Danny never would have thought he would have become a stalker. Yet, here he is watching his crush jump from rooftop to rooftop.
He isn't really sure when it started. All he saw was a vigilante around his own age kicking the butts of people way stronger than him with pure skill and hard work and he swooned. He liked this Robin, Tucker claimed that he had a type: Fierce, can kick butt, took crap from no one, had dark hair and had a soft spot for animals. There were other things on that list too, most of which was just him comparing Robin to Val and Sam.
His core sang in his chest, demanding that he protect his vigilante. Seeing as Amity was quiet and safe nowadays thanks to the portals exploding Danny could really feed his obsession of protecting people if there was nothing to protect them from.
So now Phantom his following his crush around helping him from behind the scenes. An intangible pipe here, a patch of ghost ice there, and no one would ever have to know.
And best of all Robin was safe.
Damian had been having a streak of good luck lately and it has him in a good mood. Sure, he's felt eyes on him for the past few weeks, but other than informing Grayson nothing had come of it.
Until today that is. He failed to move out of the way in time and expected to be thrown through a wall for his mistake.
Instead a wall of ice materialized out of nowhere and blocked the attack.
Person A: “How did it go? Did you end up having to fight much, to get their acceptance?”
Person B: “Oh uh... No, I didn’t have to fight them for it at all actually... Honestly, they seemed weirdly excited for me to join, to the point that they even offered additional support without me having to ask...”
Person A: “But that’s a good thing right? Why do you look so upset?”
Person B: “I’m not upset, I just... I’ve had to fight for even the smallest things my entire life up until this point, and I’ve been bracing myself to do the same with this, for years... Only for them to offer it all freely without a struggle? ...I just...I don’t know how to handle it.”
hi bestie can i request number 9 from the one true pairing prompts pleaseeee ❤️
hi gary! for you? anything, bestie! 💗
9. taking pictures when the other’s not watching
Buck tells Eddie he used to be really into photography when he was younger and that he even took a course in college before being expelled and then having to sell his camera to give his parents some of the money he wasted back.
He says it in passing one day, shrugging and not even thinking twice about it, like it's not a big deal. Like he didn't quit one of his passions because his parents were too far up their own asses to pay attention to their own son.
Of course, Eddie can't let it go or be normal about it. He pictures a young Evan Buckley, full of energy and shiny eyes with a camera in hand, eager to capture a moment in time in a picture. It's kind of endearing and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest.
So of course, he buys Buck a camera for his birthday— nothing fancy, Eddie's on a budget. But it's fancy enough and professional enough, he thinks.
Buck loves it. He lights up and beams at him and it's worth every penny just to have Buck look at him like Eddie's worth his time, like he hung the moon, the stars and the sun in the sky. Eddie's kind of addicted to that look, it makes him feel loved and seen and— yeah.
The point is, Buck loves the camera.
And then he's taking pictures of everything.
Like when they're at one of Bobby's barbecues and Eddie tips his head back and laughs, eyes sparkling as he grins happily at something funny Christopher says. Buck takes a picture of that exact moment, wanting to treasure it forever.
Or when Chimney says a bad joke, Buck takes a picture of Eddie— his hand held out, mid-way through a laugh, an easy smile on his face.
Buck just— he loves Eddie. And Eddie's so— pretty, and beautiful, and stunning and Buck aches for him.
So, he takes pictures of the man. Sue him.
And then they start dating and his fill of Eddie pictures gets bigger.
He takes a photo of Eddie when he's in the kitchen, his head down and focused on cutting the veggies just right. He takes a picture of Eddie napping on the couch, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, drooling a little over the pillow and the glow of the tv making his features look softer and a little younger.
He takes a picture of Eddie in the kitchen in the morning, having breakfast with Christopher and making the kid laugh by getting a cream mustache on purpose, looking kind of ridiculous and really adorable.
And then Eddie smiles over at him, so soft and teasing and fond that Buck's breath catches in his throat.
“I swear, I’ll break that thing if you don’t get that out of my face," Eddie says, trying to look intimidating, but the fond smile still persists, tugging at his lips, so Buck's not really worried.
