#prompt

[girlwithherheadinthestars]

Supervillain monologuing to the entire civilization of Villains: I will burn this world down and remake it into a thriving, beautiful metropolis where we will all be free to do as we wish without all that bullshit --

Hero (leaning against the wall, studying their nails): Language.

*everyone turns to look at Hero in shock; they didn't see them come in*

Hero: Oh, were you having like an epic bad guy moment there? Sorry for that man, I’ll just back up and you take from the top…

Supervillain: What-what are you doing here? Didn't I kill you?

Villain (hanging from the ceiling): Yeah, well, it clearly didn't work did it?

Supervillain: AND DIDN'T I FIRE YOU?

Villain: *shrugs*

Supervillain: AND HOW DID YOU TWO EVEN GET IN THIS IS THE MOST FORTIFIED BUILDING IN THE WORLD?

Villain: Well I'm glad you asked allow me to explain my brilliant idea -

Hero: You mean my brilliant idea --

Supervillain: Why do I even bother -- what do you two want?

Hero: Um, it's literally in my name. I'm a hero. I'm here to beat up villains. So unless you can prove yourself to be a good guy in the next two seconds it’s gonna get ugly.

Villain: i am so in love with you right now.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Do you have any extra prompts/perspective for shutdown trauma responses? So far I have a few related to freeze but I know they’re different in their own ways (I have some unrelated to freeze too, I just rather ask a professional in case there’s more)

disclaimer that while I have written about the topic in my own fics before, I only consider myself a fanfic writer who’s done some research, not a professional, and these are supposed to be prompts for writers to use and tweak however they see fits for their fanfics / original works for entertainment purposes. please don’t treat these following prompts as a 100% accurate psychological information that can be applied in real life situations without doing your own research and consulting with a licensed professional.

trigger warnings: PTSD, depression, implied suicide, eating disorder

whumpee not being able to feel the pain that should have been haunting them, be it physical or mental. and that is not a good thing, because they’re not processing what happened, and they can’t heal as long as they cannot process or acknowledge what happened to them.

numb, however, is all whumpee can feel. and the numbness is so much worse and more dangerous than pain.

depression, prolonged stress, anxiety and procrastination are also possibilities. if whumpee only feels numb all the time, there’re chances of them developing other mental disorders that may cause them to believe that their entire life is now without any purpose.

whumpee feeling hopeless and wanting to give up all the time. any personal interest they had prior to the traumatic incident is now gone.

loss of appetite. an eating disorder where food tastes like ashes, and panic sends them into having an episode whenever caretaker tries making them eat — because it feels like someone was forcing ashes down their throat and they could not breathe. their body would not accept the food, and their gag reflex made them feel like throwing up. it is as much physical as it is psychological.

confusion and/or hallucinations may occur — whumpee struggling to distinguish between what’s real and what’s in their head. denial may trick their mind into believing that the tragedy that’s happened to them didn’t actually happen, and denying is certainly not the read toward recovery.

whumpee stopped talking altogether. doesn’t matter if they’re safe with caretaker now. they would not talk to anybody about anything at all, not just what happened. (they physically could, but they’re so traumatized that speaking is too much for them.)

the needs to hide from everything and everyone all the time are there. doesn’t matter if it’s caretaker, whumpee simply does not wish to be seen.

they keep mostly silent and mostly to themself, in the sense that they avoid everybody and spend most of their time locked in their room where no one can see them.

they may be too afraid to make any decisions for themself, no matter how small the decision is.

appearing disengaged in any social interaction and limiting the way they express any emotion at all; in other cases where they’re not numb, they may be scared or upset in some situations, but their brain tells them to keep their guard up by not letting others see how they actually feel. whumpee believe they’re shielding and protecting themself this way, and they will always need to “play safe”, since it’s best not to let anyone know how they feel, even if it’s caretaker.

[aphroditelovesu]

Heyyy babe, its my first Yandere romantic request since we are in Valentine’s Day week! So my request is:

[💙] + [20] with Percy Jackson with gender neutral demigod darling.

That’s ir, byeee! Happy Valentine’s Day 💌💘

[💙] - ''I know I deserve all your hate and despise but... Please don't ignore me or leave me, I really can't live without you.’’

