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#prompts-for-every-need
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Prompt #522
"You remind me of the sun."
"Why? I'm the light of your life? Your guiding star? The center of your universe?"
"... You're hot..."
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ikiprian · 18 days
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Clone’s Best Friend
“Cute dog!” the girl says. “What breed is he?”
“Uh,” blinks Kon. "Are you asking what breed Superdog is?"
“Uh, duh?”
Well. She’ll have to forgive him his stunned expression, ‘cause he doesn’t usually run into other dog walkers on this path. This is, of course, because “path” is used in the loosest sense, the one that connotates direction and not tread ground, and the “walk” bit is entirely inapplicable, with all of them currently flying one thousand feet above sea level.
“Cujo’s a rescue,” she continues, swinging her feet in the sky, “so we don’t know for sure, but my sister thinks part husky, part shar pei. Half-and-half, like me!”
Cujo is also, apparently, half green and half glowing. He wiggles happily in a play-bow. It’s very cute, except for the way he’s the size of a small house.
Krypto’s tough, though. He barks and chases his new friend through cloud cover. Gamely, Cujo flees. They frolic in the chilly condensation, occasionally poking a head out before diving back in, like a fox in a snowdrift.
Neither of them see anything surprising about this. It’s all good fun. And, well. Krypto’s always been a good judge of character.
Kon turns back to the girl and gives her a megawatt smile.
“He’s Kryptonian. Like me. But he looks like a white lab!”
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siren-of-agony · 1 year
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Answers to "it hurts"
I know (apologetically)
I know (condescendingly)
It's supposed to
Good
I'm sorry
It'll be over soon
Stop whining
And it'll get worse if you don't *insert threat*
Well it wouldn't have to if you didn't *insert mistake*
You're supposed to say 'thank you'
I love hearing you say that
This is nothing, I'll show you actual pain
Get used to it
You'll get used to it
Stop lying
At least you still feel it
Shut up
Why don't you beg me to stop, then?
Can't be that bad if you're still talking
I don't care
Did I ask?
It's the only way you'll learn
You can take it
Answers to "please stop"
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ghostbsuter · 4 months
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"I can see dead people." He mentions with a shrug, using the chopsticks to fish more noodles into his mouth.
Dick stares at him. "Huh."
"Is that why you help?" He asks, getting more spring rolls.
"Yeah. Once someone becomes a ghost, word gets out quick, and they come to me. Always tatling about unfairness and justice." The kid waves the words around, rolling his eyes.
Dick just pretens to he uninterested, despite his mind racing at the new info. He is piecing past moments together, every shadow leaping away, every note with tips, leads and—
Huh.
"Do you... like it? Doing all that?" Richard approaches thus carefully, brows furrowed at the kid opposite of him.
Danny moves his head, giving a 'so-so' answer. "It's not much to like, I can see ghosts, and they know it and use it. If it brings them to peace or whatever– well, that's just a plus."
Dick stares. He places his chopsticks down and looks at Danny worried.
In turn, the kid sighs. "Sometimes gifts become curses the longer you have it."
And Dick understands.
Mind made up, he throws a pair of keys at the kid, watching fondly as the other catches them with confusion.
"Next time use these, instead of entering through the window."
Danny mock-salutes with a shit eating grin. "Yes, Officer grayson."
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Halloween prompts year 2 day 11
"A contract," the creature croaked, freezing Tim in place.
"What?" He asked, stunned. He knew he should run, he knew he shouldn't trust whatever magic nonsense this was turning into but...whoever or whatever this was sounded desperate.
Green glowing liquid had came together to make the vague shape of a person on the ground, "A contract," the creature repeated, "Care for me and give me energy, and in return I will serve and protect you."
Red Robin hesitated, "How do I know you're not going to stab me in the back the first chance you get."
"I need to feed." The thing gasped, "I need a host. I can negotiate"
Tim can negotiate too, and if there's one thing his 17 year old co-ceo self knew by now, it was contracts.
After the contract was completed, the being passed out and a bright white flash left a relatively normal looking boy in its place
Somehow the entity, now known as Danny, had been stolen away by Alfred and is undergoing butler training cause now Tim has his own personal butler...who is only a year younger than him and some kind of Pit Demon
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ghost-bxrd · 19 days
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Prompt:
It’s turning out to be a bad day when Jason finds himself stabbed during a drug bust.