Soon enough the pictures, the ones framed all around Eddie's house become Buck's, they are all taken by him. Candids of Eddie and Chris, them not even noticing they were being photographed in the moment but finding out much later. They’re everywhere, in frames from the vintage shop a block away from Buck's old loft.
send me a prompt 💌
~ HANUKKAH ~ PROMPTS
requested by: anonymous
Feel free to use and reblog!
looking out for menorahs in the windows when walking the streets
singing together after lighting the menorah
being overly excited when winning the dreidel
exchanging Hannukah gelt
"Mhm, you smell like latkes!"
having to peel a ton of potatoes to make fried food together
unwrapping gifts together
hiding the matzoh
blessing the candles and fire
prayer of gratitude for the Hannukah miracle
prayer of gratitude for all joy in life
having family over
attending grand menorah lightings
playing card games
first time lighting their own menorah
having a real season of miracles
falling blissfully asleep with their belly filled with sufganiyot
relaxing completely when the candles are lit
The voice came out of nowhere, causing the hero- who had just taken off their overshirt to reveal said wings, to whirl around. It was who the easily recognizable voice belonged to; however, that really made their stomach plummet.
Their wings were so sore from being stuffed and folded beneath their costume. Luckily a large cape helped to hide the unnatural bulge of their back quite well. They ached to finally stretch out, but the hero pinned them to their back, hopelessly trying to undo the damage that had already been done. They sucked in a breath.
The villain tilted their head at the other's silence, taking a step forward. The hero mirrored with their own step back, causing them to bump into their dresser. Their hands fisted in their shirt, holding it up to their chest like they could hide behind it.
The villain's gaze, which had been... intrigued yet surgical, softened into something... something. They held up their hands, lifting the side of their coat with their elbow to reveal an empty belt, "Easy, I'm unarmed, I come in peace," their eyes drifted from the hero's face to over their shoulder, "If not... interest,"
A child was crying. No… not crying, sobbing. It was a sadness they were familiar with. Had witnessed so many times and experienced themselves. As much as they tried to suppress their own pain, they would always recognize that emotion.
A child was crying. And they didn’t know where it was coming from. It was seemingly everywhere and nowhere. Each one of them heard it, and they were all spread out across the city. They called each other after racing around trying to find the source, only to discover their fellow heroes were also searching for it.
Eventually, the one who stayed away the most, called in. Letting them know they found the source of the crying. The source of the heartbreaking sobs.
They sounded close to tears as well.
Gotham didn’t know what to do. Her realm’s king was here, in her city, in her territory, in her domain. And yet, she felt nothing but sadness. As she watched her heir cry his little heart out, a body far too small to have belonged to him before he arrived.
He couldn’t sense her. Not yet, not with her power so weak and the curse growing in the air of her haunt shielding him from her presence. Her future King of All was crying, an act of grief so deep she had seen it plague her people countless times. It should never be on a face so young. On the face of The Balance.
She didn’t know what to do. So she did what she knew she could, and she echoed his cries across her domain, knowing one of her dark knights would answer the call.
Now it was up her her little prince to accept the help of her trusted children.
Whump Prompt #978
Submitted by Anon - thanks!
My favorite part of any mind control/possession scenario is the moment the controlled character snaps out and sees the aftermath, ESPECIALLY when it’s in the process of hurting another character. Just like… the raising of a weapon only for them to blink and look around all confused, then seeing the other character cowering in front of them and reacting with sudden horror at what they have done… Looking at the bloodstained weapon in their shaking hand and then dropping or throwing it in repulsion… reaching out as if to help the other character, only to stumble back when their friend flinches away… So good!
I’m a cheerleader, and you play basketball for the rival school. We’ve never spoken, but when you smile and wink at me like that I have a very hard time remembering not to cheer for you AU
The MCs are a tight knit group of (pirates? spies? theater performers?) who are all dedicated to working towards a main goal/completing a mission. A and B are part of this group and it is very obvious to everyone who knows them that they are in love but won't admit it. Tired of the back and forth and tension between the two, the rest of the group decides that their new mission is to get A and B to admit their feelings for each other.
hear me out rq- two characters arguing but only one of them gets comfort by their friends; while the other secretly cries in there (luv your posts! :)
List of “argument between two characters but only one of them is sided with” prompts
“Hey, come on. You alright? This really isn’t worth your time, [Character A’s name]. Let’s leave.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on them right now, [Character B’s name]?”
