#promptfics

title: can we pretend the airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? — social media au, pov outsider, getting back together

some fans start shipping them as a joke but then the edit made goes trending. eventually, more and more edits of the wangxian ship pop up and ironically, ever makes more and more sense. then the golden scale awards come and lwj and wwx are invited. pictures of them actually interacting go viral and some fans grow surprised when more and more evidence of them knowing each other appear.

but then an anonymous user (nhs actually) releases a yearbook photo of the graduates with wwx and lwj in the center; wwx is hugging lwj’s arm closely while lwj seems content while also holding a large trophy. the anonymous user (nhs) tell the media abt their closeness and how they won a singing competition together with them singing “talking body”.

of course the trending Twitter user slash edit maker posts an edit of wangxian with the song “habits” because apparently it turns out that tove lo is wwx’s celebrity crush.

off camera, wwx and lwj are reuniting. the fans are still making endless edits of wangxian. then nhs posts a polaroid picture on instagram: wq and lqy are drinking side by side, wwx‘s back is facing the camera as he makes out and straddling another boy, jc is drunkenly hanging off a sober lxc, nhs is sticking his tongue out the camera and wn is the one who took the photo.

the post goes viral with the caption: “party with my fellow ‘13s”

wwx releases a new song with wq that suspiciously feels a lot like “off the table”. lwj simultaneously likes an amv of wangxian with the song “bad things” as the bgm and this action goes viral.

it takes a while and a whole lot more edits for wx to actually get back together.

finally, nhs posts a polaroid dated all the way back to 11.08, signed by an authentic lwj signature, with wwx peeking at the camera from his shoulders, the sun is shining in front of him through the large windows and there’s a white blanket draped over his torso. the Chinese characters of “忘羨”

Find the prompt list here!

Hallmark Movie AU Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 (end) | Read Month of Miracles on AO3

Luka took his time getting back to the farm. When he got there, he didn’t go inside. Just went out and did whatever chores he could find. He didn’t go back to the house until the sun was setting, and even then, he didn’t go inside. He just stood on the porch, leaning against one pillar. His hand found his pocket and pulled out a cookie wrapped in cellophane. Luka unwrapped it slowly, tucking the wrap in his pocket, but he just looked at it for a minute, and then up at the sunset colors streaking the sky. 

“Are you gonna eat that?” 

Luka jumped and looked over. Juleka leaned against the opposite rail of the porch, eyeing him in her sidelong, indirect way. 

“Are you going to eat that cookie?” she repeated, with a little toss of her hair. “Or just stare at it all night? Because if you don’t want it—”

Luka made a motion as if to throw the cookie into the bushes, and Juleka yelped, lunging at him. “Hey!” 

Can’t lie this was heavily inspired by this. A short, sweet Scroldie fic where Goldie takes Scrooge’s breath away.

“Where are we going,” Scrooge asked.

Sunset arrived in typical fashion; slow, steady, calm. Orange and violet and indigo painted the skies in majestic hues, and in the center the sun beamed its good graces on their dirtied feathers.

Goldie said nothing, leading him by the wrist. Golden light sparkled around her, enhancing her lemon blonde hair and added a glimmer to her dark green gaze. He swallowed thickly, sufficiently silenced, and let her lead the rest of the way.

They stopped at the edge of the cliff. She took a seat and patted the empty space at her hip. When he continued to stand, scrutinizing her unspoken gesture, she looked back at him, smirking.

“What,” she replied easily. “A girl can’t admire nature’s beauty?”

“It’s just…unheard for you.” In a semi-crouched position he sat, knee upright. He rested his elbow on it and studied her remarkably clement features. No flirty mischief. No hunger. No greed. Just grateful balm.

“I don’t know,” Goldie shrugged, bathed in lowering yellow light. “White Agony Creek has spent centuries unchanged, and this,” a rueful smile peeled free, “was always my favorite spot. I wanted to share it with you.” At last, he absorbed the entirety of her gaze and pressed it on top his heart, “Do you like it?”