It’s turning out to be a very bad day when he starts to feel woozy (seriously, what the hell? It was just a little stabbing) and promptly collapses.
It’s turning out to be a monumentally bad day when the batfamily drop in on his drug bust.
And then the night takes a hard nose dive into catastrophically bad, because whatever toxin that blade was laced with? It’s making his heartbeat slow down into near flatline, paralyzing Jason in the process.
And now he’s stuck listening to his family lose it completely upon finding his “dead” body.
… shit.
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puppetmaster13u · 1 month
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Prompt 224
DCxDP
Now Booster Gold would like it known he is Not father material, or even responsible adult material. That is Ted, and even then they seem to share a single braincell when they're in each others presence.
But again, NOT anything close to father material. Which he repeats to both himself and the eldritch Time Entity who just handed him what he Knows to be pretty much an unborn child of its species. look, he Knows about Realms Beings- Espranto was literally his first language like many others of his timeline- so he knows the inherent dangers.
But Somehow him becoming a time-cop of sorts has endeared him towards this primordial one, thankfully. Less thankfully, it has given him a whole-ass CHILD. A BABY. HIM. Of all people!
Ted he needs help, he doesn't know if this counts as mpreg or something and he's freaking out man!
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badninken · 2 months
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for @obito-week 2024! prompt: twin sharingan
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bythepen98 · 7 months
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Zutara || Sleepy Zuko snuggling a very indulgent Katara ❤️️💙
kofi ⭐https://tinyurl.com/2p99f6ba
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the-baby-storyteller · 8 months
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Chin lifts.
From Whumper to make Whumpee feel vulnerable. Weak. Like property. To remind them of their place and just how servile and pliant they are under Whumper’s control. Forcing them to lift their head, stretching their neck to the point of pain, in a show of cruel sadism as a wicked smile spreads across their lips.
From Caretaker to soothe Whumpee. To make them meet their eyes when they refuse. To check for illness or harm. Or tears. Maybe they smile when Whumpee’s gaze reaches their own. Perhaps they frown at what they see. Regardless, an intimate moment is created as Whumpee stares up at them, seeing the intemt strong within their eyes and feeling the firm unyielding grip of their hand, both whispering: “I’ve got you.”
Whumpee, the one having their chin lifted, feeling all too exposed with the near manhandling. For a Whumpee who’s main defense mechanism is hiding, not being able to cover their highly expressive face is a terror. A Whumpee who refuses to meet Whumper’s gaze out of spite. A Whumpee who buries their head in Caretakers chest when ill to hide the flush of their face or seek comfort.
Lift their chin.
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Prompt #516
"Don't you worry about me. I'm going somewhere much better."
"How do you know? How do you know there's anything after all this?"
"Because I have to believe there's something better, something beautiful waiting for me over the horizon."
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xjustakay · 7 months
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(8/31) prompt: takeout — 1,217 words (jealous james ft. slightly meddling wolfstar) @jegulus-microfic
The second Regulus is through the front door of the flat he shares with Sirius and James, his brother is bolting up from the couch to come toward him.
“Thank Christ, that took fucking ages,” Sirius complains, automatically taking one of the bags looped around Regulus’ fingers.
“You insisted on the Italian place, you know they’re always busy,” Regulus remarks, eyes rolling.
He follows Sirius into the kitchen, nodding at Remus on the couch in greeting as he passes. James is at the sink finishing off a few dishes and when he turns around, he immediately smiles widely.
“Oh, you’re home.”
Stopping to pick up dinner on the way home from work isn’t unusual for him, especially on nights they’ve all got typical plans. Of course, Regulus has other plans tonight, but that’s beside the point.
Still, he nods once at James, a tight smile on his face that doesn’t match the brightness shone to him. Sirius is already rifling through the bag he took, pulling out containers of their takeout and spreading them on the small kitchen table. Regulus sets the other bag down and looks toward the neon clock on the oven, pursing his lips.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” He says snidely to his brother. “I’m running late now.”
Sirius shrugs, clearly unbothered, even as Regulus huffs irritably. Continuing to shuffle through the food, Sirius collects his and Remus’ meals, stacking containers precariously to take back to the living room.
