#ty for the prompt :]

[champagnetommy]

bucktommy + a pet

When Buck gets home, he's surprised to find Tommy sitting on the couch with his jacket still on, cradling the right side of his chest with his left arm.

His first instinct is that Tommy's injured and trying to hide it. He crosses over to him in a few long strides and that's when Tommy looks up at him. "H-ey, Evan!" He says a little too cheery. He tries to tug his jacket closed over his chest.

"Tommy... what are you trying to hide? Are you injured? I swear, if you're trying to hide--"

"Meow." A tiny muffled sound erupts from Tommy's chest.

"Did your jacket just meow?"

Tommy looks at him sheepishly and then pulls back his jacket to reveal a tiny kitten tucked against his chest. "I can explain."

Buck chuckles, shaking his head fondly, because of course Tommy would and god, he looks especially soft and huggable with a kitten cuddled against his big chest.

"Let me see," Buck reaches to pick up the tiny, fluffy thing, but it squirms and huddles closer to Tommy's face. "Hmm, I think he likes you." Instead, he bends down to take a closer look and that's when he realizes he's a tuxedo cat.

"Well aren't you a distinguished little fellow?" He strokes its head with one finger and the kitten seems to accept it.

Then, he turns to look at Tommy. "He needs a name, don't you think?"

Tommy beams at him. "Does that mean we can keep him?" He asks, hopeful.

Buck shakes his head again, smiling back. "I come home to my hot, beefy man holding a kitten and I'm supposed to say no? I'm only human, you know."

Tommy reaches with his free hand and pulls him in for a quick kiss.

"How about Hannibal?" Tommy murmurs against his lips.

"Hanni-- Tommy, are you naming our cat after a cannibal?!"

"Uh- I mean you said he looked distinguished and when we were watching the show the other night, you joked about Hannibal being like a cat and he wears tuxedos... Come on, it's funny!"

Buck groans, but gives in because it's cute, his boyfriend's cute. Tommy likes to talk about Buck's puppy eyes, but Tommy's are lethal, too.

"Ok, ok, fine, but if he starts bringing us mangled mice corpses or something..."

"To be fair, cats do that."

"Tommy!"

Tommy only laughs, bringing him in for another kiss, as Hannibal purrs contentedly.

[nilefreemans]

Hi! ‘lie to me’ for BuckTommy please 💞

"Talk to me-" Buck is desperately applying pressure to Tommy's side, pulling off his jacket to press against his wound. Tommy groans in response and Buck takes that as being a good sign despite the circumstances. "Come on Tommy-"

"Not sure-" A cough. Rattling. "What to say here Evan." Buck presses down more desperately, and that gets another pained groan but it doesn't sound as lively as the last. They're off the side of the road somewhere, just outside the car and Buck has no idea if help is coming.

This is the third time Tommy has called him by his name that night, and before that it had been months.

They finally talked.

Buck had only gotten Tommy back, hours ago.

"Lie to me," Buck says, desperately, hoping that help would come soon. It had to, he couldn't believe otheweise. The world wouldn't be cruel enough to take Tommy from him. It wouldn't have someone drive into his jeep drunk, hitting the passenger side hard enough to flip them over. It wouldn't have Tommy bleed out in Buck's hands.

"I'll be okay."

[euthanasiadarkblues]

Daniel post turning, alone in the penthouse, finds Armand’s man-cave and gets a whole different side of him.

didn't mean for this to be so long oops!

Louis didn’t do vampiric birth enough justice. In his defense, Daniel doesn’t think he could either, if he tried. It’s impossible to describe–the pain of dying, of reanimating, of every sense being fine tuned until everything is everything. Being loaded beyond articulation is the best summary he can manage, so maybe the two of them weren’t too far off after all.

The emptiness of the penthouse feels vast. The silence reverberates, and there’s a certain hollowness he’s never felt before. A wrongness that feels biological, a taut string that starts in his chest and vanishes into distant mist. He knows what it is, but he doesn’t want to think it. Putting it into words would make it real. 

He doesn’t want this feeling to be him. His murderer, his maker. The bond that he had figured was just Louis spouting bullshit, that loosely defined tether which tugs at him now. 

It tugs him out of the living room, across the penthouse. He wonders how far Armand is, by now. If the dismal state of the bond serves as any indicator, he must be miles away. It’s infuriating. Daniel wants to gouge the bite in his throat open, force his blood to pour back out. Bleed the feeling from its source. 

The thing is, he almost feels incredible. There’s the gnawing of hunger, but that’s easy enough to dismiss. Daniel knows a thing or two about ignoring bone-deep cravings. He’d feel elated, reborn, high off unlife if it weren’t for the irritating sense that something crucial is missing. That it’s getting further, with every second.

