#ask memes & prompt fills

[b1gtimerush]

lights, camera, action! a collection of scenarios / plots from yours truly.

amnesia. one of our characters loses most of their memories.

bodyswap. both of our characters swap bodies.

co-parent. both of our characters suddenly have to raise a child together.

dream. one of our characters visits the other in a dream.

earth. both of our characters find each other on post-apocalyptic earth.

flashback. both of our characters are stuck in the past.

flashforward. both of our characters are stuck in the future.

greencard. one of our characters marries the other for a green card.

groundhog. both of our characters are stuck in a time loop.

haunt. one of our characters is dead and haunting the other.

ink. one of our characters writes/draws the other into existence.

investigate. one of our characters is hired to investigate the other.

job. one of our characters will do anything for a pay-check, the other hires them for an odd job.

kin. one of our characters meets an alternate universe version of the other.

language. one of our characters has been cursed to speak nonsense, somehow the other is the only one who can understand them.

magnetic. both of our characters are magically magnetised to each other.

number. one of our characters is in trouble and was given the number of the other to call if they needed help.

ogre. one of our characters turns into an ogre at night.

possession. one of our characters meets the other while possessing someone else's body.

quest. both of our characters set off on an adventure/journey together.

rescue. one of our characters saves the other from danger.

resurrect. one of our characters comes back from the dead.

sleepwalk. one of our characters always sleepwalks to where the other is.

taken. one of our characters finds the other after they've been kidnapped.

transplant. 'where's my boyfriend?' 'who do you think gave you the heart?'

urgent. one of our characters is injured, the other is their emergency contact.

vegas. both of our characters wake up married after a drunk night in vegas.

wish. one of our characters makes a wish and the other shows up as a result.

x-ray. one of our characters develops x-ray vision, the other is the only person they can't see through.

yeehaw. both of our characters are in the wild wild west.

zing. both of our characters are struck by lightning and can now sense each other's thoughts and feelings.

[nicbutnasty]

🧡 landoscar :))))

Thank you!! Apologies this took a few weeks, but also it grew from a quick drabble to almost 1k words of fluff, and is still somehow the quickest fic I've ever written. Hope you enjoy!

[send me heart and a ship for (what was meant to be) a brief snippet]

Lando/Oscar, kissing in bed/lazy kiss/cuddling

In hindsight, Lando thinks, maybe Oscar did have the better idea for a dedicated napping spot in the McLaren motorhome. He’s already given up on trying to sleep in his room downstairs, struggling to get comfortable and switch his mind off, but it’s a full afternoon of media lined up for later – there’s no way he’s gonna make it through that without a nap.

Normally, curling up in a corner would work just fine – he wouldn’t mind, he’d even requested a bed extension for this year so he’d have room to stretch out, but it still isn’t quite right. Not when Oscar’s probably fast asleep in luxury upstairs, with his full-length plush sofa bed and the afternoon light streaming in through the windows. Like a bloody cat in a sunbeam. And here Lando is, tossing and turning on a plank of foam covered metal. 

If Oscar has the best napping spot, well, Lando would just have to go and make the most of it too. 

—

Quietly, Lando pushes open the door of Oscar’s room, and sure enough there he is, stretched out on his sofa-bed like a particularly contented cat. He looks softer somehow, Lando thinks, more relaxed, more open than he usually is around the track in the daytime. It makes Lando want to do something stupid like brush the hair out of his eyes and kiss him, some sleeping beauty nonsense or whatever. He quickly pushes the thought to the back of his mind.

Oscar stirs slightly as Lando enters and pads over to the bed.

“Kim?” Oscar asks, voice rough with sleep, rubbing bleary eyes with the back of his hand.

Lando perches on the edge of the bed, the only space there is available with how Oscar’s sprawled out across it. “Nah it’s Lando. Budge up, I wanna sleep too.”

Oscar shuffles back only a couple inches, so Lando prods him in the thigh.

“Nuh, comfy,” he murmurs, cracking an eye open to peer at Lando. “Get in or get out.”

Lando sighs in despair, but still he kicks his shoes off and swings his legs up onto the sofa bed, curling himself into what little space there is, back pressed flush against Oscar and his head tucked below Oscar’s chin. Oscar simply responds by throwing an arm around Lando’s waist with a satisfied hum.  

Even like that, Lando can admit this is the better option than his bed downstairs, and Oscar is nice and warm. His arm is a reassuring weight over Lando, and he relaxes as Oscar’s breathing slowly evens out towards sleep again.

Lando shifts a little to get more comfortable, fully accepting this is the best way he’s gonna get some sleep before the next round of media duties. He’s careful not to disturb Oscar too much, but Oscar lets out a soft groan anyway and pulls Lando closer to him. 

“Stop moving” Oscar murmurs into his hair, before pressing his lips right there against the top of Lando’s head. 

Okay. Well. That’s new, Lando thinks, but definitely not unwelcome. If he’d been any closer to sleep he’d have thought nothing of it, but as it is, he’s now very much awake. 

The idea of staying still now firmly out of the window, Lando twists in his hold to look up at Oscar. He’s got his eyes tightly closed, feigning sleep, but with a soft pink flush across his cheeks like he’s just realised what he’s done. Lando takes a moment to just observe, hoping Oscar doesn’t open his eyes and catch him staring.

There’s a red crease curving down his cheek from how he’s been sleeping before Lando disturbed him, reminiscent of the balaclava lines that always make him look so vulnerable post-race, with cheeks flushed just like they are now. There’s the constellation of freckles across his face that makes him want to trace them with his fingertip, playing dot-to-dot until he gets down to the two moles nestled against his throat to press a kiss right there. Then mingled in with the freckles, there's that light spattering of pimples from where the balaclava sits against his skin, that Lando hates on himself – somehow they persist despite his fancy skincare routine – but that on Oscar he just finds endearing.

Cautiously, with his heart thudding in his chest, Lando cranes his neck upwards to place a careful kiss to Oscar’s jaw. There’s a soft intake of breath, and then Oscar is moving to tentatively brush Lando’s lips with his own. 

Lando kisses back, bringing his hand up to brush Oscar’s hair from his face – just as soft as expected, he wants to tangle his fingers in it, and this seems to be something he’s allowed to do now, so he does. His brain is almost working on autopilot as his lips move against Oscar’s, and when Oscar sighs into the kiss, Lando can’t help but deepen it, licking into Oscar’s mouth. He tastes like mouthwash and sleep and heat, and Lando has always been desperate to take as much as he’s able, half-blanketing Oscar’s body with his own in an attempt to get impossibly closer.

Oscar pulls back slightly, and Lando freezes, worried he’s done something wrong and ruined this tentative thing between them, but Oscar just smiles dazedly up at him, eyes all soft and crinkly at the edges. “This is nice,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Lando breathes. 

Oscar lifts his head to press another chaste kiss against Lando’s lips. “Okay, now sleep” he says, letting his head drop back on the pillow with a soft smile. 

“Yup, good idea,” Lando replies with a grin, but Oscar’s already shut his eyes and once again is doing a good impression of being fast asleep.

Lando’s still half-draped over Oscar, who seems quite content with that, so Lando simply relaxes back into Oscar’s arms and shuts his eyes, allowing himself to slowly drift off to the steady in-and-out of Oscar’s breathing.

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @astreamofstars from this ask meme: Lord Huron Lyric Prompts

Khalid (and Jaheira) - "watch for a sign in the midnight sky"

My first attempt at proper writing of Khalid! Deeply enjoyed this and I hope you do too. :D

-----

Khalid fidgets aimlessly with one sleeve of his armor, trying in vain to get the leather greaves to settle more comfortably in place. It is all new equipment, purchased out of his scant funds on his arrival in Baldur's Gate, and it has not yet had time to become fully broken in. 

Had he been able to bring his amlak armor from home, perhaps he would feel more comfortable now. Miserable though he was in Calimport's city guard, his armor at least had been very good, carefully polished and molded to his body from months of hard use. But it has been left behind, along with everything else about his old life - the corruption of his superior officers on the one hand and the disinterested cruelty of his father and half-brothers on the other. 

