#thanks for the prompt!!

[luxaofhesperides]

Final hour Ghostlights request! Soulmate AU where when your soul mate dies your soul mark expands. Duke was really heartbroken at first but now his soul mark makes it really difficult to keep his secret identity hidden because he is covered in a map of the cosmos. He has to use his shadow powers almost constantly to keep all the stars hidden! And and maybe they light up like actual stars when he uses his light powers.

He meets Danny at orientation or something at GU and they brush against each other and he just lights up like a supernova, all his stars literally blazing and he's just like "YOU!" Both excited and also OH MY GOD YOU ASSHOLE.

....I rambled a bit here I'm so sorry.

The thing about soulmates is that you don’t really know who they are until they die. And even then, most people never know who their soulmate was, only that they outlived them.

Duke became one of those people when he was thirteen. 

He didn’t even notice until he went to change and saw the watercolor swirl of nebula spill out from over his heart. 

One moment, he was tired and angry, ready to sneak out of his latest foster home to search for his parents and do all the things adults have failed to do. The next, he’s collapsed on his knees, shaking, unable to breathe as he tries to rip his soulmark off of his skin. He couldn’t think past the shock and horror of realizing that his soulmate is dead and Duke didn’t even know until that moment. 

They’ll never get to meet. 

Duke had never felt so alone before. 

He spent the next few days in shock, his mind a mess of static, unable to focus. He hid away in his room, buried under the covers, and his foster parents were understanding when he whispered my soulmate’s dead. They called him out of school and brought him food and water throughout the day, gentle encouraging him to eat something every few hours. 

But disaster waits for no one, and Batman was gone, so Duke pulled himself out of his misery and hit the streets again. 

So his soulmate’s dead. So his parents are gone. So Gotham’s falling apart.

No one’s doing anything about it, so it’s up to Duke to start fixing things. It’s not like he had much to lose.

Soulmates become a bit of a taboo topic to him, after that. He speaks of them to no one, avoids all conversation about them, refuses to stay when people talk about soulmarks. He tries not to look at his soulmark at all.

And then he takes a hit to the chest and patches himself up with shaking hands. For the first time in months he looks at his soulmark again and…

Did it… grow? 

Duke prods it gently, letting out a hiss when his bruised ribs protest at the movement. He remembers the mark being right over his heart. 

But looking at it now, it branches out, swirls of galaxy and constellations reaching out along his ribcage. 

Panicked, Duke grabs for his computer and looks up soulmark growth and webmd soulmark abnormalities.

Neither give him any answers, though WebMD helpfully suggests skin cancer. 

“I’m gonna ignore this,” Duke decides, and pulls on a shirt and goes to sleep. The less he thinks about his dead soulmate, the better. 

Time passes and Duke goes from being a Robin to being the Signal, a legitimate vigilante working with Batman. It’s nice to see Gotham start to settle, things falling into place. For once, nothing is awful; Duke’s found his parents and doctors are looking for a cure for long-term exposure to Joker Gas, Batman’s taking care of Gotham with a number of other Bats, Duke is getting used to his powers and slowly making a good name for himself out on the streets. 

He keeps his focus on protecting people and getting stronger, helping solve cases with the other Bats. No one mentions soulmates, so he keeps his ever expanding soulmark a secret. 

The only problem is that it keeps growing and Duke is concerned that it’ll move to a place he can’t easily hide under his clothes. 

And he does need to hide them. The more his soulmark has grown, the more obvious it is, especially when he uses his powers and the stars on his skin light up like the Fourth of July. He knows it’s abnormal, but it’s also his soulmark and he doesn’t want anyone, least of all Bruce, poking around trying to study it. 

The grief still lingers when he looks at it, but Duke has long since grown used to it. If anything, these days he’s quietly annoyed by how far the galaxies on his skin spread out, forcing him to take tank tops and shorts out of his wardrobe. 

There’s also the tentative hope that maybe his soulmate is immortal and keeps coming back to life after they die. And they must also have terrible luck, because they just keep on dying.

Case in point: his soulmark flares and spills out onto his shoulder and wraps around his bicep. It’s not the first time he’s seen it move, but it still startles him.

“Are you serious,” Duke mutters to himself, pulling at his sleeve to adjust it and hopefully hide his soulmark. The starts are bright against his skin, and while sometimes he likes to trace them with his finger, now is not one of those times.

As pretty as it is, his soulmark is also very obvious and will cause people to realize his identity if they ever catch a glimpse of it while he’s out as Signal. 

He sighs. There’s no choice but to live out the rest of his life in hoodies and sweatshirts. 

As if to spite him, his soulmark grows once more. 

Did his soulmate just die twice in the span of five minutes? That’s concerning. 

He wishes he could meet them just so he can shake some sense into them. Maybe tell them to stop dying since it’s stressing him out so much. Maybe stick by their side to make sure they never have to die again. He’s honestly not sure what he’d do if he ever meets his soulmate, but he has to do something. This has gotten out of hand.

At least seeing his soulmark grow doesn’t hurt as much as it did a few years ago. 

Lazily, he pulls at the light around him to hide the new portions of the soulmark on his arm from sight. It takes some focus, but he can hold it up long enough for him to grab a snack from the kitchen and retreat up to his room without being questioned by anyone. He could probably even keep this shirt on for the college orientation he needs to attend later in the day if the light works well enough to keep his secrets hidden. 

He’s expecting Alfred in the kitchen when he arrives, but is greeted by Dick clapping a hand on his shoulder, right where his soulmark has claimed space. Duke falters and works to keep the light from fracturing as he returns Dick’s grin. 

“Hey man,” he says, “What are you doing here? I thought you were out until Friday.”

“And miss a chance to hang out with you? No way. Besides, I wanted to give you a ride to your orientation.”

“You don’t have to,” Duke starts, only for Dick to cut him off.

“I’m going to,” he says, as if it’s a threat. “It’s been too long since we get to spend time together without a mask on. Are you really going to deprive me of this?”

Duke shakes off Dick’s hand from his shoulder, walking towards the pantry to find a small snack. “I guess not. It’s going to be pretty boring for you, though. I’m just going to listen to people talk about what college is like for a few hours.”

“We could always just walk around campus afterwards. I haven’t seen it since it was rebuilt after the last time Freeze attacked it.”

“Sure, that sounds fun. Thanks for offering to drive me.” Duke pulls out a box of Poptarts hidden behind stacks of pasta boxes and pulls out a pack for himself. He opens it and isn’t at all surprised when Dick steals one right out of his hands. 

“Meet me out front in an hour then.” 

And with that, Dick leaves, his stolen Poptart in hand, and Duke is left to shake his head and shove the Poptart box back into its hiding place. He heads off to eat his own snack, making sure no one is in the hallway as he lets go of his hold on the light. Already he can feel a migraine building with the immense focus he had to use to make sure nothing looked out of place.

At least Dick didn’t notice anything was off. If he can fool Dick, he can fool anyone.

Still, just to be safe, Duke changes into something with longer sleeves before he leaves and hops into the car with Dick. 

The drive goes quickly to the tunes of ABBA, both of them singing along as they head for the GCU campus. Parking is a bit tricky, but they manage to find a spot a street away and walk towards the student union, where tables are laid out for incoming freshmen to sign in and grab a folder filled with papers meant to help them. 

He waves to Dick and heads in once he gets his folder, and grabs a seat in the auditorium that’s close to a fire exit. 

It takes another twenty minutes for the presentations to start. The lights dim and Duke panics for a brief moment before drawing the shadows over himself lightly to hide the soft glow of the star etched onto his skin. 

They start with introductions, bringing in advisors, professors, and student ambassadors. Most of it is basic information that Duke already knows, so he zones out and plays with some shadows at his feet, where no one can see the way he twists shadows together like some dark magic form of finger knitting.

For the next hour, Duke halfheartedly listens to people talk about preparing for classes and keeping on top of schoolwork and learning how to ask for help. He’s saved enough college students that he knows the gist of things, and the orientation really doesn’t give him anything helpful. 

