#thank you for the prompt!!

[luxaofhesperides]

Dancing in the rain ; requested by @wandixx!

He hadn’t been expecting the Signal to chase after him. It is, after all, well after midnight, and he had seen the vigilante out earlier during the day. 

Maybe the Bats are understaffed tonight, he muses as he leaps over the rooftops, a wild grin on his face. Being on the other side of a chase is a lot of fun, he’s discovering. He can see why Selina enjoys it so much.

Though, it probably has to do more with who’s chasing her than it is the chase itself.

But Danny’s become a bit of an adrenaline junkie after a few years of being a hero, fighting ghosts and governments. He’s not a hero anymore, especially not in Gotham, but being Catwoman’s partner in crime is way more fun than being responsible for everyone’s safety.

It’s like he’s doing anything bad, either. Selina can steal whatever she wants; if they couldn’t protect things against her, then should they really have it? Danny doesn’t focus on jewelry or gems. No, he takes ghost artifacts or items contaminated with ectoplasm back to the realms where they won’t cause problems to any humans. There are enough ecto-contaminated people in this world, solely from Amity Park. Best not to let that number grow.

So here he is, leaping over rain-slicked rooftops and only using a little bit of flying to keep ahead, holding a cursed pocket watch that a ghost had requested he return to them, with the Signal chasing after him, disappearing into shadows and popping up unexpectedly. 

“Stray! Get back here!” Signal yells, and Danny takes a moment to spin on his heel to face the vigilante to stick his tongue out at him, then backflips away.

“I didn’t even steal anything important!” he returns, tossing the pocketwatch in the air ahead, then jumps up to catch it and scales his way up to the roof of the next building. 

“Seriously,” Signal says, suddenly in front of him. “Stop running and we can talk this out.”

“Woah!” Danny tries to get around him, trips over his own feet, and crashes into the Signal’s chest. 

“Careful, there.” He looks up to see the Signal’s smile, and he absolutely can not be blamed for having his half dead heart skip a beat. He’s in the arms of a hero who’s smiling at him so sweetly, what’s a guy to do? “Ready to talk now?”

Danny goes intangible for a moment, smoothly sliding out of the Signa’s grip. “Nope,” he grins, starting up the chase once again.

The rain isn’t very strong, and the drops feel cool against his face as he runs, getting a little more air with each jump as he uses more of his flight to keep ahead. He can hear the Signal chasing after him again, heavy footsteps that start and stop unpredictably as he travels between shadows. 

Just to be safe, Danny stashes the pocket watch inside his chest, leaving his hands free to grab onto the rough brick of the walls and scale them up, aiming to go higher and higher. Maybe if he finds a good building, he can dramatically fall off the edge and fly away invisibly. 

“Got you!” 

The Signal pops up out of the wall and grabs Danny, who yelps and tries to pull his arms away. The Signal is too strong, and his tight grip on Danny’s wrists is warm against the chill of the rain. 

They stand there for a moment, just staring at each other as they try to catch their breath. And then, “Is that any way to treat a guy?” Danny jokes, trying one last time to pull his wrists free.

“It is when it’s you,” the Signal replies. “Man, you sure know how to run.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume for my next heist.”

“Seriously, can we talk?”

Danny eyes him curiously. The other Bats mostly tried to take back whatever it is he’d stolen that night, occasionally trying to get information from him. None of them had outright asked to have a chat with him. The Signal at least has some manners, compared to the rest of him. There’s no harm in sticking around for one conversation.

It helps that the Signal is cute, especially when he had saved Danny a few weeks ago. 

Sue him, he’s a bit soft on the Signal. Wouldn’t anyone be with their favorite hero?

“Alright,” Danny says, relaxing. “Go ahead. Talk.”

“Great! Okay, um.” The Signal bites his lip and Danny should really look away, but his eyes are fixed to his mouth. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute, during which Danny really begins to feel the chill of the rain. “Can I get less comments from the peanut gallery?” he says suddenly.

“What?” Danny laughs, confused.

The Signal sighs. “My comms are on. The others are being annoying. If they wanted to ask you questions, they should have caught you first.”

“Oh, protecting me from the big bad Bats? My hero,” Danny says sweetly, pretending to swoon. Except, the Signal follows his movements, releasing his wrists to catch him by the waist, holding him steady. Danny’s breath hitches, and from how close they are, he has no doubt that the Signal heard it. They freeze for a moment, then the Signal dips him like some fainting Victorian maiden.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind sweeping you up in my arms.” The smirk on his face only lasts a moment before he grimace and says, “I shouldn’t have said that on open comms. Man, they’re annoying. It’s not my fault I know how to flirt.”

Danny…

Well. Danny short circuits for a moment, running the words over his mind again, then blushes so hard he’s sure there’s steam coming off his cheeks. “You’re flirting?” he squeaks. “With me?”

“Flirting,” a new voice confirms, making them both jump, stumbling against each other as Black Bat hops down onto their rooftop. “Both shy and silly. I’m better.”

“You can’t even ask out Spoiler,” the Signal retaliates.

“She can’t even WHAT?” Spoiler yells as she also vaults herself over the alley below to join them. “You want to ask me out?”

Though she doesn’t say anything, Danny can practically feel Black Bat’s glare through her mask. The Signal winces, then says, “Oops.”

“Man, you can keep yourself busy, clearly Sig doesn’t need backup,” Spoiler says. “I need to go on a date with Black Bat. The rest of you suckers are on your own!” And then she grabs Black Bat’s hand and grapples away.

