#felt prompty

[detectivegoldstein]

@edgarwayne @christinekingston @travelingreportersam @missheatherlee @estherwestfall @arthurgreen @ciarawinters @santiagoayala @lizzievelnias

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 .    (  a  collection  of  100  nonverbal  action  prompts .   mature  and  potentially  triggering  themes  are  present .   add  “ + reverse ”  to  swap  assigned  roles .)

∗ o1﹕ sender  tucks  hair  out  of  receiver’s  face . ∗ o2﹕ sender  offers  receiver  a  bite  from  their  fork . ∗ o3﹕ sender  places  their  feet / legs  in  receiver's  lap . ∗ o4﹕ sender  offers  receiver  an  earbud  to  share  their  music . ∗ o5﹕ sender  comforts  receiver  in  the  aftermath  of  a  nightmare . ∗ o6﹕ sender  gives  receiver  company  in  the  hospital . ∗ o7﹕ sender  wraps  their  arms  around  a  hysterical  receiver  to  calm  them . ∗ o8﹕ sender  shows  up  at  receiver’s  home  late  at  night . ∗ o9﹕ sender  falls  asleep  leaning  against  receiver . ∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver . ∗ 11﹕ sender  runs  their  fingers  through  receiver’s  hair . ∗ 12﹕ sender  invites  receiver  to  dance . ∗ 13﹕ sender  takes  a  [ picture / video ]  of  receiver . ∗ 14﹕ sender  places  their  head  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 15﹕ sender  and  receiver  make  eye  contact  across  a  busy  room . ∗ 16﹕ sender  pushes  receiver  against  a  wall  to  kiss  them . ∗ 17﹕ sender  and  receiver  cook  together . ∗ 18﹕ sender  comes  to  receiver  after  being  injured . ∗ 19﹕ sender  sits  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 2o﹕ sender  lifts  receiver's  chin ,  invoking  eye  contact . ∗ 21﹕ sender  overtakes  receiver  in  combat . ∗ 22﹕ sender  finds  receiver  [ injured / bloodied ] . ∗ 23﹕ sender  straightens  an  article  of  receiver’s  clothes . ∗ 24﹕ sender  crawls  into  bed  with  receiver . ∗ 25﹕ sender  rolls  their  eyes  at  receiver . ∗ 26﹕ sender  lights  receiver’s  [ cigarette / joint ] . ∗ 27﹕ sender  is  caught  wearing  receiver's  clothes . ∗ 28﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  with  a  pillow . ∗ 29﹕ sender  writes  a  note  on  receiver’s  skin :  [ note ] . ∗ 3o﹕ sender  wraps  a  blanket  around  receiver’s  shoulders . ∗ 31﹕ sender  runs  and  jumps  into  receiver’s  arms . ∗ 32﹕ sender  shoves  receiver  out  of  anger . ∗ 33﹕ sender  hovers  over  receiver’s  shoulder  as  they  complete  a  task . ∗ 34﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  somewhere  they  shouldn’t  be . ∗ 35﹕ sender  curls  up  against  receiver  in  their  sleep . ∗ 36﹕ sender  is  found  drunk  by  receiver . ∗ 37﹕ sender  throws  an  item  of  sentiment  bitterly  at  receiver . ∗ 38﹕ sender  joins  receiver  in  the  shower . ∗ 39﹕ sender  is  caught  following  receiver . ∗ 4o﹕ sender  traces  one  of  receiver’s  [ scars / bruises ] . ∗ 41﹕ sender  twines  their  fingers  with  receiver’s . ∗ 42﹕ sender  barges  into  receiver’s  home  unannounced . ∗ 43﹕ sender  kicks  receiver’s  shin  beneath  a  table . ∗ 44﹕ sender  aggressively  shoves  past  receiver . ∗ 45﹕ sender  kisses  receiver’s  [ forehead / cheek ] . ∗ 46﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  out  of  harm’s  way . ∗ 47﹕ sender  is  found  sobbing  by  receiver . ∗ 48﹕ sender  locks  receiver  out  of  their  room . ∗ 49﹕ sender  brings  receiver  [ coffee / tea ]  in  the  morning . ∗ 5o﹕ sender  rests  their  forehead  against  receiver’s . ∗ 51﹕ sender  plays  a  song  for  receiver  that  reminds  them  of  them :  [ song ] . ∗ 52﹕ sender  takes  a  [ punch / stab / bullet ]  meant  for  receiver . ∗ 53﹕ sender  buys  receiver  a  drink  at  a  bar . ∗ 54﹕ sender  needs  receiver’s  help  getting  in  the  bath . ∗ 55﹕ sender  and  receiver  cross  paths  in  the  kitchen  late  at  night . ∗ 56﹕ sender  twists  receiver’s  arm  behind  their  back . ∗ 57﹕ sender  winks  at  receiver . ∗ 58﹕ sender  is  found  collapsed  by  receiver . ∗ 59﹕ sender  prevents  an  injured  receiver  from  getting  up . ∗ 6o﹕ sender  claps  a  hand  over  receiver’s  mouth  to  silence  them . ∗ 61﹕ sender  cages  receiver  against  a  [ wall / the floor ]  with  their  arms . ∗ 62﹕ sender  storms  away  from  receiver  during  an  argument . ∗ 63﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  sleeping  in  receiver’s  bed . ∗ 64﹕ sender  [ applies / touches up ]  receiver’s  makeup . ∗ 65﹕ sender  throws  receiver  into  a  wall  during  combat . ∗ 66﹕ sender  dances  sensually  with  receiver . ∗ 67﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  across  the  face . ∗ 68﹕ sender  places  their  hand  on  receiver’s  leg  while  driving . ∗ 69﹕ sender  pulls  a  chair  out  from  under  receiver . ∗ 7o﹕ sender  catches  receiver’s  wrist  when  they  turn  to  leave . ∗ 71﹕ sender  leaves  an  intimate  mark  on  receiver . ∗ 72﹕ sender  beats  receiver  in  a  video  game . ∗ 73﹕ sender  and  receiver  stand  in  stunned  silence  after  a  fight . ∗ 74﹕ sender  cares  for  receiver  while  they’re  sick . ∗ 75﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  on  a  hike . ∗ 76﹕ sender  is  caught  snooping  in  receiver’s  things . ∗ 77﹕ sender  and  receiver  cuddle  while  watching  television . ∗ 78﹕ sender  throws  something  aggressively  at  receiver . ∗ 79﹕ sender  creeps  up  behind  receiver  to  scare  them . ∗ 8o﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  shopping  together . ∗ 81﹕ sender  helps  receiver  [ dye / style ]  their  hair . ∗ 82﹕ sender  draws  receiver  into  a  kiss  by  the  back  of  their  neck . ∗ 83﹕ sender  is  discovered  having  a  panic  attack  by  receiver . ∗ 84﹕ sender  accidentally  injures  receiver  during  sparring . ∗ 85﹕ sender  grabs  receiver  roughly  by  the  hair . ∗ 86﹕ sender  brings  receiver  to  their  knees  during  combat . ∗ 87﹕ sender  shows  receiver  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ∗ 88﹕ sender  winks  [ seductively / mockingly ]  at  receiver . ∗ 89﹕ sender  yells  at  receiver  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air . ∗ 9o﹕ sender  helps  receiver  patch  up  a  wound . ∗ 91﹕ sender  holds  receiver  as  they  cry . ∗ 92﹕ sender  silently  and  angrily  points  receiver  towards  the  door . ∗ 93﹕ sender  gestures  for  receiver  to  sit  down . ∗ 94﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  into  their  lap . ∗ 95﹕ sender  cradles  receiver’s  face . ∗ 96﹕ sender  tackles  receiver  out  of  the  way  of  danger . ∗ 97﹕ sender  has  hidden  an  injury  from  receiver ,  and  receiver  finds  out . ∗ 98﹕ sender  confronts  receiver  about  their  unhealthy  behavior . ∗ 99﹕ sender  proposes  to  receiver . ∗ 1oo﹕ sender  has  just  died ,  receiver  finds  out .

[justporo]

A Night of Song and Laughter (Part 8)

ATTENTION: There is some SMUT in this chapter, because Tav gets a little touchy and Astarion just pours oil into the flames - only lightly smutty though, because I like to be a pain in your ass, hihi.

There will be more smut in future parts that I will still have to write but let it slowly burn for now - I know you want it.

Also this is the last part leading up to my main idea for this story - the plot point I actually thought about when I started writing this and thought it'd be like a few thousand words adventure.

Btw, did part 7 yesterday go through okay? I felt like it didn't really show up for some time when I posted, eh. Anyways, if you missed it, it's on my blog of course.

A bit more is already up on AO3!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

(Gif from here!)

You kept on drinking and talking. Teasing each other, pouring more shots. It really did feel like one of the memorable evenings you thought about when you first told Astarion about this place. The main act had started to play downstairs: a band of elves – a rarity in itself, but they were practically celebrities as Lira explained: a male drow bard with long sleek black hair playing the lute and singing with a dark and somber voice that had men and women in the audience swooning, a female wood elf bard with a violin with green skin and equally sleek but powdery-pink hair and the voice of an angel and three more equally beautiful elven musicians. All were precariously clothed, leaving little to none to imagination. Since they had started playing the mood in the tavern had dangerously shifted from drinking and laughing to people of all genders and races and combinations dancing and kissing and stealing touches they thought nobody would see.