He probably could have skipped, but he wanted a normal college experience. 

He should have known that normal means boring as hell.

As soon as the presentation ends, an advisor encourages everyone to follow the schedule tucked into their folder to give them a half day modeled after a typical student’s schedule. Of course, all the classes are nonsense just to fill up their time, made to help freshmen coming into the college by covering topics such as how to write an email and an introduction to majors and minors.

Duke already declared himself as a Human Services major, his first step into becoming a social worker like his mom was. 

Also he totally knows how to write an email, what are these advisors on about? Do they really think people his age can’t write emails? 

Yeah, he’s ditching. The main presentation is really the only part that matters in the orientation. He’s not walking out on anything he needs.

Duke files out after the rest of the crowd, carefully letting the shadows slip off of him once he’s outside again. Instead of finding the first ‘class’ he’s supposed to go to in the Modern Languages building, he wanders off to find a quiet place he can sit down and wait until Dick finds him. 

Tucked away towards the back half of the campus is a small nook full of trees, bushes, and benches. Judging by the amount of cigarette butts left in the single trash can there, it’s a popular smoking spot. 

No one’s there, so the air is clean and free of smoke, so Duke heads in, hoping to sit down.

Someone else apparently has the same idea. He hops down from one of the concrete planters that’s keeping a bush contained and nearly falls on Duke.

They both shout in surprise, then Duke is moving without thinking, reaching out to steady the startled looking guy who accidentally jumped down in front of him. 

Duke only has time to take note of how blue his eyes are before his hands wrap around the guy’s wrist and Duke feels his soulmark flare with warmth.

In the shade of the trees, the glow of each star on his skin is obvious. It’s visible even through the fabric of his shirt. His soulmark, at this point in his life, stretches across his chest, his ribs, his back, and now his shoulders and upper arms. All the stars in that watercolor galaxy are shining brightly as if the night sky has been draped across his body.

Soulmarks only react like that for one reason.

“You!” Duke shouts at his soulmate, both elated to see that he’s alive and annoyed that he made Duke’s soulmark so large. “Stop dying! Do you have any idea how much stress you’ve caused me?!”

“Oh my god,” the guy says faintly, eyes fixed on Duke’s chest where his soulmark originally rested, shining brighter and bigger than any other star, as if he’s tucked a sun into his heart. “Oh my god,” he says again, with more feeling.

“I’m so happy you’re alive, but please stop dying. It’s bad for my health.”

“I think I need to sit down?”

He does look very pale and faint. Duke tightens his grip on his soulmate’s arms and guides him to a bench, gently sitting him down.

“You’re not about to die, right?” Duke asks. “I don’t think my heart could take it if meeting me killed you somehow.”

“No, no,” his soulmate manages to say, “I’m not going to die. Um. Wow. I didn’t know my soulmark would do that? Sorry.”

“Well, it’s not like you had any way of knowing. It’s all good, man. Just please stop dying.”

His soulmate winces. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be possible. Sorry. Again.”

What does that mean, though? What does it all mean?

“Can I maybe get an explanation as to why you have to die again.”

“Mmmmm no. We just met and it’s kinda personal so. No.”

“Dude.”

Duke’s soulmate shrugs helplessly. “It really is personal! I know your my soulmate and all, so I’ll probably tell you one day, but right now I don’t even know your name.”

Oh shit. He’s right. Introductions completely slipped his mind, too busy reeling over the fact that his soulmate is here and alive. Which, honestly, would be enough to throw anyone off balance.

“Shoot,” Duke says. “Sorry. You just really caught me off guard. Hi, I’m Duke, I promise I’m more put together than that.”

“Hi Duke, I’m Danny, and I’ve apparently been traumatizing you for the past few years by making you think I keep dying.”

“Well. At least we’re thrown head first into the crazy. Best way to know if we’re be a good match.”

“You sure you can handle this? You seemed pretty frazzled a second ago.”

Duke flusters and lightly whacks Danny’s shoulder. “That’s normal! Anyone would do the same when meeting their soulmate for the first time!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughs. “This is a totally weird request and you can absolutely say no, but… can I see?” He presses a hand against one of the glowing stars beneath this collar bone, looking up at Duke with wide, hopeful blue eyes, and Duke finds it so cute that he’s willing to do anything Danny wants. 

“Here,” he says as an answer, pulling the collar of his shirt down a bit to reveal the nebula spilling onto his shoulder. 

“Oh,” Danny breathes, tracing a light finger against it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m guessing you like space?”

“Love it. I wanted to be an astronaut, but uh…. It’s never going to happen. Health problems, you know?”

“Well, I know it’s not the same, but I hope the stars you put on my body will be a good enough replacement.”

Danny cheeks turn red and he turns away, flustered. “Don’t smooth talk me right now, I’m not ready for it,” he mutters, bringing up a hand to try to hide his expression. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Duke laughs, “I’ll try to keep the flirting down to a minimum. It’s just really great to finally meet you. And I’ve been wondering, what’s your soulmark look like?”

“Oh, well…” Danny fiddles with the long sleeve of his shirt. “I had a pretty bad accident years ago that kinda affected how my soulmark looks. So if it looks weird, that’s why, okay?” He takes a deep breath, then pushes up his sleeve, holding his wrist out to Duke. 

The first thing Duke notices is the soft yellow glow, Signal yellow to be precise, running down his arm as if sunlight fills his veins. Then he sees Danny’s soulmark, a sun with rays that wrap around his wrist. And running through his soulmark are Lichtenberg scars, glowing yellow as if stealing the color from his soulmark. 

“Guess we both got super obvious soulmarks, huh? At least we kinda match, that way.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Danny agrees. 

“Man, what a day.” 

Danny looks more relaxed with him now. It’s much better than the startled, tense version of him that first sat down on the bench. Duke hopes he chooses to stay with him; he doesn’t admit this often, willingly, or to other people, but he’s a romantic at heart and has always wanted to live a happy life with his soulmate. It’s still far off in the future, but he hopes Danny feels the same way.

“So, are you ditching the orientation classes to?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going. I mean, a class on how to send emails? They can’t be serious.”

“I know, right?! I saw that and thought I was being pranked. I mean, we’re going into college. We better know how to send an email by now.”

“Since we’re both free for now, wanna grab lunch with me? It can be our first date, if you want.”

“I’d love to! And you can show me around Gotham a bit. I’m coming here for college, but I haven’t really seen the city yet. It’d be nice to explore it with someone who knows where things are.”

“Are you free for the rest of the day? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind showing you around, if you want.”

Danny smiles, radiant. “I am. I’m in your hands for the rest of the day.”

“Cool,” Duke says, trying not to think too much on that wording. It’s very suggestive, very flirtatious, and he’s looking forward to getting to know Danny more so he can start properly flirting. “Lemme just let my brother know to not wait up for me.”

He pulls out his phone and sends Dick a text that just reads: met my soulmate. going on a date now. i’ll see u back at the manor!

Then he puts his phone on silent and tucks it back into his pocket. He’ll tell Dick all about this later; for now, all his attention is on Danny. 

Soulmates get priority, even stressful ones that give him the largest soulmark he’s ever seen. 

And right now, he’s on a mission to find the best lunch spot to take his soulmate to for their first date. Everything else can come later; for now, he’s going to enjoy the time he gets to spend with Danny.

He hopes they’ve got a future together as bright as the stars in his soulmark. 

Despite it all, Duke is sure they’re going to be alright.

[beefcakekinard]

Oooh, what about BuckTommy and Missing Them from the intimacy prompt list 👀

40. missing them

"I miss you," Buck murmurs, quiet in the barren cavern of his hotel room. It's fine - nice, even - but the impersonality of the beige walls and stark white linens only serve to remind him that he isn't where he wants to be. On the other end of the line, Tommy hums softly, and Buck can hear the rustle of his sheets.

"I miss you too," Tommy says. Buck presses his phone tight against his ear - holding Tommy's voice as close as he can. "We've already gotten through one week, we can do one more."