There’s a beat of silence, then Danny and the Signal share a glance and start laughing. 

“Well,” Danny says, “Good for them! Good for them.”

“They’re probably just going to Bat Burger.”

“And are you going to be treating me to a burger any time soon? I should be compensated for this conversation, you know.”

“Please, if I was taking you out on a date, it wouldn’t be to Bat Burger. I’d take you out dancing.”

It sounds like a date his dad would take his mom on. It sounds nice. Danny smiles and leans in closer to the Signal, taking hold of one of his hands. With the other, he puts Signal’s hand on his waist, then brings his own up to the Signal’s shoulder. 

“Why not dance with me now?”

Danny leads them in a few clumsy turns of a waltz, silently thanking Sam for forcing him to take a few ballroom dance lessons with her. The Signal seems a little dazed, following his lead, and when he lightly squeezes Danny’s waist, he shivers. 

Catwoman should be done with Batman soon. They had agreed to meet up at the newly opened Vintage Boutique in Diamond District, and he intends to beat her there. 

Reluctantly, Danny pulls away from the Signal with one final spin, and hops up onto the edge of the roof. “If you can find me during the day,” he says, “Then I’ll dance with you again. See you around, Signal!”

And with that, Danny hops backwards off the roof, free-falling towards the ground before he lets gravity lose hold of him and slips into invisibility, flying up just as the Signal peers over the edge, searching for him.

Unable to help himself, Danny floats closer until he can give the Signal a quick kiss on the cheek, then flies off, grinning wildly. 

He certainly can’t wait to see the Signal again. 

Maybe if he hired a few guys to pretend to rough him up while Signal’s out patrolling…

Well, either way, this cat is already half dead so he can jump straight to satisfaction bringing him back. And, hopefully, back into Signal’s arms again when they won’t be interrupted by other Bats. 

He’s already looking forward to it.

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[hello-eeveev]

Doodles? 👀 how abouttttt Caleb being silly and distracting while Essek is trying to knit? XD :3

Local wizard decides he is in desperate need of cuddles while his bf is in the middle of knitting.

But once Essek finished his row, he was happy to oblige 💕

[keldabekush]

uhh rex and 42 if you want

[CAPTAIN REX would like it noted on record that this was not what he agreed to when he said he would babysit COMMANDER TANO.]

[COMMANDER TANO would like it noted on record that CAPTAIN REX was the one who suggested they attend this concert.]

[COMMANDER TANO would like it further noted that CAPTAIN REX seemed to know an awful lot of lyrics for someone who, quote, doesn’t like music for sulky adolescents, unquote.]

[CAPTAIN REX requests previous comment be expunged from the record. He additionally requests that COMMANDER TANO be noted as a Liar and a Snitch.]

Ashoka and Rex see Space Three Days Grace on coruscant and they wear so much clip on jewellery. She just ended up in the sketch somehow

[saessenach]

Hi there :) I saw you're doing the kissing prompts, so I'd love to see Jon and Daenerys for '28. A kiss in parting', if you feel like it? 🩷

HIII and thank you for giving me an excuse to draw something that's been on my mind for a w h i l e

here's Jon and Dany for #28 from this list

[vpofcookies]

Something rivalduo related? Training for doomsday?

Look at them go!

[beecauseevan]

