#ill tag more later i got drabbles to write

[lockea]

Fic Writers Showcase Game

Copied from @skalidra

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

My works page: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lockea/works

First Fic Published: "Chrystallis Memoria" (Dissidia: Final Fantasy) back in 2011. It's a 1k drabble about the different warriors in Dissidia realizing they have a lot in common with each other, and was mostly an excuse to say "hey, Final Fantasy has a lot of recurring character motifs."

Last Fic Published: "Wake the Dawn" (Final Fantasy XVI) updated yesterday/is currently being updated. This fic imagines the protagonist of FFXVI, Clive, being born a Bearer (who are kept as slaves in the world of the game). Rather than having a noble upbringing and then becoming a slave later in life, how does being born as slave and raised that way affect Clive and his choices?

Fandom/Ship I Only Wrote Once: "Sundered Country" (Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn). A re-imagining of the whole plot of Path of Radiance had Soren been raised in Goldoa by his mother's family instead of being orphaned. I do want to write more FE fics in the future, and I may once I finish my current PoF play-through with my spouse.

Favorite Fic in Popular Fandom/Ship: Similar to Skalidra, I have works in large multifaceted fandoms (DCU and Star Wars) so I'm going to discard them as parent fandoms. Once you narrow down to specific fandoms, the most popular fandom I've written in becomes Voltron Legendary Defender. "A Broken Place" is probably my favorite of the three I've written. It's a very plot focused AU taking place on Mars that's based on a webnovel called "Northern Corporate Dominion" by remiheart that I read YEARS ago. It focuses on Shiro, who is a noble trapped in a loveless marriage as his degenerative illness steals his freedom, and Keith, a slave with a complicated past who is tasked with taking care of Shiro.

Fic I Wish More People Would Read: All of them? I think I wish more people read "Family (is more than blood)" (Guild Wars 2) because it's such a fun story. It was fun to take all the world building about the Legions in the game and tell a story about Rox and Rytlock.

Fic I Agonized Over the Most: Tough choice! Most recently, "A Single Grain" (Star Wars) has filled that role. I have a whole folder of just starts and stops and rewrites where I've tried to tell the story several different ways and I just canNOT get it going. I think I've got it figured out as a mosaic series where each story just weaves a much larger picture.

Fic That Sprang Fully Formed: A few have. Mostly oneshots. "Shelter" (DCU JayDick wingfic) and "An Unwilling Sacrifice" (Star Wars JangObi Fighter/Sacrifice AU) are the two that come to mind.

Fic I'm Most Proud Of: Still "The Sound of a Heart Breaking" (Kingdom Hearts). I have joked several times that it's my magnum opus for the amount of world building I did for it. How the heck did I even have the energy for all that fic? Funny enough, I recently wrote a oneshot in the verse that I haven't posted, so even though it's from 2009, it's still on my mind on occasion.

Not tagging, but please feel free to @ me if you decide to do this meme having seen me do it!

[thebulletinhamilton-quotes]

(Let’s hope I did this right XD ) For a Halemadge one shot may I please have the “i’ve been stood up again and i’m angrily texting my friend who set me up with this loser and you ask if you can join me since you were going to eat alone anyway because you’re new to town“ prompt under the Blind date tag? If you could make it a little angsty / feels-y that be wonderful but no pressure. (Doesn’t matter who ‘s what part) Thank you! @regretless-spy-and-culper-master

A/N: JESUS ITS ALMOST BEDTIME FOR ME GOOD LORDY. Hope you enjoy it. I have no idea if it is angst or not cause I prefer to write my feelings first then tell the story. TURN plays on in the background with aesthetics and Benjamin Tallmadge’s tight pants. Anyway, enjoy!

.

Moving to New York City had seem like such a good idea. Instead, it turned out to be one of the worst ideas Benjamin Tallmadge has had since he was a kid. No, scratch that. Even a kid wouldn’t behave so irrationally.

The thing is, life in New York City did not turn out the way he planned.

His original plan had been to move there with his friends but that didn’t work out. So now, he’s living with a roommate named Tench Tilghman (who for some reason wears a trench coat all the time) who is a born and raised New Yorker. Who recently discovered that Ben is single and decided to make it a personal mission for him to set him up as on many blind dates as he can (much to Ben’s dismay). But thanks to a loophole....

Ben combs his hair one last time, looking over his delicate features in the mirror. Despite his heritage, he’s good looking if not a little pretty boy (according to the bullies back in middle school) feel. He grabs his Yale sweatshirt and jacket before running out the door as Tench tries to tell him about a date. But Ben is too quick for that.

