#ask game filled in

[hypogryffin]

Erina and Sophie....

erina and sophie..... perhaps even sophie and erina....

[emry-stars-art]

My contribution for the foxhole fund💕

[ask-asks]

These Asks Of Ours

Talk about someone who changed your life?

Talk about something you really want to do?

What is on today's menu?

What is a language you would like to learn?

List up to ten (or more, why limit yourself?) words you like and their definitions?

Give us a few quotes?

Show us some rocks!

What is your favourite way to eat a potato? Or five or six?

How do you like to listen to music? (streaming, radio, cd, vinyl...)

Talk about something you are working on?

Share something you are proud of?

What fandom currently holds your fixation?

Talk about a scent?

A memory?

What kind of weather do you like the best?

Talk about something you love?

What is something you are scared to do, but absolutely should?

Share with us a recipe?

What are you currently watching?

Share with us a random fact or two?

What are you currently reading? Give us a quote if you like?

Favourite snack foods?

Be honest, do you too still like to colour?

List some of your favourite characters?

Talk about some OCs if you have any?

Favourite meme?

Share a joke?

Did you ever come back to the thing you wanted to do when you were little?

How do you decompress?

Name something good that happened today?

Something you are looking forward to?

Did you know we all look at the same Moon? Someone out there you love is looking at it too.

Freebie ask, make up your own question!

Is there anything you would like to ask the asker?

Anything you would like to share?

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ask Game:

8. "Who did this to you." and 24. Showing up at friend/mentors house.

With hurt Danny and any/all of the Bats.

Okay, but holy shit, you have no idea how perfect this one is. I was imagining a scenario with both of these earlier today. This is an alternate version of Bring Me Home where Danny and Tim were online friends from the time they were preteens. The actual fic will not go this way, so I'm so excited to have an excuse to share this version with y'all.

Nonny, I absolutely love you for sending these two in (no romo).

For those who don't follow Bring Me Home. Tim's username was IKnowYourSecrets and Danny often calls him "Secrets." Danny's username was -xXPolarisXx- and Tim will call him "Polaris."

And for everyone, Sam and Tucker ended up with codenames after all their adventures in Amity. Sam is referred to as Regrowth and Tucker as Pharaoh. This will come up later in Bring Me Home, but hasn't yet (mainly bc what I'm writing now takes place before those events).

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

Danny's vision blurred and he felt himself fall a dozen feet. He clutched his stomach tighter and grit his teeth against the pain.

He was almost there. He could make it.

With the last of his strength, he shot an ectoblast into the sky and fell a few more feet, hitting the roof of a building. He scrapped along the rough surface and the only reason he didn't scream was because he couldn't catch his breath enough to. Everything hurt.

He couldn't even push himself up and so just lay there, trying and failing to catch his breath. Not even when he heard a strange noise and footsteps behind him could he move. He tensed as much as possible.

"Who are you?" asked a man.

Danny just groaned. He hurt. He needed Tim.

The footsteps got closer and Danny opened his eyes. When had he closed them? He saw black boots and skin-tight leggins.

Then the man was kneeling. Blue accents on his chest, a domino over his eyes.

Danny let out a sigh. It tasted of ectoplasm. "Ni-win," he slurred.

"So you know who I am, who are you? What happened? How can I help?"

"R— R'bin. Know me."

"You're looking for Robin?"

His vision was going dark. "R'bin. Yea. Secrets. Friends."

"I'll get Robin here. Can you tell me your name?"

"Polaris. Tell—" Danny coughed weakly and spat out more ectoplasm. "Tell 'im, 'M ready to accept 'is offer."

"I will," promised Nightwing.

The blackness crept in further. Danny could hear Nightwing still talking, but couldn't make out the words. Everything was getting fuzzy. But he was in Gotham. Tim was here. Tim would make it all better. He let go.

---

Despite the quiet night, Tim was tense. He couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. So when Dick's panicked voice came over the comms asking Damian about a secret friend, he was already pulling up Dick's location.

He was on the roof of Tim's civilian apartment building. Which, what?

"I do not have any secret friends," came Damian's reply.

"He's a meta. Caucasian with white hair. He's hurt bad, bleeding everywhere. Lazarus green blood—"

Tim's blood ran cold and he wished he could grapple faster. "Fuck! I'm heading to your location now. He's my friend, not Robin's. Bring him into my apartment. He needs specialized medicines and I've a supply."

"He called himself Polaris. Said he's ready to accept your offer," said Dick.

"Shit. Fuck. Okay. Eta, fifteen minutes."

"I'll get him inside."

"Don't try to treat his injuries," Tim ordered. "Human treatments won't work."

"Understood."

"And..." Tim hesitated, "Did he say how he was injured?"

"No. He passed out before he could."

Tim cursed again, but didn't reply further, despite the way the rest of his family demanded information. If it was the GIW, he'd need to arrange extraction for Sam and Tucker. But if it was Danny's parents... Well, he might just cross a line he swore he'd never cross when he first put on the Robin suit.

Fifteen minutes later, he was sliding the window to his apartment open. Dick had Danny laid out on the floor and was stripping him and pulling away loose bandages, revealing a large Y-shaped incision on his chest.

Dick looked up at him, face grim. Tim didn't let himself pause to look and ran to his bedroom and threw open his closet door. He slid open a hidden compartment revealing a safe and, with shaking fingers, punched in the code. The door swung open and he grabbed the silver-and-green case inside.

He rushed back to Danny's side. "Who did this to you?" he mumbled as he took stock of the injuries.

"Do you have any idea who might've wanted to hurt him?" asked Dick.

"With these wounds, it would be either the GIW or his parents." Tim bit back a hysterical laugh. "Been trying to get him away from them for three years now, but he swore they'd be okay once they realized who he was. Idiot." Tim bit his lip. He couldn't cry right now. He opened the case and pulled out gloves and antiseptic and began cleaning the wounds. "Dick, I need you to contact Superboy, Impulse, and Wonder Girl. Tell them Phantom's hurt bad and Regrowth and Pharaoh may need immediate extraction."

"Okay." Dick was already typing away on his phone. Moments later, it started ringing and Dick answered it on speaker.

Cassie's voice came over, "Red Robin, what's going on?"

"Phantom's been vivisected. He passed out before he could share the culprits. We're at my apartment in Gotham. If it was the GIW..."

