#for like 95 percent of the drabble

[sarcasticdolphin]

“Journey” Smrtolf? More Smrt and (Adult) Rudolf. 

Cut is for Rudolf’s state of mind. It’s .... very poor. Takes place before Spiegel.

For the amazing @adridoesstuff as all of my Czech Elisabeth drabbles are :)

He barely looked up to the driver as he slid into the carriage. The man had his cowl pulled up, and his robe seemed odd, almost asymmetric, but with the weather Rudolf couldn’t really bring himself to think about it. The carriage was a small one, not a grand imperial thing, but functional enough. The snow - wet and heavy - was unpleasant even in the seconds it took to exit the palace and climb in. He didn’t have to say a destination - the driver already knew, and the steady hoofbeats of the horses began.

It would be a good few hours to Mayerling, especially considering the weather.

So Rudolf let his mind drift off to the steady beat of horse hooves, laying his cheek against the cold window of the carriage. He wanted to sink into nothingness, to let his mind empty. But the last conversation he had with his father - if one could really call it that - played over and over in his head.

It had been more a lecture or a reprimand than a conversation - he certainly hadn’t gotten a word in edgewise. Rudolf shuts his eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but instead imagined specters dance before him. His father’s cold disappointment, and the glares of his father’s ministers.

Shaking his head, he glances out the cold window. The landscape is a myriad of dark woods and white snow - though the white was only an illusion. There had been an unseasonable warm spell, and the woods would be full of dark cold mud. It was the worst time of the year for hunting.

So why had he even decided to go to Mayerling, to begin with? It was a retreat, and admonition of weakness. And an obvious one, at this time of year. He shouldn’t be going. But to turn back now would be to show even greater weakness. 

He’s tired, but sleep would be no remedy for him. Not that kind of exhaustion - not tiredness. Perhaps it would be better said that he is weary of this backstabbing world he had been born into. Fair, beautiful Vienna, the imperial capital where even children spun intrigues for fun.

Rudolf’s thoughts continue to spiral, and shaking his head is of no service - his mind is over-anxious. And so he bangs twice on the door. The steady beat of the horse hooves stops, and Rudolf opens the door, stumbling out of the carriage before the driver has any hope of getting down to open it for him.

The air seemed colder, sharper than it had been inside the carriage. It was certainly fresher, and less stale.

Rudolf took one deep breath, then another, glancing around. They were at a point where the road paralleled a small stream. There were no rivers on the road to Mayerling, certainly nothing like the mighty Danube, but this stream was nothing to sneeze at, the quickly rushing water audible over the noises of the horses.

The driver was climbing down - no doubt to ask if Rudolf was alright, but the prince found himself taking a few steps away, to look at the little stream - its banks were choked with snow, and wherever the snow wasn’t dark rock predominated. There wasn’t so much as a spec of green. The forest might as well be dead.

“My prince.” The tension in Rudolf’s shoulders bleeds away at the unmistakable voice.

“My friend.” Smrt is standing beside him a moment later.

They stand for a long moment in silence, the only noises coming from the rushing water and the horses. The snow had stopped sometime earlier, though Rudolf isn’t sure when.

“What river is this?” It’s a poetic question, but his friend will understand. It’s not the rushing steam he’s asking about. Will it end?

He hopes beyond hope to hear a name. He wants everything to end. To be free. If not from the world, then free from the gilded cage he has lived in all his life.

“This stream has no name, my prince.” Rudolf hates Smrt’s answer. Smrt knows well what words he wanted to hear. Styx. Lethe.

He blinks, and wants to see a little boat, a ferry. There is none - this is a stream he could step across with ease. Even during the melt, there would be no need.

There is a snort from one of the horses. Hurry up.

Rudolf glances back at the carriage, then at his friend, then back at the little stream. The rocky gully it sits in looks treacherous, and it would be so now even more than usual - ice, snow, and wet rocks make a most treacherous combination. But part of Rudolf - a far larger part than he would admit, but his friend undoubtedly knows already, wants to climb down those rocks. To look for the little ferry he’s imagined. 

Would his friend be the boatman? Or would it be the gaunt old man of Dante?

He turns away, and walked back up the few steps toward the carriage. The ground isn’t treacherously slippery, but with the slope, it seems as if the earth itself wants him to descend the gorge.

His friend steps beside him, glancing at Rudolf for a long moment before climbing up to the driver’s seat. Rudolf for his part finds the handle that will open the carriage, but thinks better of it, climbing up after his friend, sitting beside him atop the carriage.

His friend raises an eyebrow, but gives a flick of his whip, and with the sound, the horses are off again.

Their speed isn’t notable - the horses are at a walk - but the carriage feels so much more unsteady, the height magnifying each imperfection in the muddy road. Rudolf grasps the bar before them, making sure not to look down.

It doesn’t work for long, though he manages a glance at the horses before him rather than to the side. Only two - though this is a light carriage, Rudolf isn’t sure why he would expect more - but they are both great black creatures, and on their heads - feathers.

The carriage is black, the horses the same, and though the feathered plumes are gone when Rudolf blinks, he was the indelible feeling that it is not his carriage that he rides in, but his hearse.

“Am I going to die tonight?”

His friend doesn’t answer for a long moment. “It is not my place to appoint the moment of your passing.”

A non-answer if ever Rudolf has ever heard one. His father’s ministers are so fond of them. The tiredness is back, the weariness. But even now, it’s not the cold. Not something he could sleep off. He’s weary of the world, and Rudolf so wants to lay his head on Smrt’s shoulder, to shut his eyes and never open them.

It would be so easy - he and Smrt are sitting close enough, and Rudolf glances at his friend, his eyes fluttering shut.

They open again a moment later. He shouldn’t do that to his friend, and he glances away, embarrassed. It’s a mistake. The muddy road is so far below them, and it looks so enticing at that moment. Rudolf imagines it rushing toward him all too quickly.

“My friend.” His voice sounds hollow.

“Rudolf.” Smrt sounds entirely put together. 

“Will you hold me?” A dangerous question if ever there was one, so he speaks again, fingers twitching together, words nervous. “When it’s time. I-” he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It doesn’t work “I don’t want to die alone.”

Rudolf isn’t sure he expects an answer, but after a moment his friend does speak.

“I’ll hold you until it’s over.”