“Aye,” tears burned at the corner of his eyes. “I do, lass. I do.” His head pulled on her shoulder, and her grasp clasped his.

Athazagoraphobia- fear of being forgotten

(Fallout Boy/Homestuck* have never been my thing but the moment I saw this the words REMEMBER ME/REMEMBER ME FOR CENTURIES blazed across my brainmeats haha)

–

"You do a great deal for these bas, and still--they ply you with more frivolous tasks. Things that should be strived for themselves." Sten fixes Natia with a look of reproach as they build the night's campfire in the cool and damp of the Brecilian. "And you still do them. Why?"

Natia laughs quietly in response as she stacks the tinder. "Because I can. But why do we do anything, really?"

Sten thinks of purpose, and duty. Protecting your people is a duty. Completing your task is a duty. Loving a single person is not--and yet--Sten banishes that thought to the back of his mind. For now. It is getting increasingly cluttered in there.

"Your task is to stop the Blight."

"But I have to stop it for a bunch of people who are still alive, you know? Who are hurting now, with other things. And even if we can't stop the Blight, then at least I'll have done them some small good." Her hands do not still, but they slow. "I don't want them to forget, Sten. I want whoever it is who knows my name, or hears my name, to remember I did some good, somewhere. Just passing through, not changing nothing...Paragon's balls, that thought scares me something awful now." The wood catches fire with the first hard strike of the flint, and the terror melts away into satisfaction. Everyone will be warm tonight, or at least less chilled.

A little experimental, and way more fun than I anticipated. Angst ensues. 

It was dark. What an odd thing to observe, Goldie mumbled, closing the window behind her. McDuck Manor was never dark. At times shadows climbed up the walls and hovered at the windows, but dark wasn’t something anyone was obliged to use as an adjective when discussing the landmark building. But it was dark, and it was cold. It was as if the life had vacated the premises, leaving an empty husk in its wake.

She grimaced. Anticipation taught her what to expect. As much as reporters predicted this was a first time instance, Goldie knew better. She spaced her time down the halls, knowing where she’d find him, but she wasn’t hopeful about this endeavor. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to find the study where his heavy, thick breathing sounded on the door, and Goldie sighed, lowering her head before twisting the door knob.

A loud, hollow creek echoed in the dusty study, and straining to see, she spotted the familiar blob of red and black and white seated mass behind a desk too wide and large for his body.

Scrooge’s gaze rolled at her presence, void of most emotion. “Why did you come here,” he asked emptily.

Goldie winced. “I came,” she swallowed, realizing her reasons weren’t as abstract as she wished, “to make sure you weren’t dead.”

He scoffed, “I see.”

“Scrooge,” Goldie inhaled, “how long have you been in here?”

An eyeroll evaded her questions. “Donald took the eggs,” he said tiredly. “Said he couldn’t…couldn’t raise them around me, too dangerous.” She heard the choked sob at the last syllable; one he didn’t try to hide.

Goldie sighed, and suddenly understood she was afraid. Uncertain. She wasn’t used to these sort of feelings; pain, loss, grief. She’d suffered them, an unavoidable fact of life, but unlike most people, or even Scrooge, she was always in a position to suppress or flee. He wasn’t. He never was. Goldie glared at her hands, powerless, helpless, and walked around the desk, scooping Scrooge into her arms.

He didn’t respond at first. Probably too numb to feel her familiar touch, but soon, there was a whimper, and then a cry, and then a sob. All his anger and regrets spilled on her clothes. On the floor, she held him as he emptied what remained in his heart.

She glared at the walls where portrait after portrait stared back at them. But one particular portrait bled its haunted blame onto them. Her red, wild hair curled tightly around her face, amplifying her thinly veiled rage.

Goldie wasn’t afraid. Not of her. “This goes back to you,” she spat, caressed Scrooge’s back, still hiccuping with every pathetic sob.