[20] - ''I would do anything for you, even cross the abyss of death and return just to hold you again."

❝ 🌊 — lady l: Happy Valentine's Day, babe!! ❤️ Hope you like this!! Forgive me for any mistakes. :)

❝tw: death, betrayal and mild anguish.

❝🌊pairing: yandere!percy jackson x gender neutral!reader.

❝word count: 925.

The smell of blood mixed with ash was the only thing you could smell as you slowly regained consciousness.

The screams had long since ceased. You weren't sure what had happened, you just remembered monsters? A Minotaur, perhaps, but your mind was blank and dazed when you regained consciousness.

When your eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, you found your boyfriend's face, Percy's.

When he noticed that you had woken up, Percy smiled in relief and you noticed that there were tears of relief running down his slightly tanned face.

"W-What happened?" Your voice was no louder than a whisper.

Percy caressed your face and, for some reason, your body shivered. A shiver of fear, you noticed.

He seemed to notice as a frown formed on his brow. And there was no answer to your question.

"Percy?" You tried once more but Percy just sighed deeply.

"They are dead." That's all he said.

"What?" You struggled to connect the dots, your mind still reeling from what had been inflicted on you. With a heavy sigh, you asked, "Who?"

Percy pursed his lips, squeezing your arm lightly. You flinched at the sudden pain. Why was it hurting so much? What had happened?

"Our friends." There was a slight disgust in his voice when he said the word 'friends' but you didn't notice it due to the shock going through your body.

Dead. Your friends. They were dead...

"H-How did this happen?" You mumbled, your eyes filling with tears. The sight of your almost overflowing eyes left him distressed and hurt.

Percy hated when you cried.

"Shh... It's going to be okay..." He murmured, caressing your face gently, his bloody fingertips staining your skin even more than it already was.

"What happened? W-Why can't I remember anything?" You asked, tears finally streaming down your blood stained face.

Percy knew you wouldn't take the news well but he didn't want to lie to you. Lies ruin relationships and the last thing he wanted was to ruin his relationship with you.

No more than he already did when he decided to betray his friends for you. He felt slightly guilty but... It was for you and he would do anything for you.

Percy took a deep breath, his gaze wavering as he struggled to find the right words. His heart was beating fast, and he knew the truth was something you needed to hear, even if it was painful.

"It was the Minotaur" He began, his voice low and heavy with regret, "we were fighting him. You were injured... Badly. I… I made a choice." He hesitated, his eyes filling with a mixture of guilt and determination.

"What choice?" You whispered, feeling a sense of desperation rise in your chest. Fear and confusion were intertwined, and you desperately needed answers.

Percy closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to muster up his courage, "I knew we couldn't win if we all fought together. So, I made a deal with the Minotaur. I... I betrayed our friends to save you. They died so you could live."

The silence that followed was deafening. Percy's words hung in the air, heavy and full of implications. You felt an icy cold spread through your body, and the tears finally fell freely, mixing with the blood and dirt on your face.

"You... You did what?" Your voice was full of disbelief and pain. ''They died because of me?''

Percy held your face more firmly, his eyes boring into yours. "I couldn't lose you." He said, voice steady despite the tears that also threatened to escape his eyes. "I know it's hard to accept, but I would do it all again if I had to. I don't care what it means to me, as long as you're alive."

You shook your head, your mind spinning at the revelation. "How could you... Percy, they were our friends! How could you do this?"

The pain in Percy's eyes intensified, but he didn't back away. "I would do anything for you, even cross the abyss of death and return just to hold you again." He whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I know this doesn't erase what happened, but it was the only way I could find to make sure you survived."

You felt an overwhelming despair wash over you. "Then I'd rather be dead." You whispered, and Percy's eyes widened. He grabbed your shoulders tightly, and it hurt a little.

"Don't say that." He pleaded, voice desperate. "I know I deserve all your hate and contempt, but...Please don't ignore me or leave me. I really can't live without you."

