#Magic prompt

[celestialwrites]

yes hello hi

may I humbly request prompts for a magical character exerting too much magic and either needing to recharge or risk turning into whatever their magic is based out of

Like if a water magic person over exerted themself they could turn to sea foam, earth into stone, etc

💗

@celestialwrites for more!

ೃ⁀➷ character facing being turned into what their magic is made of prompts

✩ for a character who has the power of fire and such when they become over exerted they would turn to molten lava.

✩ another character running to them and having to literally drag them away so they don’t overexert and have to face the consequences.

✩ if a character has powers of telekinesis they become turn apart as they fall to the floor.

✩ their power being too much to the point where they get knocked out and another character has to try and find them a recharge.

✩ using their power and watching as their limbs slowly disappear.

✩ characters screaming at them to stop when they’re over exerted.

✩ for characters with earth powers they would turn into dirt/grass (or both) as they fall apart.

✩ tears streaming down their face as they scream for their magical recharge.

✩ for characters who wield water powers when they overexert their body starts to turn into water, starting at their fingertips and working their way through the characters body.

✩ for characters who can control the wind and air around them when they’ve over exerted with no chance of recharge they get swept away into the wind.

✩ characters having to go to extreme lengths to find a magical recharge to save their friend.

shoutout to the lovely @que3rduckling for helping so so much with this and sending me over prompts for this when i was stuck, show them some love<33 thanks so much for the help🫶

[seaside-writings]

Prompt #1,278

"Sometimes if you listen they'll tell you their names,"

[creations-of-the-dreamlight]

Guy who can see anyones thoughts or perspective, however whenever they do they appear like a YouTubers facecam in the corner of the persons mind

[krumsprompts]

prompt # 143

And under his skin he could feel it. Creaking bones, whizzing warmth. The promise of something yet to come.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Unhinged Feral Boyfriends

The whole Batfam is under the assumption that Damian is the feral child. The assassin, the wild one, the demon brat that bites and stabs. Jason usually takes the second place, what with guns, heads in the duffelbag, and being a crime lord.

But Tim? Come on, even Duke is more feral than him. Tim is a nerd, and he keeps to his own devices most of the time, and, sure, sometimes he is plenty unhinged. But he's okay. Seventh place on the unofficial List of Feral Bats.

He's got a boyfriend lately, have you heard? Tim hadn't brought him to the manor for dinner yet, but each and every Bat and Bird have already seen the guy - in person or through the surveillance cameras or background checks, doesn't matter. Either way, Daniel Fenton is quite literally a ray of sunshine.

They look very cute together.

That is, until one day, they witness Danny and Tim rip Joker's ribcage out of his chest.

Nothing could have prepared them for it. It was just another patrol, just another night of fighting crime, nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, Joker was on the loose, but so far, no one has tracked the Clown down or seen any of his goons.

But then, Red Robin's tracker went offline. The Bats started searching for him immediately - his last recorded location, his trackers, his route, everything. But when they managed to find him...

Well.

They didn't only find him in that warehouse.

They found Joker, choking on the ground and clawing at his own neck, like trying to force some air inside his lungs. Over him, Danny was squatting on the ground, his eyes thoughtful and not worried in the slightest, tapping on his chin. And, just a step behind him, Red Robin is holding a fucking ribcage in his hands, studying it with calm curiosity.

"Should we put it back now?" Tim asks, relaxed and easy, like they are speaking about whether they should or should not get another box of cereal in a store.

Danny shrugs, "I mean, if you want to. It's not like he's gonna die in the next ten or so minutes, you've got time."

And then, as Batman makes the slightest of noises, Danny's head snaps to him, and the boy smiles, cheerful and bright. Like the ray of sunshine he is.

"Hi, Bats!" Then he blinks and looks down to Joker, who is already frothing at the mouth, "Oh, don't worry about him, he won't die. Red's just putting a tracker in his manibrium."