So here he is, for better or for worse - half a world away in ill-fitting armor, chasing rumors and wild hope. He has heard the tales of an institution where his skills would go to better use, a group of warriors who fight not for power and coin but for balance. Perhaps the Harpers will prove to be the true family he has been searching for.

The recruiter he spoke to - a furtive, laconic fellow with a hand always on his dagger - said Khalid measured well in conversation, but that the only real test of a new Harper was action. “Wait tonight in the square in Norchapel,” he had said with the ghost of a smile. “I will have some of my people find you near midnight. Identify yourself to them, and they will have a task for you. Prove true in that business and there may be a place for you among us.”

It's a cold night. The Norchapel square is empty and lit only by the ominous flickering light of the single streetlamp under which Khalid is waiting. Privately he is starting to wonder if this is part of the test - to hold to his patience in spite of the chill and silence - and if the task that lies ahead could in truth just as easily be done in daylight. But nevertheless he waits, just as instructed, as the clock in his mind slowly ticks from midnight on towards one o'clock. 

“Watch for a sign in the midnight sky,” growls a voice almost at his elbow, making him jump. He hadn't heard anyone approach. 

Then he steadies himself, swallows nervously, and gives the counter-phrase without turning around. “F-f-for by the m-moon's light, we unearth all s-secrets,” he says earnestly. 

His new conversational partner emerges out of the shadows and into the light of the streetlamp where Khalid can see him. He's a big, bulky human with dark skin and hair, broad and muscular, which makes it all the more impressive how silently he moves, his feet rolling heel to toe across the cobblestones.

On his left is a brass dragonborn with a pair of lethal-looking katanas and an incongruous cocksure grin. On his right is a young half-elven woman, about Khalid's own age, with a quarterstaff in one hand and an expression as unreadable as the stone wall behind her. All three of them wear the subtle silver pin of the Harpers at the fastening of their cloaks. 

“By the moon's light indeed,” the human says pleasantly, reaching out a hand for Khalid to shake. “You'll be our new recruit, then? Khalid yn Munir?”

Khalid hesitates as he releases the handshake. “J-j-just Khalid,” he finally says quietly. 

“As you wish,” the Harper agrees. He doesn't seem surprised; Khalid is no doubt not the first initiate to be leaving something behind. “My name is Vartan. This is Kambas and Jaheira,” he explains, gesturing at each of his companions in turn. “We are to accompany you on a test of your skill and commitment. Hold true and the Harpers shall welcome you.”

“Y-y-yes,” Khalid says earnestly. “I am ready t-to assist in any way I c-c-can.” 

He gets rather stuck on the last word and Kambas laughs softly, a rumbling noise like an avalanche. “Twitchy little thing, isn't he,” the dragonborn says. 

As mockings go, it’s far less malicious than the ones Khalid is used to; indeed, the Harper doesn’t seem to be saying it with cruelty. It’s just an observation, as if he was commenting about the weather. Khalid is already shrugging it off automatically - but to his surprise, the half-elf, Jaheira, stirs suddenly. She’s been watching Khalid in silence with deep, appraising intensity, but now nudges her companion with the butt of her staff.

“Do not be unkind, Kambas,” she says sharply.

The dragonborn’s grin widens and he lifts his hands defensively. “Just messin’ around, Jay,” he says with an air of affable mischief.

“Choose your targets with more care,” she says firmly, “and while you are at it, do not call me that.” She rolls her eyes and catches Khalid’s gaze; a subtle smile twitches her lips up at the corners. “You see you should not take it personally; he is a little shit to us all in equality.”

“So is maintained the balance,” Vartan intones, and Kambas laughs again.

Khalid feels himself start to relax, and smiles back at Jaheira. “I th-thank you for the s-s-support,” he murmurs.

For just a moment - almost as if in spite of herself - her smile settles into something less sardonic and more genuine, and he finds himself struck to inner stillness by the way it lights her eyes. She is a few years his senior and her face already bears the marks of whatever violence in which the Harpers have employed her, but the smile does a great deal to soften it, to show an edge of kindness beneath the cool front. She looks at him and seems pleased with what she sees.

After so many years flanked by various flavors of cruelty, he finds himself utterly captivated by that soft edge, that approval. He stares back at her and feels heat climb up his neck. His tongue, already given to betraying him, feels heavy as lead in his mouth and in that moment he’s not sure he could speak at all.

Then it’s gone. The moment passes; her eyes hood over again and she looks away from him towards Vartan. “Well. Shall we be about it, then?” she asks briskly. “Let us see what our new Harper can do.”

[firstelevens]

palm kiss, sam/bucky!! god i have so many emotions about the intimacy of all forms of hand kissing

When Sam comes to find him, Bucky has been by the viewport in Danvers' ship for almost an hour. Somewhere down below, he can hear the sounds of his team talking to Sam's, but at some point on this trip to the end of the universe, it had struck Bucky that he was literally in outer space, and if the world was going to end, maybe he could catch a glimpse of the solar system first.

Sam lets out a soft whistle as he comes to stand beside Bucky. "Shit," he breathes. "I guess this tops that time we took the boys to the planetarium, huh?"

Bucky shakes his head. "I liked that trip."

"You literally had to carry AJ around for the entire last hour that we were there."

"It's not his fault he sprained his ankle," says Bucky, with a shrug. "Besides, he weighs like, nothing."

"Yeah, yeah," says Sam, and it's only when he waves his hand dismissively that Bucky realizes he's got his gauntlets on.

He turns to face Sam properly and catches his hand in mid-air, gently moving Sam's arm down so he can fiddle with the straps on the wristpad.

"You never do this up tightly enough," he says, more to Sam's forearm than anything else. "You know if this thing flies off your arm, you're not gonna be able to talk to your robot birds, right?"

"They're not robots," says Sam, but he obligingly holds out his other arm once Bucky's done with the first.

If he squints, Bucky can pretend that this is any other mission, that they're flying out on the quinjet to take out some alleged supervillain with a stupid name and they'll be done in time for Bucky to halfheartedly pretend that he has somewhere to be before he ends up at dinner with the Wilsons.

Bucky swallows and shakes his head, pulling Sam closer so he can check the fastenings on the wingpack. He doesn't know how much vibranium-enforced leather will really do, if this Kang guy sets his mind to hurting Sam, but if it holds out for an extra second, that's an extra second for him to get the heat off Sam, so he'll take it.

Eventually, Bucky runs out of buckles to fiddle with and fastenings to test, his hands flitting from one part of Sam's suit to another as he tries to find something to adjust. He doesn't know how long it's been since they've spoken, but when Sam's hands settle over his own, he feels his entire brain go quiet.

"Buck," he says softly, uncurling Bucky's fingers from where they rest on the harness, "it's gonna be okay."

"Oh, you're basing this on the last time we tried to avert an apocalypse? 'Cause that went so great?" Bucky hears himself ask.

Sam is unfazed. "That was an apocalypse; this is a multiverse-ending event, so technically we haven't failed at it."

Bucky glares at him, but Sam just smiles back.

"This isn't the end, Buck," he says, taking both of Bucky's hands in his. "I'm not going to let it be."

Part of Bucky wants to pick a fight, wants to push back and tell Sam that's not an option, but then Sam turns Bucky's right hand over and raises it to his lips, eyes locked on Bucky's as he presses a kiss to Bucky's palm.

(He'd make a crack about staring problems if his heart wasn't lodged right in his throat.)

When Sam does the same to Bucky's left hand, he just about stops breathing.

"You're not gonna let it be, the end, either," says Sam, still holding Bucky's hands in his own.

"And how do you know that?" Bucky manages to say, his voice embarrassingly hoarse.

"Because neither one of us is about to let that be the only time I kiss you," says Sam, the corners of his mouth turning up.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," says Sam, and grins at him for real this time.

From below, someone calls out for the two of them, and Sam drops Bucky's hands with one final squeeze.

"Suit up already, Barnes," he calls over his shoulder, as he turns to leave. "We have a multiverse to save."