Percy's words cut deep, leaving a mixture of gratitude and anger in his heart. You didn't know how to process it all. The loss of your friends, Percy's betrayal, your own survival. Everything felt like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

As Percy continued to caress your face, you realized that, despite everything, he was there. He had made a horrible choice, but he was on your side. And it was a place he would never leave.

With one last shuddering breath, you closed your eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely, knowing that, somehow, you would need to find a way to rebuild your lives, from the ashes of what had been destroyed. Percy kissed your lips softly and you knew there was no going back.

You would never leave him. He would make sure of that.

[thepenultimateword]

Writing Challenge!

Hello, everyone! As I mentioned a few days ago, I am hosting another writing challenge! I loved reading what everyone came up with in the last challenge I hosted, so I’m excited to see more cool stories this time around!

What is the challenge?

The premise for this challenge is fairytales! In this challenge I will assign everyone who decides to participate two fairytales! You then must write your own adaptation that combines the two stories together. This can be done anyway you like—for example you can keep it in its original setting, tell it in a fairytale style, modernize it, change its genre, swap character roles, etc.—but the fairytales must be at least somewhat recognizable

Is there a deadline?

To make this more of a challenge, there will of course be a deadline! That deadline is July 1st, giving you until the end of the month to write your story! Because this challenge is individual, there’s nothing wrong with going over the deadline; meeting it on time will just give you a sense of accomplishment. It will also just be fun to flood the feeds with fairytales that day!

How do I join and is there a time limit for joining?

If you would like to join the challenge, send me a message, and I will start sending out fairytale combos (which I will choose through a randomizer) sometime in the morning of June 11th (Mountain Standard Time).

The individualness of this challenge also means that anyone can join at any time throughout the challenge, just know that you will still have the same deadline as everyone else.

Does this challenge have any conditions?

This challenge is open to anyone who wants to join whether this is your first time writing or you’re an established writblr.

There is also no specific word-count requirement for this challenge. It can be as short or as long as you like as long as you get your fairytales across.

I’m also not going to restrict what people choose to write, just make sure if you write something with themes that could cause someone discomfort that you tag it appropriately, that way everyone knows which stories they feel comfortable reading.

Other Details

In order to make finding everyone’s stories easier, when you post your story on July 1st, use the tag #ficsandfables. That way, even if you aren’t being followed by all the participants, everyone can find your story.

Also, feel free to reach out to me if you have any issues with the fairytales you are assigned. If for some reason you just really aren’t vibing with your given fairytales, we can see about switching them out. But please only do this if you are really struggling, not just because you have a preference, part of the fun of the challenge is writing an adaptation you might not have thought of doing otherwise.

You may choose for yourself whether you want to keep your fairytale combo a surprise or not. If you don’t mind people knowing ahead of the deadline, feel free to brainstorm with others if you need to!

Most importantly have fun with this!

P.S. Because I don’t know how many participants we will end up with, and there are a limited number of fairytales (at least immediately recognizable ones) some people will probably end up with one of the same fairytales as another, but I will try to avoid anyone getting the exact same combo.

[aloysiavirgata]

Some kinky/m-rated post-revival headcanons for msr, please?? ☺️

1. Her moisturizer is obnoxiously expensive. It comes in a fancy little purple jar that he always winces at seeing in the recycle bin because he feels as though even the empty vessel must be worth money that he does not need.

Scully runs her fingers down her Vespucci throat, fingers slick with obscure polymers, and he remembers why he doesn’t care.

“Can I help you?” she asks, massaging nightingale shit or snail venom or some other unholy thing into those impossible cheekbones. Into eyelids taut and fine as dew-jeweled spiderwebs. Watching him in her Edwardian silver-glass mirror through lashes like opera curtain fringe.

Decades of touching her, but he cannot say she has skin like the finest vellum without sounding like Ed Gein. He cannot say “I want to bite your calla-lily throat until it bruises into a violet,” without sounding like Ted Bundy.

“Nothing,” he says, his lip between his teeth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your ablutions.”

He bites at his tongue like a cherry in April; almost ripened but not quite. He twitches a little in his faded yellow pants, twitches and considers, but isn’t fully hard yet.

Scully watches him in the mirror. Runs lotion between her high, bare breasts with her Rodin hands; studies him with her tourmaline eyes.