"I figured it'd be easier to find him next time if he can't get the tracker out," Tim nods, unbothered, as he is tinkering with the ribcage in his hands before passing it back to Danny, "Okay, done. Put it back."

Danny takes the ribcage and presses it to Joker's chest. And, before they know it, the bones sink inside the man, like a hand in a bowl of sand.

Danny wipes his hands on his jeans and stands. Tim smiles at the Bats, none of whom know what to say and where to start.

The next day, Joker is back at Arkham with a tracker in his sternum, Danny is invited to dinner in the manor, and Tim takes the first place of the Feral List, with a note 'never leave unattended when Danny is nearby'.

[seth-whumps]

weakening curses disguised as expensive gifts. rings that suck out the life force of the bearer. bracelets that seep a sickness into their veins. chains that drain magic out of the prisoner to use as a conduit. innocent looking runes that nullify healing. a brooch siphoning energy from the heart. swords that drink the wielder's blood as much as their foe's. knight whumpees faltering and stumbling, royals leaning on walls through surges of dizziness and illness and unstoppable fatigue, a servant's hands halt their collapse, struggling to stay awake...........

[icryink]

WELCOME TO CRINGETOBER!

I wanted to post the prompt list a month in advance so people have time to work on it :)

There are no hard rules; it's just a fun art exercise to draw things that are considered "cringe" by popular culture. Don't stress if you miss a day!!

Even if you don't participate, it would mean the world to me if you just shared the prompt list because it took me a while to make it lol.

I hope you have fun with it!!!

[orpheeeeus]

Arthur: So what. You're not going to help my sister, your friend, because some dragon told you that she might turn evil one day, in a far away future?

Merlin: No, he told me that she will kill you, or that she will be responsible of your death. Morgana will betray you. I can't let her do that. I have to protect you

Arthur: *worry evident* A dragon told you that. A dragon… And… Are you sure you can trust it, this dragon?

Merlin: He's a him, not an it. *not looking at arthur* And… who else could I trust?

Arthur: *tears in his eyes. Take a deep breath, trying but failing to keep his mouth from curling downward* Me? *voice breaks* You could trust me?

[emacrow]

Tim the rejected no.9 2s

"Stop laughing, Babs. I can hear you."

Tim's eye twitched as babs snickered in her wheelchair seat. After saving the missing Bruce. Dick finally realized he wasn't crazy and Bruce Wayne came up with a perfect excuse story for the public to realize that he didn't die.

He'd been researching how to find a replica wig of his hair due to the obvious bright white hair with stardust carefully removed and placed in a plastic bag for anayzling later.

He went to babs' hideout due to Dick, Step, and Duke bursting out in uncontrollable laughter as his No.9 2s wannabe hair color.

It's not like he WANTED This in the first place, but fucking permanent black hair dye doesn't do shit to it, even Harley special hair dye concoction for that red and blue stripes didn't do nothing!

Not to mention the weird fucking behavior that he'd still researching later about from Jason and Damian. He half expected Damian to die laughing on the floor, but he went as stiff as a cement before he could say TTs, his eyes widening nearly comedically before narrowing in straight anger, ran back out mumbling on about something.

Jason went all feral cat in the corner on him. He only took one step in the building from the window and saw his new hair color, then hissed like some perfect replica of a TV static that shouldn't be possible in the human tongue before disappearing back out the window.

He tried cutting it and even shaving all his hair off,but it grew rapidly back to the original length of the rest of his hair in some stardust form of magical girl style.

The bright white hair simply didn't want to go. Thankfully, his eyebrows stayed black, and he could use black wigs when he needed to be Tim Drake.

The great advantage to this was nobody's paid any attention to him while he was going through the wig store as if they didn't recognize him or care for him.

He didn't even get mugged 26 times in a roll when it should've happened, but somehow, the muggers ignored him completely when he was a potential target.

The rogues didn't even recognize him or pay him any attention for a good while besides Harley and Poison Ivy.

He just has to accept it for now... until he went with Batman to tell the Justice League that he was alive and John Constantine staring at him in pure horror.