Buck sighs. When he'd signed up for this workshop eight months ago, he'd been single, and two weeks of union-paid travel to Pasadena had seemed like fun.

"You're in bed?" he asks. He stares up at the popcorn ceiling from on top of his king-size hotel bed and tries to ignore the drag of loneliness through the centre of his chest.

"Yeah, finally. Feels like I barely got to sit down all day."

Buck licks his lips. "What are you wearing?"

"Seriously?" Tommy laughs and Buck closes his eyes to better picture the smile he knows is scrunched into Tommy's face. He can't help smiling in return at the thought.

"Well," he says, dragging the word out, "I have missed you..."

Tommy laughs again. "Or certain parts of me, it sounds like."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short. It just so happens that I miss many parts of you."

They giggle together for a moment - and in that bubble, it's almost like Tommy's right there beside him.

"How about this," Tommy says after a beat of silence. "You tell me what you're wearing, and we'll go from there." He drops his voice a little as he flirts and Buck's body responds automatically, his dick giving an interested twitch in his shorts.

"I'm wearing boxers, and- and your sweater," Buck says. Tommy's next exhale is heavy.

"Which one?"

"It's a grey zip-up."

"Hmm." Just that noise from Tommy's throat makes Buck squirm in place, his dick filling out as he thinks about how Tommy's imagining him. "Unzip it."

Buck complies. As he loses the cold, heavy line of the zipper down his torso, air-conditioned hotel air rushes in over his chest and stomach. His nipples pebble and his abs clench at the sudden chill. He keeps his eyes closed, his face pressed to the side with his phone tucked between his cheek and the pillow. He has both hands free like this, and he trails his fingertips lightly up and down - through his chest hair, down, following his happy trail to the waistband of his boxers, then back up and over again.

"It's open," he says, a little breathless. He knows Tommy likes when he sounds like this, and hopes it's affecting him.

"Good. Pinch your nipples for me." Buck follows the direction, and can't help the gasp that pushes into his lungs.

"That's good, sweetheart," Tommy continues. "Take your shorts off."

Buck pushes his boxers down to his knees and kicks them off and away. His cock rests hard and full against his stomach, framed by the open sides of Tommy's sweater. He licks his palm and takes himself in hand, closing his eyes again, the better to focus on the whisper of Tommy's breathing on the other end of the line.

"So what are you wearing," he asks again, smiling when Tommy snorts. He hears the familiar snick of the lube cap and stalls his hand for a moment, building a picture of what Tommy could be doing - getting his big hand slick before wrapping it around himself, maybe.

"I'm not wearing a thing, baby."

And that - he can see it so clearly in his mind's eye, the way Tommy must look right now, reclined in his soft blue-striped sheets, stroking himself, holding the phone up to his ear. Buck squeezes his cock and groans, starts moving his hand again, with purpose, when Tommy chuckles.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You," Buck says, gasping when he presses his thumb under the head of his dick the way Tommy likes to do. "What you look like right now, what- ah- how you're touching yourself." He presses harder against his phone with his cheek, pushing it down into the pillow and bringing his face close to the bunched-up hood of the sweater he's wearing. It smells like Tommy - like his shampoo, his laundry detergent, his aftershave, all spun together to overwhelm Buck's senses. He moves his hand faster.

Tommy groans and Buck could swear he feels it, through the phone, into his ear, down his throat. "I'm-" Tommy pauses. Grunts. "I'm fucking myself with the dildo you bought, wishing it was you."

And that- that's- Buck can't help the sound that pulls - from deep in his chest, low, needy, shaped vaguely like Tommy's name. He inhales and takes in a lungful of Tommy. He exhales and puts some sound into it for Tommy's benefit. He moves his left hand, unclenching it from where he'd been clutching the sheets, and he cradles his balls, tugs them just the way he likes.

"God, Tommy-" All he can think about is the last time he fucked Tommy, almost two weeks ago now, how Tommy looked with his legs spread, curled around Buck's waist; how he took it and took it until he came, untouched, how he clenched around Buck's cock and moaned when Buck came inside him. Buck moves his hand faster again, everything gone slick with the amount of pre-come he's leaking, dripping down his hand and stomach. He's getting close, he can feel it like a rising tide, like a wave just about to crest.

"I'm gonna-" he says, breathing heavily into his phone. "Tommy, you're- I'm-"

"Evan," Tommy rasps, and that does it. Buck comes with a stuttered moan - the wave crests, breaks, flushes to shore and he loses himself, for just a moment. His brain catches back up to the present just in time to hear Tommy gasp his name one more time, followed by a drawn-out moan, then finally heavy breathing. They sit in the quiet, catching their breath together.

"How much longer did you say?"

Tommy chuckles, and Buck knows he's smiling by how he sounds when he says, "Just a little while. I'll keep the bed warm for you."

Buck's heart swoops in his chest at the thought. He can get through this week. On the other side of it, there's a bed with blue-striped sheets, and a gorgeous man waiting for him in it.

[aakeysmash]

heyy, i love ur writing ! i know u dont take requests so i js wanted to clarify that this is NOT one of ht i js wanted to know ur thoughts on how u think collagesukuna would react too yuuji calling the reader mom by accident. i think i'd be pretty funnyb

I think he’d be weirded out so bad initially 😭

Sure, he and Yuuji had a mom, but it’s not like she was around enough for them to call her mom. You’re the first girl who has been next to them more than a usual Sukuna’s one night stand, so it’s only natural that Yuuji likes you. Mainly because you care about him too, never letting him feel too left out when you’re both home and treating him like you’re his big sister.

You know when elementary students call their teacher “mom”? That’s kinda how it happens. You just finished cooking lunch for the three of you: Yuuji is yapping his brother’s ear off and Sukuna is trying not to yell at him to shut the fuck up, distracting himself with videos on his phone.

You hand Yuuji his own full plate and he smiles up at you, saying “Thanks mom!”.

You freeze for a moment, then brush it off with a smile. You have little siblings, so it’s not the first time you’ve been mistakenly called mom. Sukuna, on the other hand, is gaping; Yuuji’s face is the color of the tomato sauce you put in the pasta. The kid is too embarrassed to say anything, so he just starts to eat as fast as he can. You ask him if it’s good and he tries to avoid your gaze.

“Y-yeah, you’re a really great cook! I-I’m sorry for… calling you like that,” he rushes out. He thinks you’re mad, and he doesn’t want you to be upset with him. You look confused.

“What did you call me? Oh!” You start laughing when the realisation hits. “Don’t worry about it, when I was your age I called my aunt “mom” all the time,” you reassure him, winking. He gives you a little smile, then gets back to eating.

Sukuna has been completely stiff since he heard Yuuji. When you hand him his plate he jumps, then shakes his head and starts eating too.

“Weirdo. There’s more if you want to eat like a cow like always,” you say, raising one of your eyebrows. His tense shoulders drop, then he smirks a little.

“Sure, ma’.”

He receives a slap on the shoulder from you and a groan from Yuuji.

[bisexuallsokka]

Ooo! New prompts. What bout zukka with "Where's my good night kiss?"❤️❤️❤️

Sokka is trying so hard to be quiet, he barely even breathes until he’s made it back to his room in the Fire Nation palace, closing the door and finally inhaling.

"Where's my goodnight kiss?"

He lets out a very manly squeak, his arm automatically reaching for his boomerang before realizing 1) it's just Toph and 2) he must have left it back in Zuko's rooms.

"Fuck you," Sokka says once Toph is done laughing at him, his heart still racing. "What the fuck?"

"That's what I was about to ask you. Where have you been? I came here to for something like an hour ago and have been waiting ever since."

"What did you want?"

"You think I remember?" Toph asks, annoyed. "What were you even doing?"

"You're not my mom," Sokka responds, flicking her on the forehead as he walks over to his bedside table to reach for the lamp and get some light in the room.

Toph punches him in the arm in retaliation. "You're a weirdo. Sneaking around the palace in the middle of the night, someone is going to think you're an assassin. I should report you to the guards."

"Are you done? I'm ready to go to bed now, get out of my room. Ugh, did you even wash your feet before putting them on my bed?"