“Late for what?” James asks.
“He’s skipping movie night ‘cause he’s got a date,” Sirius answers for him on his way out of the kitchen.
Regulus resists the urge to swat the small tower of takeout containers out of his brother’s arms. It’s not that he was keeping this date a secret exactly, but he might have liked to share that information himself, for fuck’s sake. Regulus stares with narrowed eyes at the kitchen doorway for a long moment until James is shifting his attention back to him.
“A date? You’re—” He cuts off when Regulus pointedly arches one brow at him. “You’ve got a date.”
It’s not a question anymore in its finality. James’ tone has gone flat, almost unimpressed, and Regulus can’t figure out why.
“Yes, I do,” He confirms.
These last few months since Regulus left home and moved in with Sirius and his best friend have been an adjustment. In that adjusting, though, he and James have gotten strangely closer, developed some sort of friendship of their own. He’s always kept James a little at arms length, considering he’s Sirius’ best friend, first and foremost. Whatever childhood crush had ignited years ago has long-since been snuffed out.
Or so he continues to try convincing himself.
Because of his new, growing closeness with James, Regulus has come to learn some of his tells. The way he bounces on the balls of his feet when he physically can’t contain his enthusiasm. The way he ruffles his hands through his messy hair more when he’s nervous about something.
Or, like now, how his teeth snap together, jaw rolling and his hands clenching, because James is irritated.
“Is there a problem?” Regulus questions.
“No, of course not. Why would there be a problem? You’ve got a date. You’re dating.” James says the word like it’s left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. “That’s— Well, that’s just awesome, isn’t it?”
Grey eyes narrow at him, arms lifting from Regulus’ sides to fold loosely over his chest. “Right.”
“Is it someone I know?” James steps nearer to him, Regulus watching him closely.
“One of Remus’ coworkers. He set us up.”
James’ jaw goes slack as he huffs a dry laugh. He glowers past Regulus in the direction of the living room, his head shaking slowly.
“Fucking Moony,” James mutters beneath his breath.
“I don’t see what the problem is,” Regulus notes.
“I already said there’s not a problem.”
“You’re certainly acting like there is.”
“Maybe I’m just upset you’re skipping out on movie night.” It’s clear the moment that James has said it that even he realizes what a weak excuse that is.
Regulus continues to stare at him in silent disbelief until finally James scoffs, caving.
“Moony knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“What does that even fucking mean?” Regulus implores.
“He probably thinks he’s being some twisted sort of helpful, the bastard.”
Regulus is impossibly more confused now, his own annoyance growing from his impatience. “I don’t have time for whatever this is.”
“Right, because you’ve got a date.” James’ lip curls in distaste, once again entirely unshy in his dislike for having to use the word in this context.
“So what?” Regulus snaps. 
He tilts his chin up, keeping eye contact and standing his ground when James takes another step nearer to him.
“So, maybe I don’t want you to go.” James tosses his arms out widely in semblance of a shrug, hazel eyes blazing. “Happy?”
Regulus scowls, on the defense now. “No, you don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like I’m being annoying when you’re the one throwing a fit over me going out with someone. You’re not my b—”
James cocks his head to the side, squinting behind his glasses when Regulus cuts himself off. There’s a long pause between them; tension in the air suffocating as Regulus tries to take a deep breath. Before he can go on, though, James is shuffling even closer, directly in front of him, only inches between them now.
“And if I want to be?” James challenges, knowing exactly what he was going to say.
Which… Well. That’s just. Not the reaction Regulus was expecting at all. 
Sure, they’ve gotten closer. He dares to think they’ve even grown affectionate toward each other in some regards, but this? What James is suggesting? Regulus has never even let himself consider it, the time of daydreams about James Potter long behind him.
“What?” It comes out sounding smaller than Regulus would like, the fight drained out of his voice as he looks at James with wide eyes.
“You heard me, love.” James settles a hand at Regulus’ side and he nearly flinches in surprise.
Ultimately it’s Sirius that causes Regulus to startle visibly instead, when his voice carries from the living room: “Are you two done having your little lover’s quarrel yet?
“We’d like to start the movie,” Remus adds.