"How in the Fuck you got a Favor ticket from The Infinite Realm High King?!?"

Part 1 link <- -> Part 3 link

[technically-human]

Those souls from Lust grabbed him for a reason

[whumpyboo]

do you think that characters who lost their magic powers ever do weird stuff out of habit? like astronauts who will "drop" things in mid air because they're used to stuff floating at zero gravity?

just imagine an ex-telechinetic staring at their mug of coffee for five minutes when they're particularly sleep deprived before remembering they have to get up to grab it.

or someone who used to be able to fly doing an awkward half jump every time they're startled.

a character turning to speak to spirits they can no longer hear about five times a day.

[merlinsearlobe]

I don’t know if i hallucinated this but i swear earlier seasons Bradley said something about hoping Arthur realises Merlin has magic on his own.

And i wish, i wish, that had been the case.

That Arthur, knocked out, bleeding, injured, awakes too early and sees Merlin, eyes golden and angry, bending the power of the earth in raw wrath and fury towards their enemy.

And Arthur is bloody fucking terrified. But Merlin screams ‘not him, never him, never Arthur’ and the earth shakes and… Arthur can’t even remember what poor soul or creature had thrown him from his horse, certainly not now their body is torn apart by Merlin’s words and his flaming gaze.

Of course Arthur is terrified. Is he hallucinating? Is this some malevolent vision? His head throbs and he can taste blood in his mouth and he can see Merlin, Merlin his incompetent and clumsy and funny and innocent and soft and gentle manservant who wakes Arthur with a brilliant smile and some drivel about lazy daisies, stood like a deep and dark and threatening shadow over what was left of a once-body.

Arthur’s breath comes in short gasps and tears prick his eyes. Panic. And Merlin turns to him as he clamps his eyes shut against the image of Merlin dripping with death and anger. But deep within his shattering mind a small voice whispers to him. The voice is soft and gentle, blonde curls and kind eyes and patient hands cupping his cheek. She reminds him of each time Merlin has looked at him with pure, unadulterated devotion - his eyes deep and blue, a tiny ring of gold-green swirling around his pupils. How each time Arthur’s lain on the brink of death, and Merlin has never left his side, tending to his wounds with such tenderness that Arthur has never felt before. How it was in Arthur’s name that Merlin’s magic, Merlin’s magic, raged.

Another voice, thick and real and worried, breaks through the soft whisper of Ygraine.

Arthur felt shaking hands - how could they be so gentle when moments before it was from them that such unbridled power was released - stroke his matted and sweat-soaked hair, wiping the blood Arthur felt trickle down his cheek away. Arthur forces open his eyes, meeting Merlin’s as the gold fades to the deep familiar ocean-blue.

Did Merlin know Arthur had seen? How much blood had soaked Merlin’s hands when Arthur had lain unconscious, how many victories has Merlin won in Arthur’s name?

And deep within Arthur’s heart he knows he is safe in this sorcerer’s hands. Knows in fact he’d choose these hands over anyone else’s.

But Arthur can’t say the words just yet. He can’t admit to himself that the man he loves is made from that which he hates. Hated. Has been taught to hate. A new wound has been torn in him, one not made of blood and flesh. Because if Merlin is magic, how can magic be evil.

So Arthur lets Merlin’s hands and Merlin’s words and Merlin’s soft smiles wash over him. He feigns ignorance of what he saw.

But he watches. His wounds sit quietly: clean and placid from Merlin’s assiduous care. His face is washed from blood and grime by Merlin, who had fussed and worried as he went. Now he watches. He notices the damp wood Merlin had collected whilst the rain has fallen burst into eager flames within seconds of Merlin’s attentive hands and wonders how he never noticed before.

When they return to Camelot, limping but alive, Arthur notices the stone-deep warmth that graces his chambers. Where his room should be chilled and still from his absence instead there’s a soft and humble feeling of life suffused throughout, and Arthur realises with a small, private smile it is the same feeling that radiates from Merlin.