As he walks the brightly lit, commercially decorated cluttered streets in early December, he assures himself that he’s fine and everything is good. Life couldn’t be better, he tells himself, as he walks across the street. Life couldn’t be sweeter than this. He thinks to himself with a smile.

.

Nathan Hale doesn’t do blind dates for a reason. It’s like going into a restaurant, completely blindfolded and at the mercy of someone else. It’s scary, it’s vulnerable and—

“Are you ready to order, sir?” A bored, Brooklyn accent cuts through his thoughts as he looks helplessly up at the bored waitress who cocks an eyebrow at him.

He’s been here for fifteen minutes and the restaurant is packed to the brim. The door keeps on opening as couples and groups of people come in, hoping to be seated at Burr’s Durr, a fushion restaurant that incorporates every flavor imaginable in their food.

He smiles weakly up at the waitress with blue hair and dark brown skin who looks at him unamused. “One more minutes.” He promises her as she sighs sympathetically at him. She gives him a look of ‘that’ll be it, I mean it’. He nods weakly as she walks off.

He covers his face with his hands and for a moment, he feels like he could either scream or punch a tyrannical doofus. Either way, his date is not coming and he’s going to be eating alone tonight. Again.

This is the last time I let Abe talk me into going on a date I swear—! He promises himself before a stranger sits down across from him. They dazzle smile at him, and for a moment Nathan forgets how to breathe. He runs a hand through his frizzy hair praying to whomever that his hair is not a mess because oh god this stranger has him feeling helpless.

He attempts to smile back at him with a grimace but the stranger winks at him before opening the menu, as their smooth baritones hit his ears. “What should I go, I don’t know what to get.” They ponder out loud. Nathan has to fight back a laugh before he’s able to answer their question.

“I would get the Hamilton special.” He tells the pretty individual who looks up at him as he tells him so. “It’s good,” he hears himself promising. “It’s one of my favorite dishes.” He tells the guy, who’s smile makes him want to fall apart.

The stranger hums. “Well, if that’s what to get then sure.” He seems to smile even brighter at Nathan as Nathan can hear his own heart going ba-thump, ba-thump. Thankfully, their waitress must sense that they are finally ready.

She smiles at them, before turning her gaze to Nathan, hard. “What can I get you, sir?” She asks him first, her tone is sweet with a hint of ‘don’t mess with me’ undertone.

Nathan clears his throat, aware that’s his entire body is on fire as the stranger and the waitress stare at him. “I’ll have the Hamilton special, please.” He tells her, his voice shaking slightly.

She joys it down, nodding at him. Then before he can blink, she turns to the stranger who smiles at her with ease. “I’ll have the same as well, gorgeous.” The stranger says with an air of confidence Nathan wishes he had.

The waitress takes the menu from them with a nod before turning to Nathan. “It’ll be out soon. Please let me know if you need anything else.” She says before walking away with an air of urgency.

It’s an awkward ten seconds as Nathan and the Stranger stare at each other. Thankfully, it’s the stranger who breaks their silence.

“Sorry for hijacking your date. I saw you sitting by yourself and you looked ready to pass out. I didn’t mean to intrude.” He says, his voice is apologetic. “I’m really sorry, if you want I can leave—“ the cute stranger begins. Before Nathan can stop himself, he quickly shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine. Really, thank you. I appreciate it, man.” Nathan rushes out with a smile at him. The guy looks at him, a little surprised. “Well, if you’re sure?” He asks, like Nathan might tell him to yeet out a window.

Nathan nods his head, slowly as he takes a sip of water. “I’m sure. Besides, you’re way cuter than any of the guys I go out with.” Nathan jokes before seeing him laugh while looking away. His face is flushed. Oh lord, he could be at least a second date. Nathan observes quietly.

Nathan holds out his hand with a smile. “I’m Nathan, by the way. What’s your name, man?” He asks easily, like he doesn’t have butterflies in his stomach.

The stranger takes his hand and shakes. “Benjamin but I go by Ben.” He says with a grin. “Only my mom calls me Benjamin.” He shakes his head with a chuckle.

Nathan nods before letting go of Ben’s smooth, warm palm. He cringes at himself as he stares at another dudes palms like c’mon. He’s not going to stare at this dude, at the very least they can get to know each other.

“So what brings you to town? Tell me about your adventure to the greatest city in the world, man.”

