#prompt: decorating

[strawberrychrissy]

HoHoHoe Week, Day Five - Up In Lights

No stars in the sky could ever compare to your glow, my love.

[shimmershy]

Just two siblings back from the dead, hanging out, totally not using this opportunity to torment one another for the rest of time! <3

Chara Week Day 4: Flowers

[Image Description: A digital drawing of Chara and Flowey from Undertale. They're on the Surface, with grass and trees and mountains stretching out behind them. Chara has golden flowers clustered around their left eye and speckled in their hair and on their hands. They're kneeling on the ground and smiling wide, holding Flowey's flower pot in one arm. Their other hand is outstretched in front of them and holding a camera. Flowey has a red bow wrapped around his stem and stickers in the shape of hearts, stars, and smiley faces decorating his pot. He looks annoyed as Chara leans their face in close to his to take a photo. /End ID]

[sisterdivinium]

It’s tempting to think of Jillian as an atheist given her connexion to science, her confrontation with the church in s1 and simply as a counterpoint to all the religious characters around her. I’ve used the word for her myself in fic before, but I did it fully knowing that Jillian is perhaps the character who most wants to believe.

There’s an implication that she speaks from experience when she tells Kristian one doesn’t ever really leave the church…

… And her firm principle of proving faith and science can coexist shows she has no intention of dismantling faith in itself or the value people find in spirituality.

When Luther supposedly nailed his objections to that fateful church door, he didn't intend to shake the core of what faith actually is—quite the contrary, one could argue.

Neither is Jillian trying to destabilise faith in itself... The difference is that she just decided to build her own door instead.

The church might stand in her way, yes, but one could could make a case about how it is more due to their keeping of divinium than to the criticism she directs at Vincent on the subject of Hell and the subjugation of women. She might well believe it—or any part of her performance during most of season one, really—but her conflict with the institution lies less in the way of ideology than in matters of practical consequences.

Were it not so, wouldn’t she have been a little more resistant to her son’s visions of an angel? Why believe in a child’s prophetic drawings otherwise? Even if she by any chance didn’t consider the giver of those visions an angel, the very fact of taking a vision seriously would suggest some degree of fidelity to the very idea of there being something more, something else than the life we know in this plane of existence.

If she doesn’t admit the existence of a god outright, she at least lends credence to the idea that there is something. We might not be able to take her fully at her word in the scenes where she’s playing her part as a seeker of knowledge maligned by the Vatican, but there is some amount of truth to what she says. She might not have truly found Heaven, she might not be able to prove her portal actually leads there...

… But she most certainly wants to be right. For Michael’s sake, there must be something else, even if not precisely what has been foreseen by scripture.

And, even so, she finds worth in that very scripture she doubts.

Perhaps she’s being honest when she tells Vincent she likes the stories—there’s a lot of knowledge to be found in even the simplest of them to she who knows how to seek it.

Perhaps there’s an underlying attachment of hers to the Bible, a past she cannot really abandon. It’s not all that common for people with absolutely no ties to Catholicism to have something like the image of a saint as decoration hanging in the background.

Sure, there are other religious elements scattered in her workplace including a Buddha, but it’s a man who used to be an archivist at the Vatican she hires, not a defected monk or rabbi.

Yes, she will work with anyone who is equally willing to work with her. It’s not from the goodness of her heart as there is a component of selfishness in such cooperation—one to which she admits herself—but her attitude is also a testament to the openness she has concerning the results she might obtain. Maybe the OCS is right, maybe there’s a God and saints and Heaven and Hell…

It doesn’t really matter as long as there is something, something to work towards, something to seek.

Or it didn’t matter—while Michael was alive.

She has had her proof of there being more... And she has paid a high price for learning of it.

It’s a pity we don’t know what she would have done with this information. How do we react when what we believe is confirmed to be true but not in the way we expected or desired?

Whatever shock the nuns have experienced to their faith in this business with Adriel, the perversion of the power of prayer and all else they've survived during season two, Jillian is likely to have felt the very same blow right alongside them.

[stealingyourbones]

Short DPXDC Prompts #778

Damian having conversations with his favorite grotesque about how hard the transition from the League of Assassins to Wayne Manor is. Little did he know a little ghostie heard every word and wants to help.

[meowydoe]

For day 1 of @rtc-galentines-event ,

Cookie-themed Constance moodboard :DD

[givethispromptatry]

“What are your New Year’s resolutions?”

“Continue to be awesome and inspire more chaos in others.”

“I admire your zest for life.”

