#dunk and egg prompts

[crzyimp]

Monkey May

Prompt: Staff

Featuring my jttw oc.

no warnings

“Brother, are you certain your staff should be in arm's reach of the baby? What if she hurt herself?” Zhu Bajie asks, his eyes frequently on the golden hair baby; it amazes him how one night of bender in the women’s kingdom and Pilgrim Sun feeling frisky about cutting off his head and then dunking it in the mother-child river. Strangest of all, the old severed head would crack open like an egg with a hairy baby girl inside, everyone had their jaws open until she started crying; now Xiao Sāniàowáwa was the newest addition to the party. (Everyone is still arguing on what her name will be once 100 days have passed, so far Shifu has the best name).

“Foolish Idiot, no one has been able to lift my staff since it came into my possession. The little fluff ball is no different, besides she's a baby, not like she's going to pick it up and eat it.” Pilgrim Sun with a puff up chest and a self assured smile reply.

“My dearest brothers…um..ah…Xiao Sāniàowáwa…just ate brother Sun's staff.” Sha Wujing's murmur with horror

“Are you so certain now?! She picked it up like a grain of rice and ate it, you just had to make it that size too didn't you! Shifu is going to be furious when he hears about this!” Zhu Bajie's voice booms.

“Maybe if we pat her back, she might burp it out.” Sha Wujing gently scoops the baby up, resting her stomach against his chest.

“Or! I shrink myself down to size and get it myself!” Sun Wukong said matter of factly.

“Or can someone explain to me what's going on?” The three disciples' eyes land on the owner's voice, Tang Sanzang himself standing there waiting for an answer.

[innytoes]

25 and Willex (bonus points if the child/dog/friend is Reggie?) (If you're still taking prompts for this 😁)

Every year for Halloween, Willie went back to the group home where he'd stayed to volunteer to take the kids trick or treating. Not only was it a way of giving back - of assuaging the guilt he sometimes felt, wondering why Caleb had picked a chaotic, messy fourteen year old over any of the sweeter, smaller kids - but it was amazing fun too.

He got to dress up, run around with a bunch of kids, and also maybe keep a list of houses to come back and egg later, if they were weird or stuck up about 'those group home kids begging for candy'.

Besides, being 18 at the Hollywood Ghost Club on Halloween sucked. It wasn't even like he could use his fake ID, the bartenders all knew him. And Caleb was super strict about stuff like that during business hours. So he helped out at the group home, and then went to the staff party at the Club the day after, when they were closed and nobody cared too much about whether or not a certain son of the owner swiped a Bloodtini. Or skated off the railing. Or tried to dunk the green grilled cheeses in the chocolate fountain.

And okay, so maybe this year his costume was a little obscure, but he'd procrastinated getting anything, so he ended up raiding Caleb's old costumes from his 'I did other stuff on Broadway too you know' closet, and some of his own, and a trip to the dollar store, and he was pretty pleased with himself.

Except clearly someone recognised him.

"OH MY GOD, ZEKE ZILLIONS SPACE COWBOY?" someone across the street screamed, before dragging someone by the arm over to them.

"See, I told you he was a real character," Willie told the four nine year olds he was chaperoning. They rolled their eyes at him.

"Oh my god oh my god," A boy about his age said. He was dressed up as a zombie, though for some reason he was also carrying a wok. His friend was also a zombie, but had on a long pink wig, giant fake pearls, and a pink dress. He had great legs. "Zeke Zillions Space Cowboy was my absolute favourite cartoon as a kid. Can I please get a picture? Pretty please?"

"Sure can, Pard'ner," he said in his best Zeke Zillions impression, and the guy straight up went 'EEEEeee' like he was an early twothousands internet fangirl. After his friend took a bunch of pictures, he thanked the kids for their patience.

"By the way, number 42 is handing out full-sized candy bars," ZomBarbie said.

Throughout the night, every time they crossed paths (ZomBarbie and the Wokking Dead were accompanied by a witch, Kurt Cobain, and a tiny ghost buster), they'd wave at each other, as his fan shouted out a 'HI ZEKE!'. Eventually they ended up at the same house, waiting for the kids to get back.

"Sorry about Reggie," ZomBarbie said. "He's um, kind of a fanboy for that show. Like, writes-fanfiction-and-goes-to-obscure-fan-meet-ups kind of fan. I think you just made his year."

"That's okay, I'm glad someone remembers good old Zeke," Willie said. He was definitely going sleuthing on AO3 later. He wondered what the ships were. "The show meant a lot to me as a kid, what with the obvious queer-coding." Hopefully, a cute boy in a dress would understand that.

"Yeah," ZomBarbie said. "My parents didn't allow me to watch it. Too worried I'd turn out 'fruity'." He motioned to himself. "Clearly they succeeded," he said sarcastically.

"You do really pull off that dress, though," Willie said, waggling his eyebrows. His zombie friend went adorably flustered, from what he could tell under the zombie makeup.

Before he could flirt any more, the kids came back, complaining about how this house was handing out toothbrushes and toothpaste. "Can you put them on the list, Willie?" one of them, the girl dressed as Coraline, asked.

"Handing out toothbrushes is kind of dorky, but not an egg-able offense," Willie told her. "We reserve that for bigots and assholes."

"You have a list?" ZomBarbie asked, as they walked to the next house. His kids and the little Ghost Buster were comparing notes, it seemed, pointing at different houses.

"Yeah, lot of people in this fancy-pants neighbourhood don't take kindly to poor foster kids showing up," Willie said darkly.

"Carlos said something about that white house with the American Flag outside complaining about him going back to his own neighbourhood," the witch said darkly. "We live two blocks from here."

Willie glared, and made a note of it. "You wanna join me?" he asked, mostly to ZomBarbie, but quickly looking away at the rest of the group.

"My tía would kill me," the witch said, before smiling slyly. "But I'm sure Alex wouldn't mind going."

ZomBarbie spluttered a little, but managed to squeak out a little 'okay!'

Jackpot.

Behind him, he heard the guy's friend sigh happily. "And once again, Zeke Zillions saves the day, dispenses justice to evil doers, and captures hearts."

[captaingondor]

Dunk/Daella in the Kingmaker AU?

Although I intended to request prompts for my original work, I should remember I am a fanfic writer now as well - and am I going to pass up on the chance to put more Dunk/Daella content out into the world? Absolutely not!

---

Since going from a hedge knight to a Kingsguard, Dunk had had much more opportunity to practice at jousting, and without fear of losing his livelihood should he have to ransom his horse and arms and armor. But he was still better with a sword, which was just as well. He was much more likely to be defending Aegon with a sword than a lance. At the tourney to celebrate the name of Prince Duncan - a name Dunk did not think he would ever get used to hearing - he made a good showing, but was not the champion. He fell early enough to be standing in the royal box as they watch the champion, Lord Lyonel Baratheon, crown his wife the Queen of Love and Beauty.

"One of these days I'll get that crown for you," he said, looking aside to Princess Daella.

He was surprised to see her react so strongly to that - eyes widening, mouth frozen in a little o. "You - you would name me Queen of Love and Beauty?" she stammered after a moment. 

"I do wear your favor." He had done so in every tourney he rode in since his appointment to the Kingsguard. It seemed only appropriate to him to honor the royal family in this way. But he considered now the fact that there were seven knights of the Kingsguard and Daella had given her favor only to him. 

She put a hand to the side of her face, and Dunk thought he understood now her surprise. There were those who said that Princess Daella had lost her beauty in the fires at Summerhall that had left her scarred. Dunk thought you had only to spend a moment speaking to her to know that was not true. She did not have the traditional Targaryen look like her brother, but her eyes were the most beautiful, brilliant blue that you could ever hope to see, lively when she laughed and gentle when she smiled. 

"That's so," Daella spoke at last, after a silence that had stretched out longer than was quite comfortable. "I must hold you to that promise, then."

"A true knight must keep his word."

Prince Aemon cleared his throat at their side, and Dunk turned away from Daella, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Beyond Aemon, Egg was staring ahead, showing no sign that he had heard a thing.

 Dunk did not need to be reminded of the vows he had made to him. But how was he ever meant to forget Daella? 

[arielseaworth]

For your Dunk & Egg prompts -- Daeron the Drunken, interacting with Daemon II Blackfyre when the latter is a hostage in the Red Keep (subject: dreams, naturally; Dunk can be mentioned too if it feels right to you). And thanks so much!

FIC: Dreamers

For the prompt: Daeron the Drunken interacting with Daemon II Blackfyre when the latter is a hostage in the Red Keep, on the subject of dreams (and Dunk).

Daeron began, “My father … well, my father wishes me to –”

“To interrogate the hostage on his behalf? Or does he wish you to ascertain that this Blackfyre pretender is being guarded adequately? Perhaps Prince Maekar should have condescended to come himself,” the Hand of the King said, his lips curled into an amused smile, “instead of sending his son as his spy.”

Daeron flushed. His father had not sent him, not exactly. Prince Maekar already had his coterie of spies in court, just like Lord Bloodraven had his own spies at Summerhall, no doubt. His father had scoffed, in fact, when Daeron told him that he would go to court on his behalf.

“I will find out more about this second Daemon for you, Father.” The Daemon he had already dubbed Daemon the Doomed, for the ones who dreamed, Daeron sometimes thought, were doomed to a hell on earth worse than anything that the cruelest of gods could have conjured up in the afterlife.