Thank you @oldfashionedmorphine for the cute prompt <3 <3 <3

~~~

Eddie stares at the thing he just pulled out of the cardboard box in front of him, concisely labeled "Kitchen". That makes him think it must be food-related (then again, Buck kept a ring cutter in his cutlery drawer, so who knows), but try as he might, he can't work it out. It's a bright green plastic knife, but the handle is weird—it's a grid instead of a solid surface, too wide and too flat to be comfortable to hold.

"What is this?" 

He holds it up. Buck, who's sitting across from him, glances up, shrugs, and looks back down at Christopher's textbook.

"It's an avocado cutter."

"Why do you need an avocado cutter?" Eddie asks.

Buck looks up again. "Why do you think, Eddie? Not to cut apples, that's for sure."

Eddie reaches into the box again and takes out a (much more recognizable) plastic gadget—a red plastic frame and eight blades, arranged in the middle like spokes on a wheel. "And what's this?"

"That's an apple cutter." 

Wordlessly, Eddie drops that back in the box and pulls out something long and yellow—

"Banana cutter."

—followed by something that looks exactly the same, except orange.

"Hot dog cutter," Buck says, with a smile.

"Uh huh." Eddie pulls out something purple.

"That's an onion," Buck cuts himself off, "dicer."

"An onion cutter," Eddie repeats.

"No, an onion dicer," Buck insists. "It said so on the package."

Eddie looks at the thing in his hands. It looks exactly like the apple cutter, but the blades are arranged in a grid, forming little squares instead of wedges. "What's the difference?"

Chris, sat between them and brooding over his English homework, stops chewing on his pencil just long enough to say, "It's obvious, dad. Cutters cut, dicers dice."

"It's obvious, Eddie," Buck echoes, smirking.

Eddie drops the onion cutter on the no pile, ignoring Buck's pout. 

"I don't think you should be throwing out all of my shi—" Buck cuts himself off with a glance in Chris' direction. "All of my stuff. That's not the point of moving in together. Your stuff is supposed to mingle, Eddie."

"You can say shit, you know," Chris tells them boredly. "I'm not a baby."

"Our stuff is mingling," Eddie replies, pointing his finger at Chris, a silent admonishment Chris completely ignores. "But not this stuff. I already have a banana cutter. And an onion dicer. And all the other stuff in between."

Buck looks at him skeptically. "You do?"

Eddie nods and gets up. He walks to his cutlery drawer and pulls out a single kitchen knife. "See? It cuts, it dices, and it's universal."

"It's not shaped like a banana though."

Chris chuckles and quickly dips his head when Eddie looks at him, as if he's been focused on his homework the whole time. Eddie shakes his head.

"That sounds like a good thing, if you ask me."

"I guess I won't ask you, then," Buck replies.

Eddie sits back down. He would give in (he would fill every single drawer in this house with useless gadgets if it made Buck happy) but Buck's frown is clearly not genuine—the spark in his eyes is far too obvious.

"So what you're saying is," Buck continues, "as long as it's not a cutter, it's fine."

Eddie hesitates. "Why does that feel like a dangerous thing to say yes to?"

"Live on the edge, Eddie," Buck tells him sagely, and Eddie has never been one to back down from a challenge.

"Okay."

Buck pulls the box closer to him and starts rummaging through it. He produces some things Eddie doesn't mind saying yes to—spacer rings for his rolling pin, a collapsible silicone bowl for microwave popcorn, a pizza cutter shaped like a bicycle and cupcake tins shaped like firetrucks, which are just ridiculous enough that Eddie wants to see them in action.

"See," he says, "we're mingling."

"We are," Buck confirms, and there's something in his smirk that might be bad news. Eddie has seen that smirk before. It usually precedes a rope rescue or something equally dangerous. "So if you don't have something yet, I get to keep it, yeah?"

Eddie frowns. "That was the deal."

"Okay." Buck reaches into the box between them one last time and pulls out the weirdest thing Eddie has seen all day. It's chocolate-colored and square, with a round cylinder at the back. Two arms protrude from it, made from flexible white plastic. He shakes it lightly and those arms rattle, slapping against the flat base. 

Eddie stares at it. "What on earth does that do?"

"It's a s'more maker," Buck says, tugging at one of the arms. "You put your crackers here, and your chocolate and your marshmallow, and then you put it in the microwave. And this little thing holds everything in place."

"We used it every time I stayed over at Buck's," Chris says fondly. "The s'mores taste really, really bad."

"Microwaved s'mores taste bad?" Eddie reaches out to tug at the other arm, then lets it fall back down. "Shocking."

Buck is smirking, and the thing is—Eddie knows fully well that this is a dare. He knows that Buck expects to be told to get rid of this thing, and that he would do it, gladly. And maybe that last part is why Eddie just shrugs instead.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Buck repeats, incredulously.

"Okay," Eddie confirms. "Bet we can clear some space for it."

Buck stares at him, stunned. "For real?"

Eddie reaches for Buck's hand, still holding the chocolate-colored monstrosity, and smooths his thumb across Buck's knuckles.

"It's your house too," he says simply. 

It's Buck's house too. Buck isn't renting a room from Eddie, isn't staying here as a guest. Buck is a part of this household now, of this family. If he wants to make s'mores in their microwave, he doesn't need Eddie's permission.

Buck's eyes speak volumes. Later, when they're alone, Buck will kiss Eddie for this, hard enough that Eddie forgets about everything else. For now, he just flips his hand so he can lace their fingers together, Buck's a little longer than Eddie's but calloused in all the same places. 

Chris catches one glimpse of them and rolls his eyes, burying his face in his homework, but he's smiling too.

"Okay," Buck says quietly. "Okay. But I am getting rid of it. Chris is right. The s'mores are really bad."

"Could take it to work," Eddie says after a moment, when his brain is no longer too flooded with love to work properly. "Show it to Bobby."

"He'll disown me."

"Yeah, maybe. But his face would be worth it."

