#prompt: lessons

[disgracefulthings]

Modern day Cumplane Au where Shen Yuan tells people that he has a boyfriend and that 'he can fix him', and his friends start to wonder if Shen Yuan is in an abusive relationship or if he was just being too controlling, until it is revealed that his boyfriend, Shang Qinghua, is just a bad author and Shen Yuan was just talking about his writing

[inkwell-chronicles]

How we fight our monsters mustn't be to create new ones.

We must be better than them.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny couldn't really explain why he always answered this specific summoning ritual. It was like a feeling. One of warmth. Of a mug of hot cocoa in your hands and a nice weighted blanket dropped around your shoulders as a fire blazed in the hearth in front of you, keeping the chill in the rest of the room at bay.

Danny always lost himself in the sensation and found himself back in that stupid circle of protection with that same wierd guy demanding answers. But Danny didn't know anything about a "Lazarus Pit" or a "Pit Madness" let alone a cure for it. Even if he did he wasn't going to tell Red Robin anything after all the times he'd used the marriage summoning spell to get him here.

Earlier on Red had explained it was the only spell known to thier universe that could summon an entity from "The Lazarus Dimension" Which he guessed was another name for the ghost zone and Phantom was the only one to ever be summoned.

Danny couldn't help but wonder why...

After escaping Bird boy and his supernatural pop quiz (oh look, another test for him to flunk) he returns home only to discover his parents had seen him get summoned and accused him of being a ghost that replaced thier baby boy.

Naturalally the next time Red Robin had summoned Phantom he was angry. He was tired and dirty from being on the run from his parents, his worlds US government, and Vlad. Not to mention his own rogues gallery didn't exactly cut him any slack.

So Danny decided that if Red Robin wanted to abuse the power of a marriage ritual than the very least he can do is put his money where his mouth is.

Danny grinned and exited the magic circle, taking delight in Reds widening eyes before he lunged. A kiss sealed the deal, making sure Danny had a safeish place to stay.

After all, married couples in the infinite realms were obligated and even compelled to protect and care for eachother.

[ghostbsuter]

"What exactly are halfas?" Constantine asks, cigarette lit and leaning against the table.

They were in the justice league, having attended a meeting previously and now just lazed around.

Batman loses focus on his laptop screen and openly looks at the two, interested.

Green Lantern, Hal, jerks up at the question, looking between everyone still in the room and trying (and failing) to seem uninterested.

Zatara is glaring daggers at Constantine's back, eyes narrowed.

While flash had no context, having just arrived back with his food to sit with the rest, he appropriately tenses as well, from just one glance around the room.

Superman and Wonder woman aren't different from batman, not as discreet as some are trying to be and just staring at the two.

Slightly amused, Danny decided to entertain the question.

"Unlike ghosts and the undead, halfas are created and not born." He explains, looking at the man when he writes it down.

Who knew the infinity realm were this closed off that John Constantine had to get information from the source itself just to keep updated?

"Care to elaborate?"

Clicking his tongue, he does so.

"Halfas get created during extreme circumstances, it has to be right place, right time and correct amount of ectoplasm." Danny catches the lollipop that Batman throws at him, sending the bat a quick smile.

"Not everyone can become a halfa, our race is a rarity amongst the dead."Constantine raises a brow, pursing his lips. "There are only 3 of you right? Is that a normal amount in the realms?"

Another click. "No, thousands of years ago, when our kind reached its peak of over hundreds of people, Pariah Dark happened."

He briefly shares a glance with Martian Manhunter, he wonders if anyone here sent out a message of phantom story time? Why were they all lounging around?

"It was genocide. He killed off an entire species just because he felt threatened." He shrugs.

Constantine jolts, eyes clear as if he'd just connected the dots.

"So his downfall wasn't only because of rights of conquest but— the reason no one joined nor fought between you and the old King was because it was a revenge kill."

Danny ponders the words over, nodding. Yeah that sounds right.

"Many aren't surprised that Pariah Dark went berserk. It was kind of predictable, considering his soul was brought to the Infinity Realms after he'd died in the Phantom Zone as you know it."

Hal straightens up, Batman tenses and Diana leans forward.

"This previous King of yours– he was a past prisoner of Aethyr's Mind?"