There is no harm in that, right? He thinks to himself as Ben explains that he’s new in town and his only friends are his coworkers and a roommate who is quite nosey. We are just two people getting to know each other. This isn’t a date. Nathan thinks as Ben explains how his adventure began.

Right?

....

Fin.

...

Hey guys please reblog and reply. Feedback is Bae. Also to those who would like this request, send it to my inbox PLEASE. Otherwise it gets lost in the posts and i forget. Thanks @regretless-spy-and-culper-master for the ask!

[psycandy]

✦ W E L C O M E ✦

✦. :: call me psy or candy! she/her mostly or any, i am a female, bisexual, asian, i am above 18, october 28. more about me later on.

to summarize my account: 18+, dom fem/gn reader only, i write futanaris/dickgirls (either my oc or reader, sometimes genital isn't mentioned) and cuntboys, sometimes I write selfships, all genders and subs are free to read my works/interact. im not as active nor social, yet at least. 16 and below, blank and ageless blogs dni.

✦ . . :: status — asks: closed ✦ requests: closed ✦ i need a bit more time before opening these up ^^ ✦ I have a bunch of drafts, mostly of ethan and konig

the reason as to why i only write fem/gn reader and not male reader is because i just dont like writing male reader, plus im not a male myself and enjoy being a dom as a female since its not very common, i find a female dom much more interesting and hot, im very sorry male reader enjoyers :( i use to write for male reader but it just doesnt feel the same now that i discovered femdom. all genders are still free to read my works or interact, i don't have a grudge or anything against male reader or anyone who's male aligned! thank you for understanding <3 I also won't always write cuntboy character and dickgirl reader, I'll occasionally do afab reader pegging amab character.

dni: 16 and below, blank and ageless blogs, basic dni criteria, shotacon, lolicon, ybc fans, fujoshi/fudanshi, overly obsessed with bl/gl, people who use 'yaoi' or 'yuri'.

current works: Ethan winters (drabble)

i will make a masterlist soon when i post more stuff ✦

✦ . . :: bolded white either means a warning (i write section) or something i will never do no matter what (i don't write section)

i write: aged up (charas that are 16 and up), dark content, incest, yandere, dubcon, power bottom characters (rarely), bottom dom reader (rarely), bottom characters, dom fem/gn reader, omegaverse, dickgirl/futanari, tentacles, some oc x character/self ships, breeding, knife/gun kink, monster/creature (ex. mermaid/merman), cuntboys, blood kink, 3somes or more, polygamy, voyeurism, aphrodisiac, belly bulge, pegging, size difference.

i dont write: reader receiving penetration, scat, piss, amputee, feet, vore, sex while pregnant, extreme r18g/nsfw gore, sub reader, male reader, characters that are 15 or under, irl people, vomit, lots of angst, role switch end of/mid chapter, religion stuff, reader giving blowjob.

extra: i wont write ur req if its not to my liking/interesting but i will for sure respond to thirsts and such ━ on a rare occasion ill write reader be a bottom dom, reader won't be receiving penetration ━ i don't like reader receiving penetration ━ i prefer to see more of the bottom characters dialogue and pleasure rather than the reader, so most of my works won't mention the readers pleasure but there'll be a decent amount of dialogue ━ when I write gn reader I won't specify ur sex, there won't be any sex actually ━ please don't private dm me immediately, ive got horrible social skills and i prefer my solitude, it also makes me anxious akfjfjf, i don't mind the asks, just don't private dm, tysm for understanding 😞

✦ . . :: MY LITTLE SUNSHINES

no anons yet (｡•́︿•̀｡)

✦. :: WHO/WHAT I WRITE

words in white are my favorites, to find a characters work; search this tag >>*[character] no spaces. aged up charas will be more tame, ill mostly write gn reader with them since it'll be simple

CURRENTLY FIXATED ON: dot barrett, satan, ethan winters, wirth madl, horangi, gojo, orter madl, furina, johnny cage, hinata tachibana

genshin ━ lumine, albedo, itto, diluc, eula, hu tao, heizou, ayato, shenhe, childe, thoma, xiao, zhongli, dainsleif, alhaitham, cyno, kaveh, zhongli, neuvilette, lyney, lynette, wriothesley, furina.

overwatch ━ genji, zenyatta, ramattra, cassidy, reaper, dva.

star rail ━ caelus, dan heng, gepard, sampo, herta, blade, jing yuan.

demon slayer ━ giyuu, shinobu, mitsuri, rengoku, yoriichi, akaza, douma, genya, haganezuka, aizetsu.

obey me ━ beelzebub, leviathan, mammon, satan, solomon.