"I'm sure Impulse is already there. I need to go home and grab my deflector first, but I'm going to get to Amity as soon as I can. We'll keep you updated."

"Thanks. Phantom's in bad shape. I don't..."

"Rob, you know what to do. We've known this was a risk for three years. You've talked to Frostbite and Regrowth and Phantom about how to best care for traumatic wounds. You're going to make sure he pulls through this."

Tim's eyes burned, but he kept working. Almost done and then he could start with the stitches. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Rob."

The call disconnected and Tim took a shaky breath. Time to start the stitches. They'd come directly from Frostbite and the thread glowed a bright, ectoplasm green.

"Tim," Dick's voice was tight, "Why do you have a case filled with Lazarus water and Lazarus-green supplies?"

"Not Lazarus water." He didn't bother explaining more. He laid the thread along the wounds and willed it to close the wound.

The thread obeyed, breaking into small pieces and sewing the skin together on his own. For the first time since he realized Danny was hurt, he smiled. Ghost medicine definitely made this part easier.

With the major injury taken care of as best as possible, Tim began checking over the rest of Danny. He had a bad burn on his left thigh, new electricity marks on his right shoulder, and his right ankle was either badly sprained or broken.

So he set to cleaning those as best he could. Creams then bandages covered the burns. The splint he laid along the ankle set itself just like the stitches had.

Dick tried to help, but Tim brushed him aside. It'd take too long to explain what had to be done.

Eventually, Dick got up and walked away. He could hear him in the kitchen area messing around in the fridge and reporting the situation over the comms, but he ignored it.

Finally, everything was categorized and bandaged to the best of his abilities. Now, for the final step. He pulled out a syringe shining bright with ectoplasm and stabbed it into a mostly-uninjured area of Danny's thigh.

Danny's back arched off the ground and he gasped, eyes flying open.

Tim leaned over him, "Danny, it's okay. You're safe now. You made it."

"Tim," gasped Danny.

"Yep. You made it. Can you tell me who did this to you?"

Danny closed his eyes and breathed out. "Mom and Dad."

Tim grasped Danny's hand. "Danny..."

Danny squeezed back. He opened his eyes and met Tim's gaze. "Still have that spare room for me?"

"I've had it since the day you died, idiot. Welcome home."

Danny gave a small smile even as tears tracked down his cheeks. "I'm home."

-----

Okay! That ended up being both longer and shorter than I thought it'd be. Hope you all enjoy. Thanks again for sending the prompt, Nonny! And the rest of you, feel free to keep sending some in. I'm off tomorrow and should be able to fill one or two. Any others I can work on over the course of the week.

For now, it's bedtime.

[puddleorganism]

May I request a Watcher Scar for the fanon ask game?

Coyote grins and silver snake tongues.

For the hybrid swap game.

[halfmoondaze]

Ask Game

🍄favorite song? 🌪what brings you joy in life? 🌈what would you do if you knew you could not fail? 🐚pancakes or waffles? ☄️foreign language you'd like to learn? ☁️favorite album? 🌧what do you like to do on a rainy day? 🌺sweet or salty? ✨a movie you like to re-watch? 🍃biggest turn on? 🍂biggest turn off? 🪐night in or night out? 🌞dream job? ⚡️favorite ice cream flavor? 🔥last song you listened to? 🌼go-to comfort food? 🌊dream vacation? ⭐️current favorite tv show? 🌙favorite book? 🌕favorite make-up products? 🎧3 songs that pop up on your Spotify shuffle ✨a song you like to daydream to 🦢what made you start your blog? 🧚‍♀️what calms you down? 🧞‍♂️what’s something you’re excited for? 👒do you have a skincare routine?

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

For the demanding porn director. 😏

Who are you filming a steamy scene with?

There is only one correct answer- All three. I have three holes for a reason. Poor Devin is stuck watching the magic.

Smut under cut. 18+ ONLY.

"Three co-stars?" You gaped at Devin as he animatedly discussed what he was invisioning for you. Of course you were gonna be the star of his masterpiece, but you couldn't do it alone, or even with just one partner. No, this time you needed three men.

You were skeptical. Until you saw the three whom you would be working with, each one built like a powerhouse and any one of them could probably easily bring you to your knees. "See..." Devin smirked as his hand settled heavily on the nape of your neck, the cold rings making a small shiver roll down your spine along with anticipation and excitment. His smirk was pressing near your ear as he spoke. "My prized muse only gets the best."

The buzz cut man named Curtis with icy sharp blue eyes was settled underneath you, large calloused holding you up by your throat as he pounded his cock into your weeping cunt, a snarl of possessive affection escaping him with his praises. "So fucking tight Sweetheart, can just feel Ari filling your tight hole." His free hand slapped at your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples till they were hard tender little points and perfect for him to run his tongue over and suck them into his mouth to pleasurably torture you further.

Ari, the sun kissed stranger with the hairy chest pressed over your back, his cock stretching your ass till you felt like you were being split between the two men, his hand fisted in your hair at the back of your head, keeping you still as his chest crushed against your back and his husky tone hovered close while his bristled cheek brushed against yours. "Too bad we can't hear those moans Honey." Below you Curtis sucked on your breasts, pulling and tugging while Ari reached between your thighs and rubbed your clit without mercy, making your eyes cross at the sensations and a muffled squeal rise from you. "But Steve has your throat to full right now."

"Eyes on me Doll. thass right, look at you crying." The golden haired man named Steve hissed above you, you fought to look up at him, your eyes swelling with tears cause of how good it felt between them all, how full you were, how you really crashed so fast that you were a weeping little slut for them. His thumbs swept under your eyes, even though drool was running down your chin and neck at this point, your lips stretched so wide around his cock that it felt like your lips were gonna split at the corners. That didnt stop you from sucking on him, moaning around his cock till he pushed deeper into your throat, and making you gag on him. "Good girl." His hands cupped around your face, the praise making you climb higher, suddenly you welcomed the challenge of swallowing all of him.

"So fucking pretty when she cries." Devin muttered from behind the video camera while underneath you as Curtis gave a particular hard thrust, Ari pistoning faster to match him, Steve gave you a moments reprieve for air and then filling your mouth again, the sensation of being so full of cock in all your holes making you break.

[tboygareth]

36 and 7 could be a fun Steddie combo!

hiiiii sav!!! i hope you're feeling a little better - this is for you!