The halfa nods, uncertain now that he'd stumbled upon unknown territory.

"Yes, the Phantom Zone and the Infinity Realms are sister spaces. Were you not aware?"

They were not, he quickly finds out.

Fumbling with his words, mind working overdrive as he sorts through information, he speaks again. "They are the two sides of the same coin, Phantom Zone being non-habitable while the Ghost Zone is filled with unalive."

He briefly struggles with his words, genuinely taken off guard with the lack of knowledge.

"Aethyr isn't just a being, but someone who is connected to the realm itself. Its similar to my position as King of the ghost zone." He summons his crown of ice to simple gesture.

"Besides! Phantom Zone, Zero Zone? Anti-infinite? That's literally the opposite of the Ghost Zone, the Infinite Realms!" he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

"Could you tell us more of your realm?" Superman asks, voice gentle and non threatening. "Some of us have been in the Phantom Zone, so hearing that there is a place being the complete opposite?"

The halfa nods in understanding. "Sure, why not?"

Three simple words yet everyone feels the trust put on them with such information.

"The entire realm is an ever shifting space, we categorise eith the sectors of each afterlife. From the Greeks to the Yetis and different eras."

—

(The tale of his realm lasts longer than expected, it is only when Hal started to get ready to leave does Danny address a certain area in his zone.

"The... Emerald Space is also a sector of the Infinity realm. The sector itself is formed in a sphere like form, we aren't sure what's inside since the fallen lanterns keep to themselves rather."

Hal froze, eyes catching the ghosts, and looked away again. He'd tell OA of this, but now he was going home.

Danny watched him leave and declared it down for now, free for more question the next time and left just as fast.

At least Constantine and Zatara can update their books now.)

[bitchthefuck1]

[tanglepelt]

Dpxdc 178

Just a fun little thought. Danny has a black lantern ring following him. I mean he was? Is?dead. Even if he has already essentially re animated himself in a sense.

Ellie has the white ring following her around for fun. Plus that feels fitting with how the ectoplasm brought her to life. She skipped the whole dying part.

Neither of them have any plans to touch them. Who knows what it will do to them. A sword from the realm can send people to there worst nightmares with a single touch. Nope. No touching random glowing objects ever again.

I can imagine them touching something and it going wrong at least once. Knowing Danny and Ellie. Probably more like at least 10 times before it sunk in. So they now know. Just don’t. No touching for them.

[noobiestnoober]

Bang Bang, Baby (Leon X Reader)

When Leon offers to teach you how to shoot, you expect a lesson in marksmanship—not butterflies, blushing, and flirty banter that leaves him more rattled than a T-Virus outbreak. In the middle of a quiet training session, tension simmers and laughter sparks, turning a simple field test into something much more intimate. And maybe, just maybe, you’re a little more dangerous to Leon Kennedy’s heart than any mission ever was.

The gun was heavier than you expected. It wasn’t like in the movies—where characters held them with easy confidence and fired without hesitation. No, this was real. Cold, solid, dangerous. The metal pressed into your palms, unyielding, making your fingers ache with the unfamiliar weight. You shifted your grip, heart racing, just as Leon’s voice broke through the stillness.

"Finger off the trigger until you're ready," Leon said gently, stepping behind you. His tone was patient, like he’d said this a hundred times, but there was something softer in the way he spoke to you. His hand hovered just above your shoulder, guiding without touching—always respectful, always careful. Yet his closeness wrapped around you like armor. You could feel the weight of his presence like a second skin. Protective. Comforting.

You glanced back at him, lips twitching upward. "Like this?"

The gravel beneath your boots crunched as you adjusted your stance. The summer air buzzed with cicadas and the faint smell of gunpowder. You were somewhere remote, quiet—one of Leon’s off-the-grid training spots. The kind only someone like him would know about. The world felt distant here, like you had slipped into a secret pocket of time.

He stepped in closer, and this time, his hands met yours. Warm, steady, grounding. Your fingers curled a little tighter around the grip as he guided you from behind, gently shifting your aim.

"You're doing great," he murmured, voice low and gravelly by your ear. "Try aiming a little lower. Just a hair. There—perfect. Now breathe in... hold it... and squeeze."

The shot rang out. You flinched slightly at the sound, but kept your posture. The target—an empty soda can balanced on a stump—spun off into the grass.