jujutsu kaisen ━ yuji, gojo, megumi, geto, toji, maki, yuta.

other ━ kalpas, kiana kaslana, fuhua, karamatsu matsuno, jyushimatsu matsuno, tendou satori, ushijima wakatoshi, kageyama tobio, atsumu miya, osamu miya, usahara tobikichi, iketeru daga, uramichi omota, tamaki amajiki, shoto todoroki, hitoshi shinso, loid forger, yor forger, monika.

google docs for more

✦ . . :: TAGS

>>*talks with psy (anon chats)

>>*rants (nsfw babbles n stuff)

>>*stepcest

>>*guns

>>*knifes

>>*branding

>>*dickgirl

>>*cuntboy

>>*omegaverse

>>*power bottom reader

>>*tentacles

>>*psy's selfships

>>*monster

>>*aged up

>>*fem reader

>>*gn reader

>>*reblogs

[luty-month]

hello hello hellooooo

have you ever thought, "wow, i love ludmila and naty a normal amount. i would not be indifferent to an entire month being dedicated to them in silly (and not) little prompts so i could showcase all the normal time i spend thinking about them"?

well my friend, look no further than this beautiful little blog of mine: introducing,

⭐️luty month⭐️

what is luty month?

ok so, ill let you guess who came up with this idea. one, two, th- yes its me its @iristhedeadflower. who's surprised? surely not me. it came to me in a blurry vision one night, let me set the scene, i was thinking about the sillies as one does. then suddenly i was like, wait, i could put all this time spent thinking about the sillies to good use. why not share the silly propaganda? (i dont remember when i got the idea ok. im sure it went this way más o menos)

after that, the idea corroded my brain for months until eventually i decided to do something about it and here we are!

when is luty month?

we are taking over february 2023! there are two main reasons why i chose this month: 1, luty literally translates to february in polish, and 2, its my birthday month and im selfish. :)

how does luty month work?

later this week, i will post the list of prompts for the month: it consists of 28 prompts, one per day. all prompts are one word each, so your imagination can run as free as you can let it! obviously, it's not required for people who join to do something for every day, just do as much as you want and most importantly, have fun!

(i want to take the time to thank the looters over at discord for helping me come up with the prompts and supporting the project in general, i might have come up with the concept but this is mine just as much as it is yours <3)

how can i participate?

any way you want, my dear friend! drawings, fics, edits, headcanons, anything you can think of, as long as it's somehow connected to the prompt of the day, the floor is yours! all work tagged #luty month (or tagging this blog in the post) will be reblogged here :)

this month is truly about sharing our love for the little girls, so please don't stress about deadlines or not doing enough - even just supporting the content that comes out during the month is enough!

i myself will not be able to post something every day, but i will post little sketches for every prompt to start the day, and will write drabbles and fics that may not come out in time, but they will come out, rest assured.

and that is all from me, stay tuned for more information and the prompt list dropping soon, and if you have any questions, don't be afraid to send an ask my way and I'll answer as soon as i can! other than that, start your engines, and get ready for luty month :)

[yeojaa]

GIRL we need a devil in a new suit drabble where jungkook gets jealous pls bless us😭😭❤️

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  kook being hilarious and naive, reader being a little frustrated but head over heels, smut in the form of:  titty sucking (kook is a big boob guy in this), cunnilingus, kook wanting to love you forever.  wc.  2.1k.  author note.  i am... so in love with this couple so what was meant to be a “kook gets jealous and breaks reader’s back” turned into... this.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t get jealous.  Not because he doesn’t care, or he’s unaffected, or any other negative connotation under the sun.  He doesn’t because he’s him, too soft and sweet and silly to believe the worst in people.  (This, coming from the man who’d steered clear of dating apps and blind dates because he was worried he’d be hurt.)

Once, you’d been waiting for him to pick you - he’d been running late, dinner with his parents and younger sister - and he’d found you chatting politely to an old fling of yours.  Well, maybe not so old.  A recent fling, a friend of sorts.  Someone who’d swanned into your life during your college years and had remained there ever since, popping his head in from time to time. 

You’d always been on good terms, caught up for lunch every six months or so when he’d return home from his overseas job.  In the past, you’d found familiarity in the shape of his hands, the neon outline of his almond eyes and pouting lips.  He was good in bed, as charming between the sheets as he was on the street.

But your heart belonged to Jungkook now - had, before you’d even realised it - and Taewoo was just another guy.  Another face in a crowd.