***

2. His forearms. She fell in love with restrained sexuality - no. No, she had a concept of it after she watched Casablanca one afternoon home from school with a stomach bug. Catholic girls fall in love with restrained sexuality very young, only they don’t know it. They iron their kilts and they pray and they confess to all the wrong sins. They fall in love with dark wool blazers and satin ribbons and the brave wilted starch of hand-me-down blouses.

The muscles below his elbows, woven like a braid. Like a scourge.

He’s past sixty. He’s past sixty and if she’d met him now at the same age she was then she still would have bitten her lip and said “Jesus H. Christ” and quietly, secretly, shamed her father.

Let him finger her in a Ford Taurus. Called her sister and said, “Ohh, Missy, I think I fucked up.”

Daniel, Daniel. She thought that was love.

Mulder smirks, a five-o’clock-shadow on his disparately perfect face. Mulder with his squinty eyes and his too-short chin and his beestung jigsaw mouth like the reason kissing was invented.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, tapping his nutmeg fingers on the scarred kitchen table.

“You don’t make very much money,” Scully notes, running her thumb along his brachioradialis. His skin is the color of sand castles, of the the edges of chocolate chip cookies. “With your blog.”

Mulder pouts. “I made it the old fashioned way,” he says, his thumb against her philtrum. Her lips. Her tongue.

“You certainly didn’t marry it,” she teases. “Living in sin.”

He nibbles the fleshy pad of her thumb. “I inherited.”

***

3. Her waist is sister to a Stradivarius. Her waist like Maud of Wales. He knows he shouldn’t obsess over this, her taut palimpsest belly, especially after the birth of a child they can no longer even claim. He knows it’s a quirk of genetics, like her startling eyes and her amber hair and her glorious brain. He knows she was born to be someone’s muse and that he has thwarted her destiny of Gauloises and pouting silver-nitrate immortality in a coffee table photography book.

She could still launch a thousand ships, she could bring Rossetti to his knees. He does not realize that the muse she is - a Perugino angel, a Lovelace polymath - remains his alone by her desire.

Scully, nearly sixty. So soft and so hard and angular and curvaceous. How had he ever waited, her waist and breasts and hips all bound in wool and gabardine and fitted black poplin? How had he let her beg off the lyric of “If I were the king of the world/Tell you what I'd do/I'd throw away the cars and the bars and the wars/Make sweet love to you.”

He curves his hot palm below her rib cage with his left hand, thumbs her tailored blouse open with his right.

He sucks at her rosy-brown nipple; her clavicles; her pale calf; sucks at her like Eve drinking in the first sweet juices of the apple.

***

4. Mulder should have been a pianist or a surgeon, she thinks. Should have been conducting an orchestra with fingers that beautiful, but instead he’s massaging a focaccia into a lazy rectangle.

He’s a tactile animal, her love, with his rangy hands and his absence of physical boundaries. Mulder has loomed and leered and poked and prodded for decades. He’s touched her in wildly inappropriate ways since Monica Lewinsky could legally drink. The 90’s, what a goddamn time, with his wholesomely filthy calendars and his flagrant innuendo.

Scully’s watched him squeeze limes and kill terrible people and braid challah and still - shameless - she sucks her bottom lip when he unbuttons a cuff, grips the gear-shift in their Highlander.

Mulder slices a tomato, chiffonades the basil.

“How long to rise,” Scully murmurs, cupping her palm around the tender juncture between his thighs.

Mulder sucks in his breath, arranges a flower garden on his dough. Adjusts an olive slice with the precision of Michelangelo.

“Twenty-four hours in the fridge,” he says, pressing deeply into her hand. “I hope you haven’t got plans.”

***

5. He licks at it like someone’s elderly aunt; like a mother cat; like a judgemental yiayia, bubbie, meemaw.

Scully swats at him, irritated. “Stop it. It’s not schmutz.”

“No,” Mulder says, tenderly. Stubbornly. “All those years, who did you think you were fooling?”

She scowls, too thin and too pale and too aristocratic for his comfort. “When I was nine Aunt Olive said it cluttered up my face.” Scully presses a forefinger to the birthmark above her lip. “It made me self conscious.”