With half the bottle gone you could certainly start to feel the alcohol doing its work: you felt pleasantly buzzed, also giggling more and batting your eyelashes more at Astarion - which might’ve been caused by the amount of drinks you’ve had or the seductive, pleasant music… or maybe it was just your fatal attraction to him and his very much encouraging and looks and touches.

While Daegin had been complaining about the last time he had visited his family for the better part of an hour, you started to get a little handsy with Astarion. Which prompted him to grab hold of your roaming hands. “Do you mind, darling?”, he whispered to you with a smile and pulling both of your hands to put them over his heart. You blushed shamefully, immediately worrying if you’d made him uncomfortable. You quietly voiced your concern to him and apologized for your indecent behaviour while Daegin complained loudly about his second cousin's awful wife.

The vampire laughed softly and lifted your hands to his lips to plant a gentle kiss onto them. “No worries, darling, if you’d ever really do something to make me uncomfortable, I promise, I wouldn’t hesitate to call you out on it.” He pressed another kiss onto your fingers. “I love when you show how much I am yours and that you can’t keep your hands off me, my heart, but maybe just for tonight, keep your hands out of my pants while we have an audience, alright?” You nodded but still felt a little bit ashamed of yourself, so you buried your face in his shirt. You mumbled something about respecting boundaries into his chest to which he pressed a kiss on the top of your head and held you for a moment. Daegin was still on about his relatives while Lira boredly dragged her shot glass around in circles by its rim and stared into nothingness.

After a few moments Astarion leaned down to whisper into your ear. “There will be no boundaries tonight though, when I’ll have you all to myself and remind you why it is that you can’t keep your paws to yourself”, he simply stated and then went back to holding you sweetly – as if he hadn’t just given you the most enticing promise you thought someone ever gave you. Very naughty thoughts started to race through your mind, prompting you to let go of Astarion and get at least a few inches between you – a much needed safety precaution. You poured yourself another shot and downed it immediately while you could feel the same pulsing sensation between your legs you’d last felt when he had you pinned against a wall only a few hours ago. The rough fabric of your linen blouse started to rub on the hardening tips of your breasts, your throat was bone-dry although you only had just drunk something. Astarion leaned on his elbows to grab the bottle of liquor and also pour himself another one while watching your face and giving you a dirty smirk. He did look like the personified sin right in this moment. Astarion’s eyes wandered to where your hardened nipples here now clearly visible through your shirt while he drank slowly. He licked his lips afterwards without stopping to stare but you saw how he rearranged his pants with his hands – only the slightest bit awkward. And when your eyes flicked down, you noticed that not only your arousal was pretty obvious right now. “I admit you make keeping boundaries pretty hard, my love”, he whispered under his breath. You stepped closer to him once more but not touching him. “Seems that’s not the only thing I make hard”, you whispered back while returning the dirty smirk he gave you moments ago and staring into his eyes confidently. His pupils diluted slightly at your words, but he held your stare without moving, positively becoming a statue.

Then you suddenly turned away from him and to the other two at the table, crossing your arms over your chest, breaking the spell. “So, what else is new?”, you asked suddenly and with a not-so-subtle note of hysteria in your voice. You had been way too close to just completely losing yourself right then and there; all because of some dirty whispers and stolen glances.

The half-elf and the dwarf, both well drunk - much more than you - had obviously been completely oblivious to the electric tension between you and the vampire – thank the Gods. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that Astarion had rolled up his sleeves and was leaning on his elbows again next to you.

“Well”, Lira drawled, now much less focused on niceties and political correctness, “have you heard that Cazador Szarr has kicked the bucket a few weeks ago? And his whole estate was looted. It’s been the talk of town for weeks.” That sobered you right up. This was the first time you heard that this had become public knowledge. It seemed Astarion and you had been well shielded in your domestic little bubble since you had parted ways with your adventurous little group and settled down in Baldur’s Gate.

You threw Astarion a concerned sideways glanced but to your surprise he seemed relaxed. Even more so, he was grinning broadly, mischief twinkling in his eyes. Daegin happily chimed in and gave you a rundown of different theories on his death: heart attack (“Nah, he was perfectly healthy, last thing I heard”, Astarion commented), poisoned by another noble family to gain his power (“Probable, but why loot his estate and why not keep his death a secret and pose as him, so much easier to take over his influence.”), tragic accident (“Unlikely, I heard he never even really left his castle.”). Astarion seemed more intrigued in adding to the gossip that you thought was clever. But hells, you would not stop him from talking shit about this fucking bastard.

“Do you want to know what I heard?”, Astarion said after Daegin had finished. He leaned towards them as if he was going to let them in on a secret. Lira, immediately intrigued, leaned over the table just as he did. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in anticipation. Even Daegin seemed immediately interested. There he went doing it again, Astarion and his damned silver tongue. You were about to join his act in whatever lie you thought he would fabricate from thin air, when he began: “I heard, he was secretly a vampire and was murdered by one of his own spawn because he’d made a deal with a devil to perform a horrific ritual that would have made him even more powerful and killed thousands of people!”

Your chin basically dropped to the floor but you were way too shocked to do anything else. Lira and Daegin mirrored your emotions perfectly albeit for different reasons. Did… did he actually just tell them the fucking truth?

The silence between the four of you kept dragging on. Astarion simply drank another shot of liquor, shrugged his shoulders and casually said: “It’s just what I heard.” You could simply blink at his nonchalance. Then Daegin broke the silence with deafening laughter, roaring and throwing his head back, slapping his thighs with his hands multiple times. Lira joined in but her laugh turned into a silly cackling chuckle that made her shoulders quake like she was losing her mind. You couldn’t join in, you were too starstruck by Astarion’s boldness. But neither was Astarion. He just threw you a defeated look that seemed to say ‘see? No one’s ever going to believe it’.

After several minutes of choking on their laughter they seemed to calm down. Lira had to wipe away tears from her eyes several times, the dwarf had started coughing horribly halfway through. When he had regained a bit of composure, he jumped off his stool, walked around the table and offered Astarion his hand – which the vampire took with a confused look. “I gotta hand it to you, elf, no one ever made me laugh that hard. Not even my own brother”, he said and shook Astarion’s hand, congratulating him.

“Tav, you really need to bring him when we go out drinking from now on”, the short man said and laughed again. This time you and Astarion joined in.

[whumpshaped]

have some tragic backstory idk

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, lady whumper, conditioning, torture, burns, dehumanisation, knives, stabbing, gore, disembowelment, choking

"You are late." She shut her book with a loud snap, making Helle wince. "Again."

"Yes, Mistress," they said quietly. "Things have gotten out of hand–"

"Have they?"

They bit the inside of their cheek, taking a deep breath before finally meeting her eyes. Lady Marie was sitting in her favourite reading chair, her piercing red eyes pinning them in place where they stood. She was wearing one of her finer dresses — maybe she was expecting visitors. Maybe they'd messed up royally.

They swallowed, trying not to think about the potential consequences of embarrassing her in front of others. "I brought a human," they offered. "A– a nice one."

"You have been away for hours."

"Yes, Mistress."

She didn't even glance at the enthralled human standing behind them. Her gaze remained entirely focused on them, heavy, almost crushing. It sent shivers down their spine. They desperately wanted to look away, but they also had a feeling she would pounce as soon as they did.

"And you brought a human. A nice one." Her mocking wasn't cold and vicious, already letting them know that at the very least they would go hungry tonight.

"Yes, Mistress," they said dutifully, voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, forgive me for not taking out the nice cutlery."

Helle opened their mouth to argue, then prompty closed it again. She would know they were lying, most likely. No vampire needed hours to find a suitable human. The only vampire staying out that long was a disobedient one.

"I... it will not happen again."

"Oh, it will not." She put the book aside and stood up, and Helle immediately took a step back, bumping into the stupid human. "I knew you would not dare leave me, of course. Apart from the fact that you would not survive a single night on your own, I happen to know that you are very loyal. A useful quality." She walked over to them, and if Helle had been alive, their heart would've been pounding in their chest. "But others... others might question that."

She wasn't expecting guests. The guests had already left the mansion, and they had been out and about the whole time. They tried to swallow the lump in their throat once, then twice. "I apologise, Mistress."

"Your apology is as late as your arrival, pet."

"But I assure you, the blood–"

She moved quicker than they could comprehend, grabbing them by the shirt and hauling them across the room. They hit the wall with a thud, then the floor with another, but they couldn't even get their bearings before the woman was already on top of them. "Do you know what it was like to stand in front of the duchess and say one of mine was out hunting?" she hissed. "Then wait for hours on end as she insulted and berated me because of your incompetence? And you want me to taste the blood of the one pathetic human you managed to bring back for me, as if you had done me a favour by doing the one thing you were made for."