Buck's smile grows into a smirk, bright and devastating. He mouths the next words, for Chris' sake, but Eddie has heard them so many times by now that his brain fills in the gaps, that he hears Buck's voice as he reads Buck's lips: I love you.

"I know you do," Eddie replies. It takes one pout, and then he breaks. He mouths back, trusting Buck to be able to read him just as easily: I love you more.

"You two are embarrassing," Chris tells them. "And we're keeping the s'mores maker. I like it."

Just like that, it's settled.

[necr0mancers]

VELCINTAVELCINTAVELCINTAVELCIBTA perhaPS HURT COMFORT CLEABING WOUNDS????!!!!!

simple sketch for now but they own angst so i’ll revisit them soon

[whump-card]

Whump prompt: whumper cutting or shaving whumpee’s hair

[buddiedrabbles]

Kiss in the snow

prompt 1: kiss in the snow ❄️

happy writing! remember to tag us so we can reblog it. here is no min/max word count and feel free to do this whenever inspiration strikes, even months later. new prompt every thursdays!

thank you for the prompt anon!!

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist 🩵

@diazheartsbuckley @loserdiaz @911varietyposts @underwaterninja13 @lesboyobsessedwroykent

@crysty-rp-2023 @aroeddiediaz @bloodsoakedbuckley @lunareclipsegirl @smolfunpenguin

@unlifeira @spotsandsocks @sleepywinchesters @buick118 @hollyandvice

@becausebuckley @the-likesofus @19agbrown @sonofatoasterwaffle @theotherbuckley

@cliophilyra @xunandran @cosyvelvetorchid @professionally-bewildered @mickmilks

@kindlingtotheflames @adarkermiserablecrow @watchyourbuck @iced-coffee-jesus @weewootruck

@bucksxkinard @constructiononsunsett @prettysophist

@evan-i-think-youre-adorable @musiclily @kitteneddiediaz

[luxaofhesperides]

“You know, I never realized how true the ‘eyes are the windows to your soul’ thing was until I saw yours.” + fluff + cafe AU ; requested by @kiv1!

He’s sure Danny didn’t expect to see him every other day after he casually mentioned that he had gotten a part time job at a local cafe. However, as his friend, it is Duke’s moral duty to only get coffee from that shop while Danny is on shift, specifically to annoy him. 

Also, so he can support his friend, but being annoying takes priority.

It’s a routine now, for both of them. Danny clocks in for his shift and an hour later Duke is strolling into the cafe with his eyes locked on Danny’s. The rest of the baristas always shove Danny up to the register when they see Duke, taking over whatever order he was making. Even some of the other regulars turn their attention up to the counter, hoping for another few minutes of entertainment.

Danny sighs as he gets ready to input Duke’s order. It’s never the same one, because Duke would hate to be predictable and make things easier for Danny, but it has the side effect of making him realize that some of the expensive, seasonal drinks are really good. 

It’s a bit hard on his wallet, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay for teasing Danny. 

“Hey,” he greets cheerfully as he leans against the counter, grinning at Danny.

Danny sighs again. “What can I get you today, random customer that keeps bothering me.”

“A latte, but make it sweet somehow. And iced.”

“What size would you like?”

“Let’s go with medium today.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Duke leans closer to Danny, watching as he fights down a smile. “I just gotta say that you got gorgeous eyes. You know, I never realized how true the ‘eyes are the window to your soul thing’ was until I saw yours.”

Danny considers this for a moment, then shakes his head. “It kind of sounds like your trying to steal my soul through my eyes.”

“Why is that what your mind goes to?”

“Well. I watched Coraline last night.”

Duke stares at Danny, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. “...Didn’t you say that movie gave you nightmares as a kid?”

“Yeah! And it turns out, it gives me nightmares even now!”

“And ruined my pick up line,” Duke complains playfully.

“It was too cheesy anyways,” Danny replies, putting Duke’s order into the screen. It prints a moment later, no doubt with some bizarre name since Danny refuses to actually name Duke on his orders, and then recites the price. 

He pays and watches as Danny slaps the order onto a medium sized up, then tosses it over to the barista making the drinks. He’s not actually sure what her name is since she refuses to wear a name tag, but she always gives him a wave and also a rating of how good his pick up lines are.

“Seven out of ten!” she calls out to him today, then gets started on making his drink.

“I don’t see why you don’t flirt with anyone else,” Danny says, “I’m pretty sure my coworkers like your pick up lines even more than they like me.”

“Why would I want to flirt with them? Danny, I’m literally only here to bother you.”

Danny rolls his eyes. “Yeah, trust me, I know. My good looks just keep pulling in business.”

He says it like a joke, but it’s true. Duke has noticed it. Danny’s coworkers have noticed it. His manager noticed it and now has him out on the floor every shift. If they can get him to work on the chalkboard sign outside, or wipe down the two tables out front, then they do it, because Danny is Midwestern to his core and it’s very charming in a place like Gotham. He smiles at people as they walk by, happily answers their questions when they ask him what the cafe serves, recommends food and drinks for them, is generally a bright and nice person to everyone who comes near the cafe. 

His cute looks draw people in, then his personality makes them stay. 

It’s all customer service, of course, because Duke never gets the cute, sunny Danny. He’s left with the sarcastic, rude, and funny Danny that’s been his friend since they met in junior year of high school. 

“Your eyes are really pretty, though,” Duke says, “Very blue. Sometimes green. It’s no wonder people keep falling for you!”

Danny reaches across the counter to shove Duke away, but he’s blushing, so Duke is counting it as a win. “Shut up. Now you’re just lying. My eyes are never green.”

“Yes, they are. Danny, I’ve seen them multiple times. They’re green sometimes.”

“No? My eyes have literally only ever been blue. They’re the bluest blue to ever blue. They don’t just turn green.”

They squint at each other for a long moment, trying to figure out who’s wrong and in what way. Duke’s pretty sure Danny’s wrong, since he can’t exactly see his own eyes, and Duke has spent an embarrassing amount of time just admiring how nice they are in different kinds of light. But also, they are Danny’s eyes, so he should know what color they are.