The prince lets out a breath at that, and when he glances down again the ground no longer looks so inviting.

The roof of his hunting lodge is coming into sight only a few minutes later. They don’t speak as they approach, slowing before halting. 

Rudolf clambers down hastily - the servants here won’t ask questions, but it would be better he not even give them the opportunity to see him atop the carriage. He walks up to the horses, stroking their muzzles. 

Smrt is down a few moments later, and a groom helps them lead the horses to the stables. The young man is obviously flustered to be in Rudolf’s presence, to witness the sight that is the Crown Prince attending to his own horses.

Rudolf sends the young groom off to inform the senior servants of his arrival, undoing the harnesses and beginning the task of brushing the animals down. The groom can get them food and water when he returns. Smrt stays with him, leaning against the wall of the stall, observing.

“Do they have names?”

“Stín is the one you are grooming now. Tma is the other one.”

Rudolf almost rolls his eyes at the names. Smrt isn’t always as subtle as he can be.

The task gets his blood flowing, but the groom returns soon enough, and Rudolf is tired - no less weary, but truly tired now. He leaves the groom to his work and heads into his lodge.

His friend stays with him, and no one questions it. Rudolf doesn’t mind, though if his friend is expecting good company he will be sorely disappointed. Rudolf for his part mindlessly strips off the clothes he had worn on the journey, finding his sleeping attire. He hasn’t eaten since noon, but he doesn’t care. He’s tired. He can eat in the morning.

The prince flops on the bed, tapping the unoccupied side of it. His friend looks skeptical, but sits atop the covers. Rudolf shifts a little closer to his friend, looking at his hands first before glancing up into Smrt’s eyes.

“Would it be so bad? For it to be tonight?” Because he wants, and in a deep-seated way. And the weariness isn’t gone, just because he’s tired.

Smrt’s glove is gone, and he’s reaching out, his hand closing in on Rudolf’s cheek - and Rudolf leans toward the hand. He wants nothing more.

But Smrt pulls the hand back. “Your mother is returning to Vienna.”

Rudolf is at once furious and resigned at his friend’s refusal, but both are forgotten as he registers the words. His mother is returning. She’s like him. She’ll help him. Surely, she’ll help him. His father will be happy again. Rudolf will be happy again. The world will be put to rights.

He smiles, glancing up at his friend. “Thank you.” And he’s glad, for the knowledge she will return. For his part, he’ll return to the city in the morning. If his mother is returning, he wants to be ready.

[s0ulryo]

a little explanation for my hiatus if anyone was curious under the cut :D

so, while i think i don’t have to put this out here, i kinda want to address it just because my inbox is opened for asks, and i kinda feel bad for not addressing any of my messages or asks for the past several months,, everything below this could be considered a rant!!

to be quite blunt, i’ve just been super sick—nothing catastrophic to my health, but it has taken me out of school for a while, which made it difficult to catch up with the material and keep up my grades—so i’ve just been prioritizing school over my blog

i also just lost my enjoyment for writing for a while—i’ve hated the majority of content i’ve written after may/june of 2023, and i scrapped about 95 percent of anything I’ve written for this page since then—completely stopping making drafts in september (that's when i got sick + school started)

besides losing enthusiasm for writing—i’ve had no clue what to write; i’ve been severely behind in the content for most of the fandoms i write for, so i felt like i should catch up on the new content before i wrote again (idk if that made sense)

i thought a ton of the asks I’ve received were super cool!! but a lot of them went against my rules, so i just lacked the motivation to write it—i do not mean to single anyone out,, and i’m so happy that you interacted with my page!! please just be mindful that i have rules that i’d like to follow—and i hope you’re okay with that!

i have two drafts in progress atm,, a little headcanon thing for the hazbin lovers and a little drabble for the twst lovers because every time i open tumblr, i just get blasted with both those fandoms LMAOO

so if i ever get those out, i really hope you enjoy them hehe

thank you for reading this brain rot if you did, and i hope you stop by my page again <3

[freezethebeez]

Same anon who wrote all the lore stuff here:

I’m really glad you like my stufff, but unfortunately my content well has run dry (for now)

the only thing I’m gonna add is

-there’s a fuckton of gay oil paintings from the renaissance of fancily/scantily clad people biting each other on lush beds and couches

-some vampires judge whether or not a person is worth leaving alive by how much they “contribute” to society. HC that the vampire in the blood bank was fixin’ to bite Tubbo because he smelled homeless.

-the vampire population is relatively low compared to the human population, but vampire numbers kinda skew up or down every 5 hundred or so years because vampires tend to have absolutely no or like 4 (“they can keep each other company while we’re out”) children depending on how many vampires are already in the community bc while a lot of vampires may like physical touch and nonsexual intimacy, like 95% percent of them are some form of ace. It simply does not seem like a fun or desirable activity. However, there are few enough of them that when 500 or so vampires decide they want a lot of kids or 500 or so die off because they hit 1000 years, it makes a big impact

yes, gay paintings are an absolute must. adding onto this idea: when ranboo was younger- like, 50/60 or something (10/12-ish in human years)- the only way to get him out of the house was to take him to museums and art galleries where he would just stand in front of aforementioned Gay Paintings and stare at them for a bit. beau wasn't quite sure why at the time, but after ranboo came out to her and told her that he's not really interested in women, she kinda put the pieces together.

i really like the idea of vampires preferring to eat humans who don't contribute much to society. i also think it would be funny if there was just a group of vampires who specifically ate rich humans.

