#Happy 900!

[anemptypuddingcup]

Mari’s 900 Surprise! !CLOSED!

I wanted to do something special for y’all for bringing me this far!

I want your favorite character and kink!

Gimme your character and kink in my inbox and I’ll write you a mini submission scenario involving both the character and kink. Everyone is welcomed!

For example; Luffy & hand kink. (My favorite character and kink)

If you want something real specific, you can say the character and kink first and then write out the scenario below!

For example; Luffy & hand kink.

Reader admits to liking Luffy’s hands and Luffy teases Reader with his hands by fingering her and groping her body.

The max amount of submissions you can submit are two, whether they’re in the same ask or separate.

The event ends in September 1st! My birth month! :D

Please don’t rush to get your submissions in, I’ll get to it eventually!

I hope we all can have fun with this! And again thank you all so much for bringing me this far!

Let’s have some fun with this, throw ‘em at me y’all!

[pumpkin-patch-cat]

I want to celebrate my 900 followers, but i'm certain the last 20 have been bots 🤣😭

Happy 900 anyway!

♡♡♡

Thank you!

[suntails]

⚔️🦈

[rockingrobin69]

Wildly

“I have this—dream,” Harry started, mouth so dry he had to stop, swallow a little helplessly. Draco’s grey eyes, expectant: “Never mind.”

“What? Come on, spit it out.”

“Nothing. It’s silly.”

A shove to his shoulder. “You’re silly. And it’s your turn, so, you have to tell me anyway.”

With a lopsided grin and his chest all fluttering, “You’ll laugh.”

“I never laugh. It’s one of the core Malfoy Values: no speaking while chewing, always pace instead of run, and under no circumstances, do not laugh.”

Harry rolled his eyes, feeling lightheaded with it. Draco’s feet tucked under his thigh, leaning against the arm of Harry’s sofa like he belongs there, like there’s no place else he could be. Happiness was a warm trickle running in his belly, this soft thing he was scared to move for fear of disturbing.

Still, breathed in, felt his chest go wide. Made himself open his mouth. “It’s—when we’re older. And we’ve been, erm, together, for a while. Your hair’s gone all white,” (“excuse you!”), “all silver, I mean, and we’re, y’know, old. And we have this garden.”

Braved a look up. Draco’s face was alight, something so tender it robbed Harry of words, of air. Taking his hand, overcome.

“A garden,” Draco said, not a whisper but something close. “That sounds lovely.”

“And we—let it grow wild. With trees and weeds and flowers. And every morning, if the weather’s nice, we go outside and have our tea there.”

Draco’s fingers squeezed his. “We could have a porch with a roof. So we’re not entirely weather-dependant.”

Not saying, there are charms to repel the rain, or, we live in Britain, for crying out loud. Serious, so seriously looking into Harry’s eyes, like he could see it too, like he wanted this.

“And—I don’t know. Maybe a bird feeder or a pond. And we sit very quietly in the mornings and wait for the animals, birds or frogs or squirrels or foxes. And we’re old, and, happy? That’s… it’s silly.”

“You’re silly,” Draco said again, shaking his head with his eyebrows arched and fond. “The silliest creature of all. Harry, this isn’t a dream. We’ll have all this.”

“How—” swallowing, swallowing, “how can you say that. We’ve only been… we’re so new at this. And life can, we know it can.”

Draco shook his head, brought Harry’s hand up for a kiss. “I know,” he said, “because I’ll do whatever it fucking takes, Potter, to give you exactly this. The garden and the birds and the foxes. The life you want, all of it, exactly it. Do you have any idea how rotten I’ll spoil you?”

“Stop—” shoulders up, trying to scramble away from his kisses, but the Draco-attack was relentless and dauntless and climbing all over him on the sofa, nibbling his cheek, the edge of his nose, his eyebrow, “Draco, ha, fuck, stop!”

“Never,” with a tone so certain and so deep Harry believed it immediately, started laughing, wiping his face. “Harry, I will never stop. Get that in your gorgeous little head right now: I will never, ever stop, and I’ll make sure that you’re happy, that you’re so happy, that you’re well and bloody delirious till the end of time, do you hear me?”

“Okay!” yelling, helpless, “okay, okay, I hear you. Now get off, you menace, you’re crushing me and it’s far too hot and.” Taking Draco’s face in his hands, steadying it through the blurriness. “You ridiculous creature,” with so much affection it was battering his insides, it was painful.

“I’m the ridiculous one,” Draco huffed. “You’re sitting here thinking I’ll let you go without a single dream you can name. Harry…”

“Okay,” laughing, still helpless. “I got it. You’ll take care of me.”