Still, you’d thought your beloved boyfriend would have some sort of reaction.  Maybe a quirk of his perfectly groomed brows, a certain tightness belying his displeasure in the softly peaked bow of his mouth.  You’d spied neither after extracting yourself from the hug and waving goodbye.  Jungkook had been sunshine and sweetness, opening your door for you and stamping a kiss to your cheek.  

That night, he’d loved you how he always had, with you crying his name and making a mess of his sheets.

Another time, you’d been at a work function.  One of those ridiculous galas you loved, full of women in their highest heels and men in their swankiest watches.  (You’d worn Aquazzura that night, Jungkook with an Audemars Piguet loose around his wrist.)  

He’d stuck close to your side, far more interested in the way your dress hugged your figure, cut intimidatingly high over your thigh and revealed the swell of your ass at juuuust the right angle.  Yejin had been the only one to tear him away, insisting on shots that you knew she couldn’t handle.  Anything went if free booze was involved.

Thirty minutes later - give or take, since you hadn’t had a watch of your own on - your boyfriend had returned, flushed and adorable.  There’d been a garden of colour creeping over the expanse of his chest, peeking around the collar of his shirt and disappearing into his neatly tousled strands.  He’d giggled his way back to you, somehow completely oblivious to the man that’d found you at your table and settled himself into the spot labelled Jeon Jungkook.

The imposter had been affronted, gaze narrowed at the younger man who was a little too loose, a little too smiley.  Wholly out of place at an event like this, where people spent too much time up their own asses, noses held aloft and business cards exchanged.  

(One of the reasons you loved Jungkook so much.  He was a breath of fresh air in a world you thrived in - found humour in, at the very least - carrying you high above the clouds with the sound of his laughter.)

“Hi, baby.”  Your darling boy smothered you in kisses, traced them up and over the exposed expanse of your shoulder, nosing against your skin, utterly unbothered by the man shooting him daggers, wishing him ill from the spot he’d wrongly claimed.  

Of course, he’d thought Jungkook was making a point - claiming what was his - but that was so far from the truth you’d almost laughed when he’d spoken, voice carrying above the slightly laboured breaths of your lover.  “I guess that’s my cue to leave, huh?”

You’d smiled, nodded with a hand threaded into cornsilk curling over Jungkook’s nape.  “Looks like it.”

(Then your idiot love - your big-hearted moron, your doe-eyed baby - had come up for air, cheek resting in the palm of his hand.  “Where’s your friend?”  He’d asked, eyes so wide you couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his question.)

Such was the kind of person Jungkook was, with an unwavering belief in the goodness of others, a silver thread outlining everyone’s silhouette.  You sometimes wondered what it would take to drive him to any sort of displeasure, any sort of emotion beyond quiet melancholy (seldom seen but heavily felt, when the rare occasions rose) or easygoing amicability (his default setting).  Not that you’d ever push to see that, of course.

You were happy.  Hopelessly in love.  You wouldn’t have traded him for the world - couldn’t even fathom doing anything to hurt him.  

And yet, you discover albeit by accident - it’s really not that hard.  All it takes is a pretty girl.

“This looks incredible,”  she says, standing close, long dark hair falling in a fluid curtain down the line of her back.  It’s the loveliest shade, cool-toned beneath the boutique lights, and reflects colour like a waterfall.  You’d complimented her on it when you’d stepped into the fitting area, a handful of hangers set across the rolling rack.

Fingers smooth over embroidery, revelling in the feeling of it over your skin.  It’s a beautiful thing, black tulle that hangs to your fingertips.  Not Jungkook’s preferred style - he much prefers harnesses and so many straps it might as well be a cat’s cradle - but you think he loves it nonetheless. 

(You’d confirm, but he’s been stoically silent, seated in the plush chair tucked beside the privacy partition, normally soft gaze hard and trained on his phone.  He doesn’t seem very much in the mood to talk, hardly reacting with each outfit change.  A nod here, a smile there.  Not even the most scandalous of the options - a black corset decorated in Leavers lace - had elicited his usual enthusiasm.)  

“You think so?”  You’re not insecure about your body - know what it looks best in, which assets to play up.  Still, it’s nice to hear from someone other than your doting boyfriend, the people caught in your orbit.  

The sales associate nods, beams at you in the multiple mirrors.  A hand of her own drifts over the thin strap of the slip - an innocent gesture that dislodges wayward strands of hair from beneath.  “Of course— and I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to sell it.” 

You nod, satisfied.  Even if Jungkook doesn’t seem ecstatic, your own joy makes up for it, buyer’s delight spilling over.  “I’ll take the satin robe, the blush silk set, and this in the violet.”  