“Je suis coquette,” Mulder says, his tongue teasing her lips apart, pleased with his own cleverness. He took three semesters of French, traveled there, but studied Les mouches independently.

A gentle swat to his nose. “It’s a cluster of melanocytes.”

He would absolutely love to slap Scully’sAunt Olive. Scully's dreary biology professors. “Tell Marilyn Monroe,” he mumbles against her fleur-de-sel mouth. “Tell Cindy Crawford.”

Scully says nothing, but her skin warms. Softens, loosens. She melts, midway cotton-candy at the State Fair, into his waiting mouth.

[eyluvu]

i want to write some disabled fics so here's some random thoughts

Percy canonically has breathing problems from tartarus

Nico with mobility aids (crutches he uses daily, leg braces, a wheelchair he uses sometimes but one he can control himself because he is an independent man and he deserves that autonomy)

Leo, who has a problem with self harm (burning mostly)

Frank with his equilibrium thrown off after shapeshifting. sort of a bruce banner kind of thing, like crouching when theres plenty of room, or stretching when he can reach perfectly fine lmao 🩷😭

DEAF WILL. DEAF WILL. DEAF WILL. DEAF WILL?!?!?! and Nico learning sign language so he can still communicate if he doesnt have his hearing aids in.

cant think of any more but i mostly write for Leo, Perce and Nico <3

[daily-prompts]

Prompt 2472

Take your characters to the worst restaurant they have ever been to

[mappingthesky]

fuck it! a drabble of pn just making out, no thoughts head empty just mwa mwa pls

religion’s in your lips (alternatively: no thoughts head empty just mwa mwa)

If Nymphia had to define perfection, it would be something like this:

They’re in bed together. Jane’s leaned up on one arm, the other hooked around Nymphia’s waist, and she’s looking down at her with this impossible sort of expression. She’s taking in every detail, trying to figure out she managed it - ending up intertwined with someone so completely made for her, someone she couldn’t have dreamed up if she tried. Nymphia just stares up, dazzled by the awed look in Jane’s eye, and feels a bit blown apart by how obvious her desire is. Her gaze drops by mere centimeters to trace the curve of wonderment playing at Jane’s lips.

“Don’t do that.” Jane’s voice is soft, low.

Nymphia’s eyes dart back to Jane’s. “Do what?

“Look at my mouth like that.”

Nymphia blinks, fluttering her lashes, feeling touched and a little powerful. She tilts her head when she taunts, but her voice is soft, almost a whisper. “Or what?”

Jane just shakes her head, looking down in disbelief. Then her hand is moving to cup Nymphia’s face, handling her so tenderly that Nymphia’s head spins. And then Jane kisses her.

It’s the impassioned, meaningful kind of kiss. The kind that lingers for a moment, making room for the feeling, lips unmoving and imparting messages only they can understand. It’s a kiss that isn’t about their lips, not so much as what it means. Just the two of them as close together as they can be, trying to get even closer somehow. And then they’re moving again. Jane presses a series of short, slow kisses to Nymphia’s lips, like she’s repeating something over and over. I love you, I need you, I love you, I need you. She does it until Nymphia is smiling against her, because she knows, and then Jane is smiling too, letting out this moving little hum because she’s just so enamored and she can’t contain it. She tilts her head to kiss more of Nymphia, still soft but hungrier somehow, and Nymphia is burying her hand in Jane’s hair. Close could never be close enough. Nymphia can feel Jane’s eyelashes brushing against her as they catch their breath, can feel her palm sliding over her cheek and towards small of her neck, but she still needs more. Their noses knock together, eyes meeting only for a moment before they’re at it again. They kiss, slow and sultry, the momentary space between their lips aching until they meet again moments later. More, is the silent message in Nymphia’s mouth, more more more. Jane’s tongue swipes hot and delicate over Nymphia’s bottom lip, and Nymphia can’t stand the distance. She kisses harder, catches Jane’s bottom lip and sinks her teeth in, earning a beautiful, breathy exhale from Jane that’s just short of a whimper. Nymphia sucks and can feel Jane drawing breath as she tangles her fingers in Nymphia’s hair, pulls her towards another open-mouthed kiss that continues until they’re both breathless.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Jane pants. It’s their own private atmosphere, this space between them. It’s hot and loving and Nymphia is never letting it go. She wants to lose herself to it, give in to it completely.