“Now he bloody gets it.”

His thumb traced Draco’s jawline, rested against his pink bottom lip. “You’ll give me my garden,” he said carefully.

“With the birdfeeder and the pond.”

“And the tea, and the porch.” And forever, Harry didn’t say.

And forever, Draco smiled. “All of it.”

“Fine. You… fine. I guess I’ll just have to take it and be happy.”

“Now, that sounds like a plan,” Draco smirked, leaning into his palm. “Can we kiss already, or are you still hell-bent on being a sap?”

“I’m the—you perfect, ridiculous creature,” crushing their faces together and shaking with it. “If I recall correctly, now it’s your turn, and I won’t let you try and skip it with slyness and trickery.”

“Trickery,” Draco’s eyes rolled, so close it was only the one grey blob.

Harry couldn’t breathe. “Shut up. Shut up and tell me. You think you’re the only one who… if you’ll make me happy I’ll make you bloody—ecstatic.”

“Always a competition with that man,” but he sighed, a soft thing, and leaned his forehead against Harry’s. “You want to know? You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Well.” Blinked, the movement a gentle tap on Harry’s cheeks. “I have this dream. When we’re older. And we have a garden, and we drink a lot of tea, and you’re so, so, so happy.”

“Come—here,” weakly, “with your fucking, ugh, just kiss me, please,” and Draco did, fire-wild, roasting hot and just as bright.

Harry didn’t know how to tell him he was, already. Happy. So he kissed him, and kissed him, and hoped it was enough.

(Flufftober day 7. Find the soft AO3 collection here).

[learnelle]

Do you ever just get so tired and end up writing secononondly, unsure why it looks a lil off 👁👁

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

CONGRATS ON HUNDRED DOVE!! you sent me a risqué ask for 100 so now i do it back to ye-

"caught in the rain" with leona :D or ruggie, if someone got to him first! ehehehehehehhehehehe you can see stuff 😳👀 for free ✨✨✨

btw your ask is sending me so hard but i'm already typing out so much for leona so your ask is gonna be the last one for the event lol

Caught in the Rain; Leona Kingscholar

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, reader needs to get bonked with a stick (/j)

Content Warning; Swearing

Word Count; 700+

AN; Don't expose my ass on my own blog, Soru /j. (just trying to feed your own simping along with the simps) But I hope you enjoy what I wrote for Leona and this prompt! As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The sky lay heavy with dark clouds, the smell of rain thick in the air, yet not a single drop had yet to strike the ground. The air was dense with humidity, warm from the harsh sun’s rays from earlier in the day. But yet, you found yourself outside, trying to find Leona.

He had invited you to spend your summer break as his guest in the palace. Well, less so 'invited', more so demanded.

“Do you have anywhere else to be, herbivore? I thought as much. Come on, you’re staying with me.”

You still don’t really know why, but you weren’t going to throw away the chance of staying someplace beyond nice for the summer… plus Leona wasn’t so bad once you got to know him. Yes, he puts on an act of not caring, and being abrasive, but you knew that he cared, that he worried. Also, the two of you had been having this back-and-forth banter for months; blurring the lines of just friends bickering and something... more. But neither of you had made a move. It just hung in the air between you, nearly as suffocating as the humidity now; potent with the possibility of a massive storm.

Back to the present though. You were on the outskirts of the palace, looking for wherever Leona had decided to take a nap for this afternoon.

“Leona,” you called, but all you heard in return was the low rumble of thunder in the distance. Where is that overgrown house cat? I swear if I get caught in a downpour because of him… “LEONA!”

The first drops of rain began to fall, gentle and sparse. But you knew full well that in a few minutes' time they would be falling hard and fast.

“LEONA KINGSCHOLAR?!” You shouted at the top of your lungs.

You heard an annoyed huff of air off to your left, and looking up you saw none other than Leona lounging in the low-hanging branches of a tree.

“Ya don’t need to yell, ya know,” he sighed, landing softly on the ground. He looked up to the sky and frowned before setting a slow pace back to the palace. “Are you coming or what, herbivore?”

You followed after him, catching up so the both of you were going at a comfortable pace. Thunder was still rumbling, and the rain was slowly picking up, but there was no rush. Well, there wasn’t any rush until there was a flash of lightning and it seemed like the entire sky’s worth of water came down all at once on the both of you.

“Shit,” Leona hissed and guided the both of you to the relative cover of a tree to wait out the worst of the monsoon. “Just our luc-” He stopped talking when he looked at you though.