Then Danny’s coworker is setting down Duke’s drink on the pick up counter, giving Danny an excuse to get back to work.

“One medium oatmeal cookie iced latte for Cornelius Aggravating Douglas.” He holds up the drink and makes very direct eye contact with Duke, holding out the drink towards him.

“Did you really have to make the initials ‘Cad’?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough,” Duke says, making Danny crack a smile. 

“Are you heading out after this?”

Duke grabs a straw and sticks it into his latte, swirling it around some. “That was the plan, yeah. Got a few library books to pick up. Why?”

“I got approval for a half shift today, so I’m off in like ten minutes, if you wanna wait for me.”

“Hell yeah, dude! I’ll wait outside so I don’t distract you with my flirtatious winks again.”

“Get out of here,” Danny laughs. Duke lifts his drink in a quick toast, then gets out of there. He takes a seat at one of the tables out front, content to just people watch as he slowly sips his latte.  

It’s cloudy out, but not raining, which is always a plus. As much as he’d like to see the sun, these kinds of days aren’t so bad, either. The wind still carries a bit of a chill, but the spring is steadily warming things up. There are tons of people out, a constant rush of movement, but a few do catch sight of him, then look towards the cafe, their steps slowing down as they think. Most keep walking, but Duke does manage to get a few to go in just by taking a long sip of his latte to really enjoy it.

Really, he should be getting compensated for the work he’s doing to draw people in. Danny’s not the only one who can do it. 

Bruce keeps offering him money, so he doesn’t need to get paid, but maybe he can convince the other employees to talk Danny into accepting one of his pick up lines so they can go on a date one of these days. 

It’s become a bit of a joke, but the first time Duke used a cheesy pick up line on Danny, he was being absolutely serious about it. He definitely shouldn’t have used a pick up line he found from a website centered on relationship advice, but he panicked and needed some extra help. 

Instead of smoothly asking Danny out on a date, Duke froze up, blurted out the pick up line, then had to laugh it off with Danny and pretend it was a joke. 

He still wishes he was able to ask Danny out properly before, but he’s also glad that they got to spend more time as friends, getting to know each other. It’s easier to be with him now, no longer so tongue tied and flustered. 

Duke gets to fluster Danny now, which is much better. 

And maybe one day his pick up lines will work! Sooner or later Danny’s going to question why he keeps doing this, and then he’ll connect the dots and understand what Duke feels for him.

As it is, he has yet to connect shit. 

“My eyes are definitely blue,” Danny says as he walks out of the cafe, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “I checked while I was putting my apron away.”

“You’re still on that?”

“They’re blue.”

Duke gestures for Danny to come closer. He complies and leans down, letting Duke cup his face in his hands. He checks, considers, then checks again, and says, “They are indeed blue.”

“Told you they weren’t green,” Danny says smugly, pulling back. 

“And I said they were green sometimes. Now clearly isn’t one of those times, but they do turn green!”

“I don’t think you should be allowed to say any eye-related pick up lines until you admit that you were wrong and didn’t know my eye color.”

Shaking his head, Duke stands up and pushes in his chair. “Just wait, I’ll catch it sometime and prove it to you.”

“Sure, whatever. Don’t you have library books to get?”

“Yeah, you coming with?”

“Obviously. Why else would I leave my wonderful job where I am left alone to make drinks in peace?” Danny knocks his shoulder against Duke playfully, then reaches over and steals his drink right out of his hand. He takes a sip, makes a pleased hum, and drains half of what was left in the cup. 

“Hey!” Duke moves to take it back, which is naturally the exact moment Danny takes off running, effortlessly dodging everyone else on the sidewalk. He takes off after Danny, using his powers to make sure he can move out of the way of anything or anyone who gets in his path. 

They’re past the block when Danny starts to slow down, taking another sip of Duke’s latte. 

He puts on a final burst of speed and all but tackles Danny into the mouth of an alley, reaching for his cup. “Gotcha!”

“No!” Danny wails dramatically. He takes a step back and Duke watches as his power kicks up again, showing him a vision of Danny stepping on an empty can and falling back. Except he doesn’t really fall back? His foot rolls back on the can for a second, then goes through the can and settles back onto the ground where he catches his balance. Through the entire three second fall, Danny’s eyes are a bright green, brighter than Duke’s ever seen them.

His vision fades away and he moves to catch Danny, taking the chance to watch carefully as Danny’s foot does indeed go through the can. He quickly brings his gaze up to Danny’s eyes, which are green, but not inhumanly bright like they were in his vision.

Is the green not perceptible to normal humans?

He can probably only see it due to his powers. Which means he somewhat inadvertently outed himself as a meta.

Whoops!

Might as well just bite the bullet.

“Hey, do you have powers?” 

Danny chokes, shoving Duke away as he coughs and tries to clear his throat. He looks panicked, wild-eyed, searching for an escape route. “What? No. Why would I have powers? Maybe you have powers, have you ever considered that?”

“I mean. I do have powers. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Hold up. Stop talking. You have powers?”

“And your eyes are green sometimes.”

“That’s. No, they’re not,” Danny lies. It’s a very bad lie, seeing how on edge he is, and as much as Duke hates making Danny feel like that, he did get some bad habits while training with Bruce and this is one of them: the need to keep pushing, chasing after clear answers regardless of what the cost is. 

Duke shrugs, taking a sip of his latte, down to its last few mouthfuls, acting casual. “If you say so. But my powers don’t lie, man. As much as I wish they would, sometimes.”