“I have some idea.” Nymphia’s eyes flicker over Jane, whose cheeks are flushed and full of want.

Jane shakes her head. Her eyes are low with lust and still full of love, still lit with the embers of awe. “You don’t know the half of it,” she reaches out to touch Nymphia, to do something about it.

And then Nymphia is taking Jane’s hand, leading it elsewhere.

“Show me.”

[wonderful-prompts]

Prompt #1300

“Yes, I am covered in blood. But that is not important right now.”

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

hey i gotta non request question and you're pretty much an expert when it comes to these, but what's the difference between whump and angst? (if there is one). sometimes i see them used interchangably and was wondering if they both just mean the same thing or there's some specific difference between them. thanks!

from how I see it, whump primary focuses on physical pain (anything that involves illnesses, injuries, etc), while angst focuses more on emotional distress (betrayal, heartbreak, anger, etc).

though I do agree that the two overlap and can be used interchangeably!

[curiositysavesthecat]

Trigger warning: pregnancy, pregnancy-related issues and mention of rape

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[aaron-romave]

Dc prompt

 You know that one party game that you play when you are really close to everyone, where everyone writes a bunch of facts about themselves or others on paper and then someone pulls one out and read it and it’s something along the lines of “who here has gotten the most speeding tickets” or “who had a pet tarantula named pebbles” and then on the count of three everyone points to who they think that fact belongs to. Now imagine the batfam playing that with the Justice league. The bats know absolutely everything about everyone and they can use this to pull out insane facts. Also imagine. (Ps I’m making up all of the facts)

The justice league party has been going on for a while and they’ve been playing this game with mostly lighthearted questions. Who’s had a pet lizard named A Lizard? Who ate an entire can of cat food on a dare? Who has broken the most doorhandles? 

And then this card is pulled, who’s attempted the most murder?

The JL thinks that this is easy seeing as Red “heads in a duffel bag” Hood is sitting right there. 

3  2  1 

The JL points at Red Hood

The entire Batfam points at Red Robin, including himself. 

[kind-lion]

The Siren's Call

The Princess sat next to her father, to his left, hands clenched tightly in the skirt of her red dress. She wasn't listening to what was being said, not that anyone really expected her to, she was an accessory after all. The conversation was about her, at least she caught that much, but no more. She sat silent and obedient. She didn't want to. No, she did not.

She couldn't help her glances either. She wasn't meant to listen so her eyes strayed away, not like anyone was looking at her or noticing. Her eyes drifted to the tank installed. The banging long since having stopped, but the creature inside no less agitated. Swimming from side to side, sharp teeth bared, teeth that could tear flesh apart.

For a moment the princess wondered, what it would be like to be ripped apart.

The Siren was a gift from the fishermen of the kingdom, to their gracious king. So she was displayed openly in the throne room of the palace, a giant tank installed with glass that she could not break, to avoid any form of escape. The Siren was the king's own trophy just after his daughter.

The Princess stared. She has looked at the Siren every moment since her capture. The golden tail, scales shimmering from the light of the chandelier, enticed her to get closer and closer but she had to stay put in her throne. She wanted to know what those scales felt like, if the Siren's hair was as soft as it seemed while drifting in the water, if the Siren would speak to her.

Sometimes, she toyed with the idea of sneaking to her, to try and talk, but the Princess feared punishment, though it was getting harder to deny herself the pleasure of seeing the Siren. Her dreams weren't enough anymore, both the ones of being welcomed with opened arms and the ones that stained her skin the same red of her dress. She couldn't tell the difference anymore, couldn't say what she wanted more.

The Siren looked restless and the Princess yearned to help. The chatter beside her still going on. It sounded important, she considered trying to turn away from the tank.

Dark eyes met hers and she was enraptured again.

She couldn't look away at that. Perhaps she imagined the kinship that sparked in her that was mirrored in the other's eyes. Perhaps she imagined the heat in her veins.