[msmargaretmurry]

18 matthew/leon

18 - things you said when you were scared

(cw for being outed)

In the video, Matthew is instantly recognizable: his curls, wild and golden in the sunshine; his dimpled grin; that stupid Elbo Room t-shirt. His companion is less recognizable, all swim trunks and thick muscle, dark wet hair slicked back from the pool. Over the course of the nine-second clip, Matthew, in the video, tugs this man in and kisses him briefly, then pulls back to say something, then laughs as he’s kissed by the man, longer and more thoroughly. The man has a great ass, and Matthew’s hands find it eagerly as they shift out of view. The cameraperson tries for a moment to find a new angle that works through the foliage and fencing, then gives up. That’s it.

Apparently the Bahamas aren’t far enough to go for some privacy.

While Matthew paces in the bedroom of their rented condo with what seems like his entire family including his uncle-agent on speakerphone, Leon sinks as deep into the couch as is humanly possible, watching the video on repeat in the Tweet that gave it to the world. Leon knows the exact moment it was taken, because it was only yesterday. It would be a hot video if it weren’t so horrifying. They look good together. Matthew looks so happy.

It should be more of a relief that the video doesn’t include a good shot of his face. Instead Leon just feels guilty that Matthew’s the only one getting blown up about it. Feels anxious, waiting for someone to figure it out. Feels nauseous, waiting for what Matthew will say when he emerges from his conference call. Most of what Leon gets through the door is Matthew’s side of the conversation — “I don’t know, I don’t know,” he keeps saying, his voice pitched high, tight with stress. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he keeps saying. “That part doesn’t matter,” a bunch of times in a row, then in an exasperated burst: “That’s none of your business. That’s nobody’s business.”

Leon has no idea who Matthew told his family he was going on vacation with. He just knows it wasn’t him. That’s fine. That’s how it’s supposed to be. 

After an eternity, the bedroom door flies open and Matthew stomps into the main room to start furiously gathering his things.

“I’m going home,” he bites out. 

Leon sits up so quickly his head spins a little. “Sorry, what?”

Matthew doesn’t even pause. He grabs his hoodie from the back of the sofa, his flip-flops from by the door. “There’s a flight tonight, I can make it if I pack fast.”

“”You’re leaving.”

“Um, obviously. My mom’s upset, my dad’s confused, we need to figure out what to do next—”

“Okay, yeah, but what about me?”

Matthew finally whirls to look at him. “What about you?”

It’s like a slap in the face.

“Wow,” says Leon. “Fuck you, too, I guess.”

Matthew deflates. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, and rubs a hand over his face, through his hair. “Fuck.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it.” And he does get it, really. Matthew’s life just got rocked, not Leon’s. And it’s not like this is serious, between them. If it was serious, Matthew’s parents wouldn’t be asking who the guy in the video is. Leon’s parents would know where he is right now. When they’d made the plans, Matthew had laughed and said, a lot of effort just to fuck. Leon had grinned and said, yeah, but I’ll make it worth your while.

Leon rocks to his feet and heads for the bedroom. He might as well start packing.

“Leon—” Matthew says, following after him. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t have time to have this fight right now.”

“We’re not fighting,” Leon says. “You’re leaving, so there’s no point in me staying, so I’m leaving, too.”

“Fuck you,” says Matthew. “You don’t get to be pissed at me right now.”

He’s right. And Leon’s not pissed, not really. Not at Matthew. At whoever did this. A couple of barely-famous hockey players aren’t the kind of people this shit is supposed to happen to. Barely even barely famous. Matthew was right on the phone with his family — it’s not anyone’s business.

“You’re right,” Leon says with a sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Come here.”

Matthew is tense all over, but he lets Leon fold him into a hug. Leon rubs his back, kisses the side of his head, tries not to wonder if this is the last time they’ll ever do this.

“Sorry,” Leon says again.

Matthew exhales wetly against his neck. “I have to leave. I can’t be here. You know I hate people getting in my business. I can’t—”

“I know, I know, I know,” Leon says. He hugs Matthew tighter as his stomach ties itself in knots. 

“I’ll figure out what to tell people,” Matthew mumbles, his fingers curling into Leon’s shirt. “I can just say it was some guy I met here — maybe I wanted a vacation alone or something, I don’t know— I mean, my parents will hate that, they want me to have a secret nice boyfriend or something so we can trot him out and be like, look, still totally wholesome, nothing to see here—”

“Okay,” Leon says.

There’s a beat, and then Matthew pulls back to look at him with a frown. “Okay what?”

“I just mean, if it’s easier that way.” Leon’s brain catches up with what’s coming out of his mouth, and his cheeks are suddenly hot. “I mean. If you need me to be a boyfriend. If that would help. I can do that.”

Matthew stares. “I don’t— I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Did you ask?” Leon says. “No. I’m just saying. If you want.”

It’s probably a very stupid offer. The kind of offer that could blow up Leon’s life in ways he’s only ever thought about as vague, distant what-ifs. The kind of offer you’re supposed to offer only if it’s serious. Definitely the kind of offer he should think about for more than five seconds, but none of that seems particularly important right now.

Matthew sags into the hug again, holding on even tighter than before. Leon squeezes him, kisses his hair, breathes in the smell of the ocean.

“At the very least let me help you pack,” he murmurs. Matthew lets out a long, shaky breath, his fingers digging into Leon’s back.

“Maybe I can fly out in the morning instead.”

[ahamkara-apologist]

*cracks knuckles* alright lesgo. for the drabble/microfic prompts, "alone, finally" and "You're doing so well. Just a little more." 👀

ehehehehe ohhh I can merge these two soooo well >:33

I was tempted to do this with Misraaks and Aeris but honestly, Marcie/Athrys/Eramis has been haunting my mind, so...here we go!

Micro fic prompts | NSFT fic prompts

.

The ketch's door slams shut behind them, and Eramis hears Athrys's sigh of relief echo through the bedroom before she moves out of her blind side.

"Alone, finally," she breathes, and the rich purr starting to undercut her voice sends a thrill of heat rushing through her body in response. Even after so many centuries apart, even after so many scars and wounds and various mutilations that the Sol system forced upon them in its cruelty- the sound of her voice still rouses Eramis's in turn, one half of a duet singing forth to the other.

The human tugged along for the ride somewhat ruins the melody.

"Hardly alone," Eramis notes dryly. "You still have the Lightbearer with you."

"She's a guest, Eramis," Athrys laughs, before flopping onto her nest with a sigh of relief; she tugs the human down with her, and Eramis reluctantly joins them, only somewhat unnerved by the touch of soft, warm flesh against her knee. The nest still smells mostly of Athrys, only some of Eramis's scent shining through, but with Athrys's scent swelling thick, she knows that such a thing would only be a temporary inconvenience. Even with a human in their midst.

Marcelline is still looking at her like she hung the very stars in the sky. With her pale skin flushed to show the spots freckling her hide, and the shadow of bruises from Athrys's teeth already starting to show on her soft skin, she's quite the sight- one that Eramis, in all of her reluctance, had to admit that she found arousing. Not so much for the human's own form (though there is a gentle roundness to her that intrigues her, much as she wishes it were otherwise), but for the way that she showcases all of Athrys's touches in a way that Eramis's own carapace would never reveal, bar staining claws and fangs in ink and marking her that way (an incident that she was reluctant to indulge in again). She aches to unsheathe, and, with a sigh, finally relents, the cool air of the ketch a comforting balm against the needy heat of her own ovipositor. Athrys's eyes fall on her form, and she rumbles in approval- one that sends another flush of heat through Eramis's body, and pulls a croon from her throat in response. The human glanced behind her as well, and somehow managed to turn an even darker shade of red than before, cursing softly under her breath in her own language.

Athrys is an artist, and Marcelline is her canvas. And Eramis always came around to her mate's works in the end- even if she couldn't quite see the vision from the start.

Now safe away from prying eyes, Athrys's own ovipositor slides from her sheath, and she guides it up between the human's thighs, crooning softly. Marcelline rocks her hips backwards, a pitiful whine escaping her throat- but then Athrys chuffs, and pulls the human forward up towards her chest, turning her around with her primaries and wrapping a secondary up under her knees to part her legs, baring her to her mate. Her primaries squeezed the protrusions on her chest, while her free hand stroked through the tangle of hair at the fork of her legs, pinning her slit open with two fingers while the third rubbed gently over the nub at the top. The glimmering pink of her exposed cunt was a stark contrast to the purple-blue flush of Athrys's ovipositor, the red of her soft human skin pairing nicely with the light pink of her mate's carapace, and the sight of it sent another pulse of heat through her body, her body wanting while the mind balked.