“...Can we not do this out here?” The defeated tone Danny speaks with makes Duke hate himself. But he needs answers now. He needs to know if Danny is like him, if he’s safe, if he needs help. He needs it more than he needs Danny to like him at all. 

“Sure. I know a few quiet places we can talk.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Danny mutters. “Did my eyes really give it away?”

“Yeah. I mean, to be fair, I also didn’t realize until literally right now, so I don’t think anyone else will figure it out just from staring into your eyes.”

“See, this is what happens when you keep flirting when you don’t mean it. Secrets get pulled out into the open and it’s bad for everyone!”

Duke lightly punches Danny’s arm, trying to lift the mood. “Hey, who said I didn’t mean it?”

“What?”

“Who said I didn’t mean it when I flirt with you?”

Danny blinks at him, confused, then says, “I mean, no one I guess. But it’s pretty obvious?”

“I only flirt with you, you know.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Duke says, trying to ignore how his voice shakes slightly. “There’s another one of my secrets. Can we call it even now?”

“Oh!” The shock of the revelation distracts Danny from his earlier nerves. Which is great, because now Duke is the one who’s nervous. It’s worth it, though, seeing the pretty blush come to bloom on Danny’s cheeks. “So all those pick up lines—”

“Yeah.”

“And the pick up line made you realize my powers!” 

“These pick up lines are doing the most,” Duke agrees. And then he realizes, “Hey, you what this means? I was right! Your eyes are windows to your soul!”

“I’m going to hit you,” Danny says, already winding back for a solid punch. He lets Danny hit him since it’s only fair for the stress he caused; as a meta, Duke knows how important secrecy is, how the difference between life and death can be just how well his powers are hidden. 

“Are we even now?”

Danny considers him for a moment, then sighs. “Yeah, I guess. Let’s be done with this for now, okay? Let’s go to the library.”

He refuses to entertain any conversation about powers or Duke’s feelings for him. It’s nice to spend time with Danny, but by the end, Duke is sure he can feel his heart start to crack in half. A sleepless night awaits him when he gets home, moving past his cousin’s attempts to talk to him in favor of flopping face down onto his bed.

But the next day, Danny grins at him when he walks into the cafe. He doesn’t have a new pick up line, choosing instead to act as calm and casual as possible to give Danny some space.

Also breaking routine, Danny insists on personally making Duke’s drink, writing something onto the cup before he fills it up with a floral tea. 

You’re so fine, you made me forget my pick up line, is scrawled on the side of his cup when he gets it. 

“Enjoy your drink, Cutiepie the Third,” Danny says with a shy smile.

“The Third?” Duke repeats, relief making him feel lighter than air, “Who are the first two?”

“Don’t worry about it, cutie. Get to class!”

Duke lets Danny chase him out, and holds in his laugh when he hears Danny’s coworker screech, “What was that?!”

Yeah, they’ll be fine. In the meantime, Duke needs to see if apology pick up lines are thing. Danny definitely deserves one.

[ddagent]

"Take It Off"

Margo/Sergei | PWP | FR18 | 1,488 words     Margo and Sergei spend the night together during the '92 IAC conference. Margo has bought something special for the occasion. @moocowmoocow prompted: "I feel like 23 & 24 can be combined. :P And I would like to see it if possible, please." [23. A Hungry Fucking Wolf 24. Lingerie] I hope this satisfies; happy reading! :D

"What’s wrong?”  

Margo had pulled back from where she had been laying atop of Sergei, enjoying the feel of his tongue in her mouth as they finally, finally, kissed. So far, the ’92 IAC conference had been very satisfying. They had spent the day attending panels together, before sitting on a two-person panel bickering and flirting on stage about who would make it first to Mars. And now here they were, in Margo's hotel suite, Sergei's hands underneath her blouse, stroking bare skin, as her thigh brushed against his half-hard cock. But she was pulling away. Sergei looked concerned, immediately removed his hands and repeated his question.

She shook her head. "Nothing’s wrong. Everything is fine. Perfect, even. I just—" She winced. "—I bought something? For...for this?"

Continue Reading at AO3

[a-driftamongopenstars]

Kisses around the campfire? Maybe with marshmallows?

omg thank you for the prompt, yes! that's what i need while doing TFS :D spoiler free ficlet below! also on ao3

The small forest clearing is used to keeping secrets. Here the birds come to hide their brood, here the stars meet in constellations. Here a pair of Guardians comes to spend time together, away from the hustle and bustle of the Last City. It is just the two of them and a small campfire, smoking and crackling and warming.

Crow rummages in a small bag they brought and fishes out a plump marshmallow. It melts under his fingertips, and he pushes the sweet treat onto a thin stick, then plunges it over the open flames of the campfire. A log within it cracks and sparks in approval.

The Guardian joins in the endeavour, roasting their own marshmallow and giving Crow a sly smile. They often exchange those smiles, mysterious and known only to them. The little smirks, the bright big smiles, the soft apologetic ones.

Crow sighs and looks up to the starry sky. Then to the surroundings, perfectly still and peaceful.

"This is a nice place," he says, and the Guardian nods in agreement. "Quiet. Maybe a little too quiet, but I don't feel like starting a scuffle right now."

No, the Guardian laughs and agrees again. A scuffle would make them burn their marshmallows.

"Ah, damn it," Crow gasps, remembering his own and pulling the stick away from the fire. The marshmallow is just a perfect amount of burnt, and so he sends it in his mouth.

When he looks at the Guardian, their gaze meets him with fervour. He is still not used to being looked at this way. With love, with want, with appreciation. He feels whole and seen. A little too seen, the sticky sweetness of the marshmallow on his dry lips.

It is the Guardian who reaches out first, pulling him into a kiss full of passion. His lips burn with pleasure and happiness and a light tug of the Guardian's teeth. His lips are parted to welcome a tongue, and he presses his own against the Guardian's. Sweet, sugary kisses, burning like the flames around a luscious marshmallow.