She flipped open her pocket knife, and Helle immediately recognised it as the silver one. They lifted their hand in a pitiful attempt at self-defence, crying out in pain when Lady Marie simply put the blade through one of them. "I am sorry!" they said desperately as she yanked it out, but there was no peaceful quelling of her thirst for revenge at this point.

She stabbed them again, and again, and again, and again, her vampiric strength carrying her through the motions effortlessly, with speed that left Helle dizzy and disoriented. They couldn't block a single one, nor could they keep count. Each one felt more ruthless than the last, drawing all kinds of screams and whimpers from their throat — until she targeted their trachea, of course. It was only bloody gurgles and wheezing after that.

Their whole body was burning by the end of it. Their guts were spilling out onto the carpets, a crime they would no doubt be punished for later. They were well past the point of struggling. They lay still as the corpse they should've been, save for the involuntary twitching of their ruined muscles. The coffin seemed like a favourable place to be, in times like this, safely tucked away under layers and layers of dirt, their only company being the worms that had found their way in. They hadn't appreciated it enough at the time.

"You will never make this mistake again," she said quietly. It wasn't a question that required an answer. It was a statement, and she had made sure no one in the vicinity would be able to dispute it. She glanced towards the other end of the room, and Helle realised the human must've fled long ago. They weren't thinking about keeping the stupid thing still while being stabbed seventy times. "A nice one indeed. Say, pet, do you happen to know the punishment of a servant that came back empty-handed?"

Helle tried to beg. They put their heart and soul into trying to make at least a single placating sound, a gesture, anything. They couldn't do it again. It had been so horrible the last time, they thought they were going to die, they couldn't, they couldn't–

"No? Well, then I shan't spoil it for you. But let me say this: I hope we have a gorgeous, sunny day tomorrow."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik

[ghxstlly]

Do you have any headcanons or lore for lethal au feanger?? 👀

I certainly dooooo

lore dump time! ☢️

Disclaimer! This started as a Lethal Company (you know- the funny game!) AU, but my ideas have gotten a little far from the source material, enough that I'm not super sure if I can call it that anymore. It's still seeped in some Lethal Company lore and elements, just way way less than you're probably expecting it to be. Lol!

--

Worldbuilding Stuff

In the very, very distant future, long after the Earth was made uninhabitable, civilization as we know it has spread out to the (apparently very barren) nearby cosmos.

Since there's yet to be a planet discovered that's as lush and full of life as Earth was, a lot of time and energy is spent erecting facilities on barren planets and their moons to gather resources and research to support the settlements and space stations where everyone lives now (at least until they find somewhere nice to go). And when those celestial bodies "dry up", said facilities are prompty abandoned and left to rot.

That's where Halden Electronics comes in— a shady, opportunistic bunch, they like to swoop in after a facility is condemned to salvage what was left behind, for goodness knows what. Trouble is, they're small— they don't have the resources to scavenge in all the thousands of facilities themselves... so they recruit what they call "liquidators."

Ex-convicts, the poor and the otherwise miserable are sought out and promised a better life so that they might sign on, unaware that they're being used as expendable labor.

The Guys!

Fenton was one such individual— desperate for an escape from his stressful environment and hoping to regain some self worth and confidence, he became a liquidator. Though he struggled at first, immensely frightened by the abandoned facilities and the dangers within, he eventually began to excel at his work.

Unfortunately for him, despite his caution, the hazardous conditions eventually caught up with him— more than once. After several years of dutiful work, scarred and injured, Fenton began to deteriorate, physically and mentally, and, taking notice, his overseers assigned him a workmate, despite him being a 1-person team, working out of a ship built for 1.

Igna, a fiery, audacious fellow, became a liquidator because he felt that his life had no purpose, and was assigned to Fenton's team, where he found himself immediately disliked. Believing Igna to be a threat to his safety due to his reckless approach to their work, as well as a sign that his overseers were no longer satisfied with his performance, Fenton was hostile towards Igna and the two fought. Often.

However, after some time, Igna began to realize the extent of Fenton's... many issues, as well as the gravity and truth of the situation they're both in, and found himself wanting to help and protect him, the two growing close as a result and eventually falling for one another.

A couple miscellaneous points

Fenton was actually almost correct about the reason for Igna being sent to join his team— recognizing Fenton's deteriorating health, his overseers thought it would be wise to send Igna as a preemptive replacement.

Along with his physical injuries, Fenton also suffers from hepatic encephalopathy— a condition which affects his coordination, motor function, sleep patterns and causes seizures. It was noticing these sorts of things that made Igna more and more sympathetic.

[moodymelanist]

Prompty-prompt! Nesta as the badass mafia queen and Cassian as the unknowing regular-joe husband! Bonus points if it's him that gets kidnapped. And extra bonus points if the kidnappers assume he must be in on his wife's work since he's all muscle and tattoos 😇

thank you so much for sending me this *cracks knuckles* we’re about to have a field day

Cassian’s day had been going perfectly fine. He’d gotten to actually spend time with his wife before she left for her fancy yet mysterious job in the city, his middle schoolers were actually willing to learn instead of making fun of him today, and he hadn’t spilled anything on his white shirt for once.

Well. Until he got kidnapped while walking back to his car in broad fucking daylight.

“This is a mistake,” Cassian said for what felt like the millionth time. After he’d gotten shoved into a van and gotten stabbed in the neck with a syringe, he’d come to a few minutes ago in what looked like a decrepit warehouse. Some guys were tying him to a chair while another one leaned against the wall to watch, and once they were done, the guy motioned for them to leave him and Cassian alone.

Cassian figured this guy had to be the one calling the shots, at least for right now. He was tall, with golden brown skin and thick, dark curls pushed back and away from his face. He was dressed in an immaculately tailored suit that made Cassian feel even grosser from how badly he’d been roughed up so far.

So much for keeping his white shirt clean.

“We don’t make mistakes,” came the cool, measured reply. Cassian was surprised to see someone so young caught up in something like this; the guy looked closer to his age than he’d expected. “Are you not Cassian Archeron?”

“…Maybe,” Cassian replied warily. He’d seen one too many cop shows and it was all blurring together whether he should try to cooperate or be as difficult as possible. “Why does that matter? Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“Your wife’s up to some crazy shit, Cassian,” the guy told him. “Can I call you Cassian?”

“Do I have a choice?” Cassian said sarcastically. Probably not the wisest thing to piss off his captor, but his mouth always did move faster than his brain.

“Guess not,” the guy answered. “I’m Kallon, if it makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t,” Cassian replied. The bad guys only let you see their faces and know their names when you were expendable, and Cassian wasn’t getting a great feeling about how freely Kallon seemed to be volunteering information.

Kallon just laughed. “You got any idea what your wife’s been up to, Cassian? Money laundering, assault, conspiracy, murder…”

“My wife?” Cassian exclaimed, shocked. This had to be some kind of sick joke — Nesta wasn’t capable of any of that. She wouldn’t even let him kill bugs in the house, let alone be able to kill someone in cold blood. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“What, she didn’t fill you in?” Kallon asked. “Big guy like you? Doesn’t she bring you to all her meetings?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Cassian told him. “I have my own job.”

“I don’t want to get my suit dirty, Cassian,” Kallon said with a heavy sigh. “I just need you to cooperate and we can all go home. Got it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” Cassian repeated. His stomach sank as he realized this was probably some really serious shit, and he didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on.

“You don’t know anything about the activities of the Russian mafia in this city,” Kallon responded, his voice making it clear he didn’t believe a word out of Cassian’s mouth. “Really? You’re married to the woman in charge and you expect me to believe you don’t know shit?”

The Russian mafia? What the fuck was this guy on? “I don’t know anything, I promise, okay? Just let me go and I won’t even tell anyone you took me.”

“You really expect me to believe you’re married to Nesta Archerova and you don’t know anything—” Kallon began, stalking toward Cassian with intention before the door slammed open.

Cassian turned toward the noise and his jaw dropped open as he saw Nesta standing in the doorway, flanked by some of the largest men he’d ever seen. Her perfectly manicured fingers were wrapped around a Glock, and the look on her face was so cold he hardly recognized her.

“I’m sorry,” Nesta said, cocking her head. “Am I interrupting you, Kallon?”

Kallon’s face had gone almost comically horrified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

“You fucking bastard,” Nesta seethed, dropping the facade entirely before pointing her gun directly at Kallon. Cassian jerked in shock as she shot Kallon in the kneecaps without a single hesitation, looking even more pissed than when he’d eaten the last slice of her chocolate cake by accident. “You think you can go after my husband and I won’t fucking hear about it? You think you can go after what’s mine without consequences? By the time I’m done with you there won’t even be enough pieces left for your mother to bury.”

She then launched into a tirade of Russian so fast that Cassian couldn’t even pretend to know where one word ended and the other began. Judging by the look on Kallon’s face and the volume of his wife’s tirade, Cassian was starting to think maybe Kallon hadn’t been wrong about her after all.

He’d known she had a temper, but he’d just chalked it up to her being Russian. He hadn’t quite expected something like this.

“Get him out of my sight,” Nesta demanded after a few moments, switching back to English without issue. Two of the men entered the room and started handling cleanup, ignoring Kallon’s screams of pain as they dragged him away. Another one came forward with a knife, and Cassian held back an undignified scream before he realized he was there to cut Cassian loose.