Read @ AO3

[leejungchans]

impulsive : h.js

word count | 1.1 k

pairing | joshua hong (svt) x gender neutral reader

warning(s) / includes | food mentions, kissing (lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff, humour(ish), university au, established relationship au, joshua’s flirty in this idk what else to say <3

summary: in which you help your boyfriend with yet another one of his 2am impulse decisions.

a/n: happy birthday @joshuas i lob you berry berry much and so does joshua!! i said most of what i wanted to say to you on discord so i won’t ramble hehe <33 wishing you a very lovely day and i hope you like this ;-;

Finals week has truly driven everyone insane, your boyfriend far from exempted.

“Why that face?” Joshua whines upon seeing the appalled look you send his way. “This can’t be worse than what happened last week.”

You’d really rather if he didn’t bring up the past Monday when you came home to him and Seokmin slurping up ramen at the dining table after their study session. Perfectly innocuous, until your gaze lowers to quickly find their feet dunked into a tub of ice water.

They claimed it was so they could enjoy their ramen better, you claimed that side effects of studying Science Communication for five hours straight include insanity.

“It’s 2am, we’re both in a state of studying-induced delirium, and you want me to dye your hair? Now?”

“Yup!” Joshua chirps, much too hyper for someone at 2am. He slides off his chair and hurries into your bathroom, emerging seconds later holding a box. “I already bought the dye,” he says, nudging the box closer to you, “I just need some help to make sure it’s applied evenly!”

You glance between the box and the blonde hair sitting atop his head, a result of yet another impulse decision caused by cramming just a week ago. “You sure, Shua?” you ask, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m sure,” he reassures. “Plus—this is a time for experimentation! And it’s just hair!”

“Well, yes, but I meant you trust me to do it for you? What if I burn it off?”

Joshua hardly seems fazed, his head thrown back slightly as he lets out a hearty laugh. “You won’t, baby. It’ll be fine, though you’re not allowed to leave me if I end up bald.”

You snort at his lighthearted jest, choosing to scan the instructions printed on the box instead of meeting his eyes as you admit, “Don’t worry, I’ll still love you even if you’re an egg.”

“Even sunny-side up?”

“Don’t push it.”

“She’s staring at me.”

“Lovingly!”

“It’s creepy! Flip it over, please!”

“You’re the bossiest hairdresser ever,” Joshua jokes, but he does as you request anyways and turns his phone over so the screen faces up instead. “You’re so mean to her,” he pouts at you through the mirror. Her, as in the bunny splayed across his phone case. Admittedly, it can be cute on some days, but at 2am when you’re squished between Joshua and the wall of your bathroom with the flickering bulb—you make a mental reminder to buy a replacement one—its beady eyes seem to follow your every movement.

Either that, or the pungent stench of hair dye has already killed off a few of your brain cells and is making you see things. You definitely have a newfound sense of respect for hairdressers after today.

“I think we’re done,” you inform, giving his sectioned hair one last check to ensure the dye is even before helping him put on a flimsy shower cap, and you can’t help but think how it makes him look a little like one of those lunch ladies in the school cafeteria. “What now? The box said to wait half an hour.”

“We—” His stomach lets out an answering rumble before he can finish his thought, prompting you to stifle a giggle as he looks up at you with a sheepish smile. “Well, I guess now we know what we can do.”

Ten minutes later, you find yourselves huddled around the stove and slurping from a pot of steaming ramen, bowls out of the question because no one wants to do more dishes than necessary at such an ungodly hour.

“I can’t believe we’re eating ramen this late,” Joshua comments, his tongue peeking out from between his pink lips to catch the drop of broth threatening to dribble onto his chin. “My face is gonna be so swollen tomorrow morning!”

“What a tragedy that’d be.” Your reply is disinterested, partly because you can’t bring yourself to care all too much when you’re spending the next few days cooped up in your apartment anyways, and partly because you know your “hunk of a boyfriend” (his words, not yours) will still look better than ninety percent of the human population even with a puffy face.

Besides, you added two eggs in there for protein, so if you convince yourself hard enough you might just believe it’s healthy.

Being his personal hairdresser and now risking a puffy face—you suppose these are the things you do for Joshua Hong out of love.

“Will you be paying with cash or credit?”

Despite the halfhearted roll of the eyes you receive, the corners of Joshua’s lips curve gratefully. Gone is the blonde, now replaced by an ashy brown with just enough warmth to complement his pretty features perfectly. You’re surprised it turned out even, more surprised by how incredible he looks with the new colour.

“Very funny, baby.”

“I’m dead serious. Cash or credit?”

His gaze meets yours in the mirror, the corners of his lips curving up seductively. You know he’s being playful, at least for the most part, but the sight still has your heart taking flight and fluttering around in your rib cage. “What about I pay in kisses?”

Your smile mirrors his in mirth. “Mm… tempting, but no.”

You don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he gets up from the chair and brings a hand up to his hair, his smirk growing when he realises you’re enraptured by how the brown strands pass between his elegant fingers.

“What if I make it a really good kiss?” he murmurs, letting his soft lips graze the shell of your ear. The ticklish sensation has goosebumps rising on your skin in an instant, and an invisible fire burns a scorching path up your neck towards your cheeks.

A giggle bubbles up from your chest as he backs you against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, his arms easily wrapping around you to pull you impossibly close. Warmth radiates from him when he leans in and rests his forehead on yours, eyes dripping with adoration and love boring into your own. “Well?”

“Just kiss me, Joshua,” you laugh.

And he does—eyes fluttering shut, finger crooking underneath your chin to tilt your head up, lips stretching into a sweet grin before he presses them to yours. He kisses you tenderly, softly, as though you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen in his life. Perhaps you are, just as how he is the most treasured presence in your life.

So you kiss Joshua back with just as much enthusiasm, and hope he feels the endless bounds of your love.

a/n: :hehecat: i hope this is shuawife approved <333 thank you for reading and if you liked this please consider leaving some feedback :’)) it helps me a lot as a writer 💗

[fireandbloodsource]

To honour the tradition created by GRRM himself, this autumn we will be hosting TARGARYEN NOVEMBER, an entire month event dedicated to the ancient house of Old Valyria. There will be 30 prompts for each day, so you can use them for your own edits, gifs, art, metas, fics, etc. Any type of posts will be appreciated!

If you want us to reblog your works, please, use, the tag #targnovember2021.

Here is the full list of prompts:

Day 1: Valyria

Day 2: Pre-Conquest

Day 3: The Conquest

Day 4: Favorite King(s)

Day 5: Reign*: Aegon I, Visenya and Rhaenys.

Day 6: Valyrian culture and customs.

Day 7: Family dynamic(s)

Day 8: Reign: Jaehaerys I and Alysanne. 

Day 9: Dragons (/and their riders)

Day 10: Magic and lore

Day 11: Favorite queen(s)

Day 12: Reign: Maegor the Cruel

Day 13: Couple(s): Targaryen + Targaryen

Day 14: Favorite quote(s) about or by Targaryens

Day 15: Favorite prince(s)

Day 16: The Dance of the Dragons

Day 17: Prophecies, visions and dragon dreams

Day 18: Historical events and eras

Day 19: Favorite princess(es)

Day 20: Couple(s): Targaryen + Non-Targaryen

Day 21: Friendships and alliances

Day 22: Targaryen laws and reforms

Day 23: The Great Bastards

Day 24: Canon moments

Day 25: **The King/Queen Who Never Was

Day 26: ***Targaryen legacy

Day 27: The Tales of Dunk and Egg

Day 28: Locations and buildings

Day 29: Jon Snow’s Targaryen heritage

Day 30: Daenerys Stormborn

*From here and forth, “reign” includes both characters living in that era or events that happend.

**Heirs to the Iron Throne who died before inheriting or didn’t inherit for other reasons.

***How Targaryens are remembered in the current timeline, what other characters say about them, what they left, etc. 

[magickastiel]

✨ B&B’S CHRISTMAS ADVENT CALENDAR ✨

9th December - milk & cookies

I am, once again, attempting to write one story through different prompts. I really enjoyed it last time so let’s see if I can do it through December!

check out the other days | now on ao3

Summary: Just a month after defeating Chuck, Sam & Dean are faced with their first real Christmas. Eileen, Jody, Donna, Claire & Kaia descend on the Bunker for a Christmas celebration like no other. But for Dean, Castiel’s confession still weighs heavy. It might be easier to deal with if Cas was actually around to talk to but he and Jack are busy in Heaven. Surely they don’t have time to come home for Christmas…do they?

🥛🍪

Dean shuffles into the kitchen in his robe and slippers, hair stuck up and face creased.

He flicks the light on and jumps.

“I said we’d talk.”

He groans and pads over to Eileen at the table. She smiles warmly at him as he sits, like she’s not about to talk about the thing that’s been keeping him up since November.

He frowns at the table. “What’s this?”

“Perfect Christmas Eve breakfast. Milk and cookies.”

Bacon and eggs are calling to him. But he can’t resist the perfectly golden cookies or the hopeful look on Eileen’s face. So he takes one as she pours him a glass of milk.

“So.” She says, eyes glinting with delight.

“So.”