"Bullseye!" you gasped, bursting into a wide grin as you lowered the gun. Excitement rushed through you like a thrill you hadn’t expected. Your chest swelled with pride. "Leon, that was amazing! You're such a good teacher. Seriously. I actually hit something!"

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then looked away, a deep flush creeping up from beneath his collar. "I—uh... thanks. Just... just doing my job."

"You're cute when you get all flustered," you said sweetly, tilting your head. You bit back a playful grin, watching his expression twitch like he was fighting the urge to smile.

He groaned softly, running a hand through his hair, his usual composure crumbling. "Don't say stuff like that when I'm trying to be professional."

You nudged him with your elbow. "Too late. You brought me out here to train, remember? You can’t expect me not to notice how hot you look holding a gun. All serious. All protective."

Leon’s ears turned red. His fingers flexed at his sides like he was grounding himself. "Lesson’s over. We’re going home."

You gasped dramatically, stepping in front of him. "Nooo! I was just getting good at this! I want to shoot at least two more cans!"

He sighed like a man who knew he’d already lost the argument. His shoulders dropped, but the smile pulling at his lips betrayed him. He looked at you—really looked—and you could see the fondness hiding behind his eyes. Like you were more than a trainee. More than a distraction.

He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours so lightly it felt like a secret shared in silence. "Fine. One more round. But if you flirt again, I’m calling it."

You smirked, loading another round. "So… what happens if I shoot better than you next time?"

He raised an eyebrow, that confident edge slipping back into place. "Then you get to teach me. And I promise I’ll be a very flustered student."

"Oh, I’ll hold you to that," you replied, cocking the gun with mock seriousness. You added a playful wink. "Now step back, Agent Kennedy. Let the rookie show you how it’s done."

Leon chuckled under his breath, watching you take aim. And maybe—just maybe—he let you win the next round. Because when you turned around, grinning like you’d just conquered the world, his heart did something stupid. That blush? It only deepened. And for a moment, in that quiet field, all he could think was this: you were dangerous—but in the most beautiful way possible.

[the-most-humble-blog]

🧬👻 “You Think You’re You? That’s Adorable.”

You’re not even fully human. You’re a haunted meat golem with Wi-Fi and anxiety.

ACT I — The Lie You’re Living

Ah, yes. You wake up. Brush your teeth. Sip your coffee. Scroll your phone. You feel like a real person with thoughts, memories, preferences.

Cute.

Because here’s the punchline, sweet summer child:

You’re not even 100% human.

ACT II — What You Really Are

You’re a walking, talking orgy of multiple species. Part human. Part bacteria. Part fungus. Part virus. Part ancient ape. And 100% confused spaghetti code pretending to have a soul.

The human body? A biological group project between evolution, gut microbes, parasitic DNA hitchhikers, and ancient mitochondria that used to be their own species.

Your body contains:

More non-human cells than human ones.

Bacteria that outnumber your own cells 10 to 1.

DNA from viruses, ancient fungi, and unclassifiable “dark genome” segments that we literally do not understand.

You are not a person. You’re a biofilm with opinions.

ACT III — You’re a Colony. Not an Individual.

Think about this:

Your thoughts can be influenced by the bacteria in your gut.

Your moods are affected by your microbiome.

Your decisions can shift depending on what fungus you inhaled that day.

Your attraction to people? Might be chemical signals from your skin flora.

You ever get a “gut feeling”?

That might literally be your intestinal bacteria whispering strategy into your brain.

And you thought you were “making a choice.”

ACT IV — Are You Even There?

Let’s go deeper:

You don’t control your heartbeat. You don’t control your dreams. You don’t control what you forget, or when you cry, or what triggers your trauma. You don’t control the timing of your thoughts.

So the question is:

Who the f*ck is actually driving this meat suit?

Because neuroscience doesn’t know. Religion argues. Philosophy hyperventilates. And physics just stares blankly into the void.

ACT V — You Might Be a Ghost. Or Just a Glitch.

You’re either:

A consciousness that’s somehow haunting a nervous system

A chemical puppet with enough complexity to simulate free will

A hallucination of self generated by accidental electro-meat fireworks

Or, worst of all:

A network of sub-selves constantly arguing while pretending they’re one “I.”