MOST VAMPIRES ARE ACE THAT IS SO TRUE. but like.. actually true they definitely are. because why would one ever want to get into the pants of a human when you could just eat one ^_^ it's like cake, for the lack of a better analogy. why would one want to fuck a cake when one could just eat it instead?

don't feel pressured to feed me more content for my own fic, anon <3 i'm already beyond impressed with what you've been able to come up with based on what i've laid out, especially since we're only about halfway through at this point (maybe a little more. saying half-way may just be copium because i don't really want catalyst to end haha).

i absolutely love this kind of stuff, so if the content well ever fills up again, feel free to send me literally whatever you want, whether it be more world-building, culture, religion, head canons, or just straight up one-shots/drabbles that take place within the universe. all of it is very very very cool to me :D

[toukatan]

You read every gojohime fic???? That's amazing!!! What are your favourites?

hello anonie! i guess i can say i’ve read at least a good 80% of all the fics, at least. probably. most likely because the fic tag at the start of the year was tiny and now the community’s grown so much there’s almost 600 of them. that’s insane to me. like hello?

i have a lotta fics that come to mind, that i should honestly make a master post on because i love them all. so here are a few many that came to mind immediately as i typed this up.

gojohime fic recommendations!

multichapter

limitations by ohmytheon 

“Parenthood chooses you," her mother used to tell her, but Utahime never understood that saying more than the moment she realized she was pregnant with Gojo Satoru's child. They were never meant to be something serious - never meant to be more than they were - and yet they both suddenly find themselves in a world that doesn't care about their desires - and that brings them closer in a way that no one else can understand. It won't be easy and it won't be kind to either of them, but it appears as if the universe has other plans for them

no one is what they were before by ohmytheon 

The world broke when Gojo Satoru turned on jujutsu society. It's not the hopeful place it was before, but Utahime has never been one to give up. Until she's placed in a dangerous position directly in his path, and she finds herself trapped in a web that doesn't seem intent on ever letting her go.

and touch me like you never by ohmytheon 

In public, Gojo is a special grade bastard, especially to Utahime, and has been all their lives. He knows exactly what insults to throw and what buttons to push to drive her up a wall. In private, however, he's got quite a few other things to tell and show her, which only makes things more confusing. It would be easier if she could avoid him entirely, but for some reason, he won't let her go entirely.

gravity by aerfei

This is Utahime, fierce and indomitable, and this is Satoru, who despite holding the world’s regard, still craves something that Utahime has had all her life. Coming together is sometimes an act of desperation, and sometimes a deliberate choice. Or: An Iori Utahime character study, through the lens of her relationship with Gojo Satoru, starting from the beginning and ending at the Goodwill Event arc. Manga spoilers and (at least 95%) canon-compliant through (at least) chapter 135.

count every single leaf in autumn by florieneofthesea

“I told my family we’re dating.” Utahime’s hand hovers over the door. “What?!” (or: Gojo tells his family that he's dating Utahime to get them off his back, so of course they invite her to the dreaded family dinner™)

favourite colour by otherthingsonhold

At 28, Satoru Gojo's responsibilities only start to multiply. With his clan looking to him to lead the family, and the balance of the universe in his hands, Gojo isn't thinking of much else. But when his mother brings something to his attention, the only thing Gojo can do is follow through. But how is Utahime Iori part of all of this?

gojo catoru by ashittywriter

Utahime is tasked to catsit a suspiciously large Persian dollface cat with pristine white hair, the most boop-able nose, and to top it off the cutest cerulean eyes. Too bad the cat also happens to be her idiotic colleague Gojo Satoru.

at the tail-end of spring by florieneofthesea

Utahime doesn't expect to remember her ex's number off by heart but it comes in handy when she's a little less than sober outside a club in a city she's not familiar with and her battery on three percent. She just wishes things turned out differently for them. (Or, post-break up exploration where outer forces refuse to let them have their happy ending.)

a second chance by onewordmore

In another world, it wasn't Geto who sneered down at humanity, regarding them to be worthless monkeys that deserved to die. In another world, it wasn't Geto who openly defied the Jujutsu Council and brought down terror and fear to all. In another world, it wasn't just Amanai Riko who died that day, amidst the cheers and delighted cries of the insane. And Utahime was going to learn, first hand, the consequences of her own death.

from you to me by onewordmore

A drabble series regarding Gojo and Utahime. From fluff to smut to angst to love. This is going to have it all.

oneshots

oceansize by aerfei

The marriage is arranged by their families, small clans both, with all their hopes and traditions laid gently upon the shoulders of their only heirs -- and yet, this distance is impassable.

under the cover of darkness by ohmytheon

It takes a little alcohol, early morning hours, and a game of truth or dare for Gojo and Utahime to admit some difficult truths to each other.

risk/reward by ohmytheon 

No punishment had ever been more effective in making Gojo do his actual job than receiving praise from his secretary - or more grueling than when Utahime withheld it.

like a good roommate by ohmytheon

Utahime has a problem: her bed wasn't delivered to the new apartment. Her ridiculous roommate, Gojo, has a solution - but he's kind of panicking on the inside.

aware of us by halspur 

“We did alright, didn’t we?” Gojo put his phone down after taking several dozen photos of Tsumiki walking across the stage, his eyes soft. “I mean, we were just kids, too.”

love song by halspur

“Because you’re weak.” Gojo said, muffled into the thin skin of her throat. “I can’t leave you alone.”

tear you apart by halspur

“I don’t want to be mean to you,” Utahime’s cheek was pressed into his spine, her voice muffled. “I like you.”

cuddles are for clean boyfriends by just_trying_my_best_everyday

Utahime finds Gojo Satoru sitting right behind the door, blindfold hanging on his neck, completely soaked in blood and petting her cat with both hands. And he stinks.

honey by florieneofthesea

Gojo Satoru experiences love a decade before he fully realises it.

roots by florieneofthesea 

At the start of winter, Utahime starts to cough up blood. She thinks maybe its just the lingering damage from her last mission, but the coughing persists and it starts to scratch her throat, and itch at her lungs and when she finally makes the trip to Tokyo to ask Shoko for her help, she doesn't even get the first word out. Shoko welcomes her at the entrance to Tokyo Metropolitan Technical School and Utahime hacks up a single, pale blue petal, smattered with blood. She stares down at the flora on the ground and wonders if she's been cursed. Utahime looks up, and Shoko's eyes are wide.

to have and to hold by ashittywriter

“M’sorry," Gojo said his voice slurring at the end. "But please go away, I have a girlfriend." Utahime blinked in confusion. What the fuck? 

souvenir by PrettyKittyLuvsU

“Aha!” Gojo tugged something out of his pocket, his long fingers curled around it as he held his hand behind his back. His other hand waved before him, a cheeky grin splitting his lips. “Ora, ora! Hold out your hand.” Utahime stared flatly. “Ora, ora!” Gojo persisted, continuing to wave his hand as he grinned. “Hold out your hand already!” Utahime scowled at the hand swaying infront of her face. She had half a mind to slap the man instead, but her students were closely watching. Even Gojo’s students, the second years mainly—for Sukuna’s vessel was apologizing profusely as the brown haired girl continued kicking him while the quiet one made no effort to stop her— looked in fascination at whatever ridiculous souvenir Gojo wanted to hand her. Utahime slowly lifted her arm, already planning on throwing the thing back in Gojo’s annoying face. Gojo gets Utahime a very special kind of souvenir. Set during the start of the Goodwill arc.