“Great choices,”  she hums, pulling back the curtain to the adjoining change room to allow you privacy.  Silence follows as you slip the delicate number off, returning it to its hanger.  You don’t expect when the brunette continues speaking - presumably to your surprisingly surly boyfriend.  “Don’t you agree?” 

“Yep.”  He’s never been a man of few words, usually so full of excitement that he rambles when he doesn’t mean to.  

It’s a dead giveaway - a confirmation that something’s wrong.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to broach the subject, your purchases already paid for and a firm hand on the small of your back the moment you’ve stepped out of the dressing stall.  “Jungkookie?”  You mean it quietly, just for the two of you, but falter when he slots his fingers between yours and all but tugs you out of the boutique.  You hardly even have a chance to toss the helpful girl an apologetic smile, imposing glass swinging shut behind you.

“Men—men are fine.  I don’t have to worry about them.”  There’s a confidence you’re so proud to see, turning his words as solid as the weight that rests against your hip, sears burning heat into your bared skin.  “No other man is going to love you better than me.  But women?”  A shudder runs the length of his imposing frame, tugs his shoulders up to his ears and tingles the small of his back.  “Women are scary.”  (It’s a sentiment he’s echoed in the past.  In particular, months ago when you’d insisted he dive into the dating scene.)

Hands thread through his too-soft strands, twirl the ends around your fingers as he speaks, nearly muffled into the crook of your shoulder.  He’s being so tender, giving you all the love he has to offer as he writes his insecurities into your skin, offers them with the wet of his tongue.

“A woman might sweep you off your feet and steal you away.”

You laugh then - sound snapping past your teeth before you can tuck it away.  It filters loudly into the baies scented candle you’d lit when you’d gotten into his apartment.  

Jungkook whines in response - a terribly endearing sound that makes you roll your eyes but only with affection (always with that) - and buries his face into your tits, sucking your nipple into his mouth with complete disregard for the tulle that acts as a barrier.  Saliva stains the material, makes it stick to your hardened bud as he laves over it with his tongue - bites surprisingly gently - and tugs it just hard enough to have you keening.

“S-s’not funny,”  he huffs, palming your other breast in his broad tattooed palm.  When he continues, he bites into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against whatever lies beneath your flesh.  “She was flirting with you.”  

It’s less of a sigh of annoyance - more sensual, drowning in need.  “She was not.”

He nips at the delicate flesh again, spreads crimson marks all across the sensitive skin until it’s a mosaic beneath the fabric, his finest work painted by his second favourite brush.  “That’s what you think but she was.”  The hand previously kneading your skin drops, flat of his palm sliding easily over your bare pussy.  

There’s zero hesitation when he slots his fingers on either side of your clit, catches the delicate pearl against the webbing of his hand and applies pressure that has you bucking beneath him.  It’s not nearly as aggressive as he normally is but it’s just as good, paired with the sinful motions of his tongue and teeth. 

“She wants to be the one doing this,”  he continues, saliva pooling across your chest, slipping into the valley of your breasts only to be licked up by the flat of his tongue.  He continues even once you’re clean, skin sticky and a little gross but so erotic it makes you quiver.  Then he descends, pushes the hem of your new slip higher, and licks another stripe from the joint of your thigh up to your belly button.  Repeats it again, moving lower with each pass until he’s sucking your clit into his mouth.  “She wants to be the one tasting this pretty, pretty pussy.”

You reach for his hand - the one somewhere near your ribs, side of his wrist soothing against the ladder of bones - and tangle your fingers together as he drives you mad, tip of his tongue switching between sweet kitten licks and tantalising figure eights.

“Baby,”  you coax, reprimand almost.  Jungkook’s never this lenient, never this sweet on you (not inside the bedroom, at least).  It brings you to a different high, his love folded into lovely origami cranes you tuck into your pockets and the spot you’ve carved out for him within your chest.

“Sing for me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t mean literally - refers instead to the sound of your voice when it leaps three octaves, bounces between sultry and singed, burnt at the edges by the fire he brings to life. 

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.”  Despite how the words muffle, come broken between the glide of his tongue within your fluttering walls, you can hear the sincerity in them.  The earnestness that begs you to promise him this simple thing.  “Not for her.  Not for anyone.”  

“I won’t leave you,”  you answer, threading the vow between your fingers as if they’re the thread binding your love story together.  “Not for her - not for anyone.”