“Why are you guys siding with them?” “Because you’re in the wrong for this.”
“Just admit that you guys hate me, it’s fine.” “We don’t hate you, we just think you’re being a bit much.”
“Why the fuck are you guys getting in the way of a discussion between us two? This doesn’t involve any of you!”
“Oh, so I guess I’m in the wrong?”
“I just need you guys to know you are standing on the wrong side of history.”
“It’s always their words against mine.”
“The favouritism is showing.” “We’re not playing favourites—” “Oh, you think?”
“Grow the fuck up [Character B’s name], it’s not always about you.” “Are you fucking serious? I’ve never made it about myself! You guys keep siding with them for whatever fucking reason and yet I’m the one who’s being told to grow the fuck up?! This has got to be some sick joke.”
*Batfam and Phantom meeting during a fight with a ghostly big bad*
Phantom: Okay, who has the most control over thier anger?
Phantom: okay, you. *points at RR* whats you're favorite food in the whole world?
Red Robin: Its not really a food but I love coffee
Phantom: Cool, that works. *slaps amulet of Aragon onto him*
Phantom: Now, think of something that makes you angry
Phantom: So I kinda turned one of your children into a rage filled dragon
Batman: You did what?
Phantom: Its okay, we got him to turn back by getting him to drink a giant cup of coffee
Phantom: but we screwed up and needed more so now your son is swimming in a pool full of coffee
Phantom: Please come get him he refuses to get out
Red Robin: *living out his coffee based fantasies*
Person A: “...(Person B)? Holy shit it’s been so long! You look awful!”
Person B: “Haha Yeah, time flies when everything’s falling apart.”
Person A: “Fuck, ain’t that the truth... Come on, let’s get you something warm and sweet to eat while you tell me what’s been going on. Between the two of us, we’re bound to come up with something.”
Hi! I hope you're doing well and congrats on the 4k followers! If you're still taking prompts, how about Autumn for #7 with Daeron and Maglor?
“Don’t let it end like this,” Maglor said softly.
Daeron clenched his fists. “Don’t,” he growled.
“Don’t you dare!” Daeron snapped. “Every time, I swear—you beg and plead until I pity you, but it’s never enough to fix anything. I mean it, Maglor—I am leaving this time. You promised to change. But you haven’t. I won’t stand for it any longer.”
“You ask me to change the past,” Maglor cried. His burned hand reached out to grab Daeron’s arm, and he could feel the heat of the forever-maimed flesh against his skin, a constant reminder of Maglor’s failure. “I cannot go back and stop myself from wronging you and your kin. All I—all we can do is move forward—”
He had a way of twisting words, of pulling at the heart’s yearnings, of drawing people close and filling them with sympathy. He was a master of manipulation. Daeron knew that, even had some skill with it himself—but though they were both powerful musicians, Daeron was always more of an instrumentalist. Words, lyrics, poetry—that was Maglor’s domain.
After this long, Daeron should be able to resist him. But he was weak at hart, and always had been. He loved too easily, and never learned to close himself off despite the pains of loss and betrayal.
“You always do this,” he whispered, Maglor’s pleas stirring up his grief and bringing tears to his eyes. “I want—I want remorse. Yes, you cannot change the past, but you can change how you feel about it. And not just how you speak about it.”
“Daeron. Meleth.” The endearment, in Daeron’s own tongue this time, was precisely calculated, but even knowing that, it worked on him all the same.
Maglor cupped his cheek with his good hand and turned Daeron’s face so they looked deeply into each other’s eyes. His own gaze shown with that Lachend-flame, eerie and powerful. But Daeron of all Iathrim knew well such a Light, for it was in Lúthien’s eyes also, from Elu her father and Melian her mother.
(For Daeron, love and horror had always gone hand in hand.)
“I cannot dwell in the past,” Maglor murmured. “But the reason I cannot is—is because if I do, I will lose myself in regret, in remorse. I have done—so much evil. But I cannot let that define me.” His war-callused thumb brushed a tear from Daeron’s cheek. “Was it not you who taught me that?”
He couldn’t help himself. Damn him, he couldn’t let Maglor go.
“Aye, I did,” he admitted, and let himself lean into his lover’s touch. “But...Maglor?”