"Eramis, you mount her." Her voice was a low, rich croon, and she spoke slowly, in the dialect that they both knew the human to understand. Marcelline shivered at her words, mouthing something under her breath- but it was not a plea to stop, and so Athrys did not pause, her blunted claws sliding down to slip into the human’s wet entrance. Thanks to their early ministrations, they went easily, though by the squeak that the Lightbearer made in return, she was still dazed enough by desire that it was somewhat unexpected. “She’s not ready for me yet.” 

“We prepared her for you,” Eramis protested, her own throat thick with her purr; she’d begun to let out a mating-rumble, she realized, but her own disgust at herself did not last long. Athrys had begun to slowly crook her fingers up and into Marcelline’s cunt, and the movement was so close to what she would do when preparing Eramis that her own slit pulsed in sympathy. “And you are the one being taken by the Gnaw. I thought that you were going to do the honours.” 

“Yes, but you’re smaller than me, and fingers can only do so much.” She clicked a reprimand, then spread her fingers wide, baring her slick chamber. Marcelline arched her back against her chest, letting out a sobbing moan, and Eramis watched, almost numb with desire, as she tried to clamp desperately around her mate’s fingers. “I can have my way with her afterwards. Indulge me on this, my dear?”

This last part was said more to Marcelline than to Eramis, her muzzle pushing into the human’s soft curls, and the sight paired with her own maddening desire was enough to pull her over. With a sigh that was more for her own dignity than anything else, she clambered over Athrys’s spread legs to balance herself over the two of them, bracing her secondaries on the arm her mate used to hold the little human in place, while her primaries came to rest on either side of her face, hooking her claws on the plates of Athrys’s chest so that they would not gouge too deeply into too-soft flesh. Athrys trilled, leaning down to nuzzle at her wrist, and the hand that had been playing with the Lightbearer’s cunt wrapped around the base of her ovipositor instead, stroking her with a familiarity that had not waned after centuries apart. Eramis snapped her mandibles and bucked her hips, a low keen tearing itself from her throat before she could swallow it down, and the human underneath her let out a desperate gasp as the head of her ovipositor slid against the heat of her slit, the barbs underneath rubbing up against soft skin. 

“Last chance to tap out,” she growled down at the girl, though she knew her voice held no real heat to it- it was hardly anything more than a rumbling purr at this point, not a growl. Marcelline’s big brown eyes stared back at her, her irises a thin ring around her pupil, and the depths of desire in there were as bewildering as they were oddly enticing.  “I will not force you to do this if it is not what you desire.”

She got a very earnest headshake in response. Athrys chuckled fondly, then pulled her down, lining her up against the human’s folds, and, with a soft hiss of defeat, Eramis pushed in. 

The first thing she noticed was the heat; no Eliksni (bar for maybe Taniks) burned so hot. The second thing was the tightness, and it was this that forced her to grit her fangs together and slow herself down as the human clenched around her, a muffled sound of maybe-pain escaping her mouth as her virgin opening tried to accommodate the sudden girth of her intrusion. Even with the extensive foreplay, fingers could only do so much- this Eramis knew intimately, and it was her own experience that kept her from forcing herself deeper into the girl’s cunt, even as instinct demanded for her to push deeper, further, to penetrate a broodpouch that didn’t exist so that she could hold her down and lay her eggs into the soft, inviting heat of the Lightbearer’s body. 

(Distantly, she became aware of the fact that she was very glad that she did not need to lay when they were doing this now. Athrys’s change of heart suddenly made sense.)

“Shh, shh.” Athrys’s voice filtered through the haze of sensations. She was rubbing at the spot where they joined, Eramis realized, and the Lightbearer was making a soft sound of pain through clenched teeth. She forced herself to stay still, waiting for her mate to give her the cue, as both of them adjusted to the sensation of each other’s bodies wrapping together. “You’re doing so well. Just a little more.” 

Marcie moaned, and her cunt spasmed around the head of Eramis’s ovipositor, sucking her in. Through the haze of sensation, Eramis realized her opening, and pushed in with the contraction, keeping the pressure slow and steady. She was making soothing sounds as well, she realized, her body hunching over her form so that she could press her muzzle into the silken softness of her hair, and the Lightbearer was responding to her; she was slowly beginning to loosen around her, her body relaxing under Athrys’s gentle touch and Eramis’s restraint. She was silken-soft and deliciously wet, and the feeling of her body squeezing tight around the head of her ovipositor paired with the sweet richness of Athrys’s scent was making her restraint more of a battle than she’d expected, all thoughts of old betrayals and shattered honour flying out the window in favor of focusing on the burning need to not go too fast, too hard, too quickly.   

Eramis pushed until she met resistance, and then pulled back out, keeping her movements slow and even. Her barbs slid out easier than expected, dragging against her walls rather than catching on the ridges of a broodchamber, and Marcie let out a high-pitched wail in response, arching her back and spasming around her as she slowly withdrew. It was an alarming sound, but when Eramis paused, concerned about hurting her, she found herself gripped with unnatural strength. 

“Please,” Marcelline whispered, using her human tongue rather than the Eliskni she so elegantly used before, “Please, don’t stop. Oh, Traveler, please don’t stop.”

Athrys crooned in assent, nuzzling under her jawline to nip lightly at her exposed throat. Marcie shuddered, and Eramis took that as her cue to continue, pushing herself back in to mate her proper, starting out slow and then moving with increasing speed. 

It was nothing like fucking an Eliksni. Marcie was much hotter, much tighter, and she could only push herself so deep without her making a little yelp of pain in response, even though she seemed to be responding to the stimulus with increasing enthusiasm. Eramis dropped her head against her chest, panting hard at the level of restraint needed, and then shivered through her first orgasm with a low, rasping groan, her thrusts growing short and choppy, pushing deep with the instinct to mate. Athrys swept a hand through her crest, rumbling in approval, and Marcie pressed a kiss to her blind side, a soft touch of heat that made her flinch and raise her head off the soft pillow of the human’s breasts. 

“Don’t do that,” she rasped, voice still thick with her purr. She glared down at the human with her two remaining eyes, though she knew it had no heat to it, and reached down to flick the useless little nub of her clit in reprimand, pushing herself in deeper as she did so. The squeak she got in response was far more satisfying to hear than it should have been. “Or I may bite you, and then your little machine will have to clean up the mess before we continue.”

By the way her eyes widened, that comment had the opposite effect of what Eramis intended. She huffed at her, snapping her jaws in emphasis, then raised herself back up to resume fucking her, her second wind coming in fast and hard.  

“Eramis, I have an idea,” Athrys said suddenly, still in the Drift dialect; Eramis paused, tilting her head at her, and Marcie tipped her head back as far as she could go, blinking. It gave Eramis a better look at what she’d done to her, at least, and it sent a spark of unwilling pride and heat through her as she looked; the lips of Marcie’s cunt were puffy, red, and sopping wet, wrapping as tightly around the faint blue-grey of Eramis’s ovipositor as their mingled fluids oozed out of where they joined, clear white and tinged faint blue with ether. Which, if she recalled correctly, made humans as loose-limbed and foolish as their alcohol did; no wonder Marcelline was taking her mating so well. “Lie back- take her with you as you do- and then tilt your hips up.”

“Why- oh.” The realization filled her with warm affection, and sent a flush of heat burning through her veins. She twitched with want, Marcie glancing down at their joined bodies with confusion, but that did not last long. Eramis slid out of her, and, ignoring her disappointed noise, gathered her up into her arms as she leaned back, careful of her prosthetics as she spread her legs. The human wrapped her arms around her neck, nuzzling into her throat, and Eramis tipped her head up to let her, squinting back at Athrys as she arranged herself against the curve of the nest.“Be gentle. It’s been…a very long while, my love.”

“Of course, my soul.” Athrys purred, rising up to massage Eramis’s wet slit. Marcie glanced up behind her as her bulk loomed over her, and then seemed to catch on to what they were about to do, her eyes widening as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. There was a flush to her face that was no longer just from pure arousal, a wobble to her limbs that could not be attributed to just exertion- the ether in Eramis’s slick was doing work, it seemed, and it amused her more than it should that her body would elicit similar effects for very different reasons in a human as it would in an Eliksni. 