dayum this exposes me huh? i do be reading a lot but what can i say i love to see it. all these fics are amazing, to the writers y’all are doing fantastically like my goodness you be really putting ya girl in a loop with some of these fics with your plot-lines and doing it flawlessly. can’t thank them enough for them, their hard work and time!

be sure to show the writers some love and support with comments, bookmarks and fight that dayum kudos button when it smiles at you because lemme leave more—

i think they’d really really appreciate it when they hear the bing and be sure to check out all of their stories including the ones in the pairing tag! happy readings 😙✨

[neonacity]

Shift | NCT 127 x Reader

A/N: hello! I finally broke through 200 followers so I decided to post this quick drabble I wrote out of nowhere. I don't have any idea where I am going with this, but this isn't supposed to be taken seriously anyway. Lol. No summaries, I'm pretty sure y'all will understand the gist of it haha. Also, there is a 95 percent chance that I might delete this tomorrow.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright with this?" 

My co-worker at the shelter, Kun, looked over as I dragged the last of the cages into my small living room. He had just finished pushing the last of the canned cat food into my already spilling cupboard when I finally straightened up from my crouch with a giddy smile on my face. The expression I had seemed to be enough of an answer for him since he flashed me his dimpled smile paired with a shake of his head. 

"Yes. I mean, why wouldn't I be okay with this?" I waved towards the group waiting patiently over my couch with almost child-like excitement. Kun raised his brow at me as he leaned against  my kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't know. Having five dogs and four cats stay in a cramped apartment doesn't seem to be the most sane decision if you ask me," his eyes moved over to each of the furry babies sitting on the cheap rug I managed to fish out from a second hand store, a mildly concerned look settling over his handsome features. My gaze followed his, and for the first time, it fully sank to me what I have gotten myself into. 

A golden retriever, a husky, a basenji, a german shepherd, and a beagle stared back at me silently, their eyes looking way too understanding  and smart for five canines who have just been rescued from a dog pound. My eyes then moved to my couch where a white cat had already started snuggling with a ginger one, a tabby joining the pile of floof they've created after giving a demanding meow. Finally, my attention moved to the one that I still haven't released from his cage, a beautiful black cat with striking electric blue eyes. I quickly ducked to open the lock on his carrier, and with graceful poise, the handsome boy jumped to my arms before cuddling against my chest. 

"Taeyong says you're right. This isn't a sane decision. It's a crazy one, which only makes it even more perfect." 

Kun looked at me as if I'd lost my mind.

"Oh, and you've named them now?" 

"I didn't. They already have their names," gently, I pulled Taeyong just a little bit from the crook of my neck to show Kun the silver name tag that was attached to his collar. It gleamed under the fluorescent light of my living room like a small star strapped around his neck. 

"The Golden is Jungwoo, the Husky is Yoonoh, and the Shepherd is Youngho. They're like twins. Then the Basenji is Doie and the Beagle is Minhyung. They all have their names on their collars," I said, pointing at the dogs who are still patiently sitting by my rug, ears perked as if they were listening in to our conversation. Kun frowned and approached the golden to check if I was joking, his slim hand touching the name plate in his collar. Jungwoo leaned over to give him a friendly lick on his cheek which sent the other to give a yelp of amused surprise. Jungwoo bumped his head against Kun's hand then and the latter retaliated by starting to rub him behind his ears with a smile. 

"And how about the cats?" He nodded towards the felines who were still curled on the couch in a pile. I answered easily, almost with pride.

"The white one is Taeil and the ginger is Haechan. Isn't it perfect for him? He looks like a ball of sunshine, too. The tabby is Yuta." 

Kun laughed. "Yuta?" 

"Yes, he's Japanese," I rolled my eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The cat answered with a low purr as if agreeing to what I just said.

Kun finally straightened up from scratching Jungwoo behind the ears with a sigh.  

"Well, you seem to be so set on this so I won't stop you anymore. Just make sure that you start posting about them as soon as possible so we can start looking for their forever homes, okay?" 

I nodded, though there was a part of me that didn't really want to go through that, at least for now. It was out of my own whim to decide to bring this odd group of abandoned pets in my too small apartment, but somehow...it just feels right. The idea of separating them from each other does not sit well with me too. They all just seemed like a package deal despite their differing breeds. 

As if sensing my emotions, a soft tickling kiss on my cheek caught my attention. I looked down to see Taeyong staring at me with his beautiful blue eyes before giving me another kitty lick. I giggled and cuddled him closer. 

"Okay. Thank you again for helping me out. I'll see you at the shelter on Monday?" 

Kun nodded and grabbed his keys from the counter, ready to go. He gave me one last look before closing the door behind him. 

"See you." He gave one last pointed look at the odd group in my living room and sighed. "Good luck to your weekend." 

I beamed as the lock finally clicked, leaving me alone with my new mismatched family. All of them looked back at me, their eyes twinkling.

"He doesn't know what he's missing out on. We're going to have all the fun in the world." 

[fortysevenswrites]

Complete: And World Peace

And World Peace is DONE!

Sorry for the delay on this, not going to lie, but I had about 6000 words already written for this chapter, had it for weeks, and then got stuck. Action scenes are hard, yo. And I also tacked on that scene with Amy from the beginning of the chapter too, which further delayed me.

But last night, I knew I had to finish it, because I have about a million things to do coming up, and really wanted to knock this one off my to-do list. I turned on some binural beats, and got the hell to work.

So here you are, 9200 words awesome wrap-ups, and—if I do say so myself—a pretty cute coda.

This fic has been quite the ride, especially considering it was something that I A, wanted to have done in June (sorry for the delay @nxbodygoesafterher!), B) I only intended to have three chapters, and C), am also building a business and that takes up about 95 percent of my life right now, with the other 5 percent being split between sleep, family, and Kastle, of course.