"Nope," Toph beams, rubbing her feet into the sheets even more, and Sokka swears under his breath. "Come on, I'm nosy, just tell me."

"I was working," Sokka says carefully. It's not a lie, he was working...before Zuko found him in his study and pulled him back to his rooms until they realized it would be pretty suspicious if they happened to be caught in the same room in the morning while their friends were visiting.

Toph is quiet for a moment, and for a second Sokka thinks she detected a lie, but she just smirks. "Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"What are you talking about?" Sokka mutters, walking over to the bathroom and brushing his hair out. He's lucky she can't see how disheveled it is, nor can she notice the new mark on his collarbone.

"You've been here for a few months, don't tell me you haven't gotten laid this whole time?" she asks bluntly.

"Toph," he starts, more annoyed than scandalized. He steps out of the bathroom and stands near his bed, facing her with his arms crossed.

"Who is it? Ooh, one of the Kyoshi Warriors?"

"Absolutely not."

"Or maybe one of the cooks? I'm certain the way to your heart is through your stomach."

"Toph--"

"Or is it true what Aang and Katara say about you and the Fire Lord giving each other obnoxious heart eyes all the time?" she asks gleefully. "I bet that's it, you're sneaking around just so no one finds out about the scandal of the century."

He freezes, and after several seconds of silence he realizes it's too late to try and deflect, and he definitely can't cover with a lie. "You can't tell anyone."

She freezes too. "Tell anyone what?" she asks slowly, before her eyebrows raise in shock. "I was just fucking with you!" she says, scrambling off the bed and pointing an accusatory finger at Sokka.

He sighs.

"What do you-- gross! Are you kidding me? You and...oh, shit, I can't believe you just made me think about that. Bleh!"

"I didn't do anything! You wouldn't leave me alone!" Sokka says.

"Who else knows?" she snaps.

"Iroh figured it out, so just him," Sokka sighs.

Toph waits expectantly. "That's it? Not even Aang and Katara?"

"No!"

"This is the best gossip of my life! And I can't even brag to them about finding out first!" Toph groans.

"You're going to let them and the whole palace know if you don't shut up!" Sokka hisses.

Toph scoffs. "Whatever. I'm out of here anyway."

"Where are you going?" Sokka asks.

"Where do you think? I'm going to go yell at Zuko for keeping this from me," Toph says.

[thesymphonytrue]

For the drabble challenge, #26: “The diamond in your engagement ring is fake.”

Have fun!

"The diamond in your engagement ring is fake"

Read on AO3

for this Drabble challenge, here

“Peter, please, please let me go into the party undercover,” Neal pleaded as he fidgeted in his seat in the van like a puppy in a crate, “I could even make the arrest if you give me your badge.” “Only law enforcement can make arrests,” Peter shot Neal a look, a headache already forming from Neal’s constant van chatter, “And last I checked, you do not enforce the law, you break it.” Neal leaned in, invading Peter’s personal space and grinning wildly. Peter could smell his expensive cologne and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Not when I’m working with you,” Neal said softly.

Peter considered this, heart softening with affection.

“I have been on my best behavior lately,” Neal sat up, puffing out his chest, again giving Peter the image of a puppy--a puppy now begging for a treat. “Fine,” Peter conceded, “But we go in together. Let me just get my coat—” "Thanks!!" Neal said quickly and dashed out of the car before Peter could even stand. “Damn it, Neal,” Peter grumbled under his breath, scrambling to exit the van to catch up with his CI. Jogging into the party, out of breath in his uncomfortable tuxedo (why did he have to wear this?!), Peter spotted Neal. Neal was cozied up with a gorgeous woman who appeared to be in her thirties with big green eyes and vintage-curled blonde hair. Neal held her perfectly manicured hand and was closely examining her glittering diamond ring.

Peter groaned. Beautiful woman and diamonds, two things Neal could not resist. Of course Neal was flirting and looking at gemstones instead of actually gathering data. Peter managed to get to them just as Neal got a mischievous look on his face. Come on, Neal, don't--- “Ma’am, the diamond in your engagement ring is fake,” Neal said smoothly, eyes alight with intelligence and a dash of humor.

Peter wanted to face palm himself. “Excuse me?” the woman said, once bubbly voice now tight and pinched. “Go to any jewler and get it authenticated, you’ll find that the—” “Pardon my buddy here,” Peter said, stepping in and painting an embarrassed smile on his face. He slid an arm around Neal, “Too much champagne for you!” Neal glared at Peter. Peter plucked the glass from Neal’s hand, leading Neal away. “Nice to meet you, Ashley!!” Neal called to the woman as Peter huffed him over to the bar. “What the hell are you doing? Riling guests? Flirting?!” Peter whispered angrily. Neal’s eyes sparkled with delight, ignoring Peter's anger completely: “Her fiance is the mark.” Peter narrowed his eyes, “And?” “And…she has a fake diamond ring,” Neal said as if it was obvious. “Do I have to spell it out for you, Peter? He’s replacing all the jewelry he insured with fakes! Including his fiancé's ring! Her ring is the evidence we need!” A smile crawled across Peter’s face. Neal never ceased to amaze him. “Admit it, I’m a genius,” Neal chided. “Don’t get cocky.” “You know you love me,” Neal said as he spun on his heels to get another glass of champagne. That I do, Neal. Peter admitted quietly to himself as he watched Neal stride away confidently, That, I do. 

[sunnys-side-upside-down]

Drawing Prompt: A young Helix starting out on his magical journey

A little guy!

[herearedragons]

for the micro story prompts: candles + pillars of eternity?

micro-story prompts

"...Then you come out into this room and they uncover your eyes again and everyone's there to greet you, all your friends and family. And it's like you've been redeemed."

As Edér speaks, Selene feels the memories stir in his mind: the blind descent, the fear, the relief.

There are memories of her own swimming just beneath the surface, brought out by glimpsing her own reflection in the abandoned temple's pool: cold, dark things that she wants to forget, and never will.

"You light your candle and it burns with the others. Never had a feeling better than that my whole life."

Edér's expression softens, the light of the candles reflected in his eyes. In his mind, not quite the same feeling, but an echo comes back; bright and steady, a memory of when everything was alright, and miracles were real.

Selene remembers a time when she felt that, too.

She wishes she didn't.

[puhpandas]

For the writing prompt, I really just want to know how Gregory would handle anyone that bullies Evan. I can't imagine anyone getting out of that with unharmed shins.

(Either they're best friends or adopted brothers, maybe also Dad!Glamrock Freddy and/or Bonnie to reprimand and praise Gregory for the beatdown)

Don't Mess With The Chicken

(2,312 words)

(Gregory sacrifices his spicy food to attack a bully that was bothering Evan. A food fight and feels ensue)

Evan should have known that he cant hide the way he's feeling from Gregory. He knows him to well to not notice. So when Gregory sits down next to him at their lunch table and notices Evan's demeanor, of course he comments on it.

"Just the usual." Evan replies, picking half-heartedly at his food with his fork. "You know how it is."

Gregory nods while unpacking his own lunch, already glancing across the cafeteria with pointed eyes. "Who was it this time?"

"Terrance and his friends." Evan tells him over the roar of the cafeteria, sighing miserably. "For some reason, he suddenly decided he hates me this week."

Evan doesnt need to look to know Gregorys making that face he makes when he has intention to get revenge. But when Evan does end up looking over at his friend, he finds himself being correct.

"You want me to teach him a lesson?" Gregory asks, already grinning at the idea. "He wouldn't bother you again for a long time."

Evan glances over at the table that Terrance and his goons sit at subtly. "No, I dont. I dont need him to hate me even more." He hisses.

Gregory deflates, shimmying in his seat to fully face Evan and lunch left on the table. "Oh, come on!" He tries to meet Evan's eyes. "I swear you wont have anything to do with it! He wont even know you told me."

Evan scoffs. "Why do you want to mess with him so badly? You didnt get your enrichment for the week?"