“Can I…?” She asked softly, reaching back for Eramis’s ovipositor; her eyes were earnest when she met hers, though they were still clouded with her arousal. She was dripping onto Eramis’s abdominal plates, her body too little for the sheer amount of slick that a full-grown Eliksni in breeding mode could produce, and the nub of her clit was peeking out between her folds, flushed just like the rest of her. The hair around her cunt had been entirely glued down by their mixed fluids. It was, Eramis had to admit, a deeply arousing sight.  

“Do as you wish,” Eramis replied, trying for flippant- and failing miserably as Athrys nuzzled under her jaw, mandibles scraping lightly over their mating scars. The light stroking over the seam of her slit moved to pressure, and then Athrys’s fingers were parting her plates, exposing the wet flesh to cool air. Eramis hissed, caught between the heat of Marcie’s hand as it guided her ovipositor back to her opening and the cool air of the ketch, and then all of it faded to sweet, welcoming warmth as Marcie sank down, and Athrys opened her up.

It was more pleasure than she’d felt in a long, long while. Eramis rolled her hips up as Marcie sank down, basking in the noises that the movement elicited, and then purred hard and deep as Athrys stretched her out, a pleasing burn that radiated up from her naval. Athrys nipped at her throat, spreading her loose, and Marcie cried out as she forced herself further down on Eramis’s length than she had before, her little hitching sobs a sharp contrast to the way she suddenly froze and began to pulse rapidly around her. 

Eramis opened her eyes, a sliver of concern making itself known in the back of her mind- but she barely had any time to process the fact that she’d just brought a Lightbearer to orgasm before the slick head of Athrys’s ovipositor was pressing against her slit, nudging her open. She angled her hips for easier access, pushing forward against Marcie’s walls as she did so, and then let out a long, clicking trill of relief as Athrys slid in with only a slight, sweet ache, her body recognizing the familiar intrusion. 

It felt like coming home, bar the trembling alien pinned between them. Eramis crooned, nuzzling her mate’s muzzle, and Athrys crooned in return, nuzzling her back. She rocked into her with more urgency than she’d shown previously, rumbling quietly, and Eramis matched her pace, dizzy with heat and pleasure and the breathtaking knowledge that despite everything, despite all that had transpired previously, Athrys was still her match, her soulmate, and she still wanted her to the end of their days. 

The pace of their coupling forced Marcelline to match their speed- something that Eramis didn’t take into consideration until she heard the human yelp and start gasping in her own language. She didn’t bother to translate it (as if her brain would let her, anyways), but instead tilted her hips forward to drag against that spot that Athrys had noticed when they’d worked on opening her up, amused and pleased at how quickly she could make her come undone with just the momentum of Athrys fucking her open. 

It worked. Marcelline shuddered her way through her second orgasm with a wail, and collapsed onto her chest, her hips still raised in invitation as Eramis’s ovipositor plunged in and out of her. Athrys laughed, leaning down to nip affectionately at the back of the human’s neck, and Eramis growled at her in mock-jealousy, biting her snout and holding it tight in her jaws, her own secondary orgasm coming fast at the rake of Athrys’s barbs and the pulsing squeeze of Marcie around her. Athrys shook her free with an amused rumble, and Eramis’s next attempt snapped on thin air, jolting all of them together as she lunged for her mate’s mandibles.

Marcie gasped a prayer to the Traveler, arching her back against the bulk of Athrys’s belly, then began riding her in earnest again, her thrusts looser and sloppier than before. It let the cold air of the Ketch in between them, and Eramis, with a start, realized that she’d soaked the plates of her sheath with something more than just their paired slick, a sweet, alien scent mingling in with the smell of sex. She didn’t have time to feel pride, however- the smooth, hot glide of her ovipositor pumping in and out of the little Lightbearer as Athrys’s barbs raked her walls proved to be too much, and it was not long before she was coming again, groaning long and low as the pulsing heat swept through her, her fangs sinking deep into something hot and soft and yielding and…very much not Athrys.

She blinked her eyes open in surprise, and was met with the sight of Athrys laughing, her ovipositor half-slid out of her as she paused for Eramis’s own benefit. Right by her auriculars, Marcie was making an odd, pained hissing noise- which was, she realized with a surge of horror- because she’d bitten the human right on the breast, her teeth gouging marks into the soft mammary tissue, her scarred side pressed up against her collarbone. Not a mating bite, not quite, but also far too close for comfort. 

She unlatched her jaws and jerked her head back, flicking her tongue over the hot alien blood running down her mandibles. The mark she’d left behind was thankfully more shallow than it could have been, for she’d been aiming at nipping at Athrys’s throat rather than piercing the thick leather of her hide, but that meant very little with how delicately thin human skin was in comparison. And indeed, all of her teethmarks were there in full, marked out with shining red alien blood, far more prominent and far deeper than the little pinpricks that Athrys had left behind during their foreplay.  

“My apologies,” she said in the human tongue, voice still tight from her mating-croon, though she suspected that her accent wasn’t so bad as to make her words unintelligible to the Lightbearer. “You were not my primary target.”

“You’re okay,” Marcie said, though she winced as she cradled her bitten breast to look at it. She lifted her leg, sliding off of Eramis’s ovipositor, and that made both of them wince in turn as slick gushed down the inside of her leg, not yet solidified into a proper plug. “I kind of expected this to happen when I chose to have sex with an Eliksni, though not…not really here, of all places. I’m kind of honoured, really.” 

Eramis grimaced, and folded away the soft sincerity in the human’s tone as something to deal with later. Athrys tilted her head, then nudged forth to look at the wound, holding back her chuckles with a soft, polite cough.  

“What is she saying, Eramis?” Athrys asked, still hilted in her; she was holding herself still with remarkable fortitude, though Eramis could tell by the way she throbbed within her that she was impatient with the pause. “Surely it’s not that you’ve marked her for life, and that she will not find any lovers again, am I correct?”

Eramis hissed at her. Marcie flushed, and stopped looking at the wound with big soft prey eyes to push a cloth onto it instead, stopping the bleeding before it could get any worse. “She’s saying that our kind are crude and rough, and that she expected to be injured as such with you teasing me like that.”

Marcie spluttered. Athrys, however, caught onto the sarcasm in her voice, and instead leaned over to grab one of her mandibles in a loving bite, crooning sweetly to her as she resumed her steady pace. It was just on the edge of too much, but it was a welcome overstimulation; Eramis closed her eyes, and tried to lose herself in the familiar push-drag of Athrys within her as her mate let go and nuzzled against her cheek, murmuring into her auriculars in Highspeak. “See? I told you that you’d come around to them.” 

Eramis just grunted in response, slinging her legs over Athrys’s hips, forcing her to push in a little deeper. She could almost ignore the sound of the human’s little machine compiling in over the slap of wet carapace on raw flesh as they resumed their mating in earnest, just as she could almost ignore the squawk of surprise it made when it saw the mark she left upon its charge, or the way that the human told it to keep it, rather than heal it in its entirety with the Light.

Almost.  

She was never going to lay with a Lightbearer again. 

…Or, at the very least, not with Athrys present.

[tozettastone]

for the ask prompt thing: itachi/sakura #6

Sakura woke to the fire alarm.

I am going to kill Uchiha Itachi, she thought, in the furious privacy of her mind where she kept all her most antisocial impulses.

Instead of leaping out of her bed and scrambling for her wallet so she could walk down five flights of stairs and stand out in the cold, she lay silently in her bed for ten shrill, agonising seconds. In the apartment to her right, dogs began to howl, but they were almost drowned out by the alarm.

The idea that it might actually be a real alarm this time finally got her moving. She wrapped herself in her blanket, scooped up her bag from beside the door, and shuffled outside to the landing.

The first time this had happened she'd ended up in a long stream of evacuees marching down the stairs at midnight, all in their pyjamas and house slippers and dressing gowns. Her right-side neighbour had been out on the landing, clipping leashes and harnesses to three large dogs to take them along down the stairs. One of them was a lean, high-strung racing breed that had panicked and started screaming in the close, windowless space of the stairwell and had needed to be tossed over his shoulder to come along.