Her name was called and she was pulled away from the moment, the Siren swam and Princess wondered if she imagined everything. By her Father's side she left the throne room, subtly taking deep breaths to recover.

She glanced over her shoulder to the Tank. She'd visit tonight. She can't deny herself any longer.

[bruisedrednblue]

dick visiting the manor and finding jason smoking. jay expecting dick to be angry at him, or disappointed, after discovering his addiction. but dick just gently sits next to him.

it looks so considerate and welcoming. he doesn't know why it feels so vulnerable, but dick's eyes are so kind, and this kindness is directed at him.. it makes him want to open up.

so jay tells him about how cigarettes helped him go through gotham's winters and the hunger while homeless,

and the stress,

and the grief,

and the loneliness..

how he did tried to quit after bruce took him in, but he just– couldn't.

so dick offers to help. he propose a deal to jason: if he ever feels the urge to smoke, jason could just. kiss him, on the cheek.

it's dumb. it's such a stupid idea. but jason heart is beating so fast and he's sure his face is completely red.

he puts the cigarette away and then leans forward, shyly leaving a small peck on dick's cheek.

dick chuckles as he gets up, and before leaving the room, ruffles jason's hair.

dick leaves jason in the room, alone, heart beating uncontrollably, feeling a dopamine hit better than any cigarette ever gave him.

before jason realizes, it becomes an habit. doing it so often every time he sees dick, that he doesn't think about it twice.

the manor somehow feels warmer, filled with laughter as jason kisses dick whenever.

even the people of gotham swear they have seen robin kiss nightwing on the cheek occasionally. to the point a picture of robin going on his tippy toes to kiss nightwing's cheeks goes viral (and if that isn't the cutest darn thing)

then bruce and jason's relationship begins to sour

dick has to go to space for a mission

jason leaves to find his mother

he witness his biological mother smoke a cigarette while the joker ruthlessly beats him

and the last thing he remembers before he dies, is smoke filling his lungs.

(a little while after he comes back, dick makes the same offer he did those years ago, and this time it's a little less platonic.)

[pettyprompts]

“That spirit just told me what happened to her.”

“Ghosts don’t talk.”

“So you didn’t drown her in a lake?”

“That- that is none of your business. You shouldn’t be able to communicate with any of them.”

[enchantedchocolatebars]

The fic summaries for the fics I intend to post for Kid Philip Week 2024 🩵 🤎 🐴 🍞.

Tagging: @thenewartizt.

Monday, June 24th

Prompt: Adventure!

Fic Title: "Super Cute Fighters!"

Summary: Chibi Kid Philip, Chibi Cheek, and Chibi Pip go on a three-level pixelated adventure.

Story inspired by this commission art.

Tuesday, June 25th

Prompt: Burple (Purple)

Fic Title: "Afternoon Tea In The Mindscape"

Summary: Chibi Inner Belos Chibi Purple Kid Philip makes the decision to organize a tea party. Of course, his brother is the only person he invites.

Story inspired by this commission art.

Wednesday, June 26th

Prompt: Friends

Fic Title: "New Friends From Another Town"

Summary: Chibi Kid Philip meets a trio of chibi animal friends from another town during their visit to Gravesfield.

Story inspired by this commission art.

Thursday, June 27th

Prompt: Witch Hunter / Witch Hunter General

Fic Title: "A Weird Little Witch Hunter"

Summary: A child on the playground who shares some of her peculiar characteristics is observed by Kid Luz.

Story inspired by these au fan arts here and here.

Friday, June 28th

Prompt: Horses

Fic Title: "Horsey Cupcakes Recipe"

Summary: A chapter in a cookbook is dedicated to making horsey cupcakes.

Story inspired by this commission art.

Saturday, June 29th

Prompt: Jesus

Fic Title: "He Would Not Say That"

Summary: During a visit to a toy shop with Hunter and Gus, Kid Philip discovers a plushie he really likes! Too bad it says things that are out of character.

Story is au based.

Sunday, June 30th

Prompt: Family / Caleb

Fic Title: "A Fond Family Dinner"

Summary: Kid Philip is enjoying an evening meal with his brother and parents.

Story inspired by this ask (@talisman975).