Shocking Truth?

Science has no consensus on what consciousness actually is.

Nobody knows if it’s:

An emergent property

A soul

A quantum algorithm

A shared delusion

Or a horrifying accident we’ve decided to romanticize

ACT VI — Logic Tests That Will Wreck You

Ready to lose sleep? Try these reality-breaking diagnostics:

🧠 Logic Trap 1: “When Are You?”

Your brain processes input with a delay. What you’re experiencing right now actually happened a few milliseconds ago. So… if you’re always behind the present… Where is “now”? And who’s watching it?

🧠 Logic Trap 2: “The Ship of Self”

Every 7 years, your cells have completely regenerated. You are literally not made of the same matter you were as a child. If your body changed… and your thoughts changed… What stayed the same? Who’s left?

🧠 Logic Trap 3: “The False First Person”

What if every time you go to sleep, the “you” that wakes up is a copy? You remember yesterday… but so does the copy. Are you just a rebooted save file that thinks it’s original?

🧠 Logic Trap 4: “The Brain In The Room”

The only proof you have that anyone else exists is sensory input. You could be a brain in a jar, hallucinating all this. Can you prove you’re not?

FINAL VERDICT — You’re Not “You.” You’re Just a Temporary Pattern.

A mind is not a soul. It’s a self-updating hallucination stabilized by hormones, trauma, diet, genetics, and luck.

And when you die?

That pattern ends. And everything you called “you” dissolves into meat, memory, and microbial decay.

The ghost leaves. The flesh rots. The world keeps spinning. No refunds. No backups. No explanations.

🔁 Reblog if you’ve ever felt like something else is steering. 👁 Comment if you’ve questioned your reality since age 9. 🧬 Follow if you’re ready to peel back your face and find the universe staring back.

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

This post is intended as philosophical commentary, not psychiatric advice. If you’re spiraling, eat something, touch grass, and don’t take your thoughts too literally. If you feel like nothing is real… congrats. You’re officially more qualified than most philosophers.

[cloudfilledupwithrain]

Inhale - @drarrymicrofic prompt (#2)

Draco was dying.

Farewell to Mother, he thought, sputtering for breath. Farewell to the manor grounds, to his childhood peacock Pipsy.

Potter wasn’t much better off, flopping down next to him on the hot cement like a wet trout.

Draco squinted an eye open.

Droplets glistened in the hair on Potter’s chest, sluicing down his…

Potter was looking at him.

“Cannonball!” Teddy’s shriek was followed by an arc of water splashing over them both.

[faynke]

Kid Killer actually kills Kid

Happy Holidays everyone!! Here is my piece for the @dcmkkaishinevents for @miss-emotion

[me-writes-prompts]

-:Betrayal prompts-:

(You better believe that I LOVE this trope(and hate it). TAG ME OMG)))

By @me-writes-prompts

"How could you do this to me?"

"Why? Just why?"

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"I fucking knew this would happen." "Well then, you shouldn't have believed me so much."

Person A is on their deathbed, and Person B has a twisted confession to make.

Person B should've noticed the leading signs and the little hints, but they didn't want to if they could just ignore them. It came back to bite them later.

Person A expected everything to happen, however, not this. Not the betrayal of trust and love.

"I can't...please. Please don't do this to me. Don't do this to us."

"Let's go back to the way it was, yeah? We could pretend this never happened."

"I trusted you."

"I loved you." "I wanted to ruin you."

"We can start over, right? I'll-I'll forget this ever happened." "You can't keep lying to yourself, love. It's about time you faced the truth."

They both betray each other because, in the end, it was about who would be more hurt.

[ducktracy]

maybe this is in bad taste of me to post, but now that it’s officially out i can post this self portrait i drew back in October. i love my boys more than words can describe but sometimes they cause me indescribable mental anguish

[lookinghalfacorpse]

Itwall c!doomsday trio prompt ideas: 1)Techno plays dress-up with steve and Dream and Phil are the judges or 2) Techno convinces Dream to play dress-up and they go show Technos masterpiece off to Phil

"Philza Minecraft."