“Yes, melindo?” Maglor’s voice was tinged with smugness, for he knew he had won. But Daeron would not let himself be the loser, even so.
“This isn’t over,” he warned. “Not you and I—but not your reckoning, either.”
And to Daeron’s immense satisfaction—and relief—the triumph in those shining eyes wavered.
“I know,” Maglor sighed. “I would love you less if it was.”
I don't seemed to have saved the original prompt but I do love this idea
Shang Qinghua should have known better, the second he figured out the mayor was appropriating city funds he should have booked it out of town. Instead, like an idiot, he’d tried to blackmail the man without much of a back up plan.
Which made him an easy target for the angry mob.
They’d pulled him from his bed and marched him several hours away from town and strung him up on a stake at the base of the mountain.
As a sacrifice to appease the dragon.
He’d lived in the city his entire life so he’d never seen even a glimpse of the beast rumoured to rule over the nearby mountains. But he had seen the signs.
Fields burnt at a creature’s whim, livestock bitten in half, claw marks in the soil twice as wide as he was tall.
The people were lucky though, it never attacked the city, or inhabited farmsteads. There hadn’t been a need for a sacrifice in over a century.
Despite that the townsfolk didn’t take much convincing, most had never really liked him much to begin with. Which was understandable, but good luck to them next tax season. The King would still want his due and ‘we sacrificed the bursar’ would probably not be considered a reasonable excuse.
The thought of revenge; even one especially petty, did little to help him out now. They had left him alone, staked in a clearing at the base of the mountain. Easy pickings for the beast.
Except it never came.
Shang Qinghua struggled, begging and pleading, hoping maybe one of his kinder neighbours might return to free him. But no one did.
He twisted his wrists in an attempt to free them from the rope. His skin got scraped raw but the bindings never loosened.
He began to shiver as snow began to fall and the chill easily reached him through his meagre night shirt.
Mobei Jun had heard a commotion while he was out hunting. As a rule he avoided people, but there had been such a large number that his curiosity took hold. Rather than following the group though he followed their tracks to find out what they’d been doing so far from the safety of their town.
The tracks led him to the clearing at the base of the mountain. There was a large stake buried in the ground a hole through the top of the wood where a rope was looped and knotted as it arched down to wrap around the limbs of a poor creature tied to it.
He took a step towards it and hi boot crunched in the snow, at the sound the creature began to squirm and writhe.
“PLEASE HELP ME! I don’t wanna die, PLEASE! Let me go, I’ll do whatever you want! Serve you! Follow you! I DON’T WANT TO BE DRAGON FOOD!”
Mobei Jun approaches the stake and the man eyes him pitifully almost relieved.
“Please, Please untie me, I’ll serve you the rest of my days. Please”
His voice trembles weakly and there are tears clinging to his lashes. His speckled cheeks are red. He looks vulnerable, enticing—
“Don’t let the dragon take me.”
It wasn’t an unheard of practice, towns and villages leaving their kin out for the ruler of the mountain. But it had been centuries since the last sacrifice, in the stories of the old kings they had all been willing.
Mobei Jun frowns. What sort of monster would take an unwilling sacrifice? Even his uncle wouldn’t be so crass.
He drops the bear he had caught and moves to untie the man.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Even in this form he towers over the sacrifice. It makes the man look delicate.
The man shakes as he falls to the snow, weak from the bindings. Mobei Jun can smell the blood on his wrists.
“I—I’m Shang Qinghua.”
“Mobei Jun.” He grunts out his name, it’s only polite. Shang Qighua stares at him in awe.
“Thank you for saving me Mobei Jun,” He says Mobei’s name reverently ”I owe you my life… and I intend to repay it, of course. I’ll serve you forever, that was my promise.”
Mobei Jun doesn’t really know what to make of this man. He doesn’t particularly need a servant, but he nods anyway. If only just to placate the skittish creature.
Shang Qinghua tries to get to his feet but he falls over, much like a newborn deer. Mobei Jun sighs.
He picks Shang Qinghua up and the man yelps, he’s easily slung over Mobei Jun’s shoulder before the hunter grabs his discarded quarry and takes them both to a nearby cave.
The man squeaks again when he’s dropped on hard packed dirt, and Mobei Jun tries not to think about how delicious the sound is. Shang Qinghua is unwilling and that is the end of it.