“Nesta,” Cassian said once he was freed, completely flabbergasted at the scene before him. “What the fuck?”

Nesta sighed heavily, holstering her gun before reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, Cassian. I never wanted you to find out like this.”

“Find out what?” he replied loudly. He knew he was starting to sound a little hysterical, but he didn’t care. “Cause it sounds like you’re some kind of mafia boss or something, but that’s fucking insane—”

“It’s not insane,” she cut him off gently, reaching up to cup his face. “I was born into this, and it’s not like I can just… quit.”

“Is everything a lie, then?” he asked, not sure what to believe at this point. His wife was high up in the Russian mafia and he didn’t know which way was up. “Do I even know you?”

“Of course you do,” she reassured him. “I love you, and maybe you didn’t know the full truth, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I like that you’re a normal guy, okay? I never wanted to drag you into this. I only ever wanted to keep you safe.”

“We’re talking about this at home,” he said decisively. He didn’t know whether he should be furious about how much she’d hidden from him or oddly touched that she’d wanted to keep him out of it, but he either way, they needed to talk about it. “Not gonna lie, though. The gun thing is kinda doing it for me.”

Nesta laughed before pulling her hand away and sliding it around Cassian’s waist instead. “Noted.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearloftheorients | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

[pavlovleowrites]

From @jegulus-microfic prompty for August 22nd Vulnerable (588 words)

When Regulus gets hit by the bludger, he knows right away from the searing pain that he is about to pass out. A few hours later, as he wakes up inside the Infirmary, groggy and sore, it still gives him a sense of satisfaction to know he was right.

As his eyes flutter open and adjust to the lack of light, Regulus realizes three things : first, it is the middle of the night, two, that he must have had several broken bones that are currently mending — thanks to Mrs Pomfrey—, three, that James Potter is asleep in the chair next to his bed.

Of all these things, the one that twists his stomach the most was the presence of the sleeping boy. James is breathing softly, head falling forward on his chest and arms crossed, still wearing his Quidditch uniform, the golden Captain badge shining with the lowlights of a few candles lit around the Infirmary. He’s got a slightly disheveled appearance with his tousled brown hair and the way his glasses dangle dangerously at the end of his nose. His face is scrunched in discomfort. He looks so open and vulnerable at that moment.

WIthout thinking about it, Regulus finds himself reaching for the boy’s glasses, hoping to be able to put them on the side to avoid them falling off. The sharp pain that pangs from his elbow all the way to the end of his toes made him whine in distress. The sound must have been louder than he attended, because James' eyes shot open suddenly, and he surges forward to help him adjust.

«Don’t move, love, I’m so sorry, Marls got you bad. »

Regulus' only answer is a hum of pain, trying to reign him the awful tingling sensation that is cutting through his body like an army of knife leaving him defenseless.

« I’m so sorry Regulus, it was a dick move, I told her, I’m sorry. »

Regulus can see the distress in James’ big doe eyes, the hazel of his pupil shining brightly, tired.

« Why are you here ? » Regulus finally manages.

« I know you don’t like to wake up alone, and I figured it was my fault, my players, my responsibility you know ? »

Regulus inhales sharply, trying to process the pain as much as James’ words.

« Oh love, I’m so sorry, I was so worried. »

« You shouldn’t let people see how worried you are. »

James frowns but still asks softly, indulging, « why is that, love ? »

« They’ll know your weaknesses. »

The smile that splits James’ face is blinding. His whole gorgeous face lighting up.

« Oh but love, that’s why I’ve got you, when I’m vulnerable, I know you’ll be my strength. »

Something warm and pleasant spreads from through Regulus’s veins, his heart beating a bit quicker at the statement.

« Is that what you’re doing for me here ? »

« Oh no, don’t worry, love, even in your sleep there’s nothing vulnerable about you. » then with a cheeky smile, as one hand cradles Regulus’ cheek softly « there’s only one time I’ve known you to be vulnerable. »

« Oh really, and when was that ? » Regulus’ tone is quiet but playful as he leans into the feeling of James caressing his face.

« Maybe i should remind you if you forgot… » and the feather light brush of James’ lips against his own quickly dissolves into something more pressing. It numbs all the pain in his body.

In James’ arms, Regulus might be defenseless but he’s never felt so safe.

[thejavavoid]

turbol writing prompties???

-fears 😟😖😣 -turrl tots 🐢🐢🐢🐢 -birthdayys!!!!! 🎂🎁🥳🎉🎈 -practice ⚔️🤺🥷 -rat dad 🐀🧀

have fun!!!!! (≧▽≦)

oooooh!!!!!

i'll take fears for 50 points please! :D

------------------------------------------------

"Guys? O- Leo? Raph? Mikey?!"

.........

"Dad??"

Donnie wrapped himself tight in his blanket. He was supposed to be done with these blindness problems. Splinter- Dad- had said his sight was completely restored.

Yet here he was, in the middle of his bed, seeing absolutely nothing. 

It was scary. 

"Dad?!!"

Nobody answered. Where was everybody? Was he alone? He didn't want to be alone. Not when he couldn't see.

"GUYS!!"

"HELP!!!"

Donnie could feel tears forming in his eyes. At least that part still worked. 

He curled up into his shell and screamed. He wanted someone to hear him, he needed someone to hear him. He was scared. 

At least before this, he was never alone. 

"Guys, please…" He could barely choke out the words as he sobbed. He sat there, in a bed, completely alone. 

He heard something thumping around him. Was that coming from outside his room or inside? 

He shrank even further into his shell, crying so hard his throat hurt. 

Please don't hurt me.

Please don't hurt me.

Please don't hurt me…

"Donatello!"

…Dad?

"Donatello, are you alright?"

Dad.

"I- Dad, I can't- I can't see you," He stammered between tears. "I can't see!"

 "It's okay, I'm right here. I've got you." Splinter's voice was calm, soothing. Donnie felt those familiar, soft hands hold him gently. Donnie pulled himself out of his shell and buried his face into his father's chest, unable to stop crying. "I can't see," he mumbled over and over. 

"Hold on, it's okay. Don't worry." Splinter picked Donnie up and carried him around. Donnie wasn't sure where, but if Dad was doing it then it must be okay… right?

He heard the mumbling voices of his brothers, asking what was going on, but he was too scared to focus on their words. Splinter was stroking his head, holding his hand, making sure he was okay. Donnie's sobs turned to heavy breaths as he calmed down.

"Donatello, open your eyes." He didn't even notice they were shut, but opening them made no difference. He could only see pitch black in front of him. The darkness was swallowing him whole, and he couldn't do anything to escape it except squeeze his eyes shut again.

"Donatello. Look at me, it's alright."

Donnie hesitated, but he peeled his eyes open slowly. 

He saw his dad's face. His soft, fuzzy face. It was definitely there. 

"Dad…?" He whispered as his eyes refilled with tears. 

"I told you; it's alright. You can see me now?"

Donnie nodded, afraid to wipe his eyes in case he lost his sight again.

"There was just a power outage in the city. It caused our lights to go out as well, including your lamp." Splinter smiled and carefully rubbed the tears out of Donnie's eyes.

"Here," he said, placing something small into the turtle's tiny hand. "In case it's dark again, use this. A flashlight."

Donnie stared at the tube thing in his hand. There was a tiny light inside of it. He held it close and hugged his dad tightly. "I- I'm sorry…" he mumbled. 

"Don't be. I'm here to take care of you, it's okay to be scared." 

Splinter laid Donnie back into his bed. His brothers crawled in after him, holding him close. The four laid down to rest, the flashlight still in Donnie's hand.

Splinter sighed, smiling at his boys. He turned to leave, but decided it would be better to stay in the room in case the light died while they slept. He sat next to the bed, and he heard a small voice whispering to him;

"Thanks, Dad."

[sunset-peril]

Yippee, I was actually able to get a Zora May entry done! I wanted to do a Tavo/Vyrtuka piece so badly, and made myself wait until A) May and B) I had time to do it.

I got the prompt lists a little mixed up and realized I was reading the 2023 list about halfway through idea generation, so this is for both the Sentimental (2023) and Tears (2024) prompts. I hope that's alright! I haven't done one of these since Shiptober 2021 so I'm rustyyyy.

There is both an art piece and a short story! Look at me being extra The art piece is based on the short story, so it's not as prompty as the story itself.

Zora May is hosted by @prisiidon

Based on the Hyrule's Final Stand AU series

~~~~

~~~~

He had heard Prince Sidon had found a Hylian to bring to the Domain.

A Hylian that could handle the shock arrows necessary to attack Divine Beast Vah Ruta. 

A Hylian that could save both the Zora and Hyrule as a whole from a whole other calamity.  

There was nothing that could have prepared an elder like him for the shock that would come that morning in the Domain. The sound that echoed so fully off the cliffs and mountains enveloping the Domain. That sound was supposed to be impossible. 

Guardians drowned it out in the flames of Calamity, never to be heard again. 

It must be his old age playing tricks on him, a century’s worth of memories sweeping through him as diluted sunlight twinkled down in this otherwise unending storm. 