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: Talk of death and illness

A/N: I’ll be on vacation this week, but I’m hoping to post weekly - Thursdays as reblogs of the previous chapter, Fridays around 6pm EST new chapters, and Saturdays as next day reblogs.  And then posting when ever I so choose for one shots and drabbles.

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer​ , @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse​ , @the-feckless-wonder​ , @pascalisthepunkest​ , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501​ , @fioccodineveautunnale​  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ , @lilkermit14​ , @tortles [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 3 – The Clock is the Enemy

“What a beautiful day, Rosie.”  Robert’s smile was small, but evident. He laid back in the patio chair with a blanket around his shoulders.  The normally oppressive summer heat of August had been milder this year, but Robert was always cold now.  His shoulders hunched over under the heavy cotton fabric, as if the weight of the world were on them.

She looked over at him from inside the kitchen and smiled, glad that he was feeling more energetic today then he had been the last couple of weeks. She had taken him to the doctor this morning and the news was grim – mere weeks were probably left for Robert and her heart clenched as she realized she had to watch yet another person she loved slowly die in front of her.  Tears sprung in her eyes and she quickly looked away so he couldn’t see them.

She stood at the stove waiting for the coffee to finish, her hands tapping the side of the brightly decorated mug in front of her.  Since his confession months ago about his diagnosis, she spent as much time with him as she could, helping him as he got his affairs in order.  Last week, she moved in with him as his health took a turn for the worse and he struggled to care for himself.  He felt as if he should have told her no, but he was so grateful for her, he remained quiet on the subject.

When the foam had dissipated, she poured in the cognac and topped it off with a lemon slice – just the way Robert always took his coffee at home. She carried it out on to the porch and sat next to him.  He sipped the hot liquid and smiled.

“You know, my mother drank her coffee like this, too.”  He nodded at Rosemary’s inquisitive look.  He never talked about his family or his existence before Saugatuck, claiming his life here along the coast of Lake Michigan had enough memories to explore for a lifetime.

“I never heard of anyone drinking their coffee like that before I met you.”

“You don’t know a lot of Ukrainians, then.”  He smiled.  “She drank it with more cognac than is probably recommended, but she needed the pep in her step as she headed off to work.”

“What did she do?”

“She taught home ec at a local high school.”  He grinned as Rosemary started to laugh.

“Did she include the coffee recipe in her class?”

“No, but it would have probably helped!”

The two laughed again and soon it petered out to a comfortable silence. The trees waved slightly in the breeze and they could hear the kids down the road shouting and laughing.  The day was perfect and they both soaked it up knowing that these were numbered.

---***---

“Marcus!  I’m so glad you called!”  Hetty Pike’s smile was evident in her tone as she heard her only son’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hi, mom.”  He couldn’t help but grin every time he talked to his mother.  She was a bubbly woman who talked with her hands a lot. When he was a kid, she always held his face in her hands and told him that she loved him, her head shaking as if to reiterate what she said.  When he’d protested the action as a teenager, she told him she’d never stop because it was her duty to know he was always loved.  “Is dad around?”

“Abe!  Abe! Pick up!  Marcus is on the phone!”  He could hear her voice clearly even as she pulled away to call out to her husband.  Pike rolled his eyes with a small smile as he heard his father’s booming voice come over the line, drowning out his much softer mother, who said her good-byes while the two men talked.

“Son!  It’s been ages!  How goes the art thieving?”

“Not bad, dad.  I’m calling because I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

For the next hour, they chatted as Marcus sought out his dad’s advice on various aspects of the reopened cases.  The senior Pike had been an electrician before he retired and often provided advice to the agent on cases where he could, often becoming a sounding board as his son worked verbally through the case.

After walking through a few scenarios, Hetty got back on the line and the three talked about this and that for a while longer before Pike said his good-byes with promises to call more often and to try and come out for his sister’s 40th birthday party next month.

The energy of the phone call dissipated into nothing as Pike stood in his kitchen, the quiet house a stark contrast to the liveliness he grew up with. He became lost in thought as memories flitted through his brain – happy memories of his parents who were so deeply in love, every day was a chance to prove it to the other; of his sisters and him getting into numerous shenanigans that left them breathless with laughter; of his blue-collar father being proud of his son’s artistic talent and happily attending his shows.

Pike let himself smile a bit before pushing himself off the counter, pocketing his phone as he wandered down the hall into his studio.  He bought the small two-bedroom house in the outskirts of D.C. because its large windows let in tons of natural light, allowing him to set up an in-home studio to indulge his artistic appetite in.