You were spitting out some stray rainwater that had managed to get into your mouth. But once the intruding water was gone you looked over to him but you felt your eyes lock on his torso; the white shirt that he was wearing was now completely see-through and you could see everything. Stop staring! Damn though- STOP STARING! But your eyes refused to move.

Leona noticed this, and he also took in your drenched appearance but was more subtle with it. “Tch,” he tapped you on the nose, breaking you of your staring stupor. “My eyes are up here,” his voice was teasing though, light.

You snapped out of it, catching his mirthful eyes. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper. You felt your face grow warm at the slip of your tongue, but it was true. Even before you openly ogled at him, you always thought that, but never said it to his face.

Leona chuffed, but he didn’t say anything; neither denying or accepting your statement. “You aren’t half bad yourself,” he said softly.

The two of you sat underneath the tree, still in your soaked clothes, watching the rain fall together in a comfortable quiet. And while the first golden rays of sunlight may have been stunning, the both of you thought it was nothing when compared to the captor of your hearts; each other.

After all, you still had the rest of the summer to build on this new development.

[bookshelfdreams]

Hold Fast by hoc_voluerunt / @cuddlytogas

Stede Bonnet is free at last, and on his way back to his love. As "Captain Thomas Edwards", he'll learn a lot about sailing and emotional availability, and perhaps even make a name for himself as the man either brave or foolish enough to hunt the legendary Blackbeard. But rumour has it that Blackbeard may be the opposite of welcoming, if and when he ever catches up... Obligatory overly-long post-season 1 reunion fix-it fic, feat. slow burn reconciliation, more historical accuracy than you wanted, and plenty of piratical action.

[liss-art]

"Love is" marathon

Happy Valentine!

2 years ago I drew DBH fancomic.

[spadeyhearty]

Scarland's Tallest Spire

Drabble for Day 7 of the @scarian-smooch-fest! Last one :<

(Also on AO3!)

“This view is breathtaking, Scar.” The stars twinkle over the rooftops of Scarland, awash in the soft glow of streetlamps and moonlight.

“Yeah.” Grian turns to find Scar gazing at him. “It is.” He strides forward and holds Grian’s hands in his. “You’re the one I wanted to share this with the most.”

Here Scar is, showing him the most dazzling vista in all the world, put together with his own two hands, and yet he’s looking at Grian as if he’d hung the moon and stars.

“I love you,” Scar whispers.

Grian kisses him soundly. “I love you, too.”

[recitedemise]

OOC, but tomorrow's my 'broke up with my abuser' one year anniversary! Or I guess escaped, really. Whooping! Hollering! Clapping! I started writing Gale shortly after that horrible trial of a break up (which took literally 3 days before they essentially finally let me go. read: FINALLY let me go, because I genuinely needed permission to break up), and Gale coming out of a toxic relationship himself made me really sympathize with him. :' ) Anyway, it's been a whole year, and I feel...so, SO much happier. I still have deep anger that crops up very often knowing I'll never get closure for what happened to me, but you know what? I don't have to wake up nervous about getting bombarded with texts anymore or checking my phone throughout the work day to get yelled at.

To commemorate, I'm looking at just ONE example of the hell I put behind me. :P

Anyway, that's just a taste.

Like, lmao, where the hell did this come from.

It's funny cuz I wanted to break up countless times before this, and the problem each time which I REPEATEDLY told them about while even providing examples on HOW to fix it was how they spoke to me especially when they were angry or distressed. They eventually told everyone I used threats of breaking up as a tool to get them to behave instead of a genuine desire to break up.

It's so bewildering. Someone talks to me like THIS for over a year, and they think my wanting to break up (after a period of extreme exhaustion, depression and mental duress) was fabricated and a manipulation tactic and that I'm just emotionally abusive and playing victim...because evidently, the distress they caused me couldn't be real seeing as how they never do anything wrong ever.

Anyway.

All abusers can have a happy go rot in a pit.

Extra: when they apologized, they literally pulled the 'my therapist said it, not me' line. Rank fool is stupidly incapable and unwilling to take culpability for literally anything. Literally has never done it ever in their entire life. Abusing me then weaponizing their therapy? It's more likely than you think.