[withheartsaligned]

#auraugust2023 | day 1: home

[pluralprompts]

Prompt #1,543

System A is redecorating their bedroom for the first time since their syscovery, and they're not sure how they're going to balance the styles of everyone in their system.

[astarte-salon]

Prompt: A woven rattan tray sits on the table, with soft sunlight shining through the window and casting shadows on the wall behind it. The wooden furniture in front creates an atmosphere full of natural texture. A vase with dried flowers is placed next to it, adding some warmth to the home decor. in the style of Van Gogh. --ar 2:3

[queen-scribbles]

7. dancing with their hands holding onto each other [Indira/Vector]

Parties like this were dreadfully boring, salvaged only from complete indignity by the company she was allowed to keep.

"Agent, you don't look like you're enjoying yourself," Vector commented as he joined her, the words a gentle tease and warning to watch her expression all in one. He let his hand rest on her hip, close enough it would look like a lovers' tryst rather than anything else. In a way, perhaps, it was.

"This is not my... preferred environment," Indira said, taking a sip of her drink. "Though it does appear to be yours," she added dryly, studying his posture, his expression. The life dancing in his black eyes.

"We are a diplomat," he said with a small shrug. "Events like this are how we meet people, learn of their cultures, forge connections." He glanced at her. "We have met many fascinating individuals, from equally fascinating worlds, and events of this kind are a less formal occasion to mingle."

She canted her head in concession of that point. The atmosphere was indeed more conducive to casual conversation than she imagined, say, a treaty negotiation would be. It was still a more... lax surrounding than she was comfortable in. "I can tell what all of them want just from looking." Indira took another sip of her drink and set the crystalline flute on a small table. "There's no challenge to reading them."

A smile played at Vector's lips. "If no challenge, perhaps a diversion is better?" He slid his hand from her waist and offered it to her instead. "Would you do us the honor of a dance?"

Indira couldn't resist the answering smile that curved across her face. "But of course, Master Hyllus," she said, spine straightening as she rested her hand in his. "I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that you know how to dance."

"We are, perhaps, a bit rusty," Vector allowed as they headed for the dance floor. "Killik celebrations do not include many of the... aspects found in Imperial gatherings. But we will do our best."

"Which I'm sure will be just fine," Indira said, squeezing his hand as they slipped in with the other couples already dancing, her other hand on his shoulder and his on the curve of her hip. A light breeze wafted through and she gave a slight shiver as it made the loose ends of her hair tickle her bare back.

Vector nodded a greeting to one of the other couples and a smile tugged her lips again. He was so at ease here. Despite the looks his appearance--and company--drew, he was unruffled. It was a good look for him.

"What would you say is your favorite thing about parties like this?" she asked, mentally biting her lip in concentration on the dance steps. "Since you so clearly enjoy them."

"The people," Vector answered without hesitation.

"You enjoy forging connection."

"Yes." He tilted his head, studying her. For his claim of being rusty, he seemed to have no trouble remembering the steps, even with his attention divided. "It is part of what makes the Nest feel like home. We are connected in a way beyond anything we dreamed of as a diplomat."

"But you lost some as well," Indira said, recalling the message from his almost-fiancée, the people from his previous life who disapproved of his... change.

"And gained new ones that more than compensate," he said smoothly, drawing their joined hands in to kiss the heel of hers.

Indira arched a brow, but the comm in her ear crackled before she could return the flirtation.

"You have your opening, agent."

Vector had picked up the minute tensing of her posture, even as they continued to dance. "To work?"

She gave a single nod. "I wish it had better timing, but duty does call."

He nodded in return. "We will do our part and meet you on the ship, agent." His grip lingered when she started to step away. "Indira? Be careful."

She smile and kissed his cheek. "Of course."

Subtly as they could, they disengaged from the dance and set about their true tasks for the night.

---

True to his word, Vector was waiting on the ship. Still in his dark blue formalwear, though the collar was loosened, the gloves discarded.

He smiled when he saw her. "Safe and sound."

Indira smiled in return, running her fingers through the loosened portion of her hair. "I do pride myself on being good at my job." She quirked a brow when he offered her his hand. "What are you doing?"

"The others will not be back for some time. We thought we could finish our dance."

"It does seem only fair," she said lightly. She stepped out of her shoes, grey skirt swirling around her ankles as she nudged them aside. "This will be more comfortable."

"We will try not to step on your toes," Vector murmured, drawing her close enough to rest both hands at the small of her back, teasing the deep diamond cutout of the dress.

Indira's smile widened and she clasped her hands behind his neck in response. "I trust you," she whispered, and enjoyed the warmth that flickered in the comforting depths of his black eyes. She only realized as they swayed to non-existent music how much she meant it.

