he’s trying to poach employees from Bruce, but doesnt want to do any actual business stuff.

Steph is working in the Waffle House because it was too on brand for her to not take the job when offered.

Duke is working at the Burger King because this is literally just his job.

Damian (and Jon stacked on top of Damian to make them seem like adults) is working in the Popeyes as Dick hopes this will make him connect with people more (it will not).

Dick is working at the Smoothie King because he honestly just got lost and this is more fun than his real job.

Cass stole uniforms from every single restaurant in the cafeteria and is pretending to work at all of them. She hasnt been reported yet because the workers dont care and no one can find the boss (rip tim)

None of them have noticed.

[fanaroff]

Constantine coming across Danny for the first time: Kid, are you aware that you’re dead?

Danny, about to play the greatest prank: I’m what? D:

[fandomfuntimem]

Dp x dc: batshit crazy driver au.

Bruce hired a new personal driver for the Wayne's. He was a nice enough guy. His grades weren't great, but he was a great driver and very patient. Like, really patient. Like, he is so unbothered by traffic, stupid drivers, and villain attacks, its kinda scary. But all the background checks came back clean. Minus his mad scientists parents, of course.

Daniel (Danny) Fenton. He could relate to any of the Wayne kids and hold an intelligent conversation with Bruce. Bruce feels that he doesn't need to be all Brucie Wayne around the young man. He doesn't know about their nightly activities yet, though. They're not quite sure if he even needs to know.

The first sign there was something more to Danny happened when Tim was sitting in the passenger seat. Tim was struggling with a math problem. It was driving him nuts. It only took a quick glance for Daniel to solve it, though, "it's thirty-six"

"What?"

"The answer is Thirty-six. You forgot to carry the three."

"Huh..."

He was right, Tim made a simple mistake, sure. But that was advanced college level math. Danny was a straight c student and never went to college. It only took him a momentary glance to solve it. Tim, though suspicious, chalked it up to a simple case of gifted kid syndrome. He related to it and began to consult with Danny on some of his math problems. Danny was more than happy to help, for a price, of course.

Then, there was a villain attack. The villain's goons ran rampant through the city, terrorizing anyone unfortunate enough to be outside at the time. But not Danny, they'll tried, oooh they tried. But those goons swiftly found themselves zip tied, in the trunk of a car, and on their way to jail. All while Danny blasted some music by a small artist named 'Ember'.

Alright. He is in Gotham, and his mother was a black belt, so maybe he was just well trained. Its good to know how to deffend yourself.

Then, Damien was kidnapped. It was so fast they barely saw, but a white van sped by and grabbed Damien as he made his way tawords the car. Initially, Damien expected the chauffeur to panic and call the police. But when shouting and cursing were heard from the front seat, and the men in the back slipped the van door open to check behind them, it was revealed Danny had followed them and he had a gun.

What could only be described as an action movie chase scene ensued. Every corner they swerved, every shortcut they took, Danny was right behind them. Driving like a bat out of hell, he shouted and fired at the wheels of the van. Knocking one out, the van swerved and was forced to come to a stop.

A kidnapper grabbed Damien by the hair and held a gun to his head, but before the threat could even leave his mouth a bullet flew through his hand. He dropped Damien and fell to the ground screaming, clutching his hand.

The kidnapper in the van already took off running but was swiftly stopped by Redhood arriving just in time to see Danny helping Damien up and checking him over, profusely apologizing for "letting this happen."

When asked why he did all of it, his simply answered, "I don't think I would get paid if I let Mr. Wayne's kid die! I can't let a kid die in general!"

Bruce, of course, gave the young man a bonus and a few days off for the stunt. Accompanied wlth a few stern words about safety. What was truly remarkable was that there was not a single scratch on the car. Untouched, meaning he never hit anything during the whole ordeal. "I just learned what not to do from my dad!" He joked, but Bruce felt that, despite the clear joking tone, there was some truth to the statement.

The family is suspicious, very suspicious. The man they previously viewed as their simple and humble driver turned out to be a monster of a fighter, and they have no idea how or why.

----------------------‐------

A/N: Feel free to add onto this in any way you would like :3

[clioerato]

Steve, raised since childhood on a strict diet of tax forms, utility bills, and neatly labeled folders, handles Love with capital L the only way he knows how—logistically.

So the moment he realizes things with Eddie are serious-serious, he doesn’t make a big speech or even breathe a word.

He just quietly opens a joint savings account.

Then a trust fund.

Lists himself as Eddie’s emergency contact.

Buys a gold ring (simple, tasteful, suspiciously the right size). He knows Eddie likes silver, but that's not what it's for. Gold is in any case an investment in the future, if something happens.

And—because, well, they’ve survived four apocalypses—he updates his will.

Steve wrote it after Apocalypse #2.