On that note, bon voyage to this fic, and more importantly, bon voyage to ME, because I’m off on a cruise on Sunday, and will be computer-free for nine whole days! I have a couple drabble-ish length story ideas that have been bouncing around my noggin the last couple days, and I’ll try to get them written on my phone while on the boat with the fam. Expect those when I get back!

Oh, and also, What’s In The Folder is officially a go!

What is What’s In The Folder going to be about? Well…

Post TPS1, Road Trip AU - Karen is summoned to the DA’s office for a meeting with Blake Tower, who gives her a folder with information about [REDACTED]. Karen and Frank go on a road trip to [REDACTED].

I am like, REALLY freaking excited for this one, you guys. Coming soon!

And World Peace - Complete Chapter 5 Word Count: 9,200-ish

Look, Amy gets it, she’s more than incredibly lucky to live the life she has, even if her parents are extremely hands off except in the rare times where they decide that she’s relevant to their lives and become incredibly overbearing pains in her ass.

She just wants to be a normal damn teenager.

And normal teenagers aren’t strong-armed by their only-sometimes-overbearing mothers to be a runner for their stupid nationally-televised—but not highly viewed—pageants.

Sorry, scholarship programs that happen to feature extremely outdated bikini competitions.

All week long, Amy’s barely had time to herself, running up one side of the hotel and down the other, back and forth between the preliminary arena and the hall they’re going to broadcast the finals.

It’s exhausting, as much as it is annoying.

READ THE REST ON AO3

[misssophiachase]

I noticed you were saying you wanted to do a Kissing Booth/ Klaroline crossover. Any chance you could do it as a mini drabble or even a sneak peek? I love that movie and Klaroline so it would mean the world to me if you could.

Haha nicely noticed nonnie…have you been keeping tabs on me? Actually, it was Erika’s @eriberry89 fault with her impressive edit HERE, damn you! I love this cheesy film, it’s like the perfect Klaroline high school scenario. Here’s a sneak peek, not sure I can give you more mini drabble wise though anon…text in italics from the film.

I’m Kissing You

“Want a ride?’

“Sure, if it’s not as dirty as it sounds.” He gave her a look meaning she was playing with his last nerve. 

“So, where’s your car then?” Caroline managed to look past his chiselled jaw and blonde curls only to see him gesturing towards a motorcycle in the carpark.

“What?” She growled, realising just what a cliche her best friend’s brother really was and how she wasn’t going to have any part in it, even if he was built like Adonis with dimples. “I’m not going to get on that thing like one of your make-out girls.”

“They don’t all make out with me,” he promised. Caroline was unimpressed, arms crossed over her chest by way of reply. “Okay, maybe 95 percent.”

No matter how many times Caroline had drooled over Klaus Mikaelson and his flawless abs and sexy stubble, she still couldn’t believe just how predictable he was. Football captain, Student Body President and had slept with most of the senior class on his way to the top. 

“I’m going to run instead,” she shot back, placing the earphone buds in place. 

“That’s over five miles, Forbes,” he called out.

“Well, maybe you can earn your calories with the latest flavour of the month but I’ll do mine purely.”

“Jealous?” He teased. 

“Of catching every STD known to man? Not really,” she ran away before he could argue. The last thing she needed was this idiot flashing his baby blues in her direction and convincing her he wasn’t a man whore given the school gossip.

As she made her way towards home, Caroline knew rule 9, amongst others, between her and best friend Kol were still completely valid. It was one of many but for some reason it was the most important. His older brother Klaus was totally off limits. 

“Don’t wind up grinding coochies with my brother or I’ll literally never talk to you again.”

His words were equal parts weird, cringeworthy and meaningful, it was no secret Kol had grown up in the shadow of his brother and Caroline wanted nothing more than to protect him. She decided to make every effort to ignore his brother for another year before he left for college, even if he was annoyingly gorgeous. 

What she wasn’t expecting was for her teacher to suggest a tutoring arrangement and then Caroline knew she was in deep trouble of breaking the rules.  

TBC?

[sterekshaven]

A while back we had Consent Week on @sterekdrabbles, and I wrote Ask Instead (tumblr and ao3), a drabble in which there are consent and communication issues between Stiles and Derek. I said then that I would write a continuation to it, where they talked about it. It’s taken me a little over 3 weeks to feel comfortable enough with it to post it, but here it is. Finally.

Also on ao3.

Stiles hadn’t really thought much about consent. He had made sure Derek was on board with everything, asked for enthusiastic and verbal consent those first few times, thoroughly enough that Derek had been a little annoyed with it after a while. Both Stiles and Derek initiated sex and he knew Derek said no to sex occasionally too, so it really wasn’t something he thought about. He was comfortable in the knowledge that they both wanted what they were doing, so when Derek said no to sex once for no obvious reason Stiles didn’t think much of it at first.

Derek had been reading in bed and Stiles was lonely and bored, so he went to join him. His first plan was just to join him, maybe cuddle some, maybe annoy him some, but mostly just be in the same room, maybe get his own book and read next to him. Then he saw Derek though, and his cock jumped in his pajama pants. Derek was on his stomach, wearing only underwear, and he looked. Well, like Derek. He always looked good, it was really unfair, he could be exhausted or beaten or dirty or whatever and he still looked perfect, still so incredibly gorgeous, Stiles didn’t know he’d ever get used to it.

He climbed up on the bed and crawled up on top of Derek, then he nuzzled along his back until he got to his neck.

“Hey,” he murmured as he grinded down against his ass a little, his own cock quickly stiffening up.

Derek didn’t say anything for a moment, but then he carefully asked, “Not right now?” so Stiles kissed his shoulder and rolled off him.

“Okay,” he said.

He didn’t think much of it, he just figured Derek wasn’t in the mood, which obviously was completely fine. If he didn’t want to he didn’t want to. He usually wanted to when Stiles started to climb him like that, his ass was very sensitive, but that wasn’t by any means a guarantee that he was in the mood, and if he wasn’t then Stiles certainly wasn’t gonna pressure him or nag about it.

Stiles nuzzled against Derek’s arm a little, then he squinted at the book he was reading, tried to see if he could figure out what it was, but he couldn’t read the text from that angle. As he lifted his head enough to actually see the text, and not just a garbled mass that risked triggering a panic attack, he wondered if it was even in English. He got almost giddy as that thought crossed his mind, how nerdy and amazing his polyglot boyfriend was, and how proud Stiles was over him.