But then he saw him. His ancient eyes fell upon this young Hylian. It cannot be, yet it was. 

Just like the rest of the Domain, he was absolutely drenched by the rainfall, and a small frog seemed to have set off his instincts as he splashed around in the Mikau Lake, nose as close to the water as possible without breaching the surface. 

“...Link? Is it really you?” 

The Hylian perked up from such a stance like a startled member of the wildlife, eyes and nostrils wide as his head flared back. Certainly enough, the hallmark scars of an old friend were clearly present on the face, just slightly faded from the last time. The spaulders of his armor gleamed from the water slickening their surface, betraying his true past with mistaken symbolism.

This cannot be, yet it is. 

He stepped closer, weary teal arms reaching out towards the blond Hylian. “Link?”

The Hylian stepped closer, mouth shut with nearly blank eyes glimmering just the slightest with curiosity. There was no familiarity in them, which shook the Zora elder’s arms even further. The armor on his body glistened further as he climbed from the lake. Eventually, he stopped approaching, opting instead to lay on a large, soaked rock and sigh. 

The elder sat alongside him, stroking the Hylian’s armored shoulder as he curled up into the elder’s side. The signs were clear, and that brought a choking urge to cry. There was no reason to withhold the urge, and he wept openly; though his tears were masked with the ever persistent downpour that’d been the reason for this old friend’s arrival. He pulled the open sleeve of his robe over the Hylian’s head, wet ears folding under the additional pressure as a scarred snout began to sniff at the underside. A smile containing the pain of a century crept across the elder as tears continued their attempt to choke it. “It’s okay, Link… Vyrtuka’s here… Vyrtuka’s here, buddy…” 

A wet nose poked against his shaking arm, and he felt his smile break into a grimace while pain flashed through him. Link felt just as cold as he had to have been a century ago. He wanted to scoop the young one up into his arms and take him somewhere warm to dry and feed him, but he knew Link’s fears ran much deeper than simple memory. He did not want to frighten Link, as it seemed Link would not be able to remember why he was afraid, only that he was. 

How could this be possible? How could he even be here, and in this much youth? He’d been told long ago this creature’d been buried six feet below. 

“Link…” 

Link tilted his head out from the robe’s sleeve. 