[zu-is-here]

Awww thank you guys a lot! <3 May you have all the sweets you want (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) Hopefully you had a spooky night as well heheh! o(｀ω´ )o☆

[haeivn]

omg tysm for 900 flwrs?? ILY ALL SM TYYY, i’m too lazy to post a big appreciation post BUT WILL DO AT 1K 🤍🤍 TYSMMM

[lottieurl]

when there's a new dc song i can listen to 900 times in one week and not get bored:

[rockingrobin69]

Bright

The poor coaster, shredded to bits, left incriminating marks on his fingers. Blue ink on shabby cardboard, sticky with condensation: now, who thought this was a good idea? Coming tonight. Refusing to acknowledge the increasingly-drunker crowd of his so-called ‘friends’, who finally gave up on trying to get him to play. (Ha. Like he’d ever do anything as silly as participate in magically-binding truth or dare when Potter was in the vicinity). Not looking, still noticing him: an elbow here and a curl there, the heel of his shoe and a finger pointing at something.

Not looking. Sitting in his corner and not looking. Only barely resisting the urge to thunk his head back against the wall, the compulsion to sink into the booth until he disappeared between the cushions. Grabbed his glass for something to do with his hands, found it empty. Above, in the real world, the music had changed into something slow and soft, and Draco, ridiculously, wanted to cry.

“Scoot over, you mopey little thing,” came a shove from his right, then “there you are, you arse, we thought you’d left,” and “Millie! he’s here, c’mon.”

Draco blinked the silliness out of his eyes. Pansy, Greg and Ginny, effectively squishing him into a pitiful sardine. Crossed his arms, tried for a scathing remark, came up short.

“And then I said, if you weren’t such an insufferable bitch, none of this would have happened!”

“Then you kissed her,” Millie, rolling her eyes. “What’s up with Draco? Why’s he making that face?”

“I’m not making a—”

“He’s just brooding because Potter didn’t ask him to dance,” Pansy, shrilly in his ear. “Why don’t you ask him yourself, you berk?”

“Why are you shouting!” Draco roared back.

On the other end of the booth, Greg was sighing into his hands. “D’you guys think Longbottom will show up?”

“Shall we get another round?”

“But you are a berk, Potter’s been trying all night to—”

“Another round! Draco’s on it!” someone shoved at him again, Ginny or Pansy, he couldn’t be sure, all the way around the table until he was thrown out of the booth. “Thanks ever so much, darling!”

Draco—gave up. Huffed something a bit amused and very angry, and mostly tired, slunk his way to the bar. Truly, why did he come tonight, couldn’t remember: something to do with a threat to cut all his hair, or… no, Pansy wasn’t mean tonight. Something like—

“Oof,” a weight at his back, pinning him to the counter. “Sorry, I—shit, sorry, Draco!”

Right. Potter’s familiar smell (firewood and night sky), his warmth, too close. Draco made himself turn with what took improbable strength, to stare at Potter’s pretty face, at his pretty mouth hanging open.

“I’m so sorry. I…”

Behind him, Weasley was giggling, Hermione rolling her eyes. Draco, too familiar with being the butt of the joke, sighed.

“It’s all right. You can get off me now. It’s fine.”

But Potter didn’t move. His hands, empty, trailed either side of Draco on the bar. “You,” he swallowed.

Small between the wood and Potter: “Me.”

“No, that’s not what I… you’re here.”

“Yes. I believe you invited me.”

Potter shook his head, a strangely gentle movement. “I meant, you’re here, right now. I wanted…” Potter-brave, he smiled, leaned closer. It took everything in Draco not to cower away.

“You wanted?” this riot in his chest. Potter’s was rising and falling fast, throat working tightly on a swallow, and another. His face lit up with a smile, unbearably bright.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“I’ve been told,” Draco started, choked, “advised, in fact, to ask you to dance.”

The tilt of his eyebrow was the dearest thing. “Good advice. Reckon you should take it.”

“Do you now,” warm on a startled chuckle, mindlessly pushing closer, to tuck a curl of Potter’s hair behind an ear. Found his hand lingering, just beyond touch: gasped when Potter hummed, leaned into it.

“Ask me.”

Draco forgot how to speak forever. “Want… ah, want to dance, Potter?”

“Why, yes, I do.”

The music came back into existence when he pulled away, something cheery and not at all important. There was a blue mark on Potter’s neck from Draco’s fingers, from the ink, from the coaster. Draco couldn’t stop staring. Felt oddly pleased at this unintentional mark, doubly so when Potter turned to look at him, molten-gold and so pretty.

“Coming?” with his hand outstretched. Breathe, Draco told his useless lungs, then gave up the effort altogether. Took the hand. Yes.

In the periphery, his so-called ‘friends’. Greg was making eyes at Longbottom, Pans and Ginny were snogging again, Millie was dancing with Hermione and Weasley, and in the dimness of the bar, and the whirling in his chest, the whole world was… bright.