Gregory rolls his eyes. "Its nothing like that. I just hate not doing anything if I'm able. I want to help you out."

Evan tries to ignore the warmth that blooms in his stomach when Gregory says something kind, and that he really means. "What would you even do, anyway?"

Gregory smiles slyly. "I'm not telling you or you wont let me do it."

Evan groans. "Exactly!" He yells, probably too loudly. "You're gonna do something crazy, and hes gonna take that as a challenge, or something, and them he'll bother us even more--"

"What are you two talking about over here?"

Evan shuts his mouth with a dry click when Terrance is suddenly standing at the head of their table, chest puffed out and goons lined up behind him. "What, arent gonna tell me? I bet you were talking about how scared of me you are, huh?"

Evan says silent, because that's exactly what he was doing. Shame coats his stomach when he cant rebut, but his eyes widen when Gregory does it for him.

"We were talking about your mother." Gregory shouts over the noise of the cafeteria. "And how good she is in bed."

Terrance almost looks insulted, and glances behind him at his friends, suprised smiles on their faces. Terrance doesn't share the same sentiment, if the pinch in his brow is any indication. "You wanna play like that, huh?" He sneers. "Its not a good idea to get involved with us, kid."

Terrances words scare Evan, but unlike himself, Gregory stares the bully down, face carefully neutral and uninterested. "If you say so. You know, you're not that much older than me. Not old enough to be calling me kid."

Terrances frowns, as and when theres a twist in his lip, Evan feels a quick bolt of fear shoot through his stomach.

"I'm bigger, though." Terrance points out, stalking around the side of the table, their side like a predator hunting prey. "What do you say you come over here and we settle this?"

Gregory clicks his tongue, looking back towards his lunch and unwrapping his chicken and sauce. "What, arent confident you're smart enough to match me in words?"

Evan's eyes blow wide when Terrances face turns a mean shade of red. He jumps when Terrance slams a hand on their table, eyes glinting in anger. "You have a death wish or something?! I'll beat the shit out of you!"

Gregory cackles, still not looking over, just unwrapping a plastic spoon and unwrapping his sauce for his lunch. "Then come over here and do it."

Evan goes rigid, trying to catch Gregory's eyes with his own wide ones as if to ask what are you doing?! But he doesnt get the chance to when Terrance snarls like a rabid animal, and lunges at them.

But apparently Gregory was expecting this, because when Terrance reaches out, a straight shot from the head of the table to their seat, Gregory scoops up a spoonful of his sauce for his chicken, lifts it up, pulls the spoon back, and launches the sauce like a tasty projectile.

Evan gapes, his mouth shaped as a wide O, because he knows Gregory likes spicy sauce with his chicken.

Another thing Evan knows is how dead on Gregory's aim can be. How he always hits a bullseye. How he almost never misses.

It's clear Gregory hit his mark when Terrance flinches as the sauce thwaps into his eyes, and he just stands there, confused with twisted lips.

Terrance doesnt even have time to lift his hand up to inspect the projectile. It only takes seconds for it to kick in.

Evan flinches when Terrance begins to shriek, an angry, pained one, and he flails around, eyes squeezed shut as the hot looking red sauce undoubtedly set his eyes on fire.

His goons startle, looking alarmed when their leader runs around screaming and flailing, almost like a chicken with its head cut off, and Evan thinks it fits almost too well.

"You--!" Is all Terrance can manage, reaching out his arms to grab Gregory like a violent version of Marco Polo, but hes way far off. He slams into the table, pounding a fist into it as the pain undoubtedly overwhelms him. He yells in pain, before, "I'll kill you! You bastard! I'll end you!"

Gregory stands up on the table next to Evan, and he only has a moment to look over before Gregory bellows "Food fight!"

To Evan's immense suprise, Gregory's call actually works. Kids all around them begin to yell, grabbing their own food by the fistfuls and tossing it at their friends. Evan can see food soaring across tables, and he yelps when a banana peel almost hits him right in the face.

"Gregory!" He yells over the commotion. Gregory himself is cackling, packaging up his chicken for safekeeping. Evan uses his arms to protect his head from any flying food. "Duck and cover Gregory! Duck and cover!"

"Screw that!" Gregory yells, and Evan yelps when an angry yelp is heard next to him. He only has a moment to look at Terrance jumping at them before a hand grabs his wrist, and Evan is dragged away from the table, only just managing to grab his Fredbear lunchbox.

"Run!" Gregory yells, as if he didn't just grab Evan's hand with no warning and drag him into the trenches. The cafeteria is a war zone; food is flying everywhere and kids are flipping tables, using them as shields. Evan's ears hurt from all the voices yelling and laughing, and he's almost slipping on wrappers as he bolts behind Gregory.

All Evan can do is follow behind Gregory as they dash for the doors. Evan doesn't dare look behind him, lest he see Terrance or his friends chasing after them. Evan raises his other arm to protect his head from flying chip bags, and he can see an apple core nail Gregory in the side of the head.

Finally, they break through the cafeteria doors, and the rush of silence when they shut behind them is so jarring Evan almost believes someone threw their thermal water bottle at him and knocked him out.

Gregory still has that adrenaline spawned smile on his face, but despite Evan's insistence on staying out of the spotlight, staying invisible, so you dont get targeted, he has to admit that he has that rush thats undoubtedly in Gregorys chest in his chest, too.

"Never do that again." Is all Evan says when they finally catch their breaths. Gregory bursts into laughter, and in the empty halls of the school, Evan joins him.

"You're not mad that I burned the living daylights out of Terrances eyes?" Gregory giggles. "Hey, if that doesnt stop him from bothering you anymore, I dont know what will."

Evan sputters a laugh. "I wont be suprised if he has to stay home from school because of that." Then he takes a deep breath, his smile lessening to a small, content one. "...I'm not mad. Terrance attacked us and you helped us get away. And you only wanted to help me when he made me upset."

Evan only mulls it over for a moment; they've only been friends for a couple months so far, after all, but then he shoots forward, wrapping his arms tight around Gregory.

Gregory startles, but doesnt pull away. He adjusts his arms, squeezing Evan back.

Evan smiles, his cheek pressed up against Gregory's shoulder and his hair tickling his face. "I really appreciate it, you know?" He tells him, then hesitates in what he wants to say next. "Um... nobodys been willing to fight like this for me."

Evan can't help but feel scared when Gregory doesn't reply at first. Did he say something wrong? Did he go too far? Weird Gregory out? Cross a boundary? Is Gregory gonna exit the hug and then the school and never talk to him again? But Gregory just squeezes him tighter, and his voice is loud in Evan's ear.

"Of course, Evan." Gregory replies, patting Evan's back. "You deserve to be fought for, you know. Not like anything your dumb family says."

Evan laughs at that, wobbly and warm. His stomach blooms at the sincerity, and because Evan knows Gregory means it. He doesn't want Gregory to think hes weird, or weak, or a crybaby, but he hadn't been able to stop Gregory from hearing his family's comments one day over the phone.

But of course, Gregory probably took that as a challenge, or something. If Evan knows Gregory, he probably decided in that moment to spite his family by trying to make Evan believe he isnt weak, or worthless, and he doesnt need to change.

Evan huffs a chuckle, a short breathy one, when he probably hit the nail right on the head. His first thought is that Gregory is easy to read, but he dares to believe that maybe, he and Gregory are getting close enough to where Evan just knows Gregory, and Gregory just knows him.

"Maybe one day I'll work my way up the ranks to defeat your family." Gregory says against him. "If I beat enough bullies, maybe I'll be able to give Michael a piece of my mind, too. Hes obviously missing a slice of his."

Evan giggles, a grin on his face, and surprisingly, Evan doesn't feel dread at what Terrance will do next, or what his returning plan of torment will be, because running through a storm of flying lunch was pretty fun, and if hes got Gregory to help him out, who really wants to beat some sense into his idiot brother, he'll be okay.

-🐻-

"Gregory Angel Fazbear!"

Gregory groans next to Evan on the sidewalk, slumping while standing up. "Oh no..."