He thought carefully, how to deliver this question. Link could not answer this for him, yet he wanted to make sure Link understood. He deserved that much. After a gentle squeeze of the shoulder, he bent down slightly and asked in the most pained intonation of Link’s native tongue. “Who stole your rest in peace?” 

~~~

“Who gave the armor to Link? Muzu, I understand sentimentality, but surely you thought about the implications.” 

“I don’t want him having that any more than you do, Tavo. The King gave it to him, otherwise I would have been more vocal.”

“You want it denied to him on the basis of pettiness. I wish the King had given it more consideration on the basis of meaning. King Dorephan’s presentation of the armor violates the final agreement between Link and Mipha! It shames the Kingdom of Hyrule’s memory!”

“What does the reason matter if I agree that the King shouldn’t have given it to him?! It is a sacred item to our people, to be handed off to a traitor who broke his contract on the matter of lust! It is just as much a shame to Mipha as it is to the Kingdom of Hyrule you are so desperately concerned over.” 

“Link did nothing that broke the promise he and Mipha made to each other. A promise is not broken if both parties wish to dissipate it of their own free will and agree on mutual terms. Mipha willingly released him from his contract, and you know it was never his wish for his own life anyway. She gave him grace to release him. The kindness you so desperately demand Link honor is the same kindness you disgrace by punishing him, the kindness so overwhelming in our dear Mipha that she broke her own heart to heal his suffering.” 

“I do not dare disgrace her! It is Link who used that kindness against her to lure her to a blood-soaked grave, not the other way around.” 

“It is a disgrace to her to show a man such vitriol when you know of the mark he left in her heart. Despite whether you feel he wronged her or not, he remains whom she called beloved until her last breath. I would suggest you treat him with respect. The King and Prince remain ever fond of him, despite their overwhelming loss. I think we can afford the same.” Tavo turned his head to peer further into the Domain from where he and Muzu stood on the Great Zora Bridge’s edge. Despite the rainfall turning the Domain’s walkways to shallow rivers, Link was curled up beneath Mipha’s statue, run-off from a shimmering “In loving memory” plaque dripped onto his face as Sidon rambled on about his late sister to him. In truth, he believed this behavior from his fellow Zora to be no less manipulative than what Muzu accused Link of doing so long before. The young Wolfbred was vulnerable in his memory-less state, and it wasn’t fair to him or to the family who had lost him to try and recreate an alternate past into him now. He was not about to cheapen his words with insensitive behavior. Link’s appearance was both the scalpel and the salt to the wounds left deep by Mipha’s death. While Tavo refused to let the werewolf he helped raise become a scapegoat once more, he understood that the bleeding hearts Link was causing would have to be dealt with by the Zora alone. 

[mrssimply]

the people wanna know about "For services rendered" please 😚❤️

Ahahaha, of course the people wanna know about this one.

That one is the answer to @bluelolblue's prompt from... MONTHS ago. She asked for a desperate kiss. Now, you would think it would be easy wih Santino and John to have a situation where they kiss deperately. Yes. Lot of them.

But I didn't want to write something I had written before, so I dug a lil deeper into my brain, who prompty punished me by giving me a scenario that would span over (lemme check) seven chapters (and you know my chapters it's not just 1k words per chapter).

When I was stuck on TBoR, that one jumped on virtual paper right out of my fingers, and it felt GREAT. Then two things happened:

I couldn't seem to make a choice about a central information. I could neither decide how to reveal it, or how big the consequences of that central information would be on the story. Then, suddenly that central information started to make less and less sense.

It got too big. It became too complex, and I tried to reduce it, then it was not epic enough because I had a peaceful resolution but I wasn't sure it was the right way to go... Then I understood this wasn't an answer to Blue's prompt anymore but a whole story that had gotten away from me, as they always effing do!!

In conclusion, I suddenly lost touch with that story, not knowing why I was writting it anymore, why it was so complex, how to simplify it. I also kinda started to low-key hate a couple of scenes I was proud of before (but that's my normal reaction so I wasn't too worried about that).

So that story is officially on hiatus, I'll write another fic completely for Blue, and in the meantime, that one you sorta prompted (for now named With a Bang!) is going well... in my head at least xD. But that one, while having less words written, actually has a lot more chance to ever see daylight than For Services Rendered.

I think it's the first fic in a VERY LONG time that I'm considering just burying.

Did you smell blood or are you just that lucky, asking me about my faillures as an author T-T? (Joking of course, it actually feels good to let it out).

BUT since the people wanna know, here is a snippet under the cut:

“C’mon, D’Antonio, stop wasting our time and just sign it, you got everything you could’ve hoped for and more,” DeSantis growled, arms crossed. “I don’t have a pen,” Santino replied with an innocent smile.  There was a moment of bewilderment where every player around the table imagined they’d heard wrong. Who came to a negotiation without a pen, and even so, it was so childish.  DeSantis hit the table with a fist, before grabbing his lawyer’s pen and practically throwing it at the Camorra representative. He didn’t catch it, letting it fall and roll away. John hadn’t missed his cue in the meantime: he silently walked toward Santino, taking the instrument out of his pocket to hand it to Santino. Who was still playing with his lighter.  He didn’t take that pen either, and John frowned: maybe he’d misunderstood? “You know what?” Santino said, activating the flame. He didn’t bring it to his cigarette, but took one of the contract copies in his other hand. “I just remembered something.” He brought the lighter under the paper, and everyone watched it take fire with a dumbstruck expression.  “We D’Antonio don’t negotiate,” Santino finished with a deranged smile. The fever of insanity shone in his bright green eyes, reflecting the fire. DeSantis was at the end of his rope, he drew his gun. John moved by reflex, jumping over the table with the fountain pen still in his hand. He kicked the gun away with a foot, rolling on the desk to plunge the pen into the Lucchese representative’s neck.  Everything slowed around him. As he tore out the instrument, people started moving: the Five Families’ men went for their guns, but John caught one by the wrist, wrenching it to the side. He used the stylograph to stab the guy under the chin, and then twisted it in his hand to transpierce the left eye of his opponent.  He fell, like his boss, in a gurgle. In the meantime, Cefalu had gotten on his feet, and was firing in the direction of Santino. John didn’t take the time to check if his secret lover had made it, he let the flow of the fight take him to the Gambino’s leader and grabbed his head to throw him down against the table. John left him dazed to confront the last bodyguard, who was aiming at him. The hitman dived under the man’s arm, felt the bullet fly over his head, and used his open palm to hit the bodyguard’s throat. He gurgled, choking, which allowed John to take his gun. Faster than the mobster could react, John killed him with his own gun, a bullet between the eyes. Cefalu was getting up, blinking and wiping the blood away from his face. He threw himself at John with an animalistic growl. The assassin elbowed him in the solar plexus, and they grappled for a moment before John finally threw him on the table over his shoulder. He’d lost the gun, but found another pen lying on the table. Since it had worked well so far, he didn’t hesitate, and finished the crime boss by stabbing him with the instrument through his ear. The silence that followed was deafening. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears, and his heart beating wildly. He looked at Santino, who hadn’t moved if only just to light his cigarette, the burnt paper still smoking in front of him. He smiled at John as he blew out the acrid fog.

[enbysiriusblack]

realization

Remus Lupin was extremely high. And a little drunk.

The ravenclaw's were throwing a party, for absolutely no reason, and Remus had been spending the entire evening in a circle with his 'greenhouse friends'. As the party started coming to an end, around four in the morning, Remus was giving a lecture to the smoking circle, standing right in the middle with everyone's attention on him.

"So you see, Doctor Who is actually for the people. The BBC is a classist circle of money-grabbing conservatives but Doctor Who is a socialist, anti facist, anti war, anti capitalist tv series being made under their noses and right out of their pockets! They think its just some sci-fi show about time travel to educate kids anout history and entertain them about aliens when its also so clearly holding political messages and big fuck you's to the government-"

Remus, at that moment, caught Sirius watching him from outside the circle. He immediately stopped his lecture, fumbling over the circle to reach Sirius.

"Hi", Remus grinned, immediately leaning onto Sirius and bringing them into a hug, "I think I'm the Doctor."

"From Doctor Who?" Sirius held back a laugh.

"Yep", Remus made no move to detach from them, "I'm an alien, Padfoot... What are you?"

Sirius paused in thought, "Your sidekick?"

Remus brought his hands up to hold Sirius' face, "You're my sidekick!"

Sirius felt their heart quicken, blushing deeply as Remus beamed at them in joy, clutching their face as if he'd never let go. Sirius wouldn't let him.

And as Remus flopped his head onto Sirius' shoulder, prompty falling asleep, Sirius' hands immediately went up to try to hold him.

I love you.

Their mind reeled. Where the fuck had that come from? We're friends. Mates. Best mates.

And then Remus' head turned and his lips brushed against Sirius' neck and Sirius realised with dread.

I love you.

[promptisgiftexchange]

Here is the wrap-up of our first week of posting for the Promptis Gift Exchange. Individual works are listed below. 

The entire collection can be found here: 

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Promptis_Gift_Exchange_2024/works

 Please be sure to give our creators some love on Ao3!

Weekly Wrap-up #1

Title: I'd Make a Constellation for You- (Fic) 

Gift For: bladesandstars

Rated: General Audiences (please mind the tags on Ao3)

Summary: When Darkness fell over Eos, giving up felt like the only option, but Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio kept moving forward. When Ignis lost himself, Prompto took on his burdens; when Gladio gave himself to protect others, Prompto made sure he was protected. It was what would keep them together. It was what Noctis would have wanted... So when they got Noctis back only to lose him shortly after, Prompto knew his work wasn't done. He had gone to the ends of the earth for others, but now he would go so much further for Noctis.

To the edge of the earth, to the stars, to the Six themselves. Because Noctis wasn't just the True King, he was the light. He was... the love of Prompto's life.

And those Astral bastards wouldn't take him so easily. No matter how long it took, no matter would have to be done, Prompto would bring him back. For all that Noctis had done for him, for all that Noctis meant to him, he could do at least this much without hesitation.

Title: Forget-Me-Not -(Art) 

Gift for: MoonlightWanderer

Rated: General Audiences (please mind the tags on Ao3)

Summary: After a day of fishing, Noctis gets a gift from Prompto, the local flower shop employee, who put way too much thought into what kind of flowers to put in the bouquet.

Title: Tethered to your heart - (Art & Fic)

Gift For: GingerEl

Rated: Teen (please mind the tags on Ao3)

Summary: “Everyone had a string. Some were perfectly straight and taunt, leading one to their fated easily. Others were so badly tangled they never found the other end. And though it was rarer, it still happened. “

-

-

Red string of fate AU where Prompto learns that ignoring your problems sometimes works out for the best.

Title: Under the Lights  - (Art)

Gift For: kiwiaste

Rated: General Audiences (please mind the tags on Ao3)

Summary: Prompto and Noctis have a date night at the Moogle & Chocobo Cafe. It's a warm summer night, and they both decide to order the most fun fizzy drinks on the menu!

Title: Seven Months till Safety - (Fic)

Gift For: Toastie_Pan

Rated: Mature (please mind the tags on Ao3)

Summary: After a traumatic event pushes Noctis to leave an apprenticeship and drop out of college, he constantly feels like he's walking through a fog. Good thing there's this cute blond guy who keeps roping him into conversation at the local coffee shop.

Title: Lunchtime Love - (Fic)

Gift For: JinHuang

Rated: Teen (please mind the tags on Ao3)

Summary: Four times Prompto and Noctis switched lunches and the one time they shared.