For my darling friend, @phoebe-delia. Happy birthday sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you. (You can find the rest of my flufftober pieces here).

[aria0fgold]

The Tale of Feathers Scorched Black

[Wanted to write a loose retelling of Swan Lake with gemtale! Odette belongs to @gilfodile ! Also, for the dialogue parts, the first dialogue always belongs to Odile while the second always belongs to Odette!]

Fairytales are straightforward stories. It begins, once upon a time, there lived a princess cursed by another or trapped in a tower, then came a prince on a white horse or a knight in shining armour, and so it ends, a happily ever after.

And thus, we start again. Once upon a time, there lived a lone white swan.

“I must say, your understanding of that subject is greatly lacking.”

Then the lone white swan met a black swan.

“Ohhh? Enlighten me then, O' great philosopher.”

The two were like oil and water.

“You should brush up on the basics.” “Perhaps you'd like to join me then, what with your lacking of the fundamentals after all.”

Like the mountains and the oceans.

“HAH! I never took you for one to consider Clement's model on Craft Theory.” “I just so happen to have a strict critic with questionable tastes.”

The sun and the moon.

“What outdated articles… You are aware there are newer articles in regards to such theories with deeper understanding of them now, right?” “Well, now I do! Care to impart such enlightenment to me?”

Yet the two grew closer with one another.

“You're quite lacking on the understanding of that subject, aren't you? O' great philosopher.” “What thievery to use my own nickname for you towards me, haha!”

With the harmony of balance between the oil that sits atop the water, of the boundary between the ocean and the shore, of the night and the day. The white swan was lonely no more with the black swan to accompany her. Until…

“I'll be leaving tomorrow.” “That's rather abrupt, where are you going?” “Just… anywhere. I've been thinking about it for a few days now. I'd like to travel, outside of Ka Bue.” “Haha! How kind of you to give me your farewells in advance then!” “Hm, wouldn't want you feeling lost without me. HAH! Do take care not to miss me so much.” “Ohhh really now? Shouldn't that be my line, O' great philosopher? I wouldn't want you feeling so lonely without my company.”

The black swan left the next day, without much of a farewell nor a look back. It wasn't at all necessary anymore when her farewells were spoken a day before, it wasn't at all needed to look back on a country she will one day return to. It wasn't at all required of her, when no one will be there to receive her farewells or to see her wave goodbye. The white swan wasn't around to watch her leave.

The white swan was busy, the white swan was lonely. The white swan was cursed, condemned to the lake that is Ka Bue. She was missing something, a piece of her identity, a section of her memory. She looked down one day and saw white feathers on the hands that can vaguely remember the warmth of a father. Her wings were clipped and she can no longer fly unless she regains what she lost.

And so she searched and searched and searched. The lone white swan with wings clipped and feathers in disarray, could only grasp sand slipping through her hold. Until she met her other half, a black swan meant to only rival her. It was annoying, it was frustrating, it was irritating, and yet above all, it was comforting. The comfort of a companion, the safety of a friend, the warmth of a rival. The black swan was her polar opposite and yet they were in harmony. They were in harmony, and yet without the other, it had grown dissonant.

Fairytales are straightforward stories. It begins, once upon a time, there lived a lone white swan condemned to a lake. Nary a prince nor a knight came, and so it ends. However, the lone white swan still had someone else, her rival with the darkness of the night painting her feathers. The black swan meant to only rival her, became her companion, and her friend. And it was enough for the white swan.

The lone white swan had someone to accompany her. The white swan had someone to share her warmth with. The princess had someone to call her friend. The young lady had someone to care for. Odette had someone to be with.

She had someone.

And yet, Odette was left behind. And yet, the young lady walked the familiar paths alone. And yet, the princess' heart aches from a vacant space. And yet, the white swan's side lacked a familiar warmth. And yet, the lone white swan had no one else to accompany her again.

O' white swan, where have your other half gone? “It's okay.” O' princess, what have your crown become? “I'm sure she's having fun.” O' young lady, why have you spent your days alone? “I can always send her a letter anyway.” O' Odette, where have your Odile gone? “…But where is she right now?”

Fairytales are straightforward stories. This begins, once upon a time,

a lone white swan,

flew too close to the sun,

her wings that had found its will to fly,

flew up, up, and up, towards a bright light,

it was annoying, it was frustrating, it was irritating, and yet above all, it was comforting.

The comfort of a companion, the warmth of a rival, and the danger of wanting more.

She looked down one day and saw her white feathers scorched black.

And so it ends, with nary a happily ever after.

And thus,

we

start

again.

[crow-with-a-pencil]

Them theatre kids