Except Shang Qinghua is shaking, shivering so much his desperate praise and thanks is nothing more than stuttering. He’s too cold.
Mobei Jun often forgets about the cold.
But he’s seen other suffer its effects and knows it is not good. He drops the bear next to Shang Qinghua and leaves to search for firewood.
The snow had been light, but the search for something dry took him far from the cave. Sure any branch would burn but the smoke from wet tinder would irritate even Mobei Jun’s lungs and that wouldn’t bode well for his sacrifice’s likely weaker constitution.
It was strange for him to have to think of the needs of another, but he had rescued the man. Shang Qinghua would be his responsibility until he no longer needed help. He idly wondered what it might be like to entertain the man for longer.
Hunger starts to gnaw at him, there was a reason he’d been out hunting, but he’d left his kill with Shang Qinghua in the cave, it was likely growing cold.
Perhaps he’d just rip it apart, damn the pelt. He rarely found use for them anyway, his only care was getting the fur in the meat and he was almost too hungry to care about that.
Eventually he finds a fallen tree, dry enough for tinder, he hoists it over his shoulder and makes his way back to the cave.
As he gets closer there is the unmistakable tang of blood in the air, and a worrying thought crosses his mind.
What if some sort of predator had gotten to Shang Qinghua while he was gone?
Something possessive curls in his gut, he’d found the man, and freed him. While Mobei Jun hadn’t laid any claim on Shang Qinghua most denizens of the forest would know to stay away from whatever he touches.
Unless the humans were back.
He increases his speed, dropping the tree outside the cave, his anger leaking out of him in a black aura.
But inside it's just Shang Qinghua. Yelping and scrambling away from him.
The man’s hands are bloody, and some is even smeared on his face, but upon closer inspection it’s not human blood.
The corpse of his prey sits in the corner of the cave while the cleanly removed pelt is spread in the centre, it appears as though Shang qinghua had been scraping the hide clean.
“I— I promised I could be useful.” Shang Qinghua cowers under Mobei Jun’s gaze and he feels shame for letting his emotions take over. Mobei Jun was not used to being so uncontrolled.
Shang Qinghua watches him warily, his hands shake and his breath mists through the cool air. He must still be freezing. Mobei Jun retrieves the log.
“I brought firewood.” He proceeds to snap the log over his knee so he can rip it into chunks for a fire.
Shang Qinghua’s saviour was absolutely terrifying and ridiculously sexy in that order. There were strong men in the town he was from but none with quite the same physique as Mobei Jun.
Watching the man rip apart lumber with his bare hands did things to Shang Qinghua he wasn’t sure his nightshirt could hide if it wasn’t so bloody cold.
He distracted himself with building a meagre hearth while Mobei Jun piled the torn lumber against a wall in the cave.
Once he had the small pit ringed with stone Shang Qinghua realized the problem.
“Do— do you have a flint?” Mobei Jun gave him an incredulous look, “to light it?”
“Go clean up, I’ll take care of it.” Mobei Jun indicated Shang Qinghua’s blood stained hands.
His hands shook as he used snow to clean the blood from his hands, skinning the bear had given him something to do but the cooling blood had chapped his hands, he could barely feel his fingers but the ice relieved some of the pain from his blistered wrists.
He couldn’t stay outside for too long though his nightshirt did nothing to stop the wind. Thankfully by the time he was clean Mobei Jun had managed to get a respectable fire going, and was already working on stripping the bear.
Despite his taciturn nature Mobei Jun has been more than accommodating, though he’s yet to accept Shang Qinghua’s offer of service. Which is a little frustrating seeing as Shang Qinghua currently has nowhere else to go.
He can’t return to his home, if it is even still there. It’s probably been sacked by now, and even if he went back the mayor would have the townspeople just stake him out for the dragon a second time, or worse.
He couldn’t even use his credentials elsewhere, or the king would wonder why one of his bursar’s had left his post.
He needed protection, something a burly woodsman like Mobei Jun could likely provide. He just needed to convince the man he could be useful.
“I— uh, I can cook the meat if you like?”
Sitting next to the fire to cook was a good idea, the heat was delightful, and the smell of the roasting meat was heavenly.