He turns into a hall with a mirror on his left. This is a part of the penthouse he’s never been in, a tall corridor with one lone door at the end. 

Daniel catches his own reflection. He can see the details of his own pores, now. Each wrinkle, each blemish, each fleck of blood dried around his mouth. 

And his eyes, also. A deep amber, like the most striking sunset he’s ever seen, and–huh. Guess he won’t be seeing many of those anymore, will he?  

He thinks he may break the mirror if he stares for much longer. Or worse, start crying, or laughing, or something. Vampirism makes every emotion feel intensified, dialed up to its maximum intensity. It’s difficult to sort through what he’s feeling, exactly. He only knows that if he keeps looking, something will happen. 

So he continues down the hall. The door at the end is locked, but with just a little force it flies off its hinges. That wasn’t the intended effect, but hey. Whatever works. 

For a moment after stepping inside, Daniel isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at. Organized chaos is the first word that comes to mind. 

It seems to be a lab of some sort, with rows and rows of shelves packed with jars. Each is filled with various colored liquids, bones, and body parts trapped in preservatives. Daniel feels a chill as he observes them. 

There’s no doubt who this room belongs to. The tables ridden with equipment, the open, half-filled notebooks, the tubes and vials and microscopes. It all screams Armand. 

Tucked into a far corner of the room is what seems to be a little art station. There’s a canvas perched on an easel. An unfinished charcoal portrait, with a small stand next to it brimming with supplies. Daniel spots a few closed books on the floor. Sketchbooks, presumably. 

His eyes move back to the canvas. It takes him a moment to process what exactly is on it. He’s struck first with deja vu, and then vague recognition, and then a horrific realization. 

It’s like looking in a mirror, only if he were 50 years younger, and if his features were unrefined, like he were looking at himself through crossed eyes. 

It’s him. The him from the 70s, with that open, curious expression he wore like a second skin. It’s him down to the exact shape of his lips, the exact thickness in his brows.

Daniel doesn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t know what to make of any of this. The drawing is painstakingly detailed, even half-finished. It looks like it was done with a level of care and attention that doesn’t make any sense. Why would Armand make this? 

He grabs it before he can think about what he’s doing. Charcoal smudges where he accidentally brushes his thumb over its corner. 

He doesn’t know what he intends to do with it. He only knows that he needs to find his maker. To grab him by his shoulders, shake him until answers rattle from his lips like a maraca. 

The bond aches. Daniel leaves the room with the canvas, and tries to pretend he didn’t spot an entire human heart in one of those jars.

[curio-z]

Sleepy (for the Krauser chibi prompt)?

Warm blanket

[buckys-sam]

"The monsters can't get you when I'm here."

Bucky didn’t have nightmares.

Not the way other people did, anyway. Nightmares were supposed to be fleeting-hazy, half-forgotten things that slipped away in the morning light.

But Bucky didn't have nightmares. His were memories. And memories didn’t fade. They lived in his bones.

Tonight was worse than usual.

He woke up with his pulse hammering, sweat slick on his skin, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The room was too dark. Too quiet. His mind was still tangled in it- Hydra’s hands on him, voices drilling orders into his skull, the snap of restraints around his wrists, the bite in his teeth.

For a split second, he wasn’t here.

Then.... warmth.... A steady touch against his arm, solid and grounding.

“Bucky,” Sam’s voice was low and calm. “You’re awake. You’re here.”

Bucky’s throat was too tight to respond, but he focused on that. On Sam’s voice, Sam’s touch, Sam’s warm presence right beside him.

“You’re okay,” Sam said softly. “Just breathe, man.”

Bucky exhaled shakily. His hands were still clenched in the sheets, body still wired with that fight-or-flight instinct, but Sam didn’t move away. He stayed close, patient, steady.

After a long moment, Sam shifted, leaning in just a little, hands skimming Bucky's chest. His voice was barely above a whisper. "The monsters can’t get you when I’m here.”

Bucky let out a rough, uneven breath.

It wasn’t that simple. He knew that. But the thing was... With Sam, it almost felt true.

He let go of the sheets. Let himself sink just a little into the warmth beside him.

Sam didn’t say anything else. He just wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist, pressed close all warm and solid, holding on like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And just for tonight... Bucky let himself believe it.

[isupposethisisagoodusername]

I have no notion of time so yeah, could've taken years to show up

And he probably wouldn't taunt Dick but maybe if Dick somehow pissed him off he would? Idk

I loved writing this so Ty for the prompt <3 ^^

A fanfic idea:

Bruce was able to rescue Jason before he died, and after this experience, Jason stopped being Robin.