Regulus takes a large step back from James, who clears his throat awkwardly and lifts a hand to ruffle back through his hair familiarly.
“I, um.” Regulus feels heat color his cheeks as he glances at the remaining takeout containers on the table, a crease in his brow. “Maybe I can… skip the date.”
“Yeah?” God, James sounds so fucking hopeful. It’s just as apparent when Regulus looks back at him again; the brightness of his eyes, the lift of his brows, the subtle smile that twitches at the edges of his mouth.
There’s definitely much more conversation to be had, things to figure out between them now that this is out in the open. Still, Regulus presses his lips together, avoiding a stupid smile of his own, and snatches a container of food from the table. 
He half-turns away from where James is fully beaming at him now when he says, “It’s movie night, after all.”
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zarnzarn · 18 days
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IS THIS A DEFEAT OR A VICTORY CAN I GET A HALLELUJAH????
(requests for one-shots open in celebration!)
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welcometothewoes · 8 months
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The image of A lying down with their head on B's chest, listening to their heartbeat while dozing off and basking in the warmth B emits gets me through the workday agh it's so good and tender
Especially if B puts their hand on A's back and slowly caresses them, or maybe plays with their hair, and all their problems melt away for a few hours because it's just the two of them in the whole wide world
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cuubism · 6 months
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First of other-pairings fics. Calliope & Lucienne. this dynamic turned out odder than I thought it would.
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At long last the Dreaming is normal again -- such that the Dreaming can ever be normal. After a century of decay in which Lucienne had feared the Dreaming might simply fade away, after the manifestation of the vortex in Rose, when she'd feared it might be ripped apart entirely--after all this, the Dreaming is peaceful again.
It should be peaceful.
Why can't she feel it?
Lucienne is wandering the palace gardens. She does not often wander. Usually she walks with decision. But all the major reconstruction is done in the library, and around the Dreaming more generally, and while there is always general organizing, and a continual influx of new books, her time is not currently fully occupied.
And so she is wandering. Something she had only truly done during Lord Morpheus's absence, when the library became too unspooled to tend, until things decayed to the point that even the gardens felt treacherous and she had retreated to the palace.
She does not think she is meant for wandering. She likes to have something to do. One of the hardest things during this century of a crumbling Dreaming had been not being able to do anything.
It's as she is walking the gardens, the peaceful-yet-strange breezes of the Dreaming fluttering the tails of her coat and chilling the tips of her ears, when she encounters a familiar--yet unexpected--dreamer.
She looks much the same as when Lucienne had last seen her, those thousands of years ago. Poised, elegant, timeless. She's wandering just as Lucienne had been doing, the long hem of her dress brushing the grass, and despite her bare arms doesn't seem chilled by the cool wind. What is she doing here?
"Lady Calliope," Lucienne greets as their paths cross at an intersection, surprise slipping past her usual professional neutrality. There is no perfect way to say, I thought Lord Morpheus had barred you from the Dreaming, but Lucienne is a master of tact. "I... had not expected to see you in the heart of the Dreaming. Welcome."
They had known each other once, though they had never been friends. Lucienne is, and was then, a custodian of stories, and could not help but to admire the muse who had inspired so many. Calliope was, and perhaps is still, a being of grace, and there was much to admire in that. But there was always the wedge of Morpheus between them and the possibility of friendship.
Calliope gives her a wan smile and an acknowledging dip of her head. "Lucienne. Greetings. Fear not, I've not come to trouble your lord. He would not admit me anyway; I know this without having to approach the gates."
Lucienne thinks this is true; if she were meant to find her way inside, she would have already, else Lord Morpheus would have found her here. But Lucienne had not been aware they were even on such meager visiting terms.
"It is no trouble," she says. "You are welcome."
It is strange, though. An upset to the tentative balance. Only Morpheus softening his ire could not be a bad thing... could it?
Calliope trails her hand along a flower petal; the stem shrinks back, and then reaches for her again. She touches another: it shrinks, and then reaches. "Yes, it seems he has given me leave to wander the gardens. I suppose this is progress."
Lucienne's curiosity overtakes her propriety. "Did something... change? Recently?"