[doomingthenarrative]

FOR ZELINJ INJURY PROMPTY i can barely choose

the get well flowers one is soooo. if one of them gets sick everyone they know is going to know about it especially now that the lucky clover gazette exists) cards and flowers and ingredients piled so high they block the door to the hateno house LMAO

speaking of ingredients. soup. always brainrotting over link learning to be an excellent cook during botw (because he’s cooking all of his own meals and because he resents uniform unseasoned knight rations LMAO) and cooking for zelda <333 also teaching her what he knows so she can cook for herself too. i think she feels a bit uncomfortable being waited on now. but if she’s injured/sick and HAS to accept links doting on her..

also this is not related to injury prompt but i think they are both really excited about tomatoes becoming widespread. link from a culinary and utilitarian angle and zelda geeking out about the historical significance <3

zelda had never quite understood get well soon flowers.

she had grown up in the castle, after all. if she got sick, her father made sure that she did get well soon. all the best medics were called, and she was often disallowed to exit her room. impa would occasionally be sent to look after her when she was meant to be sleeping, and every time without fail brought some sort of board game to keep zelda’s mind from exploding.

sometimes, at least.

zelda understood her father’s irrational fears, as much as they frustrated her. her mother died young, after all, after long and vicious bouts of sickness. zelda was well taken care of, and her ilness kept a quiet secret among the castle staff, lest the people of hyrule think her weak.

(but really, would they think her weak for catching a simple cold?)

she expected much of the same when she caught some sort of flu. it started off that way, at least. link constantly fret, whether hovering over her or sitting in the corner, worry radiating off of him like the sun on a summer day.

she didn’t like being able to command him. she and link were equals - in her mind at least - and she was no more worthy of being served than he was.

but then again, she could hardly lift a spoon to her mouth and force herself to down another bit of rice, so perhaps she needed to swallow her pride.

despite her reservations, link never once made her feel like a burden. he provided her with many of her old research novels to keep her busy, and sat by her side when she was too tired to read them.

it was nice. simple. everything zelda had wanted before going to the palace.

and then link made the mistake of letting it slip at the daily market that she was sick.

(zelda assumed penn had caused this; he was always buggering around for news about her, and link had been seen buying soup ingredients again and again)

then there was the constant knocking, the deliveries, the flowers stacked up so high outside their house that zelda could see them from the second story window. link was on constant alert, and although he had a tendency to win hearts, diplomacy wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

link opened the door once - a one time mistake - for a young child to show zelda the drawing he made. unfortunately, this lead to a stampede of children, all bringing flowers and drawings and then their parents arrived, and zelda was beginning to think that the onslaught would never end, that some of these people weren’t even from hateno, that the countless good luck notes and soups and flowers and crude drawings and heartfelt gifts and zelda felt her heart exploding, felt tears rising, felt the world around her fade into a swirl of color as she closed her eyes and finally slept.

when her eyes finally opened, link was struggling to get through a battlefield of flowers. he tilted his head at her slightly, a grin rising to his lips. zelda giggled. “of course i can see you, silly; there aren’t that many flowers.”

link waggled his brows at her, and plopped the soup in her lap. zelda’s heart swelled as he sat at the foot of her bed, holding his own soup.

maybe she didn’t need a palace. maybe this was enough.

ok soooo i didn’t write abt tomatoes BUT i absolutely agree i think link would be trying all these new dishes while listening to zelda excitedly talk abt what this means for hyrule etc etc. zelda being a nerd and link getting to make delicious new food. truly a win win

[mynameisjessejk]

More Gang AU

Wit-Sec

"Well I have good news and weird news," Eonwe told Erein dryly.

Ereinion raised his eyebrows. "I thought you weren't supposed to contact me at work," he said.

Eonwe looked around the entirely empty cafe. "No one's buying coffee at six pm."

"You'd be surprised," Ereinion answered, silently making Eonwe a flat white. "Now you are," he said, handing it over.

Eonwe glared at it, but took a drink. "Besides, that's the good news," he said. "Sauron is in Federal custody, pending approximately three dozen felony charges."

"What the hell," Erein said softly.

Eonwe nodded. "The weird news is that he's in custody because he got shanked and dropped on the downtown police station stairs with a folder of evidence duct taped to his face."

Erein opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "Uh."

"Pharazon Taru, alias The Mouth is dead," Eonwe continued. "Along with a half dozen minor Red Eye players, all stabbed to death."

Ereinion's heart clenched. If Elrond had taken up his knives again, without Erein to watch his back, he didn't know what he was going to do.

"So pending three dozen felony charges and a conviction, you can go home."

Ereinion swallowed tightly. "He- how likely is a conviction?"

Eonwe shot him a flat look. "Grand jury's already being put together, mostly Alqualondeans, to avoid a tainted juror pool. Between your evidence, which isn't past its statute yet, and the new folder, plus complete access to the Red Eye's headquarters—the key was in the envelope duct taped to Sauron—we may not get all three dozen, but he'll go away."

"And there's no one to avenge him," Ereinion asked.

Eonwe shrugged. "I can't imaging who, with The Mouth dead."

"The Witchking?" Ereinion asked.

"Dead," Eonwe said. "We didn't tell you because it wasn't relevent, but he washed up in the harbor two years ago. Best anyone could figure was the Fisher King had put a hit."

"I don't know him," Ereinion said.

"After you," Eonwe said. "One of Cirdan's kids gone wrong is the official story, but he's at least half Robin Hood, which is why no one's really moved for him. Other than the Witchking's cement shoes, he's never put a single finger outside his smuggling racket."

Ereinion grunted.

The bell over the door dinged, and Ereinion moved prompty to the register. "Welcome to Solar Deer Coffee, what can I get you?"

Thankfully, the woman took her order to go. As soon as she was gone, he looked back at Eonwe, on his phone as he sipped his drink. He looked up when the door thumped closed. "Please tell me this kid actually put cement shoes on him?" he asked.

Eonwe rolled his eyes. "Sorry, no. Gunshot wound, and then weights so he'd sink."

"No one goes for the classics anymore," Erein sighed.

"A little birdie suggested, unverified, that the Witchking went for the Fisher King's paramedic boyfriend, and either Fisher or his chief enforcer killed him in defense." Eonwe blinked very innocently. "Paramedic's name is Elrohir Peredhel, relation assumed but not verified."

"Not a very common name," Erein agreed casually, hoping his voice wasn't as hoarse as it felt. He cleaned by rote, ears ringing. "They were twins. Do you know about the other one?"

"Doctor Peredhel's other son is assumed to be in the game somewhere," Eonwe said. "No sightings, no report, no records. But no school, employment, or military service record either, so either Doctor and Missus Peredhel are supporting him, or he's in the game."

Ereinion had given Elladan his first knife, when the boy turned ten. He was absolutely in the game. And if this Fisher King was dating Elrohir, and the unnamed chief enforcer was on the list of suspects for the Witchking's demise, Elladan was absolutely responsible.

Actually, if Sauron's arrest wasn't Elrond's work, it was probably Elladan's. Or Galadriel's, Erein supposed, but he thought she was still in her anonymous wit-sec job in Valmar.

Eonwe said, "You knew them."

Eonwe had never worked in Lindon. He was Erein's supervisor, at least in part, because he didn't know the history, the story, the whole sorry tale. He was outside the deeply entangled high society, political, and criminal underbelly of Lindon. And he knew the quiet neighborhoods of Alqualonde very well from his days as a beat cop here.

"Yeah," Erein said quietly. "Elrond Peredhel was my chief enforcer, my best friend, and." He stopped. "Well," he finally finished. "He and Celebrian were what I fought for, by the end."

Eonwe nodded. "I don't have a timeline," he said. "And it might be more than a year. But," he said.

Erein was surprised. He'd imagined far more than a year, for a grand jury case.

"He's high profile," Eonwe said. "The President himself has expressed interest. They want it done as soon as possible. And then you can go home."

"Well," Erein said softly. "That's something."

Eonwe looked into his empty coffee cup. "I still think coffee at six pm is ridiculous," he announced, and made his way to the door. "Do wait for us," he added gently, and then he was gone.

Erein considered ignoring that last order. He could vanish. He could see Elrond. It would probably be fine.

But if it wasn't-

Well, it didn't bear thinking on. So he could wait. A year; he could do a year.

[mearpsdyke]

hello!!! 10 or 33 for the prompty guy with the two aces perchance? <3

10. sitting next to each other at their mutual friends’ wedding

“I think the maid of honor is making eyes at you,” the stranger sitting next to Jamie whispers. Jamie rolls his eyes, pretending he doesn’t notice Shandy, which poses a problem because there’s not that many people in the front row to begin with.

“Yep, she’s been doing that for a year now.” Jamie sinks further on his chair, the stranger chuckles quietly. He looks at him out of the corner of his eyes and thinks he has great hair.

“Are you from the bride’s side or the groom’s?” 

Oh, shit. He dreads that question. How do you say that the bride is your ex, the groom is your boss and they started dating like a month after you broke up without sounding like a bitter bitch? You don’t, so he settles for a white lie.

“Groom’s my boss, half the office is here,” he says simply, “and whose side are you on?” Jamie cocks a brow, intrigued; he’d never seen him before today.

“Bride’s, we met at a hair salon when the salon committed a mistake and double booked us at the same time. Been pretty solid ever since.” That’s so on brand for Keeley it takes Jamie all of his restraint to not laugh. “I’m Dani, by the way.” The stranger—Dani, he knows now, sticks his hand out to shake.

“Jamie, nice to meet you.” He smiles, stretching his hand for a second before they hiss at the same time. “You felt that—?”

“The electricity? Yeah, I did.” And it’s not a metaphor for anything; they did feel a spark of electricity when they touched, which isn’t all that uncommon during Fall. 

“Well, anyway, it is nice to meet you,” Jamie says after a beat of silence, “Wanna hang out during the reception?” He asks, more so because he doesn’t need nor want the conversations full of remarks about how sorry they are that it didn't work out with Keeley.

Dani’s a blank canvas, a new start. 

“Sure, I’d love to.” Dani smiles brightly, and something tingles inside Jamie.

Yes, a new beginning, he thinks.

[gingerel]

promptis | caught in the rain

They don’t get to stay in Lestallum as often as Noctis would like and he gets it, the hotel is kinda pricey while camping is free. But they are staying, and he’d been looking forward to immediately face planting into one of the beds and only looking up if it was time for food or King’s Knight.

But Prompto — sweet, wonderful, overly energetic Prompto — volunteers the two of them to run out for groceries as Ignis frets over having enough time and Noctis is tugged out of the hotel before he has a single moment alone with the soft, clean bedspread.

It barely rains in Lestallum and yet they get three steps towards the market when the heavens open and drench them through in seconds. Everyone rushes for cover and the two of them are lucky enough to find shelter under a secluded overhang.

 “Great,” Noctis mumbles, shaking water droplets from his hair.  

Prompto somehow looks worse off than Noctis feels, hair darkened with the weight of the water. He blows upwards, trying to shift the long part of his bangs; it's too sodden to move. Noctis pushes it away for him, smoothing some of the dampness off Prompto’s freckled cheek with his palm.

Their height difference is negligible, but Prompto is distinctly looking up at him right now.

“I’m sorry,” Prompto mumbles. “I didn’t know it would rain.”

“I could be having a nap,” Noctis sighs, knowing that the statement for Prompto, will truly explain the depth of his current feelings.

“I’m sorry,” Prompto says again. “I just —” Prompto cuts himself off and diverts his gaze completely.

There’s rainwater even gathered in his eyelashes, Noctis notices, dripping out of his hair and onto his collar. Prompto shivers and Noctis uses it as an excuse to move closer, mumbling cold as he does, even though pressing tight when they’re both chilled and sodden through does little to alleviate.