As parties went, just the two of them was much more to her liking.

[golden--doodler]

Geneuary Day Four: Sunshine/Rainbow

Oh my goshhh, when did we get to Day Four of Geneuary already?? I don’t think I’ll be able to recover once it’s over, I’ll be so sad 😭 But at least I’ve still got my birthday in February to look forward to, and then See More Seymour’s Bay week in early March.

Anyway, have Gene in a super huge, complicated, and colorful dress that I like to think Alexis designed for him. I really wanted to go for an almost abstract, painterly style for this piece.

[ID]: Digital fanart of Gene from Bob's Burgers. His eye is closed in a contemplative expression and he has a couple of visible eyelashes. He is wearing a complex, colorful dress with a lot of layers, with the main colors being purple, blue, and red. It's very poofy and sticks out a bit on the right. One of his hands is visible and held up, but curled into a bit of a fist. His hair is swooped around his face and is colored to look like a rainbow. A butterfly and several flower petals surround him.

[americonica]

Um so, oil pastels don’t like me I’m gonna stick with my little charcoal lmfao (Artistin Marcella)

[kessielrg]

resisting.... urge... to add OC... to... someone else's AU

[autocrats-in-love]

Prompt (129)

"Novembers are so boring." The hero said, sprawling themselves across the couch.

"I really think we should wait before putting up the christmas decorations." The villain replied, not looking up from their phone.

"You're just afraid you're going to fall off the roof again putting up the Santa's sleigh."

"Shush."

[rocknrollsalad]

Steddieholidaydrabbles: Day Six - Cooking Together AND Steddimas - baking and cookie decorating

🍪 Scott Clarke is not a baker. A fact he's learned the hard way. Though it's HOURS too late, he enlists the help of Steve and Eddie because what's Christmas without a gingerbread house, right?

🥼 content/trigger warnings: food

🧑‍🍳 word count: 1457

Eddie wasn’t the go-to guy for help. No one he knew looked at their address book and said “Yeah, Eddie Munson is the number I’m gonna dial”. It should have been! He was always helpful and knew how to do plenty. Something he proved time and time again when he was the last resort. Not the “I’m going to call Eddie for help” but the “well, Eddie is here so I might as well ask him too” sort of thing. 

A fact he’d grown used to. At least until he found himself partnered up with Steve Solves-Everyone’s-Problems Harrington. People called him for everything. Major problems, minor problems, someone else’s problems, those in Steve’s life didn’t need an address book; they had his number memorized. 

Dating Steve did change the number of phone calls Eddie received, the calls were still for Steve but now the Munson household was the first stop in getting ahold of Hawkins's own wonderboy. Eddie would hate it so much more if Steve didn’t like up like Times Square every time he was needed. 

Then Steve went and made it worse by saying it was the only thing he had to offer. He wasn’t ever going to be able to help with homework or remember the weird names of all those elves but he could drive them places and sit with them when they were scared. He could fix a car, change a hard to reach light, or pick a few things up from the store. 

As painful as it was that Steve thought those were his only skills, it actually had Eddie pushing their mutual friends at Steve more. Make the boy feel important please, no one has needed him in days. Eddie also stayed out of the way. He didn’t tag along or offer his two cents. 

Eddie wasn’t sure of his place in this group yet but “the helping hand” was already taken. They had their Swiss Army friend, ready to fix anything that was broken. A talent that crossed friendship lines when Scott Clarke called in a panic, opening with a desperate cry for help. Eddie did what he always did and passed the phone off to Steve. 

Like so many other “emergencies”, this one wasn’t life or death. Scott wasn’t part of the crew who’d literally stared down death or saw the pits of hell, he was allowed to be dramatic about it, but a…cookie emergency seemed like a problem the Care Bears should solve. “Oh no, we’ve put too much sugar in the cookies and ruined the bear's birthdays, golly gee, what are we going to do?” 

Bake some new cookies. Buy some from the store. There were so many answers that weren’t "enlist Steve and Eddie like it was some sort of national crisis". 

Of course, Steve wasn’t in agreement and spent the whole time Eddie looked for clothes to change into pacing the doorway, desperate to get out there and help someone who needed it. Which didn’t speed Eddie up any.

Steve felt weird going over to Scott’s alone. The amount of times he repeated “he was our teacher” almost went past annoying and into endearing. Scott wasn’t their teacher now, he was some lame-ass guy trying to impress Wayne with baked goods. A dumb waste of time because why would Wayne be impressed by anyone’s baking ability? He once ate an entire birthday cake Eddie burnt that one year. Without a single complaint. 