“What happened? How did he tell you? Was it romantic?”

A dungeon, Death at their heels, and the long arm of nothingness clawing its way into the room.

“No. Not romantic. It was…” He trails off. How do you explain that? "He told me so he could die. To save me. From Death."

Eileen, to her credit, barely hesitates. "Sure. Of course he did."

Is still hurts to talk about. He feels like his chest had been cracked open at the mere memory. But Eileen's open expression, and the sudden sugar high, helps a little.

"It was…quick, I guess. Billie was hammering on the door, beating down the warding. There was no way out." He takes a swig of milk, hoping it'll neutralise the stinging in his eyes. "He made a deal to get Jack back. So he used it."

Eileen nods. "Sam wondered about that. Didn't get how Cas could have called it in. He did think something happened. I think he's been too afraid to ask what."

Dean doesn't know how to feel about that. At least Sam hasn't worked it out but he's obviously intrigued enough to be thinking about it.

Eileen dunks another cookie into her glass. "What happened when he came back from the Empty?"

He almost puts his head in his hands. "Oh, man. I didn't…I kept calling Jack to get him back but it was hard and the Empty wouldn't let him go. And then he was back and I…I didn't know to say. So I just said I was happy he was back and then he was gone again. Jack needed him in Heaven. That was it."

Eileen hums, chewing her cookie thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's awkward."

"Tell me about it." Dean takes another cookie and chomps.

"But what do you wanna do?" She fixes him with an intense stare and Dean's throat goes dry. "I mean, you don't seem…it doesn't seem like it's a definite no."

Dean opens and closes his mouth a few times. Eileen's got him stuck. If he denies it, he has no reason to be worrying about it this much. And if he admits it, then he admits it.

"Look, why's this all on me? He said it! So he should be saying something, right?” Dean says, trying to shrug off the exposed feeling clinging to him. “Shouldn’t he be, like, buying me flowers or somethin’? Or writing poems?”

Eileen almost snorts milk out of her nose. “Is that what you think he should do? Or what you want him to do?”

"Oh ha ha." He makes a face at her and doesn’t dwell on the prickle of uncomfortable joy at the thought of Cas giving him flowers. No, no, no absolutely not. Dean Winchester doesn’t do flowers. Especially when he’s receiving them. He’s never received flowers. He doesn’t give them very often either these days. What would it be like, he wonders, to receive flowers? Maybe he’d enjoy it. Maybe he’d like it more than giving flowers.

A chocolate chip collides with his right eyebrow.

“Dean? You there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

“Look.” Eileen places her glass down on the table and looks uncharacteristically serious. “You can’t keep avoiding this forever. I get it - I’m a big fan of not looking at things and hoping they go away. Problem is, I don’t think you want Cas to go away. So you might need to, you know, sort that out.”

Dean sighs. “That’s it? You said you had ‘excellent opinions’ and all I get is ‘sort it out’?! What a let down.”

“Hey! Just because I have excellent opinions doesn’t mean you’re ready to hear them. I know what I would do and I know what I think you should do but I’m not telling you any of that. This is something you’ve gotta get to on your own.”

Dean’s shoulders slump. “Yeah. I know - you’re right.”

“Usually am.” She grins. “But just because you’ve gotta decide for yourself, doesn’t mean you can’t talk to us about it. I’m always here and so is Jody. And so is Sam even if you don’t want him to know yet.”

Not for the first time, Dean suddenly feels a bit emotional.

Even with all the things he’s done, he’s still got people who love him. People who want to help and want him to be happy.

He feels lighter after sharing his woes with Eileen and they clink milk glasses cheerily, mocking Sam when he comes in from a run looking for a smoothie.

For now, Dean pushes the problem out of his mind. He’s good at that.

[goodboylupin]

Gumdrops on Houses and Sprinkles on Biscuits

For Day 11 of @remus-john-lupin‘s Holiday Prompt Fest: Gingerbread. Beta’ed by @swottypotter. Part of a series.

“What do you think, Harry?” Sirius asked the two-year-old perched on the countertop beside the mixing bowl. “Doesn’t it already look so yummy?”

Dipping his head down to look more closely, Harry peered into the bowl. Too quickly for Sirius to intercept, Harry dunked his little hand into the fluffy mixture of creamed butter and spices, then stuck his entire fist in his mouth.

At least they hadn’t put the eggs in yet. Remus would never let him hear the end of it if Harry caught salmonella.

Harry pulled the hand out of his mouth with a muted pop and let out a considering hum. “Mo’ spicy,” he declared, then gave a decisive nod as if agreeing with his own choice.

Sirius bit his lip. He’d added spices according to the rather mild recipe he’d found in Remus’s grandmother’s recipe card library, thinking that it would be more baby-friendly. But if the baby himself was also of the opinion that the Lupin family gingerbread was too bland, then there was nothing to do for it but to use Euphemia’s recipe instead. “You sure, my little bud?” Sirius double-checked, even as he dug his teaspoon into the little tub of chilli powder that sat nestled in his countertop spice box.

“Mo’ spicy!” Harry demanded, slapping the countertop as if to punctuate how strongly he felt about it.

“Well, all right then!” Sirius whooped. “Let’s rock and roll!”

❅~❅~❅

“Honey, I’m home!” Remus sang as he shouldered open the front door — ironically, he would insist, if anyone asked.

“Moo!” Harry shrieked, as if it had been weeks since he’d seen his Moony last, rather than the few hours it had been.

“Harry!” Remus called back, shoving his paper grocery bags onto the hallway table to make room in his arms for Harry. Remus hefted the boy up onto his hip and cuddled him close, resting his cheek on downy, perpetually mussed hair. “I missed you! What have you been up to today?”

“Come see, come see!” Harry wriggled until Remus let him back down and led him by the hand to the formal dining table.

“Oh, my,” Remus murmured, coming upon what a little construction paper placard labelled The Jewelled Palace.

“I let Harry have full artistic direction,” Sirius informed him, winding an arm around Moony’s waist and dropping a kiss to his temple in greeting.

Remus leaned into his side and continued staring at the massive gingerbread house with multiple chimneys — spires, Padfoot would later correct — every square inch of which was covered in a riotous rainbow of gumdrops in all manner of sizes. “How is it even standing under all that weight?”

“Magic,” Sirius answered simply, wiggling his fingers as if he were sprinkling fairy dust.

“And I don’t remember there being turquoise gumdrops in any of the bags.”

“We Transfigured some of the yellow ones. Harry had a very specific vision, you see.”

“Transfiguring food, Mr. Padfoot? Gamp would not approve.”

“Did Gamp become an Animagus at sixteen? No, he just wrote some essays and hypotheses.” Sirius kissed him again, this time on the lips. “Relax, Mr. Moony. I’ve got you.”

Harry, who had been running around the long table so that he could climb up to stand on the chair behind the house, now splayed his arms out at his sides and did jazz hands. “Ta da!” He exclaimed.

“Absolutely beautiful, Harry,” Remus praised, clapping politely. “You’re so creative, Honey Bunny!”

“Thank you,” Harry beamed. “Ea'now?” He asked, already reaching to pluck a jumbo turquoise gum drop from the top of the tallest spire.

“Oop!” Sirius reached over the table to gently clasp his wrist, pulling it away. “We have a separate gingerbread family for us to eat together, remember Har’ Bear?”

“Gummy dop?”

“Yes, of course! With tiny, sparkly, delicious gumdrop buttons.”

“Kay,” he agreed easily, hopping off the dining room chair and sprinting to the kitchen.

❅~❅~❅

“Aww,” Remus cooed at the plate of gingerbread men. Sirius had used three sizes of cookie cutter, the largest man decorated with long strings of royal icing hair, the medium man with thin streaks of sanding sugar along its body to look like scars, and the smallest with a single sugar scar on its forehead and a shock of chocolate sprinkles haphazardly thrown on to look like Harry’s hair.

“I’m creative, too,” Sirius teased, summoning three smaller plates. He handed each cookie to its corresponding person and sat back. “Dig in!”

Sirius bit the head of his cookie directly off and hummed happily, savouring the interplay of sweet and spicy. He had perhaps been a little heavy handed with the cinnamon, but the sensation was still wholly pleasant.

Remus, meanwhile snapped off a leg and gave it a single nibble before placing it back down. He got up and went to the fridge, taking out the milk bottle and pouring himself a tall glass and taking a small sip. “That is not my grandmother’s recipe, Sirius Orion Black,” Remus said, accusatory, as he leaned a hip against the fridge. “That is pure Mrs. Potter!”

Sirius threw up his hands in defence. “Harry wanted more spice like his forebears! Isn’t that right, Har’ Bear?”

“Mo’ spicy!” Harry trilled.

“Not my fault you have lower spice tolerance than a literal baby, Moonbeam.”

“Spicy, spicy, spicy,” Harry chanted to himself, as he finished the last of his gumdrop buttons. He took a bite of his cookie and chewed slowly.

He then began tearing up.

“Harry?” Sirius ventured.

Harry began panting, tan cheeks faintly flushed. He stared plaintively at Padfoot. “Help,” he said simply.

“Ah, fuck,” Sirius muttered. He lifted Harry out of his high chair and hustled over to the fridge, snatching Moony’s glass and bringing it to Harry’s lips.