“What’cha reading?” he asked, when he had determined it to be Spanish, and looked up at Derek’s face, only to see him flinch slightly and blink before looking away. Stiles furrowed his brows as he tried to look at him, and he carefully asked, “What’s wrong?”

Derek turned to him then, a stiff smile on his lips. “Nothing, it’s all good,” he said, and he sounded sincere, but he looked like he was close to tears.

Stiles rolled so he was more on his back and could reach up between Derek’s arms to cup his jaw, and when he gently stroked his thumb over his cheek Derek swallowed roughly and closed his eyes.

“Are you upset?” Stiles asked quietly and Derek shook his head minutely.

“No, no, I’m good,” he said, and he opened his eyes and smiled at Stiles. “I’m just, happy.”

When Derek smiled Stiles kind of automatically smiled back, but the little pause before happy had Stiles furrowing his brows again.

“Will you tell me what’s happening?” he asked and Derek took a shaky breath. “Please? I feel like I’m missing something, and you’re usually not this vague anymore, and I worry.”

“I really don’t want to,” Derek said and breathed out a huff of a humorless laugh.

“I know,” Stiles said. “You don’t have to, you know that.”

Derek nodded and furrowed his brows as he put the dust jacket on the side he was on in the book before closing it and putting it to the side. He stayed where he was though, leant on his elbows, and he looked at his empty hands when he finally spoke.

”I said no,” he said and shot Stiles a quick look before he frowned down at his hands and swallowed.

”Yes?” Stiles asked, more than a little confused. ”That happens, that we say no..?”

Derek nodded and Stiles moved up on his own elbow while he waited for something more, anything more.

”I’m sorry,” Derek mumbled and Stiles just got more confused, and a little bit scared.

”For what?” he whispered, not really knowing if he wanted to hear the answer.

”Saying no,” Derek said and what?

”You-, what? No, you never have to apologize for that, Derek?” Stiles said. Asked. He wasn’t sure. ”If you don’t want to you don’t want to, I’ll always accept that.” Derek just nodded and Stiles felt himself go a little desperate. ”You do know that, right?”

Derek shot him a quick look with a wobbly smile that disappeared as soon as he looked back at his hands and Stiles felt like he was punched in the gut.

”I mean,” Derek started hesitantly and Stiles wanted to not be there, to not hear anything more, because if he was right in his suspicions? Just, no. ”I guess I know that,” Derek continued though and Stiles stomach was getting kind of cold. ”It’s just… it feels-. It sometimes feels like I’m just my body? That you see me and get turned on by what you see and then you get me hard and we have sex and I feel… used.”

The last word was no more than a whisper, but it had Stiles almost nauseated.

”I’m sorry,” he whispered. ”I’m-, fuck, Derek, I’m so sorry, I never want you to feel that, I-, oh god, I’m so sorry, you know that’s not all I see, right? Please tell me you know that, that I love you for your brain and your heart and everything that’s you?”

Derek turned to him and smiled softly at that. ”I do know that, you tell me that every single day,” he said and Stiles breathed out in relief.

”Okay, good, god, thank you,” he said. ”I’m not sure what to do though, how to fix that, so you don’t feel that way anymore, because while I do love your body too, and to have sex with you, that’s like, I don’t know, the least important to me? You are everything, you, not… just the physical, but you, and if you decide you’ll never want sex again I’ll be perfectly fine with that.”

”You could ask?” Derek said quietly and Stiles raised his eyebrows. ”If I want to.”

”That-. Yes. I’m sorry, I thought, oh god, I’m so sorry Derek. I just assumed, because you got a little annoyed when I asked in the beginning, and then you’ve said no, so I’ve just assumed, but yes, I’ll ask, of course I’ll ask, I am so sorry, Derek.”

Derek smiled at him and shook his head. ”You asked about everything, that’s what was annoying, you basically interrupted fully consented sex to ask if it was okay.”

”I wanted to be sure!” Stiles squeaked, but then he quickly sobered. ”And then I stopped asking.”

”Yeah,” Derek said quietly.

”But you, I’m not saying you’re doing anything wrong, I just want to understand everything, so please don’t think I’m questioning you now, or saying it’s your fault, because it’s not, but you have said no. What’s different between those times and the other times?”

”I’ve been tired or busy or you’ve been injured,” Derek said and Stiles nodded as he waited for more. That didn’t come.

”Oh, okay, oh, oh no, okay, you’ve only said no if you’ve had a reason for it that’s not just ‘I don’t feel like it’, is that, fuck, okay.”

”I mean, I get hard, it’s hard to say no when I’m hard,” Derek said quietly.

”Okay. I can’t say that I understand exactly, because I kind of always feel like it, but I can imagine, I think. Regardless though, you can always say no, always, no exceptions, and I promise I’ll ask in the future.”

”Thank you,” Derek said softly and Stiles shook his head.

”I’ve done something wrong, Derek, you don’t need to thank me for stopping that,” he said.

”Yes, I do,” Derek said. ”I have to thank you for listening to me, for accepting everything I am, for being so willing to change something like this, because it means so much to me.”

”And that right there breaks my heart,” Stiles said with a sad smile. ”You’re welcome though. I’ll always want you happy, that’s kinda my priority, so it’s not like it’s a chore for me.”

“And I love you for that,” Derek said, then he gently pushed and pulled on Stiles until he was more or less on his back and Derek could lay down with his head on Stiles’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry, though, really, I never want you to feel like that, like I only see your body or that you can’t say no,” Stiles said as he put a hand in Derek’s hair.

“I know that,” Derek said quietly. “I do know that, but… it’s hard, to believe it.”

Stiles pressed a kiss to Derek’s forehead. “I know. I’ll be better, I promise.”

“You’re already good,” Derek said.

“And I’ll be better,” Stiles repeated. “Consent is important to me, and I’m down to fuck like 95 percent of the time, but you’re not, I know that, and I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Stiles played with Derek’s hair as Derek absentmindedly ran his fingers through Stiles’ chest hair, and they kept talking. Stiles apologized a couple of more times, because honestly, he felt like shit about it, and Derek quietly but steadily told him it was okay, that he was glad they talked about it and that that alone made him feel better.