36. "You were put on this earth to give me a headache" 7. "It could be worse" cw: injuries

It happened so fast. Steve doesn’t even know how it happened, just that it happened so. Fucking. Fast. One minute Eddie was at the top of the stairs and the next he was at the bottom, flat on his back with his… oh, no, with his ankle bent at a weird angle.

Eddie was groaning in pain, propping himself up on one of the stairs by the elbow, looking at his ankle with a look of horror on his face. And Steve was in crisis aversion mode. He was at Eddie’s side in the blink of an eye, his focus narrowed to the rapidly swelling joint, the heat radiating off of Eddie, the tremor in Eddie’s voice as he asked if it was broken.

“Yeah,” Steve told him. “Yeah. Eds, it’s probably broken. What were you doing?”

“Nothing!” Eddie insisted. “I swear, I think I just missed the top step.”

“Okay, well maybe try paying attention to where you’re putting your feet next time, yeah?”

“That’s not the problem, Steve.”

“Sure it isn’t. Because you’re always so spacially aware, huh?”

“Jesus Christ, now you sound like Jeff. Why the fuck are we fighting right now? Can you please get me up and take me to the fucking hospital?”

“I swear to god it’s like you were put on this earth to give me a fucking headache.”

“It could be worse,” Eddie said with a shrug as Steve hauled him to his feet. Eddie winced but he kept his weight off of it. “At least this time it’s a normal injury instead of a supernatural one.”

“Small miracles,” Steve muttered.

And the thing is… yeah, it could have been a lot worse. Eddie was clumsy, and Steve was forever the one paying the price for it, but this was the first time he’d broken a bone since everything with the Upside Down. His first major injury, really.

And Eddie didn’t complain the whole drive to the hospital, even though Steve knew that Eddie hated the hospital - hated the way that it smelled, hated the way that it reminded him of the three weeks he spent there in the spring of ‘86. It had been years now, and they weren’t even living in Hawkins anymore and the hospital they were driving to wasn’t the same one that Eddie spent all that time in. 

Something like that never really leaves a person, though. It would never leave Eddie and it would never leave Steve. And whenever they had to make a trip downtown to the emergency room - much more common now that they were on their own, for whatever reason - they would both put on a brave face and suck it up.

Eddie really was put on this earth to give Steve a headache some days, but it was a headache Steve was willing to live with. 

help me kick writer's block in the mf teeth

[whetstonefires]

A LA MEME. MDZS, Really nice guy who hates only you, hate at first sight?

It was totally inappropriate for a corpse to be popular.

But there it was: the Ghost General was more well-liked every day. He seemed to spend all his time wandering around rescuing maidens from monsters and lifting wagons off of old men. In a few years he'd be a hero of the people.

Even the cultivation world didn't expect harm from him anymore. Most of Jin Ling's peers addressed the corpse as qianbei; Jin Ling didn't, but he seemed to get on with him well enough.

Jiang Cheng hadn't actually said out loud, when he saw Wen Qionglin parting ways with Sect Leader Jin with an exchange of polite salutes, he killed your father, but he'd looked it. Jin Ling, fluent in Jiang Cheng's expressions, sighed.

"It was an accident," he said. "And he's apologized. And, you know, uncle, he was held prisoner by Jin Sect almost my entire life, you can't say he hasn't paid for it. And..."

And they had killed his whole family. And his older sister.

Jiang Cheng looked away. "Huh."

When Jiang Cheng had made his first, clumsy attempt at mending a little of the gruesome breach between himself and Wei Wuxian, the Ghost General had been there, glaring daggers at him from behind the Yiling Laozu.

It had been more disconcerting than it should have been, and Jiang Cheng had stumbled, interrupted himself, and fallen silent enough times that eventually Wei Wuxian had taken pity on him, reached out, patted him on the arm one time, said, "Good talk, Jiang Cheng," and extricated them both from the situation.

Freed from the burden of conversation, he'd returned Wen Qionglin's glare, and lost. Corpses didn't need to blink.

He didn't want the bastard to like him. Which was just as well since it was out of the question. Jiang Cheng had never for a second in his life liked Wen Qionglin; from the first time he'd laid eyes on him when they were youths he'd interpreted him as a pathetic, burdensome coward, and despised him for it.

Owing the man his life had made it worse--he hadn't even wanted to be saved, and it was Wei Wuxian's stupid horrible charm and habit of interfering where he wasn't wanted that had done it, and like hell had he owed anything, when that person's family had murdered his. (I owe him nothing, he'd told himself once, because Wen Qionglin had been the reason he lost Wei Wuxian.)

Another time, he found himself in both their company and drew apart, letting the Yiling Patriarch and the Ghost General play at being mentors to the youth. Neither of you lived to see twenty-five, he wanted to shout. What do you think you have to teach them?

Even Jin Ling...it made him furious. Furious to glance over and see a corpse's stiff face conveying softness.

Furious to look past the crowd and see Lan Wangji's eyes falling on Wen Qionglin with an unmistakable resentment. And to know that it wasn't the stiff propriety of the Lan Wangji of their youths, objecting to the heresy of that fierce corpse's existence; that it was the look of a petty, jealous man resenting the way Wei Wuxian knocked his shoulder together with the Ghost General's and laughed.

"Where do you get off hating Wen Ning?" he asked the next time he found himself alone with Lan Wangji. It was a stupid thing to ask, but if he let himself think about how they were threshing through the underbrush looking for Wei Wuxian, about the last time they had looked for Wei Wuxian together...

Lan Wangji ignored him.

Jiang Cheng snorted. "Okay. So maybe you don't hate him. But he likes you! He's so deferential it makes me want to puke."

Lan Wangji favored him with the merest hint of a sneer, just enough to show he was listening to Jiang Cheng talk.

"You're disgusting," said Jiang Cheng. "Do you really think he shouldn't have anyone but you in his life? That he's your property?"

Lan Wangji's stride broke. It was a triumph, in a way--Jiang Cheng had never thrown him so badly in all the years they'd known each other.

"Each man judges others by his own heart," said Lan Wangji, thick with contempt, and then he was walking ahead with pointed rapidity, determined to separate from Jiang Cheng, until staying together would have meant chasing after him, and Jiang Cheng turned and went the other way, muttering blackly.