“Less tolerance than a baby, my arse,” Remus whispered as he took over holding the glass so Sirius could support the boy’s legs.

❅~❅~❅

“So what did we learn today?” Remus asked as he repeatedly dunked his gingerbread leg in a fresh glass of milk.

“That sometimes when a baby says ‘more spicy,’ it’s only because he’s mimicking his godfather.”

“And?”

“And just because a baby asks for more spicy, does not mean I should indulge the baby, because the baby does not necessarily know what’s best for him.”

“And?”

“And we will change recipes for the rest of the village, and I'm going to have to eat The Jewelled Palace alone.”

They both turned to glance at Harry, no longer red faced, and kicking his feet happily as he suckled on a jumbo turquoise gum drop.

“I think Harry can help you eat the jewels,” Remus offered.

[elvish-sky]

The Best Day {Legolas x Reader}

A.N: I wrote this for @band--psycho ‘s 1.5k Bingo Challenge! The prompt was “beach.” I loved writing this, it’s been forever since I’ve written Legolas which is absolutely ridiculous and I need to write him more. Anyways, I really hope you guys love this as much as I do, it was an utter joy to work on!

Word Count: 1,337

Summary: You wheedle Legolas into going to the beach for the day.

Pairing: Modern AU Legolas x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

****

The Best Day

“C’mon, Legolas. Can we please go to the beach today?”

You looked at your boyfriend with pleading eyes, collapsing onto the couch next to him.

“It’s only 8:30, if we go now we can get a good spot!”

He still didn’t look up from his book.

“We can get Italian ice…”

Legolas slammed his book shut and sprung off the couch. “Ok, be outside in ten minutes!”

You laughed, missing the twinkle in his eye, following him to your bedroom where you quickly donned your favorite backless black one-piece, throwing a cover-up over it as your boyfriend picked out his green swimming trunks.

You left Legolas putting his hair up into his usual beach-going style, and grabbed two towels and sunscreen from the closet, stuffing them into a bag. You raided the fridge for drinks to stick in a cooler, root beer for you, and ginger ale for Legolas, who after discovering it two years ago refused to drink any other soda. Lastly, you stuffed a bag of Doritos, a bag of Sour Cream and Onion potato chips, and your wallet into the bag with the towels. You grabbed your bike helmet from its spot above the coatrack and clipped it on, going outside and fastening the beach bag onto Legolas’ bike, the cooler straps slung onto your back.

You heard the door to the house open again and turned to see Legolas locking the door behind himself. His hair was pulled back into a man bun, and he was wearing an unbuttoned teal shirt that revealed his toned chest and abs. Buckling his helmet, he got onto his bike and the two of you were off.

Arriving at the beach, you locked your bikes onto the rack, Legolas grabbing the beach bag off of his. Walking down onto the soft sand, you turned right, looking for a place to spread out your towels. It took a moment before you realized Legolas wasn’t beside you anymore.

“Where are you going?” you asked, turning around to see him fifty feet away in the opposite direction.

“I’m finding us a spot!”

“But we always go right!” You did. The right side of the beach was just better, everyone knew that.

He laughed, “Fine, we’ll go right,” and jogged back to you, grabbing your hand.

Together, you found a perfect spot and spread out your towels. You got the sunscreen and applied it, doing Legolas back, and then sat on the towels.

“Can we go in yet?”

For someone who hadn’t wanted to go to the beach today, Legolas was very impatient.

“Five more minutes,” you giggled at the pout on his face, “we have to wait for the sunscreen to set!”

Finally, five minutes later, he sprang up. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

“No fair!” You shouted, sprinting down the sand towards the sparkling blue ocean.

You watched your boyfriend dive in, water rising in a splash all around him. He surfaced, water streaming down his face in rivulets as he blinked it out of his eyes, smiling at you.

“I see someone still hasn’t dunked!”

“Legolas, no…. No, no- AGHHHHHHH-” Your scream was cut off by Legolas dropping you into the water.

Quickly, you surfaced, spluttering.

“Oh, I’m gonna get you for that.”

You dove, grabbing his ankles and yanking them so that he fell. This time when your head rose above the water, he was the one spluttering. You giggled, watching him shake his head at you in mock disappointment.

“Y/N. I thought you were better than that.”

Legolas moved as if to lunge at you and dunk you again, but before he could you jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck, hooking your legs around his waist and clinging on. He started, but grabbed your thighs to support you and leaned closer, kissing you.

You lost yourselves in each other for a moment. Your arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his waist, one of his hands under your thigh, holding you up as the other stroked your bare back and you silently thanked whatever had made you decide to wear a backless bathing suit. You broke apart, before pressing a trail of kisses down his jawline, so focused on Legolas and only Legolas and his soft breath mingling with yours that you didn’t notice when he started to tip over.

All you had time for was a shout of, “LEGOLA-” before you fell underwater together.

You came up laughing, him blushing.

“Oops.”

“Oops? Oops?! Y/N, we fell over in the ocean because I was too focused on kissing you and not on the fact that there are waves in the ocean, and all you have to say is oops? It’s super embarrassing!”

You couldn’t stop laughing. “It’s not embarrassing, you doofus, we’re in love! And besides, it seems like an oops sort of situation.”

His face lightened and you smiled at him, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips before breaking away.

You dashed towards the beach, hearing Legolas’s confused sound of disappointment that the kiss hadn’t gone any further behind you.

“I call the potato chips!”

“Y/N, you can’t call the potato chips, potato chips are fair game to everyone and you cannot deny me potato chips on the grounds of ‘you called them first-”

It was annoying how he never got out of breath while running, even sprinting so fast that he was gaining on you very quickly. You groaned in frustration as, catching up with you, he scooped you up and continued running, reaching the towels and plopping you onto one while he went straight for the chips.

“Share please?”

Legolas smiled at you and sat next to you on the towel, holding out the chips for you to take a handful.

Later, as the sunset cast the sky in pink and orange, you held Legolas’ hand as you walked down the beach. You stopped and turned to face him.

“Thank you for the best day.”

He smiled. “Look at the sunset.”

You turned, marveling at the light it cast over the still water. When you looked back at your boyfriend, he was bent on one knee in front of you.

You gasped.

Legolas reached out for your hand, grasping it in his as the other went into his pocket and pulled out a box.

“Y/N. I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and probably on some level have loved you forever. Your soul sparked something in mine and continues to feed that flame every day and I’m not sure what I would do without it. I adore your smile, your laugh, the way you’re always up for anything. You make me want to be the best version of myself and encourage me towards that every single day.”

He stopped, for a moment, and you could see tears brimming in his eyes to match the ones in yours before he took a breath, opening the small box to reveal the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen.

“I guess all this is to say that I love you, Y/N, and I want to spend the rest of our lives falling over in the ocean because we’re too busy kissing. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You gasped.

Legolas stood, taking the ring from the box and sliding it onto your finger, which it fit perfectly.

“I have one question.”

He looked at you, slightly concerned.

“Was that box in your pocket the whole day? Like, even when we were in the ocean?”

Legolas laughed, a hearty, relieved sound.

“Nope! I grabbed it from my bag when we went for this walk.”

You grinned. “Good. And I love you too.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your fiancee’s lips.

He quickly deepened it, hands in your hair, kissing you like this was the end of everything. Or the beginning of something new.

You stood there, entwined in each other, two silhouettes almost merging into one in the sunset.

Everything tag💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell

Legolas tag 🧝‍♂️: @from-patroclus-with-love @bitter-sweet-farmgirl

[moxfirefly]

hellow its me again hehe can i have a order 53 In/By A Swimming Pool with mikey please?? (kink prompts??) Sorry if it's not clear ^_^

A little aquatic adventure? Ok I’m down for it.

Rated Mature (18+ Only)

Michelangelo really loves your thrill seeking ways. It’s quite possibly one of his most favorite things when it comes to you, first place being you yourself obviously.

You had met up with him at the roof top of one of your many spots. It was date night nevertheless and Mikey always prided himself in showing you a good time. Dull was surely not in his vocabulary and you loved that. But tonight the two of you had been drawing blanks upon what to do. The humidity had covered the night air making it just unbearable to be outside.

Which led to your idea.

“Babe, can you break us into the pool over at my college?” You were lying your head on his lap whilst Mikey played with your hair. His face broke out into a big smile. “You serious?” You sat up and smirked at him. “Well it’s freaking hot and I’m kinda feeling a pool date tonight” You climbed on his lap wrapping your arms around him. “So? Up for a little breaking and entering?” Mikey was thoughtful, he wasn’t necessarily into illegal stuff but where was the harm of taking a little late night swim?

Mikey nodded, laughing once you squealed in delight . He welcomed the onslaught of kisses you attacked him with.

____________________

Breaking into the college had proven fairly simple, child’s play almost. Inside the large indoor Olympic pool you wandered off to turn on the pool lights. Not wanting to make it obvious you made sure to just turn the lights that were placed inside the pool itself. Mikey wowed at the sight of the grandeous pool.

“Pretty neat yeah?” You met him by the bleachers, your giddiness radiating off of you in waves. Mikey couldn’t even keep still, the prospect of taking a little night time swim with his gorgeous girlfriend was definitely bucket list worthy. “Let’s jump in!” Mikey announced unfastening his skateboard back bag and his gear. You yourself unbuttoned your jeans and kicked off your shoes. Your orange clad boyfriend couldn’t help but stare as you pealed piece by piece of clothing. He was kicking off his own shoes by the time that you were in your undergarments.