“I know,” her bleak stare conveyed. Goldie wasn’t sure.

I am sorry for the lateness! Hope you like this, and yes, this does make reference to the game.

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while,” cross legged on a moneybag, Scrooge dug into his coat pocket and revealed a deck of cards. “It’ll keep us entertained for a while.”

Goldie stared down at him. Lifting her head to the side, she replicated his seating pattern on a small pile of silver coins. “I didn’t know you liked to play cards,” she chuckled. “It was never your thing.”

“Lassie, you know I’m a man of many talents.” He shuffled them almost perfectly and gave back and forth, a small smirk on his face.

“Yes, many talents,” she read her cards. “But poker isn’t one of them.”

“Hey.”

“It’s the truth,” she defended. “If you had, you wouldn’t have lost to me in Dawson.” Her black brow arched neatly at his annoyance.

“I only lost ‘cause you cheated,” he scowled, waving his deck at her. “I would’ve won the game had you played fair.”

“And you think I can’t?”

Scrooge huffed, “I think you won’t.”

Goldie frowned, for one reason or another, and she sniffed, shifting her position into something far more comfortable. She lied on her back, legs crossed, and sighed, “I’ll play fair for you, just this once, but I require a trade off.”

“Are you serious,” Scrooge’s head tilted. “Did I offend you?”

“A challenge is a challenge,” she dismissed. “And I do love a challenge.”

“So, what do you want?”

She contemplated, resting the deck on her chest. “Hmm…if I win, fair and square, your greatest possessions,” she rolled her neck to him, holding him with a stare, “and if you win, a boring win I say, I’ll -,”

“You’ll give me the map to The Five Treasures,” Scrooge interjected smugly. “If I win.”

Surprise widened her stare, and her mouth opened in a soundless gasp. “You know about that,” she twisted around, a gentle glare pushing her smugness away, “color me curious.”

“Ack, if De Spell doesn’t have a clue about it, or Glomgold, or anyone else,” he chuckled lightly, setting the first card in the middle, “then there’s only one other person.”

Goldie rolled her eyes, “Fine.” She threw down her first card, “I win - I get your greatest possession.  You win, and I’ll give you the map.”

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

Scrooge’s gaze returned to his deck, smirk dwindling. As he played his second card, he ignored her waning glow at the mention of The Five Treasures. 

Summary: As promised, a fic in response to this prompt. Hope you find it satisfactory, anon. (Approx. 1,100 words.)

With the instincts of both a detective and a big brother, Mako knew something wasn’t right.

Yang was still inside the autoshop, talking with the mechanic to see how long it would take to get a new tire for the van. One of the front tires had blown out in the middle of the night and they’d run their spare to it’s last kilometre and then some before finally making it back to the barest hints of civilization.

Blake stood downwind of Pyrrha outside, making sure that the smoke from their cigarette was being blown away from her. Not that it mattered much, as it was probably sinking into the fabric of her jacket, which Blake was currently wearing, hands tucked into the large pockets.

The door creaked open, bell ringing, and Yang walked out, rubbing a hand over her tired face. “She says it’ll be a while,” Yang relayed. “The van’s old and they don’t carry that specific size here. They’ll have to get someone to bring one from out of town tomorrow.”

"So we’re staying the night," Blake figured.

"Is there a place we can stay?" Pyrrha wondered. "Because obviously we can’t sleep in the van while it’s in the shop."

Yang nodded. “There’s a motel just a short walk away. We should have enough to rent a room.”

"Those things usually only have one double-bed in them," Blake said, taking one last inhale before flicking the stub of their cigarette to the ground.

Yang and Pyrrha looked at each other, each raising their eyebrows in a mix of disbelief and amusement. The two moved towards Blake, standing on either side. Yang slid an arm around Blake’s waist and nosed at their ear. “You started this whole thing,” she said.

Pyrrha threaded her fingers through Blake’s free hand and kissed their cheek. “So why are you complaining about close quarters all of a sudden?”