In the end, fittingly, neither of them caught up in time to be of use. Wen Ning, with his homing sense for Wei Wuxian, had shown up out of who the fuck knew where and bailed him out.

Jiang Cheng stumbled upon the haunted spring just in time to see a sodden, bedraggled Wei Wuxian launch himself away from his pet Wen's supportive arm and fling himself against the upright form of Hanguang-jun, which bent around him with a reverent murmur.

Jiang Cheng was already turning away in disgust to head back home, hating that he'd let himself be dragged into this, when he heard Lan Wangji say with careful, solemn deliberation: "Thank you, Wen Qionglin. For taking care of him."

Jiang Cheng glanced back against his will to see the Ghost General saluting deeply, wide-eyed, infinitely humble, his murmur that it was nothing special, Hanguang-jun, nearly drowned out by Wei Wuxian's delighted shouting about how good his Lan Zhan was and how much Wen Ning deserved to be appreciated.

Jiang Cheng walked away.

Wen Qionglin wasn't rude to him. Not in any way you could point at. And he knew full well he'd be making an ass of himself if he tried to pick a verbal fight.

After all, they had killed Wen Qionglin's older sister.

The whole cultivation world had done it, but only Jiang Cheng had done it after Wen Qionglin saved his life. He'd told himself he owed no debt for that, and perhaps he hadn't, but the fact remained: of the two of them, one had been brave and virtuous and earned the loyalty of Wei Wuxian.

And one of them had been pathetic, a coward, a burden.

Jiang Cheng could never look at the man without seeing the look in his dead eyes across the length of Suibian.

Jiang Cheng had never been good at lying to himself, especially if the lie was meant to be comforting. He always tried it anyway. Comforting lies used to sound so true, in Wei Wuxian's mouth; he should never have gotten into the habit of relying on that. To letting that person think Jiang Cheng was someone who needed to be swaddled in falsehoods to give him the strength to bear up under his own duties.

Wen Qionglin was a kind, gentle, courageous dead body, shy and courteous and increasingly appreciated for his virtues, in this strange new world created in the wake of Jin Guanyao's disgrace. And whenever his eyes fell on Jiang Cheng they were cold, hard, flat, contemptuous.

Every time he looked at him Jiang Cheng could nearly hear him thinking, like a cold wind against the back of his neck: I should have left you in that heap of corpses with the rest of your family.

What are you worth, Jiang Wanyin, that so many should be spent in saving you? That Wei Wuxian would drag us all into the shadow of death to make you whole, only for you to turn your face aside when it was me lying there, and let him die for us without lifting a finger?

Selfish, whining coward. If only I had left you there to die.

If only, Jiang Cheng imagined spitting back, anger hot and bracing in his throat. If only! I never asked for any of it! How dare you expect me to repay you!

But Wen Qionglin never spoke any of the words out loud. He only looked, cold dead flat black eyes. A frozen river. Sometimes Jiang Cheng thought that if he lashed out hard enough he would break a hole in the ice, and be devoured whole.

[daboyau]

8. Drugged or 11. Infection, your choice 👀

Sooo I decided to go with drugged, but maybe not the way you’d expect….

@boots-with-the-fur-club

Donnie’s already in bed when Leo stumbles through his bedroom door. He sighs, very deliberately not looking up from his phone. There’s a very fascinating article on cloning he’s only just found time to actually read, and he’s not particularly interested in indulging any of his brother’s hairbrained shenanigans at the moment. 

“Dee,” Leo says, and that one soft word is all it takes. Donnie’s head snaps up, his heart already in his throat. Leo is smiling, but he’s clutching at the doorframe like it’s all that’s keeping him upright. His scales are a horrible, sickly, washed out color of yellowish green.

“What did you do?” Donnie demands, flipping from his loft. It’s a testament to his worry that he doesn’t stick the landing, stumbling, one knee buckling under him. He doesn’t feel the pain as he scrambles forward, hands already outstretched, prodding at his brother’s face, clutching at his arms, searching for the damage.

“I think I really messed up this time,” Leo says, and his smile is still stretching his cheeks. His eyes are bright and glassy. His pupils blown wide wide wide.

“What did you do, Leo?” 

“Took too many,” he says, and his smile finally wavers, and he turns to the side to vomit on the bedroom floor. 

Adrenaline is coursing through him, making his hands tremble and his heart beat too quick inside his chest. He grabs his brother before he can collapse, helping to guide him slowly to the floor, careful to keep him out of the puddle of sick.

“Leo. What did you take.” His voice is clipped. Harsher than he wants it to be. He can’t help it; the tightness in his throat is too painful to squeeze any other emotion around. Leo doesn’t respond. Donnie gives him a sharp little shake. “Tell me what you took, Leo!”

His brother’s murmurs are low, and so slurred he can’t make anything out other than a soft string of nonsense. 

sorry. accident. promise. sorry sorry sorry.

His hands are shaking as he presses a finger to the pulse point at his throat. Leo mumbles something, head lulling back, eyes fluttering and rolling. His pulse is frighteningly slow. There’s something he can do to help. He knows there is. 

But he can’t think around the panic and the horror at the realization of what Leo’s done that is rising higher and higher, filling every available space inside his mind with nothing but static. He opens his mouth. All the escapes his throat is a rasping, broken sound. He takes a breath. Clears his throat. Tries again. 

“Raph.” His voice is still so small. He can’t tear his eyes away from Leo’s pale face. He feels cold. A sound rips itself from his chest, something unnatural and unpleasant. Leo stirs, head rolling, eyes fighting to open. He stares, and he raises a trembling hand to press against Donnie’s cheek. It is clammy. So, so cold. 

Why does he look so sad?

Donnie holds it tight, keeping it pressed close to his cheek even after it’s gone limp.

“Dad! Raph! Help us!” 

[ask-asks]

These Are Sure Some Asks

What do you really need right now?

What are some of the things that have made you who you are?

What are some of your pet peeves?

Share a dark thought? (Go on, vent a little)

Something that makes you ridiculously happy?

What are you craving?

Song stuck in your head?

Last thing you watched?

Shows on your watch list?

Books on your reading list?

Something on your wish list?

Something you want to monologue about?

If you were a note, what note would you be?

Tactician, fighter, generalist, or supportive role?

Talk about a stuffie.

They say you can tell a lot about a person from the state of their desk... Do you have a desk? Can you describe it?