Good lord you were absolutely stunning to him.

“Come on baby boy, last one in is a rotten egg” You took off and canon balled into the pool. Almost slipping trying to kick off his shorts, he jumped into the pool and was instantly met with the cool liquid relief. You swam to the bottom of the floor, the serene soundless feeling of the water engulfing you. Truth be told you always enjoyed the water but just hated coming here when it was filled to the brim with people.

Mikey swam up to you effortlessly and pulled you into a hug. The bubbles flowed freely with your laughter and soon you were above the surface with a laughing and giggly terrapin. “Ok I gotta say, this is cracking top three date nights” You feigned shock. “Big words there Mikey, top three? Really?” Mikey made a thoughtful expression.

Then he grinned and dunked himself and you down.

Most of the night was spent like that. Swimming around, a rousing battle of spraying water at one another, you even tried to race him (lost pretty quickly too). The entire night was shaping up to be another legendary memory for the two of you. Closer to the shallow end the two of you sat, your head on his shoulder.

“I want a pool in our future place some day” You smiled at the idea and Mikey whistled. “Man now that would be lit, could you imagine? We could get some cool slides and have it be heated so we can still use it in winter” There he was off adding to the fantasy of what might be. It often crossed your mind how things might be if the two of you had your own space to call your own. You and Mikey always made up crazy fantasy houses for fun when bored.

“I’m serious though, Mikey” You got up, waist deep in the water. The drops mesmerized Mikey, you looked so beautiful in the dim lights. “Our own place? Me too angel cakes, I want the whole deal” He stood up as well and wrapped his arms around your waist. “You think I ain’t getting Raph ordained online so he can marry us? Like I wouldn’t break into city hall and steal those marriage license documents? Gurl I’m gonna wife you up” Each announcement only made your smile grow wider before you couldn’t stop giggling.

Wrapped in a blanket of love you had no other option but to kiss him. It was one of those kisses you couldn’t stop smiling against his lips but the more you kissed the more heated it became. Mikey’s kisses trailed down your neck, the wetness there felt so good, the coldness of your body pressed against his making your nipples harden. “Say it again” You punctuated each word with a kiss to his cheek. “You’re gonna be my wife, baby” He backed you up against the wall of the pool and caught your lips in yet another heated kiss.

How can an idea make you feel so excited, in every sense of the word. You pressed your hands against his plastron, the firmness of it was something you secretly enjoyed a lot. You admired him, mouth agape catching your breath you pushed down his underwear. Mikey smirked and did the same with yours. He unclasped your bra casting it out onto the water. “Gosh you’re so gorgeous Y/N” He cupped your breast in his hands, firmly kneading them before dropping kisses onto each of them. You twirled a wet mask tail before untying it and also letting the water take it away. The weightlessness of the water, Mikey supporting you with his hands the goosebumps pebbles your skin. You would never get bored, just never a dull moment with him.

He entered you like that, slowly with a sigh of your name against the shell of your ear. Wrapping your legs around him more tightly you let him take charge. The water rustled with first few slow thrusts, the feel of his wet reptilian skin felt so tight against your human one. “Love you to bits” He spoke sweetly. A wave of emotion crashed into you, to have him here present and so in love. Your eyes fluttered closed and you smiled. “Love you so much” You hiccuped when he bottomed out fully.

Mikey loved the feeling of the water around him, the coldness of your skin that seemed to be heating up little by little. The feeling of his cock nestled inside of you, how you dug your fingers into him. “You’re so beautiful, love this so damn much” He thrusted slowly but the intensity in his words, in how he admired and loved on you had you quickly going up.

You kissed him with a desperation that matched his own. Mikey moaned into your mouth, thrusting harder and more firmly. Those icey blue eyes of his landed on your own e/c ones. You gasped holding yourself tighter around him. He begged for you, something untangible he couldn’t make words for but he showed you with actions.

It hit the two of you so suddenly and it felt so damn right whenever you could manage to cum at the same it always blew your mind. Disorienting didn’t begin to explain it, Mikey choked out something that sounded like your name and you held onto him you were sure he might bruise.

Once the ringing in your ears stopped, you felt his lips on yours and everything in the world, simply melted away.

[flower123wf]

What Your Favourite Hazbin Hotel Ship Says About You

Varlie / Chaggie : You’re a fan of being gay, sticking to canon and keeping it wholesome

Charlastor / Chalastor : Your ideal date involves wacky hijinks, after which hilarity ensues. Also, you made a fan-child for this ship

RadioDust : You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of not wanting your dick sucked

Alastor / Husk : You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of getting dunked on

Cherri Bomb / Sir Pentious : You are a firm believer of MEN👏GETTING👏PEGGED👏

HuskerDust / AngelHusk : This is like RadioDust but you also want good things for Angel Dust and really, who wouldn’t?

SpiderMoth : Your ideal relationship dynamic is flirt/tsundere, also you’ve been around the fandom long enough to know Vaggie and Angel Dust were planned to be a couple during development

Katie Killjoy / Tom Trench : You laugh at below-the-belt slapstick comedy, or you watch anime where the main love interest is a raging tsundere

Vagastor / Vaggstor : You wish a woman would just hold her blade against your neck, and would it be too much to ask for her to slightly tilt your chin with it?

Lucifer / Alastor : One day you decided, “You know what’s better than one fucked up edgy boi? Two fucked up edgy boiz!”

Vaggie / Charlie / Alastor : Man fuck a ship war, you’re just here for a hell of a time

CharlieDust : You weren’t surprised when this didn’t show up at first, and you are a sucker for bad boys getting soft for the personification of sunshine

SirDust : You just love the thought of Sir Pentious getting blushy like a shoujo protagonist

CherriDust : You think ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ is a severely underrated relationship dynamic

RadioSnake : This is like SirDust but kinkier

Chusk / Hurlie : You love the ‘Savvy Guy and Energetic Girl’ trope

Charlie / Sir Pentious : You’re convinced a villain should take a day off from their world domination plan to have tea with the hero

CharlieBomb : You don’t understand why the preps and punks have to fight each other when they could just kiss each other

Vaggie / Charlie / Cherri Bomb : You could never miss the pun of CHARLIE’S ANGELS, also Kristen Stewart can step on you and you’d say thanks

Angel Dust / Alastor / Lucifer : You think nothing else says ‘boys will be boys’ quite like a bunch of chaotic frat boys with homoerotic tension

Tom Trench / Angel Dust : One of your favourite AU prompts is one person reluctantly going to a stripper club and falling in love with someone after a lap dance

AlZy : Ya like jazz?

Lilith / Lucifer : You aspire to have a relationship like Morticia and Gomez Addams

Lucifer / Angel Dust : You are a weeaboo who wants to fuck dads

Angel / Charlie / Vaggie : You always ship the trio of best friends in every show

Vaggie / Sir Pentious : You are a morosexual, any amount of big dummy energy from someone can and will leave you thinking about having a romantic candlelit dinner with them

Alastor / Niffty : You’re all for evil villains and their goofy, loyal sidekicks

Niffty / Husk : This is like Hurlie but with more of a height difference and the girl had a metric fuck-ton of caffeine

(26/11) EDIT:

Angel Dust / Lilith : You know Charlie’s mom has got it going on *Stacy’s Mom plays*

Husk / Vaggie : You think there is no power that brings people together stronger than the mutual hate of one (1) deer man

Niffty / Sir Pentious : You want Niffty and the Egg Bois to kickstart an official fan club, complete with embarrassing photos of Sir Pentious printed on t-shirts

Lilith / Alastor : Either you theorised that Alastor is Lucifer in disguise OR you’re favourite couple’s song is The Masochism Tango

Baxter / Niffty : You enjoy the idea of short gremlins teaming up to dismantle the corrupt hierarchy set by tall people, preferably by busting kneecaps

Angel Dust / Baxter : You’re just here for some twinks

Charlie / Niffty : You’re just here for some femmes

Cherri Bomb / Crymini : You’re just here some butches

Cherri Bomb / Niffty / Crymini : You’re just here for a whole lotta hot pink

Crymini / Angel Dust : You’re a sucker for bad peeps who don’t play by the rules

Vaggie / Cherri Bomb : You believe there’s nothing more attractive in this world than women who can fuck your shit up

The Gay Egg Bois : You’re one of those people who post pictures captioned “Yeah we gay, keep scrolling”

(6/12) EDIT:

Egg Bois / Sir Pentious : You just want good things for the Egg Bois and it involves getting shot with his ray gun

Vaggie / Crymini : You think the concept of ‘opposites attract’ is highly overrated

Vaggie / Niffty : You think the concept of ‘opposites attract’ could not be highly rated enough

Alastor / Human Alastor : You’re crippling addiction for Alastor got so bad, you had to resort to taking the phrase ‘love yourself’ to its logical extreme

(16/12) EDIT:

Husk / Arackniss : You think there is no bond that brings people together stronger than the mutual exasperation of one (1) slutty spider

(26/01/20) EDIT:

CharVox : You like the pervert/cinnamon roll dynamic AND you want to see Alastor get jelly

Vox / Alastor : You like the concept of bickering married couples, but you love the bickering aspect more

VoxVal : Your favourite dynamic is just assholes being assholes together

Valentino / Alastor / Vox : This is basically a dommy competition for who can lewd Alastor first

Crymini / Baxter / Arackniss : You ignore the main cast in favor of quirkier side characters

ValAngel : You’re just like “*slaps Angel Dust* this boi can fit so much angst in him!”