A while later Stiles remembered that Derek wasn’t wearing pants and the thing poking Stiles’ thigh wasn’t Derek’s phone, so he moved his head awkwardly to look at his face.

“Are you… hard?” he asked and Derek smiled at him.

“Finally noticed that, huh?” he asked.

“I honestly thought it was your phone first, but you’re not wearing pants,” Stiles said and Derek laughed softly.

“I’m not, no,” he said. “All this talk about consent though, I like it.”

“You, my love, have the strangest turn ons, and this is most definitely not a complaint, just an observation that makes me love you even more,” Stiles said and Derek smiled at him and shrugged one shoulder.

“You keep ensuring me you want my consent and you keep changing how you do things just to make me happy,” he said.

“I never want to do anything you don’t want to do,” Stiles said. “Consent is sexy.”

“Consent is damn sexy,” Derek agreed, then he pressed his erection against Stiles hip. “Wanna fuck?”

Stiles snorted out an ugly giggle at that, then he grinned at Derek. “I do,” he said. “Do you?”

[rather-impertinent]

Cornflowers and jellies

A/N: lmao I couldn’t think of a title. A wee Christmassy, fluffy drabble as requested by my gal @tiffanyachings! 💓 also dedicated to dear @arlome, hope you feel better soon! Enjoy friends I hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 25th of December 1796 was a frosty but not unpleasant day. Approximately 95 percent of the county had fled to the various houses of worship, many eager to celebrate the birth of Jesus and to demonstrate their love for God, as they did frequently on Sundays. Dwight and Caroline Enys could not be regarded as such people and instead found themselves in the fishing village of Sawle after an early breakfast and the exchanging of gifts. 

It had been Caroline’s idea, their coming here, though she maintained that it was Dwight’s. Dwight knew not where the discomfort of her own good heart came from but it was a part of her that he had come to accept. Though he was reluctant to accept the credit for the current cries of appreciation and gratitude. 

“Bless ye, Sur, Ma’am,” whimpers a thin father of four, firmly shaking their hands as he accepts several small bags of grain, oranges and salt - like so many before him this morning. 

They both smile. “You are most welcome, Mr Williams,” Dwight says warmly, shaking the man’s hand. Dwight then turns to Mr Williams’ youngest son, who had been suffering with fever all of last week, crouching down until he meets the boy’s height. “And how are you, Alfred?”

Little Alfred smiles to reveal two missing front teeth. “Better, thank ee, Dr Enys, Sur!” he squeals in delight, “Ye did mend my fever! I broughted ‘ee a Christmas gift in thanks.” The 6 year old scrambles around his worn pockets in search of his special gift for the magical doctor. 

Dwight opens his mouth to protest but Caroline speaks first. “Well, if you are truly all mended, perhaps you would like one of these?” Caroline pulls out a satin bag, reaches her hand in and pulls out a jelly sweet. 

The boys mouth falls open in surprise, comically so. “Do- do ‘ee mean it, Ma’am? I may have one?” 

Caroline nods, the action manifesting more curtly than she had intended. She recoils slightly when the child’s small, grubby hands snatch the delicacy from her own clean ones. Alfred devours the sweet, his eyes growing wide in pleasure as he chews. He then waves his hand at Dwight, motioning him to come in closer, a secret request hot on his small lips. “Dr Enys, Sur,” he says in a loud whisper into Dwight’s ear, “I did want ‘ee to ‘ave this here gift but ‘tis always been a dream o’ mine to ‘ave a jelly. May I give it to Mrs Enys instead of ‘ee, Sur?” 

Dwight smiles at the young boy. “Of course, Alfred. I’m sure Mrs Enys will like your gift very much. Shall we go ask her?” he whispers. 

The fair haired boy nods frantically and follows Dwight’s 3 short paces towards his wife. “Caroline, Alfred has something he would like to say.” Dwight pats his back in encouragement. The boy fidgets nervously - speaking to beautiful, tall, rich Mistress Enys of Killewarren is very scary. But he must show his thanks; Papa always says he must tell people thank you and so he must be brave like a man and give her his special gift. “M-m-ma’am,” he stutters, playing with his hands, “I- I must thank ‘ee for my jelly. ‘Twas ever so nice, I never d’thought I shall ever get te taste a jelly! I should like ‘ee to have this small gift if it please ‘ee, Ma’am,” the boy proudly displays a large but dying cornflower - though it is remarkably intact for winter, “‘tis my favourite flower, I found and picked her from the field behind the mine yesterday. Her name is Cornie, ‘ee’ll keep her, won’t ‘ee, Ma’am? She’ll survive in a house as grand as Killewarren!” 

Caroline smiles uneasily and accepts the flower - the responsibility of holding the object akin to holding a newborn. “Thank you... Alfred,” she says, smiling slightly, “I shall take good care of your flower, I promise you. It shall look rather nice on the mantlepiece, do you not agree, Dr Enys?”

Dwight meets his wife’s gaze and smiles. “Oh, yes, it will look perfect there!”

Alfred gasps in excitement. His flower! On the mantelpiece in Killewarren! His friends will be most jealous! “Alfred!” calls his father from several hundred feet away, “you’ve taken up enough o’ Dr and Mrs Enys’ time. Be off wi’ ye!”

Alfred’s eyes widen in panic. “Yes, father!” he calls to his guardian. He turns back to Dr Enys and his wife. “Thank ‘ee, Sur, Ma’am! This be the best Christmas I ever ‘ad! I wish it be so for ye both, too,” he says hastily, sprinting towards his waiting father and older brothers. “Oh, Merry Christmas!” he shouts over his shoulder and waves at them. Dwight waves back and Caroline chuckles by his side.

The winter sun is beginning to fall in the sky and the air is growing colder. “Well, Dr Enys,” Caroline begins, smoothing the lapels of his coat, “it would appear that all of your sick people have gone inside for their Christmas dinner. Shall we not do the same?”

He rolls his eyes and then smiles down at her. “They would not have a Christmas dinner this year were it not for you,” he reminds her warmly.

“What nonsense you do talk, my love. There are still several bags of oranges and grain left over. When you, no doubt, abandon me tomorrow for your mine people pray take them with you. I could not possibly stomach such poor quality of grain,” she excuses lightly, her chin aloft in defence of the queer good feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Dwight laughs and shakes his head, still unable to believe the facade she presents to him as well as to the rest of the world. “You are a remarkable woman, Caroline,” he begins softly, “Despite your dislike of my patients, you were determined that they should still have some joy at Christmas. I daresay that are not many, if any, people of your breeding who would do such a thing.” 