Mobei Jun insisted he eat the first portion, which was probably for th best. The large man picks the rest of the animal clean, barely waiting for it to warm let alone cook. Even with his above average size Shang Qinghua doesn’t know where he’s putting it all.
But he doesn’t really worry about it, right now Mobei Jun is his only hope. He lets Mobei Jun finish eating while he tries to work the stiffness out of his hands.
“I meant what I said.”
Mobei Jun lazily turns his gaze to Shang Qinghua, now that he’s satiated his hunger he can examine the man more closely.
“About serving you, I-I’m useful, I can cook and clean, or do taxes if you need.” Mobei Jun finds it odd that the man who was an unwilling sacrifice would offer himself up now
“I used to do accounting, but I have other skills! I promise I can be of use.Whatever you need! I just… I don’t think I can go back.” his eyes shine with unshed tears, “I— I pissed off some powerful people. They’ll probably try to sacrifice me again, or just kill me.”
Mobei Jun cannot stop the growl emanating from his chest. Shang Qinghua had not been a proper offering, not at first. He was an unwilling sacrifice as a pawn to people in power, mocking the tradition they mimicked.
But now he was offering himself proper, not on the behalf of some pitiful town, but for the sake of survival. Mobei Jun had watched over the mountain for years but the town had never been of use of him. Shang Qinghua however had.
The indignity of it moves him to stand, it startles Shang Qinghua. Mobei Jun picks up the pelt and drops it over Shang Qinghua’s shoulders.
“Rest, I protect what’s mine.”
“I’m yours?” The man looked small, enveloped in fur.
“If that is what you wish.” The smile that lights up Shang Qinghuas face pleases Mobei Jun.
“Yes, you’re too good, thank you!”
“Rest, I will return soon.”
“Where are you going?” Shang Qinghua seems reluctant to follow, he’s still too cold to leave the warmth of the fire.
He doesn’t wait for a reply leaving the cave. It seems like it was past time to remind humanity of his rule.
He wasn’t just the king of the mountain, the north was his domain and they had forgotten the respect he was owed.
He stretches his wings, unfurling his true form and taking to the sky.
It was time to show them the true might of the dragon, and exactly what one was willing to do for their sacrifice.
"I have a key, it's not breaking an entering," with blanks bc he would have keys to everyone’s place when he was the captain
you won’t lie and say that it wasn’t a surprise to see his car pulled tight against the curb on your street. it was a surprise because as far as you knew, he was supposed to be going to his own home that day to spend time with his family before midterms.
you pull into the otherwise empty driveway and make haste of grabbing your bag, fumbling with your keys to find the one that would unlock your front door because you weren’t exactly sure when your brother or his teammates were supposed to be home.
you find nick splayed out on the couch like he paid rent, head tucked on his arm and lips parted as he slept. some show he always watched, but you had yet to learn the name of, was playing on the tv as you cross the creaky wooden floor to him. you grab one of the pillows he wasn’t propped on and wack him across the head, startling him out of his slumber, “wake up!”
he shoots up, searching around the room frantically for the culprit, but once he finds that it was only you, he sinks back down onto the couch, “why would you do that, y/n?”
“why would you fall asleep on the couch knowing that anyone could come home at any second? like,” you throw the pillow on top of him and make your way to the kitchen, setting your bag on the counter, “do you want us both to wind up on missing posters?”
“i did a subtle location check. i thought we would be good,” he sighs. “i didn’t count on you not being here.”
“i have friends here too, nick,” he rounds the corner with a pout on his lips. he crowds you against the corners and leans forward, but you put a hand to his chest, “first tell me how you got in here and do i need to call a locksmith to come to fix the door because you decided to do a little breaking and entering?”
he sends you a sly smile, “i have a key. it’s not breaking and entering.”
“why do you have a key to my brother’s house?” he avoids your question, choosing to trail kisses down your neck instead, “nicholas van blankenburg, answer my question.”
“you don’t have to government name me,” he mumbles, squeezing your hips and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “i either have a key to everyone’s house or know where they keep the spare in case they don’t show up for practice so that i can come and check on them. i am a good captain, y/n.”
“are you? because instead of using the key for its intended purpose, you’re using it to get laid,” you click your tongue, “with your alternate’s sister no less. that doesn’t sound very good to me, babe.”
“wait, i’m getting laid?”
come join prompt night!