Space, enchanted forest, magical kingdom, or underwater city?

What are some of the meanings of your name? (Or url if you don't want to say.)

What fictional doctor do you wish was your doctor?

Are you a gamer? What was the last game you played?

How do you take your pizza?

Strangest thing that has happened to you this week?

Share a bit of philosophy?

Do you follow the news?

What's on your mind?

What is your dream mode of transportation?

What fascinates you about humanity?

What about life makes you smile?

A dream you wish to make true?

What is your favourite way to create?

Insert your own question here!

[wolfjackle-creates]

For the ask game, I feel like #1 and #13 go really well together. Cuddle curse plus drugged/cuddle drunk confession. Maybe with just a dash of #3 Misunderstandings if the recipient thinks it's just the cuddle curse talking.

Perhaps in the flavor of platonic Dead Serious (Danny/Damian)?

Since you specifically said Platonic Dead Serious, I hope you're okay with a Twin AU. Because I've had one on the backburner for almost a year now that's never been written. This wouldn't technically fit that fic, but it's still a trope I adore that I haven't written.

This will be about a month or two after Danny ends up at the manor. No secrets have been revealed yet. The Waynes only know that Danny wasn't safe where he was and came to Bruce for shelter. Danny only knows that they know about the League of Assassins but nothing about their nightlife.

Okay, wow, this got long. It has no right to be as long as it is. Anyway, enjoy the 2.8k of shenanigans I wrote! (It's way less angsty than I expected, tbh.)

-----

Danny walked into the library only to see Damian and freeze.

Damian stared back at him, neither moving a muscle.

Danny was the one to break the silence. "Damian."

"Danyal," was the curt reply.

Danny glared at his twin who ignored it and turned back to what he was working on.

"That's it!" shouted Dick.

Danny jumped. He hadn't seen the man standing off to the side; he'd been too focused on Damian.

"You two have been dancing around each other ever since Danny got here. Now, I don't know what history you have since neither of you will talk about it, but you have to at least be civil to each other. So you're going to have a bonding day tomorrow."

"Richard!"

At the same time, Danny said, "No!"

Then the twins were back to glaring at each other.

"He won't even call me by my name," protested Danny. "I hate Daniel and Danyal. I'm Danny."

"You are a Wayne and grandson to the Demon Head. It is beneath you to go by such a ridiculous diminutive."

"Oh yeah, because I want to be reminded of Ra's every time someone talks to me."

Dick physically moved between them. "Enough. This is what I'm talking about. Come on, there has to be something you both enjoy and can do together."

Danny shrugged. "I enjoy lots of things. Just not weapons and fighting because I spent too much time doing that when I was little. Now I just want to be a regular American teen."

"And the interests of 'regular American teens' are banal and insipid. I will not waste my time partaking in them."

Dick looked between them with his eyes narrowed. "You know what, there's a carnival in town right now. You will both be going there tomorrow for the morning. You can compete at the games if you need to compare skills, Damian. And there's junk food and sweets for you, Danny. Then after, I'll take you to the animal shelter to do an extra volunteering shift. That way you spend some time alone together to figure out your differences, you'll be in public the entire time so I don't have to worry about anyone being stabbed, and it caters to both your interests."

"I do believe that is an excellent idea, Master Dick."

Danny jumped again at the unexpected voice of Alfred behind him.

"In fact, I will drive you to the carnival myself. I expect both of you to be downstairs and ready to leave by nine thirty tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Pennyworth," said Damian. But based on his frown, he was not happy with the discussion.

Danny looked between Alfred and Dick, but couldn't think of a way to back out. "Fine."

---

Not even half an hour after they'd arrived at the carnival, Danny was ready to tear his hair out. And had sent several messages to Dick stating as much.

Damian was sneering at the people, at the food, at the very mud on the ground.

"It's mud, Damian. It won't hurt you."

"It will require me to do more work to clean my shoes before we can enter our home. For no benefit, either. This place is horrendous."

Danny sighed. "Can't you just relax, Dami? You're safe. No one is going to beat you if you let go a little bit."

"No. I can't." Damian moved faster, forcing Danny to half-run to catch up.

"Look, the game booths are up ahead. Let's see if we can't win some prizes. I'm sure Dick would love it if you gave him something you won."

"Everything is cheap and ugly."

"Exactly the sort of things Dick likes!"

"Very well."

With Damian next to him, Danny didn't dare cheat. For his first prize, Damian selected a large, stuffed elephant. Though after he'd received it, he stared at it with no idea what to do next.

"You carry it around with you! We want to have so many prizes between us we can barely walk."

"That seems idiotic."

Danny nudged him. "Look, they're stuffed animals. I'm sure the shelter will take any you don't want to keep."

Damian hummed just like Bruce and made his way to the next booth. Danny won that round and the competition was on.

The next half hour passed much more pleasantly than the first. Until the ground started moving under them. Danny and Damian were two of the few who kept their feet as vines shot up from the soil and wrapped around the rides and huts and trailers.

Poison Ivy rose above them all and began screaming about how this meadow had been home to an endangered flower before the fair destroyed the habitat.

Danny and Damian both moved towards the woman rather than away like everyone else.

But Poison Ivy wasn't done with her monologue. Buds swelled on the vines. "Now, to distract you while I destroy this corporate evil."

"Come on, Damian!" called Danny. A bud burst open into a flower in front of him and Danny tried to duck, but it released a puff of pollen.

Both he and Damian got a face-full. Instantly, Danny could feel a tingling spreading out from his lungs and he reached back to grab Damian's hand.

"Any idea what that was?"

Damian gripped his hand just as tightly and the two continued to fight their way forward, now close enough to bump shoulders.

"Dr. Isley has many pollens with different effects. What symptoms are you experiencing?"

Danny shivered and pulled Damian closer. "Cold which is weird. Cold hasn't bothered me for years now. And I feel itchy. Are you feverish? Your hand feels warm."

Damian moved in closer until their arms were pressed together and Danny felt some of the cold recede. "No, but I know what we have been attacked with. It is a pollen to promote physical closeness."

"Cuddle pollen? Seriously? Sounds like something I would've had to deal with back... Just before. Isn't Gotham known for things like fear toxin or whatever? Cuddle pollen seems out of character."