Caroline turns her cheek to Dwight’s attempted kiss, smiling as she teases him. “I’ve no dislike for your patients, only your preference for them,” she tells him, only half-jesting - completely ignoring his praise. Dwight opens his mouth to protest but she stops him by placing a slender finger over his lips, “I must admit I could now understand such a preference. They are very sweet,” she concedes quietly, inhaling the scent of the tattered looking cornflower she had been given. 

Dwight gathers the remainder of the produce in his arms and then gently kisses her forehead. “They are. But no one compares to you, my love.” 

She smiles smugly at his compliment and links her arm through his full arms, steering them towards the carriage that awaits them. “Quite so!” she agrees, and Dwight laughs at her lack of modesty, “Well, we had better make haste; the Poldarks will be arriving soon and they shall be without hosts! Besides, we must ensure Jeremy does not eat all of the pie like last year!” 

[sweetme86]

62% (Day one)

Sorry I’m a day late with this, I’m hoping to catch up :)

This is a drabble for the FYDL Drabble-a-thon Extravaganza! This is my first foray into the MCU, so any and all feedback is appreciated.

I’m linking to a Dutch charity called KiKa, it raises funds for childhood cancer research.

Prompt: 62%

Word count: 767

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/James Buchanan Barnes

62%

"You know the only reason he's doing that is because he cares right?" Her arms come around his waist and she lets her chin rest on his shoulder. He's been moping about Steve's hovering from the moment she'd managed to shove Steve out the door.

He doesn't mope while Steve's there because that'd only serve to increase the hovering, or so Bucky believes.

A little of the tension seems to drain from his shoulders at her touch, but his voice betrays him as he grumbles: "Yeah, well sometimes he should just care a little less". He's still methodically tending to one of his knives laid out in front of him on the kitchen counter and it doesn't look like he'll come out of his funk any time soon.

She still has hope to pull him out before the nights over though and she moves to his side, arms still around him but her hip now leaning against the counter. No use trying to talk him down if she can't carefully watch his face for any tells. It had taken a long time for him to trust her and if you'd told her six months ago that she, Darcy Lewis - lowly intern, would be hanging out with the former Assassin Super Soldier, she'd have laughed in your face. Loudly.

Nowadays she's around him most days he's in the tower, and she's one of the few people he allows to come close like this. She's a tactile person and though it'd taken a while she's found that touch actually calms him down. Ok, touch by people he trusts. Which basically comes down to just her and Steve really, but still.

"Ok," she continues, "so what would the right amount of caring be then?

"Would you be ok with 95 percent? Is that appropriate? Or... maybe you want him to dial it all the way down, give you a meager ten percent of Cap's Caring?"

He puts his knife down at that and grips the edge of the counter. "Come on Darce, you know I don't mean for him to stop caring, he's not wired that way.

"It's just- you know I'm doin so much better an he still hovers like I'm gonna explode every damn time somethin goes a little bit sideways"

At the Brooklyn coming out she decides to go in for the kill. Well, so to speak. Maybe she should find different analogies because thinking things like that will only lead to saying things like that and that would definitely throw a wrench in her plans of lightening the mood.

"I know sugar" she throws out in the most sickeningly sweet voice she can manage.

"Sugar?" He huffs out exasperatedly, "Really?"

"Ugh I know! But I'm gonna find an endearment that fits if it's the last thing I do. But for now, do you want me to run over to Steve's and ask him to tone it down to maybe a 62 percent?" She squeezes his waist and puts her chin back on his shoulder because he still hasn't let go of his tight grip on the counter. He turns his head to look at her now though, and suddenly he's so close she could count his eyelashes. You know, if she wasn't so distracted by how close he was.

"62 percent?" He asks.

"Yeah dude," she hopes comes out at least somewhat casually as she lifts her shoulder in a kind of half shrug, "I mean, you don't want him to stop caring, and slicing the caring in half also seems kinda rigorous. Toning it down just a tiny bit won't help and the guy's gotta learn to chill. So. 62 percent."  

He's still looking at her, though she's doesn't notice because she's distracted by his mouth, which is curling up in a slow smile. He doesn't smile enough, she decides, the world could use more Bucky Barnes smiles.

"Alright doll, if you can get the punk to tone it down to 62 percent caring, that'll do for now. As long as I can keep your caring right where it's at right now."

[zzapzzaptasers-a]

MUN INFO SHEET.

Rules: Answer the questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs you would like to get to know better. Repost, don’t reblog.

Tagged by: @doctorxdoom didn’t tag me but I’m blaming her anyways Tagging: uhhh if u wanna do it just do it

NICKNAME: Ben/Nic depending on who I’m talking to STAR SIGN: Cancer HEIGHT: 5′2.5 “ the half is VERY IMPORTANT CURRENT TIME: 6:22 pm FAVE MUSIC ARTIST: David Bowie, Depeche Mode LAST MOVIE WATCHED: Black Panther LAST SHOW WATCHED: Penny Dreadful WHEN DID YOU CREATE YOUR BLOG: original ZapZapTasers was created in May of 2012 WHAT KIND OF STUFF DO YOU POST: ooc shit posts, some rp, drabbles, headcanon meta stuff OTHER BLOGS: @thefacsimile is my villain oc, @dauthra is my mean necromancer girl, @flipiswitched is my SWORD oc Thilo, and @likemygrandfatherbeforeme is my Kylo that I’m never on anymore. Even less used is @daradika for Torian from SW:Tor and @youhurtmymanfeelings for Carth Onasi WHY DID YOU CHOOSE YOUR URL: because tasers go zap zap lol ILVERMORNY HOUSE: uhhhh Ilvemorny is problematic af so I’m a slytherin POKEMON TEAM:  ??? idk but there’s always a Meowth/Persian FAVOURITE COLOUR: dark purple AVG HOURS SLEEP: 5-6, sometimes with a 2 hour nap in the afternoon HOW MANY BLANKETS DO YOU SLEEP WITH?: 2 DREAM JOB: idfk and that’s like 90 percent of my problem FOLLOWING: 95 FOLLOWERS: 78