“Just what?” Noctis nudges, physically poking at him too.

“I missed hanging out,” Prompto admits. He looks up but quickly darts his gaze away again. Noctis isn’t so used to him being this unsure around him anymore.

“We hang out all the time,” Noctis tells him.

But he knows it’s not the same.

All four of them together on this road trip, the weight of the world pushing them down is a far cry from how he used to feel hanging out with Prompto. Back then Noctis felt like a different person in those moments, or maybe the person he most wanted to be, snatching little moments of nothing but youthful joy and the occasional thrill of getting up to something they weren’t meant to do.

Goofy pictures in a photo-booth during a mall visit Noctis never had cleared, holding hands as they cross a balance beam in a park they long since aged out of — texting Ignis that of course Prompto has gone home even while he’s giggling from one of Noctis’ bad jokes in the bed right next to them.

Noctis feels like a different person now, too. But it’s not good. It’s not necessarily something he ever wanted.

“Yeah but…” Prompto drifts off.

There’s only one thing Noctis really wanted, and everything had gone to shit before he got anything other than a mere taste of it.

“I miss the arcade,” Noctis offers, smiling softly when Prompto pins him with wide eyes. “I miss just…hanging out.”

Prompto grins, shoving his shoulder gently into Noct’s side. He doesn’t move away much after and Noctis has to deal with being able to feel the shape of Prompto’s arm against him, listening to the rain pound noisily around them. So heavy is it that it seems to bounce off the concrete, tap tap tap against all the windows when the breeze blows it sideways.

“I miss you,” Prompto says, almost drowned out by the rain.

Noctis doesn’t quite gasp but he feels the air catch in his chest as Prompto’s words settle over him.

“Prom,” he says softly. Prompto’s hand catches one of his, thumb pressed against Noctis’ palm.

“Noct, I —” Prompto starts, swallows then bites down on his plush bottom lip. His teeth dig in so harshly it turns white all around them and Noctis doesn’t know how he’ll ever stop staring at it.

Prompto releases it, soothes over the indents with his tongue and squeezes Noctis’ hand.

He’s gone pink, Noctis realises, and he’s very close. Normally he might think too close, not because Noctis doesn’t like him being there but because it’s difficult to have him like this, to be so close and not be allowed to touch.

Today, he swoops the back of his fingers over Prompto’s cheek, lingering over a cluster of freckles underneath his eye.

“Prom,” Noctis says again.

Prompto’s brow sets, his eyes go steely, determined like when he’s going to clip the wings of a killer bee to take it out of the sky. It makes Noctis tense, braces for danger as Prompto leans close.

Being scared is stupid, he discovers, the moment it happens.

There was barely six inches between their mouths anyway, so Prompto closes it with almost no effort. The rainwater makes everything slick, the press of their lips together smooth but more chilled than anything Noctis had ever imagined it would be. With his hand right there, it only makes sense to cradle Prompto’s cheek in his palm, to hold him close in case he even thinks about running away.

They’re both panting a little when they finally pull apart even though the kiss was nothing but chaste. Prompto’s hand is resting on Noctis’ waist and his grin is surprisingly shy.

“I miss doing that,” Prompto murmurs. “Even though we’d never done it before,”

On the cover of it, it’s a statement that obviously doesn’t make any sense, yet Noctis understands it entirely.

“Me too,” he breathes and he nuzzles against Prompto’s cheek before kissing him again.   

[donvilaro]

New beginnings

Something Bri and I were chatting about, just Niccolo doing what he does best hahahaha @mrsgiovanna I think your new url needs to be @mrsvilaro

He would always get lost in her eyes- shimmering onyx gems that she didn't appreciate, but could bring a god to his knees. It was always like that with her, flitting about blissfully unaware of her own charm. It was both frustrating and endearing, because were she aware of how she had affected people, she might have been more wary of how she behaved. She had left a trail of broken hearts behind her, none worse off than Niccolo.

"Have you even heard a word I said?!" Bri asked, delicate hands gripped the sides of his face and brought his attention to herself.

"... something about... I'm sorry, could you repeat that, " he admitted with an embarrassed grin. He didn't want to remove her hands from his face. She sighed with a smile and released him from her grip and walked to the large glass door in his study to catch the last rays of the setting sun.

"It's so beautiful..." Bri trailed off, those pretty eyes never leaving the scenic view. He responded in agreement, his eyes fixed on her and the way her golden brown skin absorbed the sunshine, and how the ochre flecks in her eyes danced in the light. Her shiny raven hair framed her delicate face in thick waves that stopped just above her shoulders and in that moment, she looked as though she was illuminated from within. She looked up at him with a soft smile, and his heart raced from that action alone. It had been a few months since she had moved to Sicily to live with her father and twin brother, and her life had finally begun to normalize after her exit from Passione.

"How are you, Bria? Honestly,"

"Honestly... I'm okay, it's been an adjustment but I can finally say I'm over everything... I miss Naples, but I feel like I'm home here... truly home,"

"Have you spoken to any of them since?" She shifted awkwardly and looked down, her hair concealed the pained expression on her face.

"Everyone... except him. It's okay though, I know he's probably very busy... and well, you know the rest..." Niccolo lifted her face by the chin, and gently coaxed her to face him, only to see her teary eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you... I-"

"It's okay," she said through a small laugh, " I don't even know why I'm reacting like this... I was stupid to think it'd last,"

"You weren't stupid, you were in love..."

"Same thing, no?" Another hollow laugh. It hurt him to see her this broken, trying to hold it in and keep her composure.

"Yes and no... we can do silly things when we fall for someone, but it's not stupidity..." Bria looked up at him and smiled politely before she paused to really look at him. The sun was in its last few moments and had cast a glow on everything in the room. Up until that point, she hadn't realised how strong his features were or how his eyes looked like molten gold. She had felt something effervescent in her chest which rose to heat up her cheeks when he turned to meet her stare.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, genuinely concerned by the way she shuffled beside him.

"I... no no, nothing... I just -"

Before she could finish her sentence, Bria was interrupted by Arturo, who had been set to join them for dinner. He had gaged the atmosphere in the room and tried to change the subject.

"Am I early?" Arturo had casually threw himself on the couch at the corner of Niccolos' study while Bria excused herself. Arturo waited until she was far enough before he spoke again.

"Be honest, what did I really walk in on?"

"Nothing. I was just asking how she was doing..." replied Niccolo, who couldn't help but laugh at Arturos' suspicious expression.

"Just... don't hurt my sister, it's hard enough watching her try to get over that freak with the weird hair-"

"By now, you should know I'd never hurt her, " Niccolo cut him off before he could continue. The tension hung in the air until Bri had returned, prompting the men to put their differences aside for the moment.

"Ava is making paella, so I hope you guys are hungry,"

"And I brought dessert- chocolate... something, I don't know, dad just asked Gabby to make it," Arturo got up from his seat and slung an arm around his twins shoulder, dwarfing her. Niccolo looked at the pair with a smile, for a pair of twins, they couldn't have been more different.

"All my favourites... I know what you guys are doing... you don't have to treat me with kid gloves... I'm okay," Bri had put on her most convincing smile and as the night had continued she found that her mood had eventually matched her expression. Niccolo had given Ava the rest of the night off and so when it came to putting the finishing touches on the desserts, Bri had taken the task upon herself.

"Would you like coffee or wine with your dessert? Niccolo asked, looking through his selection of wine when Bri and Arturo both answered that they had wanted coffee instead.

Niccolo chuckled and nodded. "Coffee it is, then. I'll prepare some fresh brew for all of us." He walked over to the kitchen counter and began grinding the coffee beans while Bri focused on the desserts. Arturo hovered nearby, offering occasional assistance and engaging in lighthearted banter.

As the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, Niccolo poured it into mugs and brought them over to the dining table. The desserts were laid out beautifully, tempting anyone with a sweet tooth. Bri had done an excellent job, and she took pride in her creations as she joined Niccolo and Arturo at the table. They sat together, enjoying the warmth of the coffee and the company of one another. The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and anecdotes. Bri found herself feeling at ease, basking in the comfort of this newfound family. It was a stark contrast to the tumultuous life she had left behind.

Niccolo watched Bri with a mixture of fondness and concern, his eyes never straying far from her. He knew that healing took time, but he was determined to be there for her every step of the way. As the evening progressed, he couldn't help but feel a growing connection between them, a sense of understanding and shared experiences.

After dessert, they lingered at the table, not quite ready to part ways for the night. Arturo excused himself to take care of some errands, leaving Niccolo and Bri alone. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the room, casting a gentle ambiance.

Niccolo leaned back in his chair, studying Bri's face, which now held a hint of tranquility. "You know, Bria, I meant what I said earlier. You don't have to pretend to be okay all the time. It's alright to let yourself feel and heal. And I'll be here for you, no matter what."

Bri met his gaze, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "Thank you, Niccolo. It means a lot to me to have you and Arturo by my side. I don't think I could have made it this far without your support."

Niccolo reached across the table, taking Bri's hand in his. His touch was warm and comforting, grounding her in the present moment.

"You're stronger than you realize, Bria. And I believe in you. We all do. Together, we'll create new memories, ones that overshadow the pain of the past." Bri squeezed his hand, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I'm starting to believe that, too. And I'm grateful for this fresh start, for the chance to find happiness again."

As they sat there, hands intertwined, a newfound sense of hope and possibility filled the room. The journey ahead would not be without its challenges, but with the support and love they shared, Bri knew she had found her home, not just in Sicily but in the hearts of the people who cared for her. As the conversation lingered in the air, a gentle silence settled between Niccolo and Bri. The connection between them seemed to intensify, their eyes locked in a moment of shared understanding. It was as if the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in that intimate space.

Niccolo's heart raced in his chest as he leaned forward, his hand still holding Bri's. The anticipation hung in the air, a subtle tension building between them. He could feel the warmth of her hand against his, her presence enveloping him.

Bri's breath hitched, her eyes flickering between Niccolo's lips and his gaze. Her heart mirrored his rapid rhythm, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The vulnerability she saw in his eyes sparked something within her, a desire to let go of the pain and embrace the possibility of happiness.

In that suspended moment, Niccolo closed the distance between them, his lips gently brushing against Bri's. It was a soft, tender kiss, filled with unspoken emotions and a silent promise. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of that connection. Bri's eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the moment and allowing herself to be carried away by the tenderness of Niccolo's touch. Their kiss deepened, a shared longing and the unspoken words of affection passing between them.

The world outside their embrace ceased to exist as they became immersed in the depth of their emotions. It was a moment of solace and healing, a testament to the newfound love blossoming between them.

Eventually, they pulled away, their breaths mingling in the air. Niccolo rested his forehead against Bri's, his hand gently caressing her cheek. They both wore smiles that spoke volumes, conveying a mutual understanding of the significance of that moment.

"I'm here for you, Bria," Niccolo whispered, his voice laced with sincerity. "No matter what lies ahead, I'll be by your side."