"Dr. Isley is more concerned with her plants. If she can keep the humans preoccupied and stop them from interfering, she doesn't much care how it's done. And it is hard to fight her when you are desperate to hold onto each other."

Danny slipped on the moving ground and ended up pulling Damian down on top of him.

Oh. He understood now. With Damian pressed up against him more fully, the stuffed elephant squished between them, nothing could have enticed him to let go. He wrapped his arms more securely around Damian.

Danny sighed and dug his fingers into Damian's shirt. "We should call the others. Let them know to stay away for a bit." And then he remembered how much his brother hated him. "Or, I suppose, come sooner."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you don't like having me around. I can't imagine being forced to cuddle me is pleasant for you. If the others get here, you could go to Bruce or Dick."

"I do not like touch regardless of who it is. Dr. Isley's pollen is one of my least favorite toxins to be affected by, though it causes the least amount of damage. But you... are not the worst to be here with."

Danny watched as vines destroyed more and more of the carnival around them. After a while, he said, "High praise from the Demon Heir. Then why do you leave whenever I walk in a room?"

"I killed you. I did not think you would wish me around."

Danny's mouth fell open but it was only a moment before he was laughing so hard he had to stop breathing. He clutched Damian tighter and buried his face in his brother's neck as laughter shook his shoulders. His lungs would be screaming if he were still alive.

Damian tensed in his arms and pulled an arm away from Danny to fumble for something in his pocket. The cold rushed in which allowed Danny to finally draw in some air as he pushed closer to Damian.

"Richard! Yes, we're caught in the attack. Dr. Isley is using her ridiculous pollen. But, I think there might be something else in it, Danny is laughing as if he's been hit by Joker Venom. I feel no such affects as of now and we were dosed at the same time."

"No, no," Danny gasped out. "Not venom. You just— You think I'd be mad over a little murder?" Danny couldn't help but fall back into his laughter.

"You're... not?"

Danny shook his head into Damian's neck. "No, 'course not. What's a little murder between family? 'Sides, you didn't have a choice. I'm dating my second murderer, you know. She didn't have a choice either and the nightmares still keep her up some nights. And if you hadn't killed me that first time, resulting in Talia reviving me with the pits, I never would've survived my second and third deaths. Though... technically due to reasons, the second death never really happened which is why Sam had to kill me the third time. She knew I'd come back."

Dick's voice came through over the phone speaker, clear enough for Danny to hear it with how close he was. "What do you mean you've died three times!"

"I wish to know as well."

Danny shrugged. "Damian killed me when we were eight. I died in an accident at fourteen. That death was undone by a genie a few months later and my girlfriend had to recreate the accident to keep the town from being destroyed. It is what it is."

Dick's voice was horrified. "You can't just 'it is what it is' your own death!"

Danny chuckled. "I grew up in an assassin cult and now I have cool ghost powers. I think I'm more than justified in having a unique view on death. Mine just... doesn't bother me anymore. Though I don't really care for electricity. I can be around it, don't get me wrong, but I don't like it."

"Ghost powers?" asked Damian.

"Yeah. Wanna see? I can get us out of here. Where can you meet us, Dick?"

"Why have you not revealed these powers before now."

Danny shrugged again. "I had to keep them a secret from my adoptive parents because they were ghost hunters. Just got in the habit. Then you were acting so stand-offish I didn't know if you'd want me to open up. But if it was just misplaced guilt? Showing off might help you get over that."

"I have a secret I've been keeping from you as well. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to share it, but I shall once we get home, whatever Father thinks."

Dick broke in then, "Baby Bat, are you sure about this?"

"I am."

"Okay, well then, Alfred and I are about a half mile south of the south parking lot. Are you sure you can get here?"

Danny scoffed. "Easy." He reached over and hung up Damian's phone for him. "Ready for the ride of you life, Dami?"

"You do not know a fraction of what I have done over the last eight years. That is a high bar."

"And you don't know a fraction of what I've done, either. I bet I can cross that bar."

Damian hesitated. "What do you bet?"

That response brought Danny up short and then he was laughing again. "Okay, I like this version of you. I bet my share of dessert for the next three nights."

"I find those terms acceptable."

"Great." Danny moved his head from Damian's neck to look around. Poison Ivy was facing away from them and most of the people around them were similarly cuddled together and keeping their heads down. No one was around to see them.

Danny let invisibility wash over them both before raising into the air. He kept them tangible, however. He didn't think the pollen would've let him turn intangible if he'd tried.

"We are flying."

Danny grinned. "Yep. This is my favorite thing about being dead. Flight. Now, let's go find your other brother." From the air, he could see the batmobile pull up to the scene and Batman, Red Robin, and Signal rushed out. They were wearing modified costumes that covered all skin and came with respirators.

"Looks like the cavalry's here," Danny commented as he flew in the opposite direction.

"Indeed. Let us hurry to Richard and Pennyworth." After a moment, he added, "How does your flight work? It is like I cannot feel the pull of gravity at all."

"That's exactly it. I'm part ghost. That means that I'm part interdimensional being. Which means the physics to either dimension I belong to only affect me when I want them to. So for flight, I just decide that gravity doesn't affect me. I can go intangible and pass through objects as well because static and the repulsion of electrons doesn't have to affect me either, if I don't want it to." He couldn't help but show off with a few loops and barrel rolls.

"Hmm. Intriguing. May I request your assistance with some tasks I've been working on in the near future?"

"Course, brother-mine. Anything."

"How fast can you fly?"

"Fastest we've measured was over two hundred miles per hour, but it's been a while since we've checked. I only fly that fast when I'm intangible, though. Otherwise the air itself hurts. And don't get me started on what it's like to fly into a bug. Gross."

Below them, the jungle that had been the fairgrounds passed away, then the parking lot. Damian asked question after question about Danny's powers.

But Danny had barely started answering before he spotted Alfred and Dick and the car. He covered Damian's mouth with his hand, effectively silencing him.

"Wanna see if we can get one over on both of them?"

"Nothing phases Pennyworth."

"Which is why we have to try!"

"Very well, what do you have in mind?"

And so, Danny flew them down silently and invisibly until they were right in front of both Dick and Alfred.

Serendipitously, Dick was even asking, "How long do you think it'll take them to get here?"

So Danny dropped their invisibility. "About this long!"

Dick screamed and even Alfred's eyes widened slightly.

"I see, Master Danny," he said, "that does appear to be a useful skill."