Gregory's Dad storms out of the front door of Gregory's house, hands on his hips and an angry expression on his face. "What have I said about attacking your peers?!"

Evan himself shrinks, because Freddy has a really intense stern voice, but Gregory doesn't seem as phased. "Dad, I was just--"

"Hear him out, Fred." Gregory's other dad steps outside as well, putting a hand on his husband's shoulder. "What happened?"

Gregory frowns at being interrupted, but continues. "It was epic. A bully was abou to attack us, but I projectile shot spicy chicken into his eyes and started a cafeteria wide food fight!"

Freddys eyes blow wide, but Bonnie just chuckles. Freddy turns to his husband in shock when he doesnt match his stern expression. "Bonnie."

Bonnie covers his mouth with his hand when the chuckles dont stop. "He was just defending himself, Fredbear. And his friend, too. Would you of rather him let himself get hurt?"

Gregory nods, crossing his arms. "Yeah, Dad. You always told me to use my surroundings to my advantage if it's to protect myself from someone will ill intentions."

Freddy just hums, deflating. "...Okay, Superstar. You win." But he points a stern finger at Gregory, saying, "But I dont want to get any more calls from the school claiming a child has hospital grade injuries coming from you, okay?"

Gregory rolls his eyes subtly, but nods. "Okay. I'll try."

"There is nothing wrong with running away, Superstar." Freddy points out.

Evan watches Gregory's face closely, because this whole conversation hes been stoic and annoyed, but Freddy just threw the words that Gregory's been preaching at him for weeks back into his own face.

Gregory looks caught off guard, but sighs, conceding. "Fine. You're right. I'll do that next time."

"Good. I am proud of you for defending your friend, Superstar. You did it for a very noble reason." He smiles warmly, and pulls his son into a hug. "I am glad you're growing up to be such a kind and considerate boy."

Evan laughs, because he imagines if his family ever had anything like that to say about him in front of a friend, he'd be embarrassed.

But right now, all he finds is that hes pretty glad, too.

Chica, Gregory's aunt, suddenly peeks through the front door. "Hey everyone! Pizzas done!"

The family begins to disperse off the porch, filing into the house with roars of anticipation, and Evan tries not to tear up when Gregory grabs his arm and drags him inside with them.

ao3 link

[katatonicimpression]

For @bread-into-toast

[lavellenchanted]

I love these snippets so much! If you're not tired of writing about them, what about Japril + 💗? :)

💗 Slow Kiss

The Fox Foundation Charity Galas were fun . . . the first two or three times April attended one. It had been a novelty then, getting to pick out a fancy dress to wear, guessing what sort of canapes would be served or who might be attendance.

It didn't take long though, for the novelty to wear off.

Sure, there's still the excitement of seeing some of the most pre-eminent surgeons in the country (and occasionally even the world) in attendance, but April rarely has the chance to pick their brains or talk to them about their latest achievements the way she would like to. Most of the evening is spent schmoozing the rich potential donors that the Foundation would like to make actual donors and they're very often more pompous than interesting. Not to mention poor dancers. Usually by the time the galas end, April's cheeks are aching with all the smiling, her throat's hoarse from talking up the foundation and her feet hurt from being in heels too long.

If getting those donations wasn't so crucial to the incredible work the Foundation was doing, she would skip them in favour of staying at home with a blanket and a good book. But they are crucial, and she can't leave Jackson to take it all on by himself. Unfortunately his face isn't enough to sway every donor, no matter how pretty it is.

She has, at least, managed to grab a few moments for herself tonight. The ballroom they've hired this year has several alcoves dotted along the walls that are very conveniently hidden from view by large, decorative potted plants and April's managed to slip into one so she can slip her shoes off for a few minutes. The cold marble of the floor is lovely against her warm, abused feet and she lets her head fall back against the wall and closes her eyes.

"If you think you're getting out of cozying up to Mrs Walker by hiding back here, you are wrong."

April jumps in surprise and opens her eyes to see Jackson watching her in amusement from the other side of plant.

"Shhh! Get back here or they'll see." Leaning out, she grabs his arm impatient and pulls him into the alcove with her. "I just needed a break, that's all."

"Really?" Jackson lifts an eyebrow. "So I don't have to remind you that I won the coin toss fair and square?"

They always toss a coin to see who will have to talk with Mrs Walker - a very wealthy old lady in her eighties who won't let anyone else get a word in edgewise and has an unfortunate case of bad breath to boot. Whoever goes to try and charm a little more cash out of her inevitably has to spend an hour listening to rambling on about how different the city is now to when she was a girl and an excruciatingly detailed report of her cat's health.

April pulls a face. "No, I will go and talk her. Just . . . not now."

Jackson laughs and looks around at her hiding spot. "I never realised you could even get back here. I just saw you disappear behind the plant. I thought maybe you'd found a hidden passage or something."

"I wish," she sighs, and he smiles softly at her and she knows he knows she's thinking about her childhood dream of being Nancy Drew (April can't wait until Harriet's old enough to start reading them). "But it's still fun. Makes me think of old movies or books where they're spying on people, or shady deals are happening. We could be getting up to anything back here."

"Anything?" Jackson repeats suggestively and April feels herself flushing.

"You know what I mean."

He just steps closer, so that he's leaning over her and she has to lean right back into the wall to look up at him; suddenly the alcove feels much smaller and warmer than it did a moment ago, but April can't say she minds, not when Jackson's eyes are darkening in that tell-tale way and trailing slowly down her body, making her heart race.

"Maybe, but I can think of much better things to do back here than spy on someone else." One of his hands comes up curl around the back of her neck, his thumb lightly stroking over her cheek. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

"No, I don't think so," April point-blank lies, because he told her she looked gorgeous before they even left home. She'd been very pleased; tonight's the first time she's worn this dress, a strapless number of dark green silk that's fitted to her hips and then falls in a loose skirt to the floor with a slit up to her knee. And she's been hoping that Jackson will enjoy taking it off her when they get home.

He grins and bends down closer, so his nose grazes hers and his lips are so close she can feel the warmth of his breath as he whispers, "You are very, very beautiful."

"You think so?"

She brings her hands up to his hips, finding the belt loops on his pants and using them to pull him even closer.

"I do."

He closes the space between their lips bit by bit, pulling back teasingly every time she pushes herself upwards to try and speed things along, chuckling when she actually makes a noise of frustation.

"So impatient," he murmurs, and then finally kisses her.

With the hand on her neck he tilts her head to find the deepest angle possible, moving his mouth against hers in one long, steady stroke. His tongue sweeps out over hers, sure and purposeful, and he captures her bottom lip his teeth, and it's a good thing April's already backed up against a wall because already her knees feel weak and she's completely breathless.

He kisses her like they're not hiding behind a plant at his Foundation's biggest event of the year, but like they're at home and he has all the time in the world to kiss her thoroughly, until her body's on fire and she's desperate to feel his skin against hers.

Maybe he does take all the time in the world; she's not sure how long he kisses her for before he finally pulls back, leaving her panting and just a little dizzy.

He looks out of breath himself, his pupils wide and his chest heaving as he looks down at her.

"How long do you think we can stay back here before they notice we're gone?" he asks.

"I don't know," April replies, "But I'm up for finding out if you are. If you don't mind me taking a little longer to get round to talking to Mrs Walker."

"She can wait," Jackson says decisively, and bends down to kiss her again.

[luxaofhesperides]

Danny accidentally appearing out of Duke's shadow. And doing it purposely every time after that. ; requested by @kyrianclawraith! (deviated from your original prompt a bit, sorry! the ghostlights brainworms got away from me)

Traveling through shadows has become second nature for Duke after using them so extensively over the years. He even uses them as a civilian, hopping between shadows when he’s running late to class so he doesn’t have to stress out over traffic. 

Not even Batman’s scoldings can stop him from making it on time to his classes. Risks need to be taken for the sake of his education!

The shadows are comforting. They hide him from sight, get him to where he needs to go, and gives him the alone time he needs when he’s been around people for too long and desperately needs some quiet to recharge. Duke would say that he’s well versed in the shadows at this point, no longer stumbling out into the light.