"Sorry," her neighbour had said, smiling with one visible eye over his face mask. "He's a little excitable. Could you hold Pakkun?"

And so Sakura had ended up cradling Kakashi's incredibly chill little pug all the way out onto the street.

That was two months ago.

Two months... and sixteen evacuations.

This afternoon, Kakashi hadn't even bothered to evacuate. Sakura wished she could be as blithely irresponsible as him. He was undoubtedly going to be rewarded for ignoring the alarm. But she worked in the ER and had seen, plenty of times, what happened to people's lungs when Konoha's—historical, wooden, highly flammable—residential buildings went up in smoke.

Now, the evacuees were a trickle, not a stream. Half the building had clearly gotten Kakashi's memo and stopped bothering. So she was really torn between thinking, it had better be a real emergency this time, and hoping it was another piece of burnt toast.

Sakura really did not want to get called in to treat half her building for smoke inhalation. But she also didn't want to be woken up three hours after she'd got off work for another failed stir fry or whatever it was this time.

It was the left-side neighbour who was the problem. At first, she'd been annoyed. Then she'd discovered Uchiha Itachi was hot, which had given her a boost of patience that had lasted through another few evacuations.

Well. Okay. Another one evacuation.

It was winter. The streets were cold. And Sakura? Sakura was way more judgemental on the inside than her external facade ever showed.

Her prurient curiosity led her to some snooping, and then to some gossip. Ino had pilfered some police records and reported back that his parents had been brutally murdered when he was thirteen, which had made her feel bad for being annoyed, and also explained why he was such an awful cook.

And then he'd set off the fire alarms six more times and she'd really come all the way back around to being annoyed. She'd reluctantly concluded that you simply could not be hot enough, or sympathetic enough, to make up for the constant scream of the fire alarm. Especially if you lived next to someone who worked long ER shifts and really valued her sleep.

Now, Sakura was standing out in the cold. Her toes were freezing, because she hadn't put on proper shoes before introducing her feet to the frost. The rest of her was cocooned in her blankets as she stared grimly up at her apartment complex. It wasn't on fire. It wasn't even smoking.

The fire department arrived and inspected the building.

Hoshigaki Kisame, ex-missing-nin turned local fireman of apparently endless patience, had evidently adopted their building specifically. Now he was leaning on his giant sword, playing with a ball of water in one hand, and casually questioning the facilities manager. He had a warm-looking cloak.

Was it an electrical fault?

Was there a real fire at all?

Sakura could have answered these questions, but she stayed silent and only glowered at her building from the street.

Listening closely, she learned that Uchiha Itachi had burnt his instant ramen.

The man in question didn't look embarrassed about this: his unfairly beautiful face was calm and composed as he explained what had, through some insane fluke of circumstances, happened in his kitchen. Kisame-san looked like he was taking this very seriously, nodding along with his head bowed towards Itachi.

Eavesdropping, Sakura learnt that you could burn it to the bottom of a pot, if you cooked it on the stove top, and then eventually it would turn to charcoal and start smoking. And then that smoke would trigger the alarms. And then the building would empty out onto the street while the fire department was called.

Some of the occupants standing out in the frozen wonderland of the streetscape chuckled.

Sakura envied their patience. She looked up at the awnings and wondered if any of those icicles was sharp enough to kill Itachi-san on his way back in. Maybe she could engineer a freak accident.

Itachi-san was fully dressed. His toes looked warm.

They looked like they were going to be here for a while. Baleful and filled with grumpy ire, Sakura wandered off down the street to the welcoming glow and bright lights of Ichiraku Ramen.

"Ah, Sakura-san," said Ayame, looking concerned. "We heard the alarm. Is everything okay?"

As much as she liked Ichiraku's food, Sakura was pretty sure the only reason Ayame knew her name was that she so often accompanied their favourite bottomless pit, Naruto. She lived much closer to the place, but they could have probably kept their whole business afloat on Naruto alone.

"Aa," said Sakura, darkly. "False alarm." She didn't buy anything today. Instead she collected six identical menus, each printed on flyers that lived near the front of the store.

"Again?" Ayame scratched her chin. "Is there something wrong with the wiring in your building...?"

"No." Just the neighbours. "Thank you for your time," she added.

"...You're not going to order anything?"

"I'm sorry. Another time." Sakura bowed, a stiff little caterpillar in her blanket cocoon, and backed out of the store with her hands stuffed full of menus.

By the time she got back down the other end of the block, people were allowed to return to their homes and there was a little queue of mildly disgruntled bodies waiting for the elevators.

Itachi was still talking to Kisame, blank-faced. If he was embarrassed it was impossible to tell.

Sakura took the stairs, despite their inconvenience in the blankets, because it was faster than waiting for the single, ancient elevator.

She called out, "It was a freak ramen accident, Kakashi-san!" to Kakashi's door as she passed—no real answer, but Pakkun yipped—and then shuffled past her own door to contemplate Itachi's.

There were a couple of traps, but unsurprisingly they mostly triggered when one tried to open the door, which she had no intention of attempting. Unhindered by these precautions, Sakura let her blankets dangle precariously off her shoulders while she flicked through seven hand signs at a rapid pace.

In the hospital, you got plenty of ninja who thought they should be able to remove, rearrange, edit or destroy their own notes, and there was a cute little jutsu to stop that from happening.

Now, Sakura used it to attach six Ichiraku Ramen menus to his door. If he wanted to get those off, he was going to have to work for it.

Her message, she thought, could not have been much clearer.

Then she tugged her blankets back up and went back to her own apartment—and her bed, where she slept the righteous sleep of the petty and passive aggressive.

Next time, she told herself, snuggling down into her sheets. Next time she'd simply kill him.

(She was woken again at 6.

She did not kill him this time, either.)

[cant-icle]

my moment has come.

pegoryu dragon age au

ask meme

"Dude, no," Ryuji says behind him, exasperatedly hefting his zweihander. "Do not put your hand in the rift, I don't care, if you put your hand in the rift again and Morgana finds out he's going to kill both of us--"

"But," Akira says so innocently that Ryuji takes three automatic steps closer, ready to grab him, "what if I do anyway?"

[naivesilver]

@lizardthelizard please forgive the unorthodox method of response, but Tumblr was, as we tend to say, a fucking bitch - also, I'm sorry, this might be the little shit in me, but my first reaction upon seeing this request was "why not both?" ashkdhaljskfhlkjaf 💗

Kid/Parent Dialogue Prompts

6. "How did you grow up so fast? Yesterday you were still my little baby..."

(Related, of course, to my very self indulgent EAH Uncle Wick AU 😊)

"Uuuuh, guys?" Cedar ventures, unsure of who exactly she has to address at this point. "Why can't anyone tell me where we're going? Is it another secret dance? Because it's going to be fairy hard for me to spoil the secret, if I'm already going down there with you."

She hears repressed giggles around her, which confuse her even more. "Nothing like that, I promise," Raven replies from somewhere to her left - the blindfold makes it hard to pinpoint the exact spot, but Cedar can feel her friend holding tight onto her hand, warm and familiar. "Just a little surprise."

Cedar's plenty used to surprises - learning things at the very last minute is pretty much the norm, when you can't help but blurt them out otherwise - but they don't often focus on her, in truth. She doesn't think Raven, Maddie and Cerise would lead her astray just for a laugh, and it's not like they can go very far; the chaos surrounding them can only belong to the Book End village, as familiar as it can be grating. She should be safe from nasty tricks, strictly speaking.

Still, none of that is enough to make her relax completely. "Alright, but where are we going? I feel like I'm walking my feet to splinters."

"We're here!" Maddie announces cheerfully. "Are you ready?"

Cedar is, in fact, very far from ready, but she only manages an unconvinced mumble before she is made to stop abruptly and the scarf is pulled from around her head. Her eyes don't need time adjusting to the sudden bright light as much as real ones would, but she's still so taken aback that for a moment all she can do is look up in confusion at the area around them, the clear sky and the top of the Mad Hatter's Tea Shoppe.

Then a man's voice says, "What, no warm welcome for me?"