"Holy sh—" Dick glanced over to Alfred and cut himself off. "How long have you been able to do that?"

"I told you," said Danny. "Since I died when I was fourteen. Been about two years now." He and Damian were still wrapped around each other with the stuffed elephant squished between them. "Damian has something for you, by the way. He won it and not even a rogue attack could make him drop it."

Damian reached between them and pulled out the elephant, shoving it in Dick's direction. "Here."

Dick was staring at them open mouthed but shook himself and took the toy. "Thanks, Baby Bat. I love it."

As soon as his hand was empty, Damian wrapped his arm back around Danny. "Now, let us get home. I despise dealing with this particular pollen of Dr. Isley's and wish to suffer the rest of the duration in private private."

"How long do the effects usually last anyway?" asked Danny.

"A few hours, I'm afraid," said Dick. "Why don't the two of you take the back seat. We'll get you both home as soon as possible."

"Great! Dami and I have a ton to catch up on now that he knows my secret."

"And I must inform you of my own secrets."

Dick opened the door to the back seat and Danny floated them both inside the car so they were lying down on the back seat.

Alfred eyed them, "Will the effects of the pollen allow you both to sit up and buckle in?"

"Nope!" Danny grinned at him. "But I should be able to keep us in place if needed."

"I see. Very well then, I shall trust you Master Danny. But if it turns out you've lied to me, I shall be most displeased."

Dick shook his head and sighed. "Lets just get you both home and wrapped up with something hot to drink and good snacks."

"Richard," said Damian before Dick could shut the door.

"Yeah, Damian?"

"I do believe... Danny and I shall have no trouble getting along going forward."

Dick gave them a blinding smile. "Glad to hear it, Baby Bat."

"If that is all, let us be on our way," said Alfred.

Danny smiled into his brother's neck. "Love you, Dami. I've missed you."

"I am also relieved at the lack of distance between us."

Something inside Danny relaxed at the open acceptance of his brother. Maybe he could build a new home here more long term. Gotham wasn't so bad at the end of the day.

-----

Okay... So not quite drugged confessions, but kinda? They wouldn't have had these conversations if it weren't for the pollen! But I feel like it's more misunderstandings and secrets reveal than anything else. And got way longer than I planned on. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

[arcadia345]

Chiron ~ where your insecurities fall

Not a real astrologer just my observations :) & having these Chiron placements doesn’t mean you’ll have these insecurities, it’s just what I’ve associated with the placements 🌹

1st/Aries 1°,13°,25°-your ur appearance, second guessing everything you initiate, people could think you’re insecure by the way you carry yourself , body/face scars

2nd/ Taurus 2°,14°,26°- financial insecurity, self worth, not having enough material wise /thief indicator/, your voice, your mouth/lips or throat

3rd/Gemini 3°,15°,27°- being bullied online, difficulties in school ie. classes-teachers-classmates, being bullied by your peers,feeling uneasy in your neighborhood? Tarnished relationship with your siblings, things that you’re interested in aren’t valued

4th/ Cancer 4°,16°,28°- your mother (women In your life could have insecurities that they push onto you),ancestral trauma placement, difficulty finding what truly comforts you, feeling uneasy in your own home

5th/Leo 5°,17°,29° - not feeling confident about your talents or they could be overlooked,feeling unappreciated,the type to feel guilty after masturbating or sex applies to 8th house Chiron also, the fear of childbirth or children(miscarriages)

6th/Virgo 6°,18°- bad experiences with police what a surprise, you could have a thing for control/perfectionism, not feeling valued in your workplace,your pets could get sick/d*e often, being overworked/ feeling like you’re not doing doing enough, fear of injuries/sickness, OCD prone

7th/ Libra 7°,19°- insecurities about your relationships, your partner could be insecure/ have heavy trauma, might be timid when engaging in love relations, insecurities about your butt 😭 just like Sag Chiron

8th/Scorpio 8°,20°- uncomfortable with change, debt, your own independence, trust issues, your sexuality

9th/Sagittarius 9°,21°- higher learning, type of person to get homesick easily , fear of planes , second guessing your intuition

10th/Capricorn 10°,22°- how you’re viewed publicly, worried about not having a fulfilling career/ being successful, dental health, your coworkers hating you/hating them, your nose, your eyebrows just like Aries Chiron

11th/ Aquarius 11°,23°- social anxiety (like 7th house) online bullying, your friends turning on you, your reputation being hurt, never fulfilling your goals, your legs, enemies are your “friends”

12th/ Pisces 12°,24°- fear of traveling to foreign places,fear of boats, fear of paranormal like 8th house chrion😭 relapsing, fear of becoming ill, social anxiety , not receiving closure, drugs could scare you, feet insecurities

Hope you enjoyed 💋if you haven’t already check out my paid services

[hypogryffin]

every time i see your art i think "i miss persona" even if i only played p5 like a month beforehand. anyway i saw your art again and went "i should finallyplay more than two minutes of strikers" and now im obsessed with p5s and am ready to burn through the entire game. thank you. your art style always makes me so happy its lovely

tysm!!! i hope you enjoy strikers!!!

[bigfootsmom]

Slow dancing for the soft prompts?

“C’mon, up you get.”

Eddie’s voice cuts through the gentle hiss of rain against the windows and the soft staticky music leaking from the small radio perched next to the fridge. 

Buck lifts his head from where it had been resting on his folded arms, blearily searching the now dark kitchen for his husband. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pounding in his temples and his mouth feels like he swallowed sand. 

“Wha– what time is it?” Buck asks, throat clicking as he tries to rewet his mouth. 

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Buck twists in his kitchen chair to look at the clock hanging on the wall. It takes him a moment to read the small numbers, but when he does finally manage it he’s surprised to see how late it is. He had planned to already have dinner ready, but the remnants of half completed prep is strewn around the countertops. Halfway through preparing the food, Buck had to sit down at the kitchen table — the ache in his leg becoming too persistent to ignore.  

“It’s time for you to go to bed,” Eddie hums, smoothing a warm palm across Buck's shoulders. Buck leans into the contact, shifting toward Eddie’s warmth like a sunflower seeking the sun. 

“Mm— not tired,” Buck mumbles, tilting his head up for a kiss. 

Eddie complies with the request, easily planting one against Buck’s lips before asking, “oh really? Why were you sleeping on the table then?” 