Even with all his practice and confidence, he still can’t prepare himself for tripping over someone in the shadows while he’s trying to escape some of The Riddler’s goons. 

They both go tumbling out of the shadows, landing in a corner hidden by storage shelves. The poor tripping hazard of a person is under him, groaning lightly as he reaches up to press a hand to the back of his head, where he hit the concrete floor. 

“Oh, shit,” Duke whispers, “I’m so sorry. What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“I was hiding,” the guy hisses back at him. “I wanted to get out of the rain and dozed off and when I woke up, guns were being shot! I was up in the rafters, so excuse me for thinking no one would find me up there!”

Another gunshot rings out, alarmingly close to where they are.

Duke curses under his breath, then picks up the guy and hauls him over his shoulder. “Time to go!” And then he’s disappearing into the shadows again, following the line of them outside the warehouse and down the street. 

As soon as they’re safely away from the goons, Duke steps out of the shadows and carefully sets the civilian back onto his feet.

“So sorry about that,” he says, “But I need to get back and deal with them. Stay safe!”

He’s gone before the civilian can say anything else, and though it’s embarrassing that he tripped over someone while shadow hopping, at least it ended relatively well. It’s not like it’ll happen again.

Duke, sweet, naive Duke, doesn’t think much of the civilian again. He’s a busy guy with a busy life! Lots of things to do! Lots of embarrassing moments to keep secret from the other Bats! No one has mentioned it at all, so he thinks he’s safe from being teased about it.

That is, up until he’s training with Dick and a hand pops up out of his shadow.

“Um,” Dick says, backflipping away from Duke’s punch. He lowers his escrima sticks and squints at the space behind Duke. “Are you… trying something new with your powers?”

“...No? I’m not using my powers right now.”

Dick looks more and more alarmed. He won’t look away from the space behind Duke, and it’s making him nervous. He doesn't want to look, but he knows he has to. 

Steeling himself, Duke takes a deep breath, then turns slightly to see what’s behind him.

Nothing. 

His gaze goes down, and he sees a pale hand sticking out of his shadow, moving back and forth. It then comes out some more, up to the elbow, and the hand pats the ground Duke’s shadow lays on, a stiff mat perfect for sparring.

Behind him, Dick turns on his escrima sticks, the electricity crackling through the air.

The hand disappears for a moment. 

Then two hands appear and grab the ground, hauling up a body from Duke’s shadow.

Duke is very well versed in shadows. He travels through them almost daily. He thinks he would know if there was some strange netherworld hidden in the shadows where other beings could pop out of shadows like portals. This is alarming, to say the least.

“Don’t move, Duke,” Dick warns, creeping closer, ready to attack.

A head pops out of his shadow. Whatever it is glows and their white hair moves softly as if underwater. They’re facing away from him, so he can’t see their face, but he can see the black, skin-tight suit their wearing as they float up from his shadow, no longer needing their hands to pull themself out. 

“Huh,” they say, looking up at the ceiling.

Dick grabs Duke’s arm and pulls him back, shielding him with his body. “Who are you?” he demands, voice cold. 

The creature/person startles and whips around to stare at them with wide green eyes. His gaze darts down to the electrified escrima sticks, then back up again, visibly nervous.

“Um, hi! Sorry, I didn’t know anyone would be here. Wherever this is.”

“How did you get here?”

“I was practicing a new portalling method. I found a ghost to teach me how to move through shadows, since my usual portals are very bright and noticeable. Not great when you’re trying to be stealthy! I did not mean to end up here.”

Duke stares at him. “You came out of my shadow.”

“Sorry,” the guy repeats. Then he squints at Duke. “Hey, didn’t you save me the other day? From the warehouse?”

It’s been a while since Duke’s saved anyone from a warehouse. Criminals and goons have moved on to condemned apartment complexes and the back rooms of bars. The only person he’s saved is the tripping hazard…

“Man, what is up with you and getting caught in my shadows?”

“This is your fault!” the guy insists. “I associate shadows too strongly with you! That’s why I’m here! Probably. I don’t actually know how this works.”

“You don’t know how it works but you did it anyways.”

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.” The guy floats down to the ground and offers Duke a hand. “I’m Phantom, by the way! Figured I should introduce myself because this will happen again.”

Duke considers introducing himself as the Signal, but Danny is looking directly at his bare face, so it’s lost cause. Talk about an unexpected security breach. “Duke. You looked a little different when we first met.”

“Yeah, that was my human form. This is my ghost form.” A watch on his wrist, some clunky looking thing that looks like it came from the early 2000s, beeps and Phantom frowns at it. “Shoot, I need to go. I’ll see you later!” And he dives right back into Duke’s shadow, disappearing.

Duke blinks at the empty space where Phantom used to be, still reeling from the shock of it. He’s so busy processing the last few minutes that he doesn’t hear the escrima sticks turn off until Dick is dropping a heavy arm around his shoulders, holding him in place. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s not happy; it’s a warning that he’s at his limit and is barely hanging on to niceties.

“So,” he says as Duke cringes, “Looks like we need to have a talk about the things you’ve been hiding from us, Duke.”

He can’t do anything but resign himself to his fate.

After that conversation, he’s instructed to let them know when Phantom pops up. Which is fine until he realizes that Phantom really did mean it when he said that it’ll happen again. 

Phantom pops up constantly. Most of the time, Duke is lucky enough to be at home, or in the Manor, or in the Batcave away from the public where no one will freak out about a glowing boy popping out of his shadow. Sometimes, he’s in the middle of the street as a civilian and has to sprint away, ducking into the first empty alley he can find in order to climb up onto the rooftop where no one will see him.

It’s stressful and confusing and he wishes he could be more upset about it, but Phantom is fun. He’s funny and charming and tells the craziest stories about ghost fights that Duke can’t help but hang onto every word.

He dutifully updates his Phantom Log, noting each time he’s portaled through Duke’s shadow, any information he’s revealed, and an injury count after Duke noticed a concerning pattern of Phantom often showing up after he’s been in a fight.

Duke begins to get a feel for when Phantom is about to show up. A shiver runs down his spine and his awareness of the shadows around him grows. Sometimes, he could swear he could feel something tear apart in his shadow. He feels it then, a tear that stitches itself up almost instantly, a ripple in the shadow, before that familiar hand pops up again and Duke grabs hold of it to haul Phantom out into his bedroom. 

He is, once again injured. There’s a large gash running down the length of his other arm, bleeding a toxic, glowing green. 

“Dude,” Duke says, unable to keep the judgment out of his voice.

“You should see the other guy,” Phantom snorts. “I slammed him through five streets, then ripped his limbs off.

“Dude…”

“Just to be clear, they weren’t his real limbs. He has a robot suit he uses like a body because he’s like a tiny little bean.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how to take that. Anyways, have you still not figured out how to open portals that aren’t connected to my shadow?”

Phantom shrugs. “Nope. And I’m not really trying to figure it out. I like hanging out with you. Plus, it’s nice to see a friendly face after a fight.”

“Can’t you like, go home and have your family take care of you first.”

“Uh, better not,” Phantom laughs nervously. “They’d probably kill me for real if they saw me like this.”

Duke quietly notes to himself to add that statement to the Alarming Things Phantom Says list. 

“Does it… bother you? Me always coming to you?” There’s a smallness to his voice, a fragility that makes Duke want to beat himself up for making Phantom feel like that.

“No! No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t keeping you from anyone else.”

Phantom brightens. “Oh! Well, no need to worry about that. No one’s worried, back home. They know I disappear sometimes.”

…Another concerning thing. Duke is considering bribing Phantom into staying in Gotham forever, living in his shadow, just so he can take care of him. Just to be sure Phantom’s safe. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks, eyes flickering down to Phantom’s bleeding wound.

Phantom futilely tries to hide the wound with a hand. The green blood leaks out from between his fingers, and he applies more pressure to the wound with a faint wince. “Nope! All good here. I’ll heal in no time, honest.”