Cedar gasps, glancing down in a second - though not much further down, it has to be said. There is a fairy familiar figure standing in front of the Tea Shoppe, tall and slim and grinning broadly at her, though he has his hands buried deeply in his coat pockets, as if he were pretending not to be all that invested in her reaction.

There is a beat of shocked silence; then Cedar throws herself at him, shrieking in joy as Lampwick drops the facade and wraps his arms around her, lifting her up as though she weighed nothing. "Uncle Wick, how- What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in forever after!"

"That's exactly why I'm here, sprout. Didn't get a chance to say goodbye when you left for school, so since I had some business in the area I thought I'd swing by... And I asked your friends to help me set this nice meeting up, to see tha' sweet shocked face of yours."

He presses a kiss to her cheek that makes her snicker, before putting her down with an exaggerated huff. "How did you get so big in so little time is beyond me- I coulda sworn you were just a green bud last week, and now you're almost as tall as me."

"That's never going to happen, Uncle Wick." Undeterred, Cedar clings to him like a lifeline, though she turns to smile gratefully at her friends, who are standing a few feet away to give them space. Maddie looks fit to burst with excitement, and Cerise seems pleased under the brim of her hood, but it's Raven that appears the most self-satisfied, regarding them with a proud smirk and her arms crossed against her chest.

And she has every right to act so, Cedar thinks. There's a good chance this might be the best weekend she's had since the beginning of the school years - she always knows exactly when and where she might see her father and grandfather, but Uncle Wick is as slippery as an eel, here one day, gone the next. To have him on hand like this, so unexpectedly... It beats every encounter she made on Yester Day, that's for sure.

"Still, we gotta water your roots some, kiddo." He ruffles her curls with fond cheekiness, then makes a broad gesture that encompasses them all and the building behind them.

"Let's go, girls. Tea's on me for everyone- let's see if the old Hatter is still as good as I remember, shall we?"

[kiwiana-writes]

5 fun facts au game!!

henry and pez spend henry’s 25th birthday at a queer bar in nyc (alex has regrettably been sucked into an engagement with his family and is out of town) and henry finds himself making conversation with a stranger at the bar who seems to know him . . . a little too well. he asks henry if he would choose to be anyone else in the world, and henry seriously contemplates it before answering “david”. lo and behold, the next morning, henry finds himself with four paws in david’s body, just in time for alex to arrive home from his trip. henry’s able to somehow communicate who he is to alex, but the more pressing issue is getting his body back! in the meantime, lots of belly rubs and playing pranks on june and nora

The way I WHEEZED reading this. Anon, you should have prompted this for Halloween Huh 🤣

ONE: The worst part of it all, for Henry, is that as David, he sleeps better than he has in years.

TWO: Later, Henry will wonder why Alex was willing to accept the truth so easily; Alex will shrug and say even he's not arrogant enough to think he knows everything about how the world works. And besides, he's always been lowkey suspicious that Pez might have a bit of a handle on the supernatural.

THREE: June and Nora don't figure it out until "David" gets huffy about Pez sitting in Alex's lap. Somehow, David re-enacting multiple David Bowie songs via a series of barks doesn't suspend disbelief.

FOUR: Years of law school prepared Alex for one thing: hyper-specific Google searches. Between that and Nora's tech know-how, they track down the guy who made the switch within twenty-four hours. Turns out the spell would have worn out at the forty-eight hour mark, but Alex really doesn't want to wait that long. He already feels weird about petting... Henry.

FIVE: They never find out what happens to Henry's human body in those twenty-four hours, and Henry isn't sure he wants to know. He does know that after he's back to himself, David is a lot clingier with him for a while.

[Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts that would happen in a story.]

[buildarocketboys]

Hey, uh, if anyone has any peterick prompts they want me to write, I will try and write them (maybe today, maybe tomorrow)

[minecraftbookshelf]

Vampire pearl or Guardian Cub

VAMPIRE!PEARL!!!! VAMPIRE!PEARL!!!

Part One: Vampire!Pearl with bonus Moth!Mumbo (ft. Unspecified!Grian and Traffic Life mentions) Part Two: Guardian!Cub and bonus Vex!xBCrafted

-

“You are weirdly good at this.” Mumbo says, clearly a little unsettled. Pearl just grins at him, flashing her newly acquired fangs.

“It’s really not that difficult, mate.”

Mumbo wrings his hands together, eyeing her warily. His antennae are shivering and his delicate wings are pinned behind his back, clearer demonstrations of his anxiety than any neon sign could ever be.

Honestly, she feels great. Like she could run for thousands of blocks and not feel tired. Like she could stay awake for days and days and days without effect. Like she could shred someone to pieces with her bare hands. In a way, it reminds her of being the boogeyman.

“Hey, Mumbo. Let’s go stop by my place real quick.”

~

Grian is unaware that he is being hunted until he’s been bowled over and pinned to the ground.

“Hey, Griba!” Pearl beams down at him; smile wide, prominent fangs extended, eyes glowing red.

She’s wearing a familiar red hood and for a moment he wonders if he blacked out and missed a whole lot of something before he sees Mumbo behind her.

Ah.

“Pearl. Mumbo.”

Mumbo waves at him weakly, but Pearl doesn’t let up from where she’s pushing down on his shoulders. “Mumbo said you taste the best, G. So I feel like I should give it a try!”

“Or,” Grian tries to raise his hands placatingly but mostly manages to kind of...wiggle his arms a little bit. “We could not.”

From the way Pearl’s smile widens and becomes sharper, he doesn’t think that was a very convincing argument.

---

“Have you ever considered sponge farming?”

xB lifts his head up from the table to blink, somewhat blearily, at Cub.

“Have I what?”

“Sponge farming,” Cub just looks back at him, completely unphased. “Have you ever considered using your abilities to farm sponges?”

“Have I ever wanted to turn myself into a sponge farm?” xB is proud of how dry he manages to say that. “I can’t say that I ever have.”

Cub just hums thoughtfully and jots down some more notes on the notepad he’d pulled out of xB’s junk chest the instant he’d showed up that morning. “You should, it could potentially be very profitable. You should seriously think about giving it a try this season.”

xB just puts his head back down and sighs.

-

Because I’m me I couldn’t help but make these like, a series/one connected idea. Very vague setting but general story is Shenanigans happen and the hermits find themselves swapping species at random for a day and then remixing and swapping again with someone else etc…

So this can hypothetically go on for as long as I get prompts for it, and repeats are enabled and it can all be one story. (I also have a plan to cover at least some level of like, “different” species for the same hermit)

The Official Prompt List by @ink-ghoul can be found HERE feel free to send asks that aren’t strictly from the list. I might also randomly generate some using my own headcanons just for funsies. (Anon asks welcome, “spamming” the askbox also welcome)

[isagrimorie]

15. Buffy/Faith for fic prompts

Fic prompt: 15: "you know what you’re doing”

AO3

Post-series. Established relationship.

---

Watching Buffy work was always amazing. Especially when she unleashes on a demon big time. It's not something she always does but when it happens, Faith pays attention.

No one fought like Buffy. No one could decapitate a demon like Buffy.

And its a shame that running Slayer, Inc meant she wasn't in the field as often. It just meant the times Faith could wrestle Buffy away from work, Faith made it her business to make the missions as interesting and challenging as possible.

It meant, usually, the mission was only just them. The senior Slayers. The Chosen Two.

And then one of the Krisk demons, bony white, and a skin as tough had a lucky shot and Buffy was doubled over. Faith was too far away to act but it was like watching in slow motion as Buffy fell face forward into a shallow pool.

Faith's heart beat fast and screamed, ”Buffy!“

She headbutted the demon, felt its nose cave in, got free stabbed the Krisk, and swiped her blade left, bisecting it.

But in that time Buffy had freed herself from the demons holding her down and--- she was a sight to behold.

She could feel the fury all the way from where Faith was, her hair was in disarray, and her eyes were dark with anger.

”Oh…” Faith slowed to a stop. “You're in trouble now.”

Buffy fought like a whirlwind, something demons never got, and Faith didn't use to get back when she was younger and stupider-- how any time Buffy falls, she always comes back-up swinging stronger and deadlier.