The lessening part of him argues he should recoil. For why is he rejoicing at feeling the touch of a sorcerer all around him. But Arthur argues back. He’s felt the saccharin, sticky grip of dark, evil magic masquerading as sweet ladies or sycophantic servants. He remembered the groggy, aching return to his own mind after Sofia had dragged him under her spell. Merlin’s gentle, joyous presence is worlds away. His magic may be hidden from Arthur, but Merlin’s grinning insults and blatant disregard for any sort of protocol meant any fears for further hidden motive besides self preservation withered immediately.

Arthur keeps watching. He notices now the shine his armour has, beyond what weary hands and cloth could ever achieve. He notices, or rather feels, when Percival’s muscled arm brings down the practice sword and Arthur - his mind worlds away - notices too late, yet the ensuing bruise is not angry and mottled but timid and quickly fades, even though ordinary chainmail would never have warded off such a blow. He notices Merlin’s unbridled joy when the two of them leave Camelot for the forest. He notices the bird that lands on Merlin’s shoulder, the whispered smiles Merlin exchanges with the creature. He notices the grass grow a little taller beneath Merlin’s feet, the way the trees bend to him as if they’re greeting a long lost friend.

Slowly, magic - or at least Merlin’s magic - loses the rotten, sharp edge Uther had imposed. Arthur begins to yearn to see the flames of the fire burning in his room reflected once more in Merlin’s eye. Still he can’t quite bring the words lingering in his throat up to his lips. Guilt begins to fester. Arthur remembers the years of Uther’s reign, how the screams of burning sorcerers - some of them so young, so young - had echoed through the cold stones of Camelot. He remembers now Merlin’s pale face and wide eyes, ghosted with tears Arthur knew not what for. He knows now.

And so when his knights bring him talk of a druid camp away to the south, Arthur stands tall, facing the court, and tells them to leave it be. That there will be no more raids (not that he had issued any since his ascension to the throne, but no formal proclamation had thus far been made). He tells himself privately he will end the ban on magic. He will forge a Camelot where Merlin will not live in fear, in a half life. The faces staring back are curious, some wary. But the one meeting Arthur’s steady gaze, wide-eyed with a shocked, gentle, proud, smile and slightly trembling hands gripping the wind jug, is that which Arthur cares about. He gives a slight nod. Too subtle for anyone else to notice, but as obvious and clear to Merlin as it ever could be, the two of them long since having needed words to communicate.

Merlin has a lot of questions. Naturally. They tumble from him as Arthur undresses behind the screen. And Arthur knows now that he’s ready. Merlin has magic. Merlin is magic. And Merlin is good. Deeply good. The words don’t quiver and cower in his throat.

And I wish Arthur had then told him. Had taken a deep breath and met Merlin’s gaze and told him he knew. That he had been scared. But he had trusted. Trusts. Loves.

We deserved Merlin fighting beside Arthur, raw devotion and power and fierce, fierce love.

[akemi2003]

Fic prompt #15

Dpxdc

Danny Phantom is a member of the Justice League and the most popular one.

Why? Because everyone is convinced that he’s not a ghost, but a magical boy.

He never tried to say he was neither of those—he just thought it was obvious.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage

The thing is, Tim didn't mean to put it on. He was just kind of playing with it to keep his hands busy while he was thinking about the recent murder case. GCPD had their hands full with the serial robbers that didn't rank high enough to catch Batman's attention, and Tim never had a problem with helping the police if he had time.

And the ring was a perfect fidget toy, if he is being honest. Small and plain enough not to distract him, but the round stone in the middle was loosely attached, making it able to spin inside the frame. Which is what he did, again and again, like those fidget spinners.

Of course, he was just destined to drop it sooner or later. And then, when he reached under the table to pick it up, his finger caught inside the ring, and, well.

The ring was now firmly on his finger.

The problem was that he couldn't take it off.