Art had always been Marcus’ passion and something he had been good at since he was quite young.  He was proud that he could parlay that passion into a career.  He didn’t do anything professionally, instead choosing to let his talent serve as a distraction from the stress of real life. As he sat in front of the blank canvas, his hands rested in his lap, fiddling with the pencil.

By this time, his brain was creating a mash up of his memories and Carmichael’s words from some months ago.  He hadn’t been on a date since the last time he was stood up, but no matter how much he hardened his heart, he still yearned for someone to love, the kind that his parents had.  The kind he thought he had with his first wife, then Lisbon, then Eleanor and Carrie and Sumata.

It seems the only place he could express his heart freely and without pain was on the canvas.  He shook his head as he turned on his playlist and let himself get lost in the one place that he could be himself with no judgement.

---***---

Several Days Later

“Helen?”  The director looked up from her desk and looked startled at the pale woman standing in front of her.  She immediately rose and skirted the desk to take Rosemary in her arms, giving her a warm hug.  She felt the younger woman’s arms snake around her waist, and she continued to hold her as sudden sobs wracked the body pressed against her own.  They stood like that for many long minutes before Rosemary pulled away and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

The two women sat down in the office chairs and Helen took Rosemary’s hand again, noticing the slight tremors she failed to feel before.  She squeezed slightly and waited.

“Helen, I need to take some time off.  Robert is getting worse and I don’t want to leave him alone right now. I know I have vacation. . .” Helen cut her off.

“Take all the time you need.  I know this has been hard for you, don’t worry about us here.  We’re fine.  Marquetta can handle anything that comes in for you and I’ll take over the programs you are scheduled to work.  You need to focus on you and Robert.”  She didn’t say it, but the and your good-byes hung in the air between them.

“Okay.  Thank you.” Rosemary stood on shaky legs and they hugged again before she went to her office.  Despite the grief that hung around her neck like an albatross, she set her away message on her voicemail and email before packing a few things up for Banana.  The dog had gone with her to Robert’s and the mutt spent his days sleeping against Robert’s frail form, providing a steady stream of warmth and companionship when Rosemary was at work.

After looking around her neatened desk, she walked to her workshop and glanced around there.  She left a few notes for Marquetta on some projects that needed to be completed before walking over to her locked cabinet.  She pulled out her keys and opened it, glancing at the bronze sculpture housed inside.  She looked at it for a bit longer before closing the doors again.  It was still on her to-do list but it was going to have to wait; Helen knew it was there, but only Rosemary had access.  With the turn of her key, she left the museum to focus on the one person who needed her the most.

---***---

Three weeks later

The day was a sunny one, the sky a deep azure blue that spoke of the coming fall and as he laid in bed with the windows open, Robert took as deep a breath as his lungs would let him.  He loved Saugatuck in the fall – the leaves, the roadside stands that popped up as the harvest came to fruition, and he loved to decorate the store as Halloween grew closer.

He let himself get lost in the memories of the past for a moment before forcing himself to focus on the paperwork in front of him.  His lawyer had dropped off a new copy of his will and testament and Robert carefully read everything before signing it.  Even as he laid there dying, there was something about signing the will that created a finality to it all.

As he sealed the envelope and sent a text to the lawyer to come pick it up, he heard Rosemary enter the house.  He could smell food and for the first time in days, he felt his stomach grumble in hunger.  He began to push himself out of bed when Rosemary enter the room and frowned at him.

“Get back in bed.”  Her tone was firm, but gentle.

“I can get up; I’m not going to eat in my bed.”  Robert grumbled as she walked over and gently pressed him back into the pillows.  Rosemary was only a couple of inches shorter than his six-foot frame, but with his body becoming weaker, she seemed taller and stronger than she ever had before to him.

“You’re going to stay here.  I don’t need you falling like you did yesterday and scaring the bejesus out of me.”  Rosemary wandered back into the kitchen, pulling out the take-out boxes from Coral Gables.  She arranged everything on a tray and took it into the bedroom.  Just as she set everything down, a knock came at the door.  She walked back towards the front of the house, seeing a woman standing on the other side of the screen door.

“Fern!”  Rosemary was surprised to see her close friend on the porch, her voice rising in excitement.  They hugged and Fern made sure to squeeze her poor friend a little harder than usual. They broke apart.  “What are you doing here?”

“Robert is one of my clients.  I dropped off some paperwork for him earlier and he told me to come pick them up.  Sorry to interrupt dinner.”

“Never!  Come in, I bought more than enough, and he won’t eat that much.”