[insaneasgardian]

Coherent Conversations - Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

Alphabet prompt list

C: “Can we have a rational conversation for once?”

Domestic SamBucky is my first choice for this prompt because 99% of their conversations are so immature (I love them). Hope you guys like it!!

"Hey, give me a hand?" Sam asked from the kitchen, his voice reaching the ears of Bucky, who was currently lounging in the living room of their shared apartment.

The white wolf smirked, and glanced towards the kitchen, before hurriedly detaching his metal arm using the special equipment Ayo had given him.

"What was that Sammy?" Bucky said.

"I said, please give me a hand," Sam repeated.

With that, Bucky tossed his arm through the doorway and into the kitchen. There was a few beats of silence before Sam spoke.

"That's an arm you dumbass, I just wanted a hand."

That made Bucky snicker, and he got up from his seat to head to the kitchen to assist his boyfriend.

Upon reaching there, he grinned widely at the sight before him. Sam looked absolutely adorable in a captain america themed sweater and grey sweatpants, humming to himself as he read from a cookbook. Alpine, their snowy white cat was spending her Saturday curled up on the flour covered counter next to Sam. The kitchen was a mess, with baking ingredients coating the counters, cabinets, floors and walls too.

"Looking at the state of this kitchen, you'll require much more than a hand or an arm," Bucky commented, putting the vibranium arm back in place as he walked up to his boyfriend.

Sam looked up from his book, and to Bucky, shooting him an apologetic smile.

"I tried to bake some bread, but Alpine distracted me, and well... the kitchen ended up like this" he said, causing the cat to lift her head and give an accusing meow.

"Yea, I'm sure our cat is the reason you've got baking ingredients everywhere," Bucky spoke while wrapping his arms around Sam's waist.

Sam rolled his eyes at the indirect accusation, and slipped out of Bucky's arms with a smile, watching in amusement as the ex winter soldier became a pouting puppy at the action.

"Come on Sammy, all you knead is some love, let me help you with that," the super soldier jested, sneakily making his way towards the captain.

"No Buck, whatever you're planning to do, your plans will go a rye," Sam joined in after he slowly took some steps backwards upon noticing Bucky's advances.

"Don't be afraid to take whisks," the brunette man quipped, petting Alpine and then picking up the whisk lying next to her.

"Life is batter without them"

"Listen to me Sam, you know I want the best for you, because I loaf you"

"These baking and bread puns are getting stale, Buck"

With Sam's last wisecrack, Bucky smirked, and picked up some flour from the bag, quickly throwing it at the other man before he could even react.

Sam quickly realized what his boyfriend had done, and looked up at him in a mixture of bemusement and surprise.

"You didn't enjoy the puns, I decided to change it up," Bucky slyly stated, his eyes following Alpine who was now cutting circles on the floor, wondering what her dads were getting up to this time.

Wordlessly, Sam picked up an egg and ran at Bucky when he wasn't looking, cracking it over his hair.

The white wolf gasped, and with his eyes shut due to the yolk of the egg seeping down his face, threw more flour in the direction he knew his food fight rival was standing.

Sam only chuckled at the failed attempt, "Can we have a rational conversation for once, preferably without bad puns?"

Bucky smiled and shook his head, finally pulling the egg yolk off his face.

"Or... you know, actually act like the adults we are," Sam pronounced, stroking his chin.

James Buchanan Barnes nodded slowly, moving to stand in front of Sam. They stared at each other for a moment before Bucky leaned in for, what appeared to Sam, to be an innocent hug.

However, being the sneak he is, Bucky pulled a fast one. He picked up the open bag of sugar resting on the counter behind Sam's back, and dunked the whole bag on his beloved whose eyes widened in betrayal.

Bucky leaned in close, "Rationality is overrated," with that, he pressed a quick kiss to Sam's lips and picked up Alpine before practically skipping out of the messy kitchen.

Sam sighed, surveying the state of the room. He couldn't help giggle though, when reflecting on Bucky's words. Indeed, what a great world we'd live in, if sometimes, rationality wasn't an expectation.

[arielseaworth]

Prompt - Egg mourns his grandfather and Set Duncan tries to comfort him.

For the prompt: Egg mourns his grandfather and Ser Duncan tries to comfort him.

“When Ser Arlan died, did you … did you cry for him, ser?”

Dunk had cried in the rain while digging the old man’s grave, and then pretended to himself that his tears were not tears at all, merely raindrops falling down his cheeks. I never wept. I might have wanted to, but I never did, he kept telling himself afterwards. Most of the time, he was half-way into believing it.

He didn’t pretend this time, though. He knew why Egg was asking. “I cried for him, aye,” Dunk replied, truthfully. You can cry too, Egg, for your grandfather, he thought, but had he said those words out loud, he suspected the boy would force himself not to cry, would try his very best to stifle his tears.

Sometimes telling people to do something was the same as telling them not to do it, the old man used to say. Sometimes the best thing you could do was wait people out, wait for them to reach a conclusion in their own time.

“I cried for Ser Arlan when he died, but I was crying for myself too,” Dunk added, watching Egg’s face.

Egg looked thoughtful. “For yourself, ser? Was that because you were afraid you wouldn’t have anywhere to go, with Ser Arlan gone?”

Dunk shook his head. “No, I knew I’d find my way somehow. The old man taught me well enough for that. He didn’t leave me to starve.”

“Then were you crying because … because you missed him, ser?” Egg asked, turning his head away so Dunk could no longer see the expression on his face.

Dunk nodded. “I already missed him, and he’d only been gone for a short time. And I knew I would miss him even more later. I would miss him when bad things happen to me, and I’m in need of his counsel and his comfort. But I would miss him even more when good things happen to me, and I wish I could share them with him.”

Egg’s breath hitched. The boy was very close to sobbing. He turned his head to look at Dunk again, his eyes shiny with pooling tears. “What do you do, ser, when you miss him?” he asked.

“I think of him, lad. I think of all the things he loved best. That way, I can keep him alive, here,” Dunk replied, pointing at his heart, or where he thought his heart would be.

“Wouldn’t that make you miss him more?”

“It would be worse, if I start to forget. Then he would really be gone.”

Egg buried his face in Dunk’s arm. They boy was sobbing, really sobbing now. “I don’t … don’t want … to forget … my grandfather,” he managed, between gasps.

“And you won’t, I’m sure.” Dunk patted Egg’s back, awkwardly. “There, there. Now, now. It will be better on the morrow.”

Later, Egg said, “I wish I had known you, ser, when Ser Arlan died.”

“Why? So you could see me cry, lad?”

“So I could be with you when you cried, ser. No one should have to cry alone, without anyone to comfort them.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter SEVEN. Catastrophe.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie: Prompt: Young at heart.

Morning/afternoon/evening all - sorry there wasn’t an update on Sunday, I’ve been moving house so it’s all a little messy at the moment. After next week, though, Shielded should return to normal <3 (for those who’ve asked, this isn’t posted on AO3, it may be at some point but at the moment I don't have enough time to post in both places, so sorry) MBD.

--

There should have been something endearing about being butted daily by a bouncing cloud, but the ewe Claire had taken care of for Jamie seemed to be having more fun than it should. For the third time that week she found herself chasing the bleating thing around the house as it continued to knock pictures, magazines, books, remotes and anything else not glued down over and off every single surface. Nothing was safe.

“OI!” She yelled, hoping her ‘mum voice’ would subdue the raging beast (it didn’t). “Watch the…”

Too late, she thought, as it went careering into the side of the wall. Luckily the house was made of stronger stuff, and her erstwhile companion simply shook herself and trotted off down the hallway.

‘Headstrong’ was the word she’d used in her earlier call to Jamie. He had laughed, covering his mouth so that she couldn’t hear him, as she’d relayed the story of her morning but had made a mental note that perhaps having a lamb in the house had not been the smartest move. Usually timid, sheep could pose bigger issues the more...content...they became with human contact though he hadn’t thought her large enough to pose as much of an issue as she did.

By the end of the week she (the ewe) had fully established herself as head of the house and Claire had succumbed to allowing her free rein.

Peace had been restored for which everyone was grateful.

“Clearly she feels more secure in the house wi’out the other sheep to boss her about.” Jamie said over dinner on Friday -  a night he had, thankfully, managed to get home at a reasonable hour.

“Yes, so it seems.” Claire added, without humour.

Keeping his eye on her, he tried to playfully nudge her under the table and it wasn’t long before a slight pink blush coloured her cheeks and she began laughing too.

“Nothing that’s worth having in this life comes easy,” he quipped, winking as best as he was able, “including the raising of sheep, sassenach…”

There was a moment of silence as Claire cocked her head to the side. “Nope,” she said, a glint of humour behind her eyes, “you’re going to have to explain that one.”

“One what?”

“Sass-a-what now?”