The BMW had been bought with his money and, should anything happen, was legally designated to go to Dustin.

Everything else—his personal savings, the shared funds, and whatever compensation the government might cough up for the next end-of-the-world scenario—was to go to Eddie.

Nobody knows this but Steve. It’s filed in a folder marked “just in case”.

Eddie, on the other hand, doesn’t do paperwork.

When he realizes things are serious, he gives Steve his favorite band t-short. Then changes the tires on Steve’s BMW from summer to winter without being asked. Fixes the bookshelf Steve’s been threatening to burn for a month. And starts making him sandwiches in the morning — the kind his mom used to make for him, with just the right amount of mustard and that one slice of tomato Steve always forgets he likes. Uses his entire vocabulary of cute nicknames on Steve and comes up with a couple of new ones.

Miraculously, it works.

Because Eddie gets this strange, unfamiliar feeling of being safe. And Steve? Steve finally feels understood. And cared for, in a way he didn’t know he needed.

[rapplesart]

Jason : Dick, I need your help.

Dick : Oh my god it's finally happening my little brother needs help!

Jason : Dick listen-

Dick : Alright so you know how to bury a body and make it disappear. You're good at cooking and stuff so no household help. You definetly don't need a pickup after drinking...... So what kind of emotional mess are We in?

Jason : First of all, rude!

Dick : You'd hang up on me after said "I need", I am nothing but polite here!

Jason : Well you're not wrong.

Dick : See?!? So, emotional mess?

Jason : Yeah OK listen, I did a Bruce.

Dick : You did a what now?

Jason : A Bruce. There's a kid sleeping on my couch and -

Dick: Oh my god. Are they an orphan?

Jason : Yes? No? I don't know.

Dick : Black hair, blue eyes?

Jason :..... Yes

Dick:..... Well,.... Are you gonna let them fight crime after they discovered your secret identity and/or force their way into your nightlife by being a sidekick you never asked for but can't get rid off any more?

Jason : OK Listen, he came like that!

Dick, whispering: Oh my god, you did a Bruce.

[rafeslvbug]

your kids telling nfl!rafe they don’t want to do sports…

your daughter:

she’s only three, absolutely adores her dad and does not feel the same way about netball. he enrolled her as soon as he could, determined to turn both his kids into little sports people.

but she discovers early on that she doesn’t like it.

it’s when you’re baking with her, she’s sat on the counter, chewing on the string of her dress until it soaks and you have to pry it out her mouth, that she softly whispers to you, slightly ashamed, “momma i don’t like netball anymore.”

you cup her chubby cheeks in your hands, cooing at her soft pout and the tears bubbling in her soft, round eyes. you frown at her crumbling face.

“why not baby? is there somethin’ else you wanna do?” you ask softly, humming as she nods her head, pigtails bobbing up and down.

“ballet,” she nestles her head into your stomach, as if to hide from the shame she feels in not wanting to do what rafe wants her to. you took her to a ballet class a few weeks ago, and hadn’t even realised how much she liked it. holding her in your arms, you reassure her in the best way you can. “yeah? you can do ballet,” but she only shakes her head, rubbing at her wet eyes with little balled fists. furrowed brows, you ask why not, only for her to respond with a guilty whisper of “dada”.

after a few gentle coaxes you manage to get her to agree to tell rafe, but she clings to you the whole way to the couch, where he’s sitting with your older son. you kneel by the couch as she climbs into rafe’s lap and breaks the news, watching as rafe’s face morphs from initial disappointment to near tears of his own when she starts crying again.

he engulfs her in his arms, rocking her back and forth to soothe her, shushing her with a gentle, “it’s okay baby girl, it’s okay, daddy’s not angry, i think it’s great. yeah? me and your momma will take you to get cute outfits, i’ll take ya’ to practice n’ everythin’, ‘kay?” he murmurs into her hair until she calms down, pulling away enough for him to wipe her tears and kiss her on the forehead.

it doesn’t take long for her to be okay again, bouncing and bubbly as she toddles off to play with her dolls. when she’s gone, rafe groans, running a hand over his face as he drops his head back. you chuckle at his behaviour, the picture of a man in despair either from the fact that she doesn’t want to play netball anymore or that she got so worried she cried. that in itself was enough to make him crumple.

“i know that was hard for you, baby,” you tease, sitting on the couch next to him while one hand of his reaches out to lay your legs over his lap.

“hard? sweetcheeks, that was fuckin’ devastating,” he mumbles,burying his face into your neck, only causing you to laugh more. “i hear ballet’s hard though..” he muses, appreciating hard work over anything.

“yeah? and she’ll look adorable in the tutu,” you add, earning a hum from rafe while you pat his back, sharing a look with your son as he plays with his trucks on the floor. rafe was always the exaggerator.

your son:

he wouldn’t even allow it.