The forest clearing is shivering in the night wind. It oh so loves secrets, and this kiss is the most pleasant secret of all.

When the Guardian pulls away, Crow is dazed and smiling. He thinks it is good that they brought a big bag of marshmallows. He would hate for this night to end.

[sighonaraa]

I love dialogue prompts, they're so fun! How about: “Don’t feel like it today.”

ignore me taking approximately 5 million business years to get to all the dialogue prompts i've got languishing in my inbox............ ANYWAYS.

They're halfway through the season, and the ground's gone hard with frost most days. There's a nip to the air that bites, Roy's got a pair of Phoebe's lumpy, misshapen mittens in his pocket, and he's about to tear Tartt a new one if the muppet doesn't open his door in the next two minutes. He pulls his fist back and drives it forward; the door swings open before they reach and he drops his arm. "Where the fuck," he begins, and has to immediately stop, because Jamie's got his forehead pressed to the doorframe and there's a grey pallor to his face that is not, in any capacity, fucking normal. "Sorry, Coach," Jamie says--slurs, really, mouth barely opening enough to permit the words to pass through. He uses his elbow to push himself up, like that's going to fix anything. Like that's going to make Roy forget the rest of it. "Couldn't hear'ya." Roy swallows the last dregs of frostbitten anger. "Jesus Christ," he says, which--is definitely the wrong thing to say, considering Jamie flinches against it, shoulders hiking to his ears. "M'sorry," he mumbles. His movements are slow, lethargic. His eyes blink with all the laziness of a cat in the sun, except he's not a fucking cat in the sun, he's a fucking idiot who's gone and worked himself too hard and gotten sick about it. "M'ready, though. To, uh. Run." He does a pantomime of a runner, swinging his arms back and forth, and almost keels over with the exertion of it. Roy darts forward to nudge his shoulder beneath Jamie's. "Careful, you muppet," he says, softening the sharp edges of his voice the way he does with Phoebe when she's got a fever. Actually... He passes the back of his hand across Jamie's brow. Hotter than a skillet. Christ. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me you're not feeling well?" "Huh? M'feelin'...m'feelin' fine, Coach," Jamie says, attempting to swing his head up. It's a horrible fucking attempt. "So fine. Look, m'runnin' right now." "No, you're not," says Roy. Jamie's nose crinkles. "M'not?" "No," says Roy. "C'mon, let's go inside." "Nuh-uh. Gotta...gotta go. Do the trainin'." "You--" Roy grits his teeth; contemplates his options. Snow's beginning to fall from the clouds overhead, and the world's been cast in shades of echo and memory. The lamplight reflects off the wet pavement. All the windows along the street are dark. "I don't feel like it today." "Huh?" "I don't feel like training today," Roy repeats. He lifts Jamie a bit higher, tucks the lad beneath his arm. Shuffles them both across the threshold into the foyer. "C'mon, Jamie. Let's get inside."

[vpofcookies]

for that ask game, what about emduo with a meet ugly :0

Where is there for a young immortal and a new god to meet, but trading ichor on the battlefield?

+ extras: closeups, no lighting, and the original, which was in black and white

[beecauseevan]

omg established buddie yes

movie nights!! with chris preferably

Silence permeates the living room, expectant and uncomfortably tense. Eddie shifts in his spot on the couch, cringing when his jeans rasp against the cushions. He steals a glance at Chris, who is transfixed by the images flashing across the TV screen. Next to Chris, just visible over his brown curls, Buck is chewing on his bottom lip. Despite that obvious struggle to keep his big mouth shut, he's not the one who breaks the tense silence.

"Oh man," Chris says. His fingers twitch, like he's fighting the urge to cover his eyes with his hands. "I knew you were old, dad. I didn't know you were ancient."

Buck's laugh is choked and startled and only grows louder when Eddie glares at him over Chris' head.

"That's not—" Eddie starts. "This was already old when I watched it."

Chris tears his eyes away from the TV just long enough to shoot him an incredulous look. "Are you sure?"

"I didn't know you were a nerd," says Buck, who watches documentaries for fun and really doesn't get to talk. "This is all new information."

"I'm not a nerd."

"This is pretty nerdy," Chris argues.

Eddie shakes his head and eats an indignant fistful of popcorn. This is what he gets for trying to educate the youth. 

It's Christopher's fault, really. 

"I want to watch something," he said earlier, at dinner, chewing on Buck's newly perfected version of Bobby's veggie lasagna. "Something with space."

"Star Wars?" Buck suggested, twirling his fork between his fingers. "We haven't watched Episode V in a while."

Disapproval scrunching up his face, Chris shook his head. "We've watched it like a thousand times, though."

"It's a masterpiece," Buck replied, making Eddie—who had introduced him to Star Wars—very proud. "Can't see it too many times."

Eddie didn't add anything to their back and forth, a quietly content observer, warmed from the inside by Buck's lasagna and from the outside by the presence of the two people he cared most about. 

"Or," Buck added, "we can watch Revenge of the Sith, if you want."

"You hate that one," Chris said.

"I don't hate it. I just think the original trilogy is better."

"You're wrong." 

"The original trilogy has Han Solo," Buck said. "And Yoda. And Luke."

"Yoda is in the prequels too," Chris argued. "And the prequels have Jar Jar Binks."

"That's—a good thing?"

Chris shrugged. "He's funny."

Buck glanced at Eddie, who hid his smile in his palm. "He has a point."

Buck's eyes said does he, but of course that's not what came out of his mouth. Buck might be a worse pushover than Eddie, if that is even physically possible.

"Fine," he said, "Revenge of the Sith it is."

"No," Chris sighed, stabbing his fork into the leftovers on his plate. "I want to watch something new."

And Eddie, naive and optimistic wounded heart that he is, suggested something he would soon regret: "I really liked Star Trek when I was a kid. We could check that out."