"Oneiros and I met recently under poor circumstances," Calliope says, and looks up at the tall spires of the palace, just visible over the trees. "We had not spoken for a millennia."
When she doesn't continue, Lucienne asks, "And... you are speaking now?"
"It was I who first went silent on him," Calliope says, skirting the question--though perhaps the fact that she's outside of the palace instead of in is its own answer.
"I remember," Lucienne says. She remembers, too, Morpheus afterward. Lucienne does not believe in exonerating him of fault, but when it comes down to it she is Morpheus's man, so to speak. If there must be sides, she always knows which one she is one, particularly when it comes to his heart. And there are always sides when a marriage falls apart.
She wonders if she should be wary at all of Calliope's renewed presence here. Not that the goddess would mean harm, but harm does not have to be meant to be enacted.
Calliope gives her a knowing look, like she suspects much of what Lucienne is thinking. She is clever, and perceptive. Once Lucienne had thought--hoped--that she might be good for Morpheus. That she had mettle enough to withstand his tempests, and to stand up to him, and yet the gentleness to be soft when he needed it. That her steady tides might temper his storms. Perhaps they had, for a time--Lucienne's knowledge of the situation is certainly not entire. But storms and tides... too easy for the storm to whip the tide into a froth. Too easy for the tide to pull back into the ocean right when the storm is about to fall.
"We are not speaking," Calliope says at last, "though I have made the offer. Perhaps I was silent for too long. I could not forgive him for how he treated our son. Still, I cannot. But..." She looks up again at the highest spires of the palace, expression creasing in a pain that's familiar. Lucienne has felt it herself. "But, I think that I no longer begrudge him the strangeness of his grief."
Lucienne wonders if Morpheus's grief is not so much strange as it is simply buried, but doesn't say so.
Calliope shakes her head, looking back to Lucienne. "I speak too much. Long has it been since I have been in the Dreaming this way. It loosens the heart, does it not?"
Perhaps for dreamers, Lucienne thinks. For herself, she knows quite well how to shore up her heart. Perhaps she learned it from Morpheus, all those years perched upon his shoulder.
"The Dreaming does reach for emotion," she says. "It recognizes you."
Calliope touches one of the flower petals again. "Yes. Tell me, how is he? You have always had a most perceptive eye."
Met under poor circumstances, she had said. Lucienne wonders whether Calliope knows where her former husband was this century. The manner of the question suggests that she may, but Lucienne won't speak of it regardless.
"Lord Morpheus has been busy," she says. To say that he is well might be overstating it. But he has... changed, she thinks. Perhaps for both good and ill.
"I imagine," Calliope says quietly.
"But it is peaceful here," Lucienne adds. She will convince herself of it.
"So it seems," says Calliope, even as another chill wind rustles her hair. "I am glad of it."
Lucienne wonders if Morpheus will speak with her, eventually. And whether that will bode healing or more grief.
A stronger wind blows past. Calliope looks away, as if hearing something far off--the morning is calling her to wakefulness.
"My lady--" starts Lucienne, before she can disappear--but Calliope says--
"Please. Calliope, now." Her smile twists--reflecting on something Lucienne does not know of. "I am finding I don't care much to be... deified in this age."
It is strange to have seen her and Morpheus in the early notes of their courtship, at the peak of their joy, its plunging wake, eons of silence-- and to see them now, backs turned to each other, and yet something so similar upon them. Sometimes, Lucienne does not know what to do with all that she has witnessed.
"Calliope," Lucienne amends, and Calliope gives her a real smile. "Shall I tell him you were here?"
"I am sure he knows already," says Calliope. And this is true, Morpheus certainly does.
"Shall I tell him anyway?" says Lucienne.
"I do not wish to make you into a messenger between estranged former lovers; you have more important work to do than that, I am sure," says Calliope, but looks contemplative. "Yes. Do tell him. I should like this open door to be..." her gaze flicks up again at the palace, and then away, "acknowledged. Thank you, Lucienne. Fare you well."
Then she's gone, back to the Waking. Lucienne watches the gently-swaying flowers. Truly, strange breezes are blowing in the Dreaming. And she does not know if the tentative peace can hold against them.
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mitdemadlerimherzen · 6 months
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Cassian yelling from inside: "Kay, I told you to wear something else!" 🙄
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