It wasn't stuck, at least not in the general sense of it - Tim could easily spin it around, and it wasn't tight. But it wasn't loose either, and as soon as he tried to move it past the knuckle, the ring heavily disagreed, almost like shrinking down and absolutely refusing to be detached.

Barbara suggested soap, which didn't work. Dick tried for a more mechanical approach, first with pliers and then with a laser, which the ring resisted with no effort. Cass, who was actually the one who brought the damned thing into the Cave after one of her adventures in Hong Kong, just smiled and shrugged, which was of no help either. Damian offered to cut the finger off, which probably would have helped, but Tim rather liked all his limbs attached.

Bruce called Constantine. The magician took one look at the ring, barked a humorless laugh, and pat Tim on the shoulder sympathetically.

"Congrats, mate," he said, a wry smile on his lips, "I hope you file for divorce."

Although, while all the rest of the Bats and Birds devolved into fits of hysterical laughter (Steph), indignant sputtering (Damian), and cries of outrage (everyone else sans Alfred, who was pointedly unimpressed), Tim couldn't even bring himself to be surprised. Really, his life had been a shitshow since he was around ten. It's not like he didn't expect himself to be accidentally married to some otherworldly magical creature by this point.

The worst part - worse than the actual engagement, that is - was that Constantine couldn't exactly tell them who the spouse was.

What he did say was that the Ring belonged to the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, and Eyes of Universe. But those were only titles, and, as John Constantine begrudgingly admitted, there has been a change in the management recently, so no one really knew what the new almighty monarch looked like or what they were, much less their whereabouts.

"You can't blame me for not being keen to find out, though," John said, wincing, "The last one was a bloody tyrant, and the Realms operate under the right of conquest rule."

At least, the mage assured them that since the being had not yet come to collect their shiny new spouse, they might never show up at all. The Ring has been lost for ages after all, so maybe the King didn't even remember having one. Or, the previous King didn't, and the new one didn't know about or didn't care.

The first week after the incident, they spent anxiously researching and worrying. Bruce even went as far as making Tim wear a tracker at all times, which was not great, but he did appreciate the gesture. Kind of.

After the first month with no sign of any changes, the worry started to abate. In half a year, most of the family stopped trying to keep an eye on Tim at all times lest he suddenly disappeared. Two years later, even Tim himself treated the Ring as a natural part of his daily life. The stone inside was still a great fidget toy, engagement or not.

Three years, one month, and five days after Tim first put the Ring on his finger, when the world was falling apart and breaking in front of him and there was not a single thing he could do to stop it anymore, Tim pressed his lips to the cold, dark strip of unknown metal on his finger.

"Whoever you are, I don't even care, please," he whispered in a useless prayer, his voice hoarse and his throat dry, "please, help."

And the world came to a stop with a short, amused chuckle.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

[part 2 ->]

[mischievous-thunder]

Bad, bad Kitty! That's your soulmate!

[stars-obsession-pit]

Ever since the portal accident, Danny has always seemed a bit… off, to other people. But even before that, he’d always been seen as a bit of a weird kid. The people of Amity Park were, even at the start, a bit used to it.

The people of Gotham, however, were not.

If anything, they were the opposite. Living in the ‘city of crime’ had built within them keen survival instincts. Instincts that went on full blast in the halfa’s vicinity.

Most simply avoided him. Homeless shelters turned him away. Jobs, even the less than legal ones, hesitated to hire him. Sometimes people would even call the cops if he stuck around in any one place for too long.

Not even the city’s mysterious vigilantes trusted him. He sometimes caught glimpses of their masked eyes following him from the shadows. Watching. Waiting for him to show his true colors.

Or maybe he was just hallucinating. He couldn’t be entirely sure. He didn’t dare transform and risk bringing down further suspicion on himself, nor could he ask anyone to corroborate for what he saw either. So instead, he just curled further in on himself. Surreptitiously using his powers to steal the bare necessities for himself and avoiding everyone.

Not even during the worst of the anti-ghost sentiment in Amity had Danny felt so alone.