"The movies?" Chris asked. "We've seen the movies, dad."

Chris meant the new ones, and Eddie didn't have the strength to tell him that he was a little too old to have watched those movies as a kid. He let that comment slide and shook his head. 

"No, the show. The original one. With William Shatner?"

Chris shook his head, and a moment later, so did Buck. Eddie took a moment to picture the horrifiedly disappointed face Chim would make in response to that statement, then moved on. 

"You guys are in for a treat."

He meant it then, too. He really thought they would love it. 

Turns out childhood memories don't always depict reality in all of its grainy, puke-yellow flannelled glory. The show is a lot more rough than he remembers and it doesn't help that he started them off with the first episode of the first season, instead of one of the good ones. He thought this would be a hit and they'd end up watching it regularly, but—well. 

"Why do his eyes look like that?" Chris asks, frowning at the screen. 

Eddie just shrugs—Buck, who has never been able to leave a question unanswered, is already digging out his phone. 

"No googling," Eddie scolds him. "You're gonna ruin the immersion."

Buck waves him off, phone screen lighting up the smirk on his face. 

"I just wanna know why they're wearing pajamas," Chris adds.  

"Wish our uniforms looked like that," Buck says, glancing up from his phone just long enough to smirk at Eddie. "They're probably really cozy."

"Not very cool, though," Chris points out. 

"It's tinfoil," Buck cuts in. "Tinfoil contacts. That's how they got his eyes to look like that."

Chris frowns. "Ew."

"Guys," Eddie complains weakly. "This is a classic."

Buck has the decency to say, "I'm sorry," but the way he mumbles it against his palm, barely concealed laughter coloring his voice, tells Eddie that he's not that sorry at all. 

"You said the same thing about Die Hard," Chris points out. "That was bad too."

Eddie shakes his head, stunned, and looks at Buck, who shrugs. 

"He's not wrong."

"That's it," Eddie decides, while the tinfoil-eyed monsters continue to poach the crew of the Enterprise, "I'm moving out. I bet Chim will take me in."

"More lasagna for me," Chris says, entirely unbothered. 

Buck laughs, loud and clear, and Eddie puts his hands in front of his eyes and pretends, badly and unconvincingly, to be upset. He isn't, he couldn't be, even if this were his favorite piece of media in the whole entire universe as opposed to just a show he used to enjoy as a kid—he couldn't be mad, because it's hard to be upset when you're faced with such stark reminders of why your life is as close to perfect as it could possibly be. Eddie loves that Chris and Buck hate the show, because they hate it together. He loves being the center of their good-natured mockery, because it means they're teaming up on him. They're a family. Eddie's family. And he loves them more than life.

As the episode goes on—and it goes on for ages—Chris grows more and more quiet. When the credits start rolling, he's dozed off. His head is pillowed on Buck's arm and Buck sits perfectly still, which in itself is a little bit of a miracle.

"Think he'll wake up if I carry him to bed?" Buck asks quietly, carefully, like he'd rather stop breathing than disturb Chris, which, knowing Buck, might not be too far from the truth.

"Probably," Eddie says, "I think you're gonna have to move."

"I really don't want to."

"Guess you're sleeping on the couch," Eddie shrugs.

Buck sighs. Then he moves, and Chris blinks awake, yawns, and for a moment he's six again, so small Eddie could delude himself into thinking that all he needed to do was fold him into his arms and the world would never be able to touch him.

Then Chris groans and rubs his eyes and looks around, instantly annoyed in that way only a tired teenager can be, and Eddie is back in the here and now, and he finds he likes it just the same.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Buck pokes Chris' shoulder and Eddie watches, with a smile that almost hurts his cheeks, as Chris rolls his eyes, teenage stubbornness without any sort of sting, because even though he's biologically and socially obligated to find adults annoying and embarrassing, Buck is still his person. "You ready for bed?"

"Yeah, yeah," Chris grumbles.

"I can come with," Eddie offers, and gets the same kind of eyeroll in return, and feels a rush of warmth when he realizes that maybe—maybe he's still Chris' person too. It's been a long road since Kim, but maybe they're getting there.

"I'm not a baby, dad," Chris tells him, straightening up on his crutches. "I can brush my teeth on my own."

"Alright, alright," Eddie relents.

Chris goes off on his own and by the time Buck and Eddie are done with the dishes, the rest of the house is quiet, including Christopher's room. Eddie glances at Buck, standing by the sink, and finds Buck looking back at him. He's wearing yellow rubber gloves and an apron and the smirk on his lips is not entirely innocent. 

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," Buck says, stripping off the gloves in one smooth motion. Eddie wonders what it says about him that that kind of turns him on. "You know, I thought Star Trek was all about homoerotic sexual tension. Didn't feel much of that."

Eddie blinks. "What?"

"Captain Kirk and the guy with the," Buck points at the side of his head, "ears."

Eddie feels a smile coming on and bites down on his bottom lip. He can't be that easy. "You know about that but you don't know who William Shatner is?"

"I have niche interests," Buck tells him, hands finding Eddie's hips. His smile is brilliant. His hands are cold. The sleeves of his hoodie are still rolled up. Eddie loves this man to the core. 

"Hm." Eddie sways closer, wraps his arms around Buck's shoulders, brings their lips together in a lingering kiss. "Boy, do I have the episode for you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Eddie hums. Another warm kiss later, he laces their fingers together and leads Buck back into their living room, turns the TV back on. "This one is called Amok Time."

[sly-fin]

Hello! Can we please get 🤝 for Lazard? And if not him, then maybe Tseng? Thanks! ♡

I was gonna do Lazard but couldn’t figure it out so i hope this is good! I saw this format and haaad to do them

Saw there was also a kiss prompt just now but uhhhh all the turks are friends, right? This counts???