“Then, do you want to just hang out? I really don’t know why you’d chose to keep coming to me.”

“You’re good company, dude. Very chill. Very fun. And you’re a hero! That’s so cool. Why wouldn’t I keep coming back?”

Duke shrugs, not sure how to put his insecurities into words. He’s already starting to get the Bat-specific inability to communicate emotions, which is definitely a problem. He’ll need to spend time with other people to be normal again. 

As if sensing that Duke’s mood is falling, Phantom launches into another tale, complaining about people who bother him, teachers who are terrible at teaching, having snark-fights with the embodiment of Time itself, and so on. He always has the craziest stories, and he tells them so casually that Duke has to second guess himself, wondering if he’s overreacting when he’s shocked by what Phantom tells him. 

He starts telling his own stories as well, mostly fun civilian interactions he’s had since they last spoke, villain fights, the ever changing theories on the ‘Who is Batman Sleeping With Now?’ shared document all the other Bats have. By the time an hour passes, Phantom’s arm is fully healed and he’s flying in lazy circles above Duke.

His watch beeps again in the middle of him recounting the insane drama happening at his school. Phantom sighs and sinks back to the floor, hovering just above Duke’s shadow.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” he says, voice warm.

Duke shrugs. “You’re good company. I like when you visit.”

A slow, soft smile spreads across Phantom’s cheeks, making him glow even brighter. “Sweet talker,” he accuses fondly, then flies in for a quick, tight hug. He pulls back before Duke can reciprocate, and salutes him with a cheeky, “See you soon!” and is gone, flying into Duke’s shadow before he can respond.

Shaking his head fondly, Duke falls back against his bed.

Despite how unconventional their friendship is, he is glad Phantom keeps coming back. He hopes he’ll get to see Phantom’s human form again.

…And get more used to the horror movie scene that is Phantom clawing his way out of his shadow. No matter how many times he sees it, the sight still makes him jump.

Not that he’s ever going to admit that.

If Phantom thinks he’s cool, he’s going to do whatever he can to keep that impression from changing. It’s only reasonable, really.

(“Shut up, Dick,” he says later when he recounts this encounter with Phantom. Dick just keeps laughing, endlessly amused that Duke got ‘jumpscared into a crush’ as he phrased it. That’s definitely not what happened.

Next time, he’s definitely convincing Phantom to scare Dick with him. 

Revenge will be his.) . . .

[send me ghostlights prompts! one day left before they close on 11/17]

[wordswithloveee]

[hero-of-the-wolf]

Wrestle (or any conjugation) for the prompts if you’re still interested

Warriors grabbed the back of Wind’s shirt, wrestling him away from the champion’s cooking pot. “Nuh huh. No way. You’re gonna wait your turn, just like everyone else.”

[smilesrobotlover]

How about the dads! And the word... “paint”!

-Sky Floor

The town the men walked through was beautiful to Kass, with quaint homes and shops lined up for people to see. He couldn’t help but stop and admire the art in some of the shops; there were paintings with all sorts of things as their subjects. He had to keep himself from poking the paint strokes that protruded from the canvases, out of respect for the artist of course. He knew how art took time, and he never wanted to ruin it.

[dujour13]

Patching up a wound👀

Thanks for the prompt Romeo 💕 A little Act II moment. Prompts here

---

“Take it easy chief.”

Flat on his back, Siavash opened one eye at that. Woljif was the one panicking. Although, he reflected, maybe he ought to start. Before he passed out.

“Lemme see.”

Siavash removed a bloody hand from the slash wound across his thigh. Damn schir caught him just under the buckler. Keep your shield up, Seelah had told him. Shouldn’t have listened.

“Yeah, that’s bleedin’ a lot. Doesn’t look too good.”

“Ruined my favorite trousers.”

“Uh—” Woljif choked. The green ones with the stripes. The ones the Count had looked at and said “Ah, the brave city defenders leaping into battle without even taking the time to change out of their pajamas.”

“Tell me you have a potion on you.”

Woljif choked again. He’d been hoarding them and selling them off to the foot soldiers. You could get twice what they were worth on the Kenabres market, and he could always talk Ember into looking after his own little scrapes and bruises.

“Drank my last one. Don’t you have a spell?”

Siavash shook his head. He’d squeezed out his last drop of magic when they were ambushed by cultists on the road earlier that day.

“You’re tellin’ me we went scoutin’ without one spell or potion between us?”

“We’re a couple of amateurs, aren’t we?” Siavash chuckled weakly, and then realized what that meant for the Fifth Crusade he was meant to be leading, which wiped the smile off his face almost as quickly.

Woljif mistook this for a grimace of pain and began to panic again. “Hold on, chief—we’ll figure somethin’ out—”

Though the thought flashed through his mind that now might be a really good time to abscond. Sure, they’d taken Vilareth’s Ford but how long would their luck hold out? No—he banished the thought. He wasn’t sure he could find his way back to the camp, let alone the road. City streets had names and landmarks. Trees all looked the bloody same.

Besides, there was more to be milked out of the Fifth Crusade. Not to mention he still owed the chief and it was good to have fr—contacts in high places. He realized his hand was on the chief’s thigh and drew it away.

And then the chief started to unbuckle his belt.

“Um. What—?”

“Help me get my scarf off.”

There was a close-quarters struggle to untie the fringed blue scarf and pull it out from under his waist without budging the wounded leg, during which time some color returned to Woljif’s cheeks.

“Just rip it,” Siavash coughed. Moving had caused a surge of blood and pain.

“Yeah, right. Like in the stories? With my teeth?”

He didn’t have the breath to tell him about the one time Kel Five Knives had taken an arrow to the leg and still managed to lead the Order of the Gate on a merry chase. Later, at camp. That was a good one.

“It don’t work like that.” Woljif stood up and trapped one end of the scarf under his boot so that he could slice through it with his dagger and rip off a long, fringed bandage. This he began wrapping very carefully around the chief’s thigh.

“Tighter. It has to stop the bleeding.”

He grimaced and pulled tighter. Just as he feared, the chief let out a yelp. “S-sorry.”

Between shallow breaths Siavash wheezed, “You’re a man of many talents, Woljif, but I don’t think healing is one of them.”

“Gimme a lock to pick anytime. This ain’t my kinda work.”

Once he was bandaged, or at least as well as could be expected, Woljif gave him a hand up and waited while he bent double, blinking sparks from his vision.

It turned out the chief was just the right height that if Woljif leaned a little he could fit his shoulder into his armpit and help him limp back to camp. It felt strangely intimate. Friendly-like. The chief was in pain but he still laughed when they had to stop and negotiate their way over fallen branches, hopping and clinging to each other. Woljif found he didn’t mind so much that his shoulder was starting to ache, because the chief’s arm around him made him feel a little floaty.

They made it halfway before they stumbled across Lann, who had come looking for them when their absence stretched on longer than was quite normal. He shook his head and sighed.

“Don’t tell me you went scouting without one healing spell or potion between you.”

[sasslett]

8. shielding the other one with their body

“Jess, look out!” 

The woman barely had time to react - in one moment, she saw it flying towards her, and, in the next, her lover leapt before her, the shot hitting him straight in the back. 

“Varrus!” she gasped, reaching forward to place her hands on his chest, her eyes shining nearly as bright as the glistening snow around them. “Varrus, are you alright?” 

She heard the sound of another snowball pelting him square in the back, yet he nodded all the same. 

“Oh, my hero,” she gasped with dramatic flair. “However will I be able to thank you?” 

“Perhaps a kiss, my fair lady, for the man who saved your life?” 

She snorted, yet acquiesced all the same, reaching up to drag his lips down to hers - only to chuckle as she heard yet another snowball hitting him in the back.

“Hey!” she heard Alisaie cry, the frustration plain in the young woman’s voice. “You two had best stop, lest you melt all of the snow before we declare a winner!” 

“Give me two more minutes!” Jess called, peeling herself away from her lover only long enough to get the words out before meeting his lips once more - pointedly ignoring the protests of their snowball-fighting foe behind them.