(jk, if his son really didn’t like it, he’d get over it. luckily for him, his son does like nfl)

[fangirlingpuggle]

AU/fic prompt where Shen Yuan does not pull off the ruse at all. All the peak lords look at him like 'no, nowhere enough contempt in that look that ain't Shen Jiu' but no one calls because while observing trying figure out possession they see his knowledge of things not just Shen Jiu BUT no one else should know like you are casually talking about a creature that for all we know has been extinct for millennia and casually mentioning about things going on no ones told.

All of collectively decide he's a god. (Apart from Shang Qinghua who hasn't noticed all this because he is doing ALL THE PAPERWORK while the other peak lords are in front of their WTF conspiracy board. He doesn't know what they're doing he doesn't care he just wants a nap.)

Just all peak lords sure Shen Jiu died and now there's a god in his body.

Luo Binghe of course hearing they're mutters and instantly being like 'yep makes perfect sense Shizun is perfect' and then turning to Meng Mo and being like 'how to I court a god?'

After Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan meet other peak lords looking and listening in on them talking in ANOTHER LANGUAGE THEY HAVE NEVER HEARD AND NO RECORD OF and saying things that make no sense and are like 'both gods, that little shit was a god this whole time...I MADE A GOD THE BUDGETING?

Meanwhile Luo Binghe trying become demonic emperor and gain all the power like 'ok if I take over the entire world I think i should be able to start courting Shizun... maybe all 3 first? when I can start sending courting gifts to a god?'

Bonus Mobei Jun caught on right away there was something up with Shang Qinghua and quickly decided god and has an entire council of demons trying to figure out how to court a god... they have no basis for this. Can you bride nap a god? is that allowed? what courting gifts would even work? Mobei Jun has been beating him up because the council couldn't stop him doing something but since he hasn't been responding figure they need something else.

Just Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua convinced they have fooled everyone just like 'don't be suspicious' while everyone else is like 'We've connected the dots... they're gods'

[celestialwrites]

flirty or threatening? dialogue prompts

@celestialwrites for more!!

“good god, you are a pain.” “then why are you even here?” “maybe i’m a masochist.”

“say that again i dare you.” “what are you going to do about it if i do?”

“your existence unnerves me.” “aw, i’m flattered.”

“hi honey.” “don’t honey me, you just threw a book at me!”

“huh, you know when you’re not scowling at me your eyes look a little more blue than green.”

“what if one day you wandered off a cliff?” “would you join me?”

“sometimes i feel like you want to get hit.” “by you? most certainly.”

“miss me?” “i had wondered where my headache went.”

“you are certainly interesting.” “is that a compliment or are you making fun of me?” “yes.”

“i’m not docile by any means.” “i’ve noticed, i notice everything about you.”

“i need help to bury a body.” “and you thought of me? aw.” “actually, i’m the only one that would miss you if you went to prison.” “you’d miss me?”

“i hate you!” “as long as you feel something towards me.”

“watch it!” “it’s cute how easy i can rile you up.”

“do you truly hate me?” “i wish that was possible.”

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[isasweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[cameronsbabydoll]

You don’t expect much when you say it. It’s just a dumb joke, a throwaway comment you saw other girls say to their boyfriends. You barely even look up from your phone when you mumble it.

"I can’t pay the mortgage this month."

Silence.

Then, the weight of Rafe’s stare sinks into you before you even lift your head.

He’s leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, lips pressed into a firm line. His blue eyes darken with something unreadable, something dangerous.

"What?" His voice is low, measured, but there’s an edge to it.

You swallow, suddenly aware of how stupid this was. It’s just a TikTok trend, Rafe, relax. But the words don’t make it to your lips, because Rafe’s already pushing his chair back, already reaching for his phone, already doing what he always does—fixing things.

"How much?" He asks, and it’s not really a question. It’s a demand.

You blink. "What?"

His jaw ticks. "How much do you need? And why the hell do you even know what the mortgage is?"

Oh shit.

You rush to correct yourself, shaking your head. "No, Rafe, I was just—"

"Just what?" His voice drops, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, tilting your chin up to meet his sharp gaze. "Just struggling? Just hiding it from me?"

You bite your lip. This was supposed to be funny. This was not supposed to turn into some alpha-male meltdown.

"Rafe," you start gently, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart. "It’s a joke."

Rafe freezes. Stares at you like you just spoke a foreign language. Then he exhales sharply, shaking his head with a bitter chuckle. "That’s not funny."

He’s still tense, still holding your face like he’s trying to read your mind, trying to make sure you’re not lying to him.

"Don’t say shit like that," he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his fingers slipping under your jaw. "That’s not your problem. That’s mine."

And just like that, he’s already over it, already distracted by your mouth, already pressing you back into the couch like he needs to remind you that you're his, that he’ll always take care of you.

You make a mental note to never try another TikTok prank on him again.