Brutal, precise.

Faith should be selling tickets.

”Faith,“ Buffy called out, eyes briefly flicking over to Faith, as she delivered a devastating gut punch to the demon. ”A little help.“

”You know what you're doing.“ But she started forward just in time to catch another Krisk, and snap its neck.

And then Faith rejoined the fray.

By the time they were done, they were surrounded by bodies they'd need to burn.

“Blech, this is why I like fighting vampires better.“ Buffy complained looking around them. Faith wanted to call bullshit on this because she could also see how much fighting the demons got Buffy's blood pumping.

Instead, she moved forward, flicking her sword to the side, to get the blood out.

”You were no help,“ Buffy said but her tone had no anger.

Faith stopped right in front of her, “You knew what you were doing.”

”Yeah?“

Faith grabbed Buffy's belt and pulled her closer. ”Yeah.“

Five Sentence Prompt

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

Chaos Prompts!!!! (I'm gonna send a few so feel free to ignore any that don't vibe!)

It's a trash can, not a trash cannot, for Willex?

This got Bex versed. Which means it got Willexied. Again because of @narcissusbrokenmirror's request for the same: 10."It's a trash can, not a trash can't" for the bex verse. Thank you both!

“What- Are you three doing?” Alex asks, shoving the groceries onto the counter. He takes in the sight in front of him. There are crafting supplies everywhere. Bex’s hands are covered with glue. It looks like somebody dumped the recycling bin onto the table. There’s a hot glue gun on the other side of Willie and a handful of other tools scattered around that Alex can’t even begin to imagine purposes for.

“Crafting,” Reggie says helpfully. 

“Right.”

“Okay, so I was on Pinterest-”

Alex sighs, cutting him off. “Reggie, we’ve talked about this!”

Reggie waves Alex off. “I know, I know! But there were so many cute ideas for things we could make! And it’s reduce, reuse, THEN recycle, right?”

Alex groans as he starts unpacking the groceries. “You know that after they’ve been made into things, they can’t be recycled, right?”

“You know that most things sent to be recycled aren’t, right?” Reggie counters. Bex and Willie eye the pair warily but otherwise keep focused on their task: gluing pieces of cardboard to a painted milk carton.

“What are you even making?”

Bex holds up their creation, “Bird feeder!”

Alex runs a hand through his hair, biting back his frustration. “It’s beautiful, sweetie. Where are you going to put it?” He utters out the last few words through gritted teeth, very intentionally directed at his partners. “We live in an apartment building,” he reminds them with hushed exasperation.

“There are trees in the courtyard, surely someone will let us hang it in one of them,” Willie says without looking up from where they’re trying to secure a stick to the front of the carton.

“Don’t call me Shirley,” Reggie giggles, just under his breath.

Alex glares at him and finishes putting the groceries away. When he’s done, he walks around the island and stands behind Willie, watching them work for a moment. He squeezes Willie’s shoulders.

Willie tips their head back, looking up at Alex. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks,” Alex leans down and gives Willie a kiss.

“Blech,” Reggie and Bex say in tandem, grinning at each other like it’s some inside joke and not a bit they’ve been doing for months.

Alex rolls his eyes. He surveys the empty chairs to confirm one is safe to actually sit in without getting paint or glue or worse on his clothes. He deems the one at the head of the table acceptable and sits down. 

“Okay,” Alex sighs. “What else are you making?”

“Well, we have birdfeeders. And toilet paper roll butterflies. Ohhh, and show Daddy the sensory bottles, Bex!” Willie says excitedly. 

Bex climbs over the table, causing Alex to hold his breath in a practice of great restraint, and grabs the bottles of shimmery liquid. She crawls them over to Alex, setting them in front of him. She then climbs down into his lap. She reaches for the bottle closest to them and holds it out for Alex.

“Shake it!” Bex tells him. 

Alex complies. “Oh, very pretty!”

Bex beams at him and grabs another bottle, shaking it vigorously and watching the glitter swirl around.  

“Who knew you could make so many things from garbage?”

“Well, Hotdog,” Willie says, “it’s called a trash can, not a trash can’t.”

“I don’t… I don’t know what that means.”

Reggie laughs from where he’s sitting. “Neither does Willie,” he says at the same time as Willie’s, “Me neither.”

“It’s a meme and you're doing it wrong,” Reggie clarifies. “And also, Pinterest. Pinterest knows you can make so many things from garbage.”

[finalgirlkateausten]

"Where is [child's name]?" "I thought you had them!"

can you tell I was listening to my shivlina playlist while writing this? 😉

Even with private jets, a transatlantic flight with an eight-month-old baby is still fucking stressful. By the time they've done flights and drives and been shuffled into various rooms in Caroline's expansive manor (and Shiv thanks god every time that her mother had immediately moved away from the sprawling cage they'd grown up in), she has a pounding headache that she'd rather treat with liquor than acetaminophen and she can already tell that the baby's routine is going to make her own jet lag worse.

She's in the bathroom of the suite, the same one she's gotten used to because fucking Roman gets the one Caroline used to allot for their dad. The small office space will hold Genevieve's cot and the trunk full of baby necessities, from the seat she needs in the bathtub to the tiny red dress she'll be dressed in for Christmas. But the luggage hasn't been delivered yet, and Tom hasn't even arrived with the baby, so Shiv splashes water on her face and then pats dry with a towel, digging through her purse to find eye drops to make her eyes less red.

She hears the heavy door open, and exits the en suite to find Tom lugging the overstuffed diaper bag, but no baby along with it. "Wait, where's Genevieve?"

"I thought you had her!" Tom's eyes go wide, and he drops the bag. "I wasn't in the same car-- did she get with someone else somehow?"

"No, she was with me in the car, she took a bottle--" Shiv shoves her hands into her hair, trying to remember. Fuck, how bad at this does she have to be to lose track of her daughter in the hubbub of international travel!?

"Oh my god, did we 'Home Alone' our baby?" Tom sounds horrified.

"No, you idiot, that doesn't happen," Shiv hisses, certain Genevieve is here, probably with some relative or staff member who had passed her around instead of giving her back to her mother. "Fuck, where's Chloe-- she probably has her-- or maybe Connor got her, you know how he is about wanting to hold his niece as soon as he sees her--"

"Who did you give her to, Shiv!?" Tom spreads his arms, his tone accusatory. "I wasn't in the car with you two!"

"Jesus, calm down, everyone here is family," Shiv snaps, panic rising in her own throat. "You call Chloe, I'm going to--" but as she paces to the door, it opens, and Karolina steps in, holding Genevieve safely in her arms-- and the baby is asleep.

"Oh, sorry," she says, looking between them and clearly noticing their panicked looks. "Chloe was taking her for a diaper change, I thought you knew where she was-- but then there wasn't a trash can in the powder room, so I volunteered to take her while she figured that out. I thought she could use a lullaby, so I didn't just deliver a cranky baby to your door."

"Thank god," Tom says fervently. Now that Shiv has her baby in her sight again, she feels like he's overreacting. Genevieve was never going to end up with anyone they didn't already know.

"You must be magic," she murmurs to Karolina, giving her a wry smile. "I'll..." but Genevieve shifts as Karolina starts to move her away from her chest, and Shiv holds up her hand in pause. "Hm. You don't... have anything you urgently need to do, right? The couch here is pretty nice, if you wanna put your feet up..."

"Shiv," Tom says, "you can't make Karolina sit here for the whole time Genevieve naps."

"Hey, it's nicer than my suite," Karolina says, giving Shiv a familiar smile, like they're sharing a secret. "I'll stay for a while." She strokes a hand over Genevieve's soft hair, and Shiv feels her heart skip a beat as she watches Karolina watch the baby.

"Thanks," she says softly, following Karolina to the couch and sitting next to her. "I'm glad she was with you."

"We get along alright," Karolina answers.

Shiv is so entranced by the gentle ease with which Karolina cradles Genevieve that she doesn't even look up when Tom leaves the room.

[tallbluelady]

music asks! Share a song you rediscovered

Sunrise - Norah Jones

This has been a song on loop for me for a minute after it reappeared on my Youtube front page. It's honestly a very soothing song and helps me relax.

Thanks for the ask!