However, an emergency might have been an understatement. 

Scott ushered them into a gingerbread warzone. Complete with broken men and women lining the battlefield. Some house pieces were both solid and liquid, others were charred to a crisp, nothing made sense and every surface was covered with something. 

Both Eddie and Steve stood on the only clean kitchen tiles with their jaws on the floor. Scott had clearly given up on aprons, there were a few among the mess, and his 1979 science fair tee was unreadable in spots. Flour handprints were all over his pants, along with crusted gingerbread batter, and Eddie didn’t know whether to laugh or get the man a drink. 

“It’s just science, right? It’s a chemical reaction. You measure carefully, pay attention to what you’re putting in, and add heat. I think actual rocket science would be easier.” Shoving his hands through his hair, a path they’d clearly taken a few times, Scott tried to find something close to composure. 

He wasn’t upset he couldn’t impress Wayne, he was bothered he got the formula wrong. This was the scientific process letting him down and it’d driven him to madness. Eddie wondered how many failed attempts there were hidden in here and what on Earth made him call for their help. 

“No. Well yes, but it’s more than that,” Steve said with a soft confidence Eddie had never heard from him. 

The tone slowed Scott too, he was willing to entertain whatever Steve had to say. 

“You guys aren’t going to like the rest of it. Just let me try it out, it’ll be fine.” 

Eddie muttered a quiet “What” and looked at Steve. Getting a “don’t ask” stare that ensured Eddie would absolutely ask. He’d be patient enough to get Scott out of the room but that was about it. 

He thought getting Scott out of the room would be harder but he heard Steve offer to try, threw his hands up, and said, “I’m going to take a shower, kitchen is yours.”

For a full minute, Steve and Eddie stood in silence. Listening to Scott move through his house, still throwing a mild temper tantrum as he did. Eddie could only imagine the amount of exasperated scientist mumbling that was going on. 

Once they felt they were in the clear, they let out a joint sigh and Eddie said. “Ho-ho-holy shit I thought he was going to stand over our shoulder and, like, grade you as you cooked or something.” 

“Given the bar he set, it wouldn’t be hard to get a passing grade.” 

That wasn’t kind and Eddie laughed for that reason. Mixed a bit with how truthful it was. They were staring down a ton of wonderful-smelling carnage. Much like the gingerbread people in the sink, Scott didn’t have a leg to stand on. 

“Plus, who said I’m doing all the work?” Steve asked. 

“Oh, me. I said you were because you’re the one with cryptic answers about what it takes to make a good cookie.” 

“It’s not cryptic, I just didn’t want to listen to you and Scott mock me for the rest of time,” 

The comment was followed by Steve’s trademark huffy little pout that Eddie loved. Arms crossed, he defended himself and braced for impact. Though his walls were made of cotton candy and the castle was guarded by two cardboard cutouts. Steve was horrible at this stuff. 

And Eddie was persistent. He pressed into Steve’s space, enough to cause him to lose balance a little. Finding a stronger stance, Steve looked anywhere but at Eddie. Still, Eddie could see the smile. He’d made a few missteps on when to press for Steve to say things he was holding in but the lights were all green here. 

Doing his best to look cute and innocent, something Eddie had likely never been, he lowered himself enough to have to look up at Steve. “We’d never mock you, for anything,” Eddie said. 

“Yeah, well I’m still not telling you,” Steve raised his nose in the air, looking away. 

As much as Eddie knew saying “I love you” for the first time was supposed to be some big memorable moment, it was little ones like these that always threatened to steal that from him. Standing in a mess that was likely making Steve’s skin crawl, creating something to bicker about, and playing their parts so perfectly comical. That’s so much better than some fancy dinner they’d never have or a beach vacation they’d not go on. 

“Fine, I’m going to go add some more burnt cookies to the pile. Since I don’t know the secret to it,” Eddie mocked as he pulled away and went deeper into the kitchen. 

Steve was so hot on his heels they almost collided. “Look, I know you can’t exactly do worse but lemme do this okay? I got it.” 

“I do really like the challenge of doing worse.” 

“Yeah, I regretted that as soon as I said it. You absolutely could do worse.” 

“Thank you. That’s so sweet of you to say,” Eddie cooed.

“Who knew Scott was this bad though,” Steve said with a judgemental stare around the room. 

“Wanna know something? A real secret?” 

Eddie leaned in close and whispered through a giggle, “Wayne hates gingerbread.” 

[hydesjackiespuddinpop]

I think I need to work on how to write Jackie and Hyde more