“OH!” For a moment he seemed abashed, his eyes glancing away from hers as he tried to find an effective (and non-insulting) way to explain his comment. He had been thinking of how to address her. It was clear she was finding it difficult to adapt to her new name (more so than her surroundings, though, he was pleased to note). “Well, it’s a bit of a...slur...really. But I didna mean it that way. Only I didna want to keep calling ye ‘lass’ all the time, and it seemed to suit you.”

“...so, what does it mean, technically speaking?”

“Literally it means ‘foreigner’, but it’s usually only used to describe the English.”

“Fitting then?” The sweet smile on her face betrayed her and he knew she wasn’t angry at the assessment.

There was a certain automatic understanding; he was right, she was struggling to connect with her new identity and he’d clearly picked up on the hesitation she had in answering to her new name. She felt like a foreigner in her own body so it seemed natural that her nickname should be linked with such a phrase. And, even though it was meant to be derogatory, she had immediately felt a kinship with it.

“Do you have any Scottish slurs for a cantankerous lamb?”

Having been ill-prepared for the immediacy of her humour, Jamie choked on his drink as he tried to contain his shocked laughter. “Being a notorious farming community, I’m sure there must be something but usually when the animals are misbehaving we just use Gaelic curse words.”

“Maybe you should be the first to coin one - it can be your legacy.”

Raising his eyebrows, he took a sip of his  tea and made an indistinct low noise in the back of his throat. Settling back into a comfortable silence, he watched her take a bite of a biscuit, his interest piqued as she dunked it carelessly into her hot drink. Although she was mostly still an enigma, he was starting to get a sense of her. Certainly she’d been raised well, in a middle class household. From her dress to her manner and the way she spoke and carried herself, he guessed she’d been privately educated.

But there was also something incredibly earthy about her, an aura of something more down-to-earth than that and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

The dreams hadn’t stopped, he’d had one free night but he was niggled persistently by something just beyond his reach and he would wake (usually before his alarm) breathless and needy, sweat often rolling down his back. The cold showers had become a regular occurrence and he felt a little embarrassed when he looked at her - even though, hopefully, she had no knowledge of the inner workings of his mind.

He’d been told on a number of occasions that his face gave nothing away and he couldn’t have been more grateful for that now.

“If you think much harder, Jamie, your brain might fall out of your ears.” She joked, pushing the plate of biscuits across to him as the orphaned ewe bleated loudly in the background. She found that the noise made her giggle and she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she watched him dismantle the jammy dodger. “Though that may be preferable to dealing with that furry bully.”

“She’s just a lass with spirit, that’s all.” He returned, watching as she dipped her head, the shorter parts of her hair falling from the bobble she had it tied loosely in to hide away her face.

“Lord knows we need a few more of those in our lives.”

“It can’t hurt, can it?”

As the atmosphere in the room changed, Jamie pushed the half empty plate back across the table, his little finger sliding ever so softly against hers before pulling back. He saw the second her confidence dipped and wanted to calmly reassure her without openly baring her insecurities.

“So,” she said, shaking off her downturned mood relatively quickly, “she probably needs more skilled hands than mine to continue raising her?”

“After the weekend my pal Rupert will come and take her, he has an older ewe he thinks might be able to take her on. But dinna think too much of it, she likes you, she feels comfortable wi’ you that she’s able to-”

“Run me ragged?”

“Aye.”

“It does feel like one of those high school experiments made to put you off becoming parents.” She was stood now, looking into the back utility room at her newest friend, who’d given up making noise to, instead, lie sleepily on the small smattering of hay Claire had placed down for her to munch on.

“She’s probably a wee bit more intense than an egg?”

That image made her snort. “Did you have to take care of an *egg* like a baby?”

“Oh aye, I drew a face on it.”

“It!? No wonder they only gave you poultry produce with that attitude.”

With contentment settling between them once more, Jamie allowed the weight of the last few minutes to fall from his shoulders. He felt proud that he’d been able to turn it around with a humorous quip borne from his own experiences. At the same time, he could see that she too felt relieved.

As the lamb stood sleepily and began to suckle gently on Claire’s outstretched fingers, a delicate moment passed between her and the little ewe.

“See, I told you she liked you.”

As he got into bed that evening, Jamie tried to recall the look of pure pleasure on her face as she’d noticed the bond that she had cultivated. Having been a city dweller for most of her life, she’d spoken to him over dinner about the pet cat her uncle had owned when she was very young but she’d hardly had much chance to engage with animals before or after that point. He’d suggested that he didn’t have to send the ewe away with Rupert but that’d both agreed it would still be better in the long run and he sensed she wanted to keep hold of the good memories she’d made (albeit few and far between) before she grew any bigger and caused anymore damage.

“Sleep well, sassenach,” he whispered, the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips as the image of her nursing the ewe was replaced by Claire with a small red-haired child - the vision appearing unbidden as he fell softly to sleep.

[grim-faux]

17_The Loudest Silence

 First

 It’s not the sounds or anxiety that forces him from the memories of sleep. It is the odd sensation of needing no more rest which roused the child.

 He exhaled dryly and opened one eye, mind fuzzy though his thoughts felt very concise. Through the next few minutes he laid there, struggling to pull together what happened and where he was. The first piece that fluttered in his mind was the lack of static and buzzing. Everything felt very ordinary and dull, a great relief. Though… he did wonder, where…?

A large plush toy was plastered to his side. He pulled it over so that it was laying on top of him, and then his eyes struggled with the reaching black that soaked into everything. Dry wood, fiber, wallpaper, decayed room. Ugly place. But quiet. And there persisted no smells to make his heart thrum with alarm. For the time, he only didn’t know where he was.

 He has to wake up. His head is muddled with confusion and questions, but he has to wake up. He’s very hungry, he left all his foods…. It’ll be hard to find foods, especially when hungry.

 The plush toy flopped over when he shoved himself up. Mono tried to rise fully, but he was stiff and sore. When he fought to stand his legs folded under him, and he had to catch the arm of the recliner before he toppled over the side. It was so tempting to lie down and return to sleep, the air chilly and miserable. But foods. He would get worse without foods.

 He scratched the back of his head, and realized he needed a new hat. Hats were tied to the inside of his coat, adding a bit of cushion and protection. The rain cap would be the better choice, but it was… color. He tucked it back into his coat, and chose the flat cap.

 It took some time for him to figure his way out of the room within the dark. He could see a bit after spending so long there, but the handle to the door was too high to reach. There was the bookcase aside from the desk, but the desk itself was impossibly big. He had to figure out a way to jump from the desk at the right angle, with a run, to catch the slick handle.

 This small room entered into another large room, but not much was in there. The only door there was a no go, it was demolished and crammed with what must have been stuff from that once resided in the room, neat and organized. Mono dismissed this fiasco, and instead located a tight crevice that he could crawl into. Within the space, lights flashed through from other rooms. It offered guidance and kept him from cutting himself on the sides of the walls in his passage

 When he emerged from the nook, it was from beneath a break in the wall where wallpaper frayed and fell away. He had to push out the rotten material to reach the corridor. He gave the area over his usual examination but heard none of the noises that would warrant attention. He tilted his head back, blinking at the harsh light. The corridors are badly decayed through neglect, and are a few spaces sat visible where he can cram into if he needs. At the end of the corridor was a window, and he climbed from a cracked crate to reach the sill. It wasn’t raining for once. He didn’t need the rain cap. He plopped off the window and went through the first door that was open, on his right.

 The whole floor got a search over, of all the doors he could access. None of the rooms had areas for foods, just boxes. Some good news, the elevator only needed a button hit. He collected a metal canister from one room and chucked it at a random button.

 He panicked at the abrupt weightlessness and darted around, as the lift dipped quickly. Until it reached the floor it stopped on, and the doors opened. He remained plastered to the wall for several seconds, baffled. That was scary! Why was that scary?

 The doors began to shut, prompting him to dart out into the large room awaiting. It was a little too well lit, so he found his way to the wall and shuffled around to shadows. Though the rain had stopped for a time, the floor was still soaked. To one side of the room stood a tall desk, some demolished furniture, and clothing laid out. Off somewhere, the dull scramble of a television uttered about its day.

 It’s the scent of foods that drew Mono’s interest. He went straight to a barricade of furniture and debris at the farther side of the room, and gave it a brief go over. Beneath this obstruction, there was a small space that he could squeeze through. Before poking his head up at the other side, he lay on his stomach and checked the vicinity.

 Chairs. Tables. Counters. A kitchen place? There were cabinets, but not good space to hide. Off to one side, a Viewer stood admiring the television placed on a sofa. As long as the Viewer is preoccupied, it should be fine. It was risk, but not enough to bypass.

 Still, he kept his distance from the adult, and strafed the wall to the countertop edge. He pulled out a chair and pushed it towards the benches side and climbed up. Plenty of containers and boxes are present for him to go through, eliciting some hope he’d find something that wasn’t too far gone. Not a lot of what he does find is salvageable, he pulls the edibles out first and then goes back to sift through it.

 He broke apart some circular bread things and regular bread slices. He finds a hard plastic container, which he can break easily with his teeth and inside is gooey sweet stuff. It’s soooo… sweet, not particularly good. But he scarfs it down anyway. He’s not particularly fond of bird eggs, but they are the freshest thing there.

 Carefully, he cracked the eggshell on the counter, eyes intent and watchful of the Viewer – they gurgled, content to bask in the white bombardment of signal.