He became afterwards the golden child, he goes to college (with a scholarship), helps out in the city library, teaches children (helps with their homeworks and helps them to study), works part time in a car garage in crime alley, and is a supportive brother.

And it pisses his siblings off.

Because there has to be something fishy because no one, really no one, is that perfect.

And there is something fishy.

He is also Red Hood.

No one knows, and the vigilantes never talk to Jason about "the family business" because he needs to concentrate on his studies and other stuff.

So imagine, Batmans suprise when the JL was able to catch Red Hood.

Someone takes Jasons helmet off in front of Batman, Nightwing, and other members

And Jason, who wears also a domino mask, doesn't look Batman in the face even as he says :

"Hey Dad. I can explain."

And Dick loses his shit, he laughs so hard because, Jason, The golden child, the one who gave up on being a vigilante, who reads to children in the library, is a goddamn crimelord.

Bruce just stands there frozen because wtf Jason?!

And Dick takes selfies with Jason being tied up and calles the other Batkids in because they should definitely not be left out of it.

(Edit: As someone who doesn't really write (or can write good stories), I want to say, feel free to use this prompt for a fanfiction. Just please give credits to me (because I don't know if someone else had also this idea and posted it) and please inform me if you publish something (because I want to read a fanfiction like this too))

[but-sometimes-im-not]

phoenix, 2024 post-s2. the Bentley has been left untouched for so long that a nightingale family has made a nest under her grille. nothing will ever be as it was, but something new will be reborn.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Jason (maybe on a dare, maybe because he’s loopy etc.) calls Bruce (or any of the Bats, really) to tell him he loves him.

Bruce is convinced Jason is either dying or about to.

[demonic0angel]

Danny has been a part of the League for a while now and has finally revealed his human half to them. Danny was in a meeting in ghost form when he took out his hearing aids. Turns out Danny's ear drums had been blown out in his accident, so now he needed hearing aids. He casually unzips a pouch on his suit and changes the batteries in the middle of the meeting. Danny looks up at the League and casually signs "deaf" as he puts his hearing aids back in. "Oh, that explains why you were ignoring me." Flash said as he realized that Phantom had his hearing aids out when Flash went to talk to him. "Are there any other health concerns we should know about?" Wonder Woman asked. Danny immediately lists that he suffers from chronic pain, that his vocal cords had been mostly fried when he died and that him being able to speak again was a miracle, and that sometimes he had hand tremors and needed to use a cane or crutches if he's not flying. Batman is writing all of this down. "How did you die exactly?" Shazam asked. "I was electrocuted." Phantom said

Oooh, I love this interpretation of what happens to Danny after he goes through the accident! It really does show just how badly his parents fucked up by creating the portal.

[aurumalatus]

okay but hear me out: modern assassin/spy au with kinich, where reader has retired from that occupation, and you're just trying to live a normal college life in a small-town campus.

except there's whispers that start one day, just as you're about to walk home. on a campus as tiny as this one, everyone just about knows everyone; word gets around quickly.

but apparently there's some "new transfer" that all the girls are giggling over, and to be frank, your interest is piqued. it's not every day that someone interesting shows their face here.

but then, you see him, just as you're leaving your lecture:

kinich, leaning against a sleek black motorcycle, a helmet tucked under his arm.

oh, god.

your classmates are watching, but you toss that thought away in favor of yanking him aside.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, trying to keep your head down.

kinich shrugs, unbothered by your embarrassed disposition. he holds the helmet out to you, nodding. for an occupation as dangerous as his, he's surprisingly strict about you always wearing a helmet.

"what do you think i'm doing? i'm here to bring you back."

[itsmedemibones]

I asked for requests, you get Maid Dress Golurk.

@drakeling-e I know this isn't what you meant. And yet. I genuinely enjoyed doing this.

[eethok]

just one more dose and i’m off to break my lover out of the nunnery!

[forecast0ctopus]

danbert sketches

[naturecalls111]

[chalkrub]

putting my response to the palette challenge from oc-tober on da main blog because it accidentally became a full illustration. whoops. but this palette is like a brother to me and it fit mendel so well...what was i to do

[basiatlu]

Steve putting lipstick/makeup on Billy, who may or may not be a little insecure but trying to be hopeful in this exploration of style and wanting to make a real attempt to be vulnerable with his guy by letting him do this for him 🥺

But hear me out for Steve wanting to get into the professional MUA industry and Billy being a nervous but very willing canvas