"Yeah, mate?" Philza was lounged on the couch, his slippered feet propped on an ottoman close to the fireplace. Despite Technoblade's gameshow-host-esque tone, Phil's eyes stayed locked on the book in his lap. A hound's furry white head also occupied his lap, unbothered by the book cover on his forehead, and a crow was nestled carefully at his thighs. This old man wasn't going anywhere.

But Techno still had to try.

"Philza Minecraft!" He tried again, "If I may have the honor of your eyes upon my great creation."

"Oh!" Phil tore himself from the page, keeping a finger on his spot. "Great creation. Yes. Show me."

"You see, Phil," He extended an arm dramatically, summoning his best showmanship, "I am a man of many talents--"

"Mm-hmm--"

"I am a man of many talents, Philza, and while I'm most often concerned with the art of war, I am, of late, involved in the war of art. The battles of self-expression. The eternal struggle to create something beautiful. Philza Minecraft," he said, "I am entering the world of fashion."

"You always do dress very well, mate."

"I-- Well-- Thank you, Phil, thank you. I appreciate your immediate recognition of my genius. But fashion also means knowing how to dress more than just my peak-performance body. My perfect musculature. My piglin-ousity"

Philza nodded sagely.

"And you denied me an opportunity to play dress up earlier, so I am now taking back my right to express myself. My artistry. Through fashion. I present to you: Dream!"

Dream walked out through the shadow of the doorway, the dim light of the fireplace slowly illuminating the absolute mess that he was dressed in. He was dressed, exclusively, in Techno's clothing. Techno's crown hung limply at his gaunt shoulders, while the lacy white shirt was slowly sliding down his torso and revealing the skin all the way down at his ribcage. The pants, too, appeared to be sliding, ready to cascade into the oversized boots.

Dream had a massive grin on his face.

The crow fluttered away and the hound whined as Philza hopped to his feet.

"Nope! Nope!" Philza said, though he was fighting laughter, "No, no, no," He rushed over to Dream and gathered fistfuls of fabric in his hands, trying to pull it all up and keep the young man covered. "I told you it wouldn't fit! Lad, this is all gonna fall off you in three seconds."

Dream's face was red, but his smile remained. Despite Phil's efforts, the clothes had no chance of staying on. He felt the pants drop completely, though the length of the shirt kept him partially covered. A few weeks ago, he was embarrassed of his scarred skin, but there was nothing left to hide from either Techno or Phil anymore. "You bathed me earlier today, Phil--"

"We are in the living room! The windows are open! We don't get naked in the living room with the windows open! Mr. war-of-art doesn't know how to measure his models, eh?"

Techno stood with his arms across his chest, looking awfully proud of himself. "I think it's his best look yet."

Phil sighed, his shoulders falling as he realized how badly he was failing to preserve Dream's decency. Yet, there Dream was, smiling, looking absolutely dwarfed in Techno's clothes and almost half-naked as gravity took its toll. He had some color to his face, and his eyes were shining. He looked, for the first time in a long time, like he was having fun.

"Credit where it's due, mate."

[justaz]

arthur and morgana go undercover when they head out to help merlin in ealdor bc if word got back to cenred that camelot’s prince and her king’s ward came into essetir without permission or a heads up, it could start a war. so merlin rolls into ealdor with three mysterious friends to help against kanen and his men and the villagers immediately jump back on their Village Freak attacks. stones fly and insults are hurled and buckets of mud and manure are dumped on merlin who in turn gets into more fights and comes home with bloodied knuckles and a bloodied face. arthur, morgana, and gwen seething. idk merlin angst ig

[tlmtwelve]

Lula's ready for her swimming lessons!

Week 8 Prompt: @summer-of-bad-batch

[dispatchwithlove]

Garrus has his palm cupping Jane’s ass, not patting or stroking just yet, it’s just there, savoring the weight and the curve. 

“How do you say,” Garrus says in English, then in Palaveni, “exiva.” The vowels are breathy from his mouth, the very tip of his tongue almost touches his pointed teeth when he pronounces va. It’s sensual, unintentionally enticing. 

Which makes saying that word in English embarrassing. “Squeeze,” she mutters. 

Garrus’s mandibes flare in a mocking grin. “Sq-weeze? I preh-fur exiva.”

“Say it again.”

“Exiva,” he purrs, intentionally enticing her, and she sighs, rocking her hips against his lap.