Buck sags, knee and hip twinging as if to remind him why. “I was just resting.” 

Calloused fingers card through his probably wildly unkempt curls, and Buck finds him sinking more and more against the solid warmth of Eddie pressed against him. Just when he thinks he could actually nod off like this, Eddie breaks the silence. 

“Is your leg bothering you?” 

Biting his lip, Buck sighs as he spins his wedding band around his finger. The warm metal glints in the lowlight of the hall light filtering into the kitchen. There are more days than not that his leg ends up bothering him. But that’s to be expected when he had fallen through the floor of a burning warehouse and landed on his previously crushed leg. Today is just particularly bad. 

Buck had known it was coming, had woken up with the telltale stiffness in his joints. But he had ignored it, not bothering to do any of the stretches his PT had taught him, hoping to muscle through like he used to be able to do. He knows that was stupid of him. There’s a small curl of embarrassment settling in his belly, and he debates not telling Eddie. He doesn’t even have a good reason he can provide for why he didn’t do anything. Not one he can articulate at least. 

In the end, he decides he doesn’t like lying to Eddie, even by omission. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Did you do your stretches?” 

Buck’s silence is answer enough and Eddie nods to himself. “Okay, c’mere.” 

Eddie gets a big hand wrapped around Buck’s bicep and helps him stand from the kitchen chair. Buck goes willingly, letting Eddie pull him up and into his arms. 

At first, he thinks they’re just embracing, and he’s not complaining about it, soaking up all the heat radiating off of his husband. Then Eddie starts rearranging Buck’s arms, getting them loosely looped around his neck before Eddie’s palms slide to Buck’s waist, holding him gently. 

The music coming from the radio is low, too low for Buck to identify the song that’s playing. But he can hear enough to realize that Eddie is moving them in a slow shuffling rhythm around the kitchen that matches the staticky rhythm humming through tinny speakers. 

“Babe, what are you doing?” 

“Dancing— we’re dancing,” Eddie replies, swaying their bodies together as they rock side to side. 

Buck shoots Eddie an incredulous look, but he just leans forward and kisses it off Buck’s face. “We can do your stretches instead, if you would like?” 

With a laugh, Buck shakes his head fondly. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but continues to follow Eddie’s lead, letting himself be slowly spun around the kitchen. 

It helps. The ache doesn’t leave him entirely, but the stiffness slowly bleeds from his joints — the slow gentle movements of their “dancing” and the warmth of Eddie helping to ease the persistent discomfort. 

Gradually, Buck finds himself relaxing, allowing more of his weight to settle on his husband. Eddie accepts it gracefully, a pillar of strength against Buck. 

“There you go, baby,” Eddie murmurs, pressing a kiss to Buck’s temple. 

Tucking his head into the hollow of Eddie’s throat, Buck sighs out, “thank you.” 

“Always,” Eddie says as if it’s just that easy. 

Maybe it is. 

send me a soft prompt and I'll write a little something!

[lilredghost]

"i think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me" for the prompts!

And this wasn't on the list, but if I can be greedy: wrist kiss?

OK I got a bit carried away with the backstory in this one, but basically it's a no-war AU and 600 words of Obi-Wan pining [Kiss prompts]

Obi-Wan’s leg jitters restlessly.

No one can see it, so he allows himself this one indulgence. This one insecurity.

He has been waiting to see Lord Set’en Toa for three days. Officially, atleast.

He’s been waiting to see Anakin for three and a half months.

It’s been a rough adjustment, in the wake of his Padawan’s Knighting.

At twenty-one, they had both known it was coming for years, but knowing had done little to prepare Obi-Wan for the reality of waking up to an empty apartment.

It is quiet now, in his rooms. He only makes one mug of caf in the morning. He only rolls out one meditation mat, only brings home dinner for one.

As a youngling, he was always with his crechemates. As a Padawan, with his Master. And then, with Anakin.

For the last eleven years, his life has rotated around this boy.

So for the first time, Obi-Wan is learning to be alone.

(He doesn’t like it.)

(He avoids the cafmaker, avoids meditating and eating and living in his quarters. He haunts the refectory, the salles, the gardens, the archives, looking for things that don’t remind him so much of Anakin’s absence.)

(He fails.)

Normally, there would be more of an adjustment period, he knows.

Normally, he would get time to gradually acclimate himself to being without his boy.

Normally, his Padawan wouldn’t be sent on a months-long undercover mission just days after his Knighting.

But Anakin has hardly ever been anything resembling normal.

And when word came in of a missing Lord— one who had risen unexpectedly to succeed the throne— the Council had taken one look at the grainy flimsi photos of the man’s countenance and decided to send Anakin in.

Another Jedi had taken up the hunt for the missing Lord, while Anakin, as the man’s spitting image, had taken his place in an attempt to keep the peace. To buy time, fool the opposition, and, hopefully, smoke out the would-be assassins.

Now that the Lord— the real Set’en Toa— has been found, Obi-Wan has been sent to extract Anakin.

If they’ll ever let Obi-Wan see him.

He breathes, trying not to stew in his impatience for about another twenty minutes before the door opens. Obi-Wan shoots out of his seat, standing up immediately.

The steward eyes him with a bit of suspicion and a great deal of boredom before announcing the arrival of one Lord Set’en Toa, King-imminent.

Obi-Wan doesn't even think about it. He drops to his knees.

Anakin— his Anakin— is standing before him, golden hair falling in waves around his beloved face.

His tall, broad shoulders are lined with fur, a belt cinched to an impossibly tiny waist. A diamond cutout on his chest gives Obi-Wan a tantalizing glimpse of tanned, muscled skin.

His shoes— elegant knee-high boots with bight white designs— tap loudly against the floor as they come to a slow halt in front of him.

One hand enters Obi-Wan’s field of vision in a pointed motion. He takes hold of it, barely holding back a gasp as their bond reconnects.

Because there Anakin is, again. He’d left Obi-Wan’s life a boy and waltzed back into it a beautiful young man.

His former Padawan nudges at his mind, feeling amused and a little exasperated. I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me, he laughs.

Obi-Wan feels something turn over in his chest.

Something that has, maybe, been there all along, taking a new shape.

He grips Anakin’s hand with reverence, turning it so he can brush one gentle, understated kiss across the inside of his wrist.

I won’t let you go again, he vows to himself.