 He drained out the clear goop – yuck – then took some grain flake stuff, and dunked it in the remaining yolk inside the shell. It wasn’t that bad, at least not with something more viable. He licked his fingers, and grabbed another handful of grain stuff. He dumped it in the shell and stirred it around.

 The yolk was nothing but a thin film inside the eggshell bottom, when the television flashed and the crackling hum on the air changed. Mono was at immediate attention, uncertain where let alone what the Viewer might do now that its program was cut. Was he far enough out of range to go overlooked? He braced himself.

 A pair of hands pressed against the reverse side of the screen. Meanwhile, the Viewer wound around and shrieking, searching for a new fixation.

 Mono leapt from the counter and landed on the nearest table. The surface was slick with dust and damp, he went skidding and made a graceless fall to the floor. In short time he was up, racing to the secure barrier of furniture and dipped into a slide at the last second. Just in time, his body buckled. He was crawling, struggling to get away, get far away. The intense drum of white noise crowding his senses, becoming all that rattled within his panicked thoughts.

 From within the room, a wailing screech blasted forth – sending him back. Hauling him all the way to the day he lost Her. When she reached for him, and all that he could manage was cower right in the face of her peril. Useless. It was hard to connect with her in speek, but that shriek. When she was stole, and he was disregarded. He wanted to stop, blot it out, curl up and bar off the clamor and sensation of electric current burning in his bones. But he wanted to escape more.

 With one final row of his arms, he heaved out from beneath the barrier and ran.

 __

 This… reckless child.

 In a room, with a Viewer no less. A denizen of the signal, barred from thought and rational. Rabid. How annoying. Careless, brash youth.

 The Thin Man adjusted his hat, as he stepped by the clothing settled on the table and floor. With a flicker and crackling surge, he flashed through the mediocre barrier. For now, the lobby was vacant, he examined over the floor and walls seeking movement. Where did he go? How is it something with such short legs, could move so swiftly?

 He was not far, he could sense the transmission. Cautiously, he patrolled the room over, going first to one wall and walking towards the corridor to the elevator. Rather deviate that way, he ventured to the other side and checked the lounge chair. He suspected the desk, though that was too obvious.

 Ah, there he was. One of the doors of a cabinet behind the administrative desk creaked open, and a face peered out. He pivoted around to face the desk and tilted his head. Amusing. He stepped closer, but the child fumbled inside the cupboard, about to draw the door shut.

 The Thin Man stopped, and reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out… the racoon cap.

 Mono’s interest was garnered instantly. He pushed the door open further, looking from the hat to the Thin Man. It was nice to see that nose crinkle up in annoyance. He could inch a little closer now, and Mono glared at him with unwavering intensity. This had somehow become a hostage situation over a hat. Frowning was all the Thin Man could do to keep from cracking a smug grin. When he was close enough, he tossed the hat up.

 The child lunged out of the cabinet like a jack-in-the-box, one hand remained locked to the inner side of the cabinet – he caught it! The cabinet door snapped shut, for what the Thin Man suspected would be a costume change. It wasn’t long before the cupboard popped open once more, and Mono peeped out from the crack.

 His chore fulfilled, the Thin Man spun away and began walking. After only a few steps, he’s taken by utter surprise when something snagged the ankle of his slacks. He stumbled aside and stared. How did something with such short legs MOVE SO FAST?

 Mono cowered away several paces but looked back. His hands dropped from his head, but that coil of flee remained in his spine. The child shrugged.

 “Did you need something?”

 Mono tipped his head. “Where go you?”

 The Thin Man pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need to take a stroll. Alone. Have a look around. You’re not coming, nor are invites available.”

 “Not coming?” echoed the child. He inched a little closer. “Stroll? Search?”

 “No.” He edged a leg out, and the child scampered away from his polished shoe. “That will be the last aid I offer. There’s no more you can do for me, as there is no more I can do for you. Understand?”

 “Not.” The boy scurried to the lounge chair and hefted himself up the side. It didn’t give him an impressive height clearance, it just made him look all the smaller. “Miles? For miles?” He looked around, as if speculating with the word. Then, held up a forefinger and thumb, pinching them together. “And, erm… no a’lot’n.”

 “No.”

 Mono climbed to the backside of the chair and stood by the wall. “Fore-feet me to follow.”

 This would be a problem. Without a word, the Thin Man teleported a meter backwards – the sudden fluctuation and distortion caused Mono great alarm, and possibly pain. The child sprang off the chair, hands clapped over his cap. He landed poorly on the scuffed carpet and swayed.

 The Thin Man set his hands behind his back and leaned forward. “ It is not a strain to myself. You cannot follow.”

 It took a moment for Mono to smooth out the fur on his skin cap and shake the tension from his muscles. But at last, he stood. “Not fair,” he hissed. “S’not fair.”

 “Apologies,” the Thin Man hummed. “There is nothing in this world, but unfairness, as you are so well versed now.” The boy was actually shaking, but he doubted it was fear. That lethal glare glinting beneath the cap, was one he knew all to well how to wear. He turned away and resumed walking, unperturbed should the small child begin to follow once more. He suspected he learned his lesson.

 “Don’t give me that look. I kept you from doing reckless, I afforded nothing else beyond the Tower. That was all I said I would spare. In future, you should do better of choose friends.” When he reached the collision of furniture, he glanced over at the minuscule rasp.

 Mono had thrown the fur cap to the ground and was stomping away. He described it as stomping, while in truth the child was just walking – albeit with his shoulders bunched up – he headed back around the side of the lounge chair. The hair on the nape of his neck was practically standing on end.

 The Thin Man turned his lips down, but reframed from responding to the scene. He shifted through the barrier and left this encounter where it was.

 __

 When the familiar surge and crackle-snap signaled the Thin Man’s departure, Mono snapped himself.

 He ran back to the fur cap and stamped it down into the floor, then kicked the flattened hat away. He glowered down on what was once one of his favorite and most useful hat. His fists, clenched like vices at his sides, trembled with such ferocity. Even his whole body quaked, despite not being the slightest ounce of cold. And he didn’t… know if he was frightened, being left like this. In truth, he didn’t know what he felt.

 It was like the numbness when the whole world exploded. Close to the curse of weightlessness that overtook him, and he wondered endlessly why. Why? WHY! Or, what it was like as the whole building toppled, and for a brief spell he knew nothing but fear and hate.

 So numb. So angry. Powerless. Overwhelmed. Unable to stop. Unable to grapple with himself, what he felt. This weird hopelessness he couldn’t shake. The world so weird, a twisted nest of false reprieves and cruel tricks.

 At last, he folded down into a heap and slumped back against the sofas base. A complete and broken wreck. He tugged his knees in close and looped his arms over his head. He pulled every inch of himself in as tight as he could manage, to bar out every gnarled claw of the world seeking to rip away the remnants of his spirit. Quiet. He must be very quiet. Something would hear. Noisy children die. It always happened; it was law.

 He did allow a soft, little whimper to escape. Probably annoyed he wasn’t actually hurt. Thought it was funny. The strange child. Should’ve fought. Should’ve done the ‘anticipated’. Should’ve done… anything. Anything was better than… this.

 Everyone left. Or, everyone stole. Cursed. Nobody wanted him. Nothing and no one, wanted a thing to do with him. This was everything he knew, and everything he should come to expect. Don’t fight so hard, it’s always the same story. The same ending. The same. Nothing.

 He didn’t care he was practically in the middle of the room, out in the open. No good cover. He would be silent, and he… it would be all right. This is how it would be. It hurt, it would always hurt. But there is nothing left, but him in this world. Pain was better than being… he wasn’t sure what. Pain was just better than not feeling.

Next

[raayllum]

let there be light (let me be right)

summary: A collection for my Rayllum Birthday Bash prompts. Prompt 2: Mistake / Amends; Rayla notices Callum has a bruise.

a/n: bathing but we’re not heathens so yes this is k+, shush, and i did bruise research for this, so we’re all gonna read it. set immediate post s1 & post s3

length: 2.3k

CHAPTER TWO: is it my fault (we’ve been missing each other?)

They slog, exhausted, into the Moon Nexus and gobble down whatever Lujanne feeds them, a far more energetic baby dragon at their heels. All Rayla wants to do is sleep, but she knows the second any of them lay down to sleep, that’s all they’ll be able to do, and they don’t want to sully clean sheets and the first beds any of them have slept on in days (or at least one, for Ellis).

“We should clean our clothes,” Rayla says as Lujanne leads them through the Nexus. A small pool and connected stream burbles nearby. Her vest has borne the brunt of it, and Ezran’s tunic isn’t too bad —the front of it was usually covered by Bait or the egg she supposes—but Callum’s jacket is filthy. He still has cobwebs sticking to his elbow.

“Do we have to?” Ezran whines. There’s a slight sniffle in his voice and it reminds her his cold isn’t long gone, either, and that sleep is important.

“Fine,” she relents. “You and Ellis and Ava can go, but Callum and I should still wash up a bit.”

Callum is too tired to argue, probably, even if he trudges after her with a frown once Lujanne’s summoned some towels for them. The pool isn’t far and Rayla shucks her shoes off by the shore. She’ll dunk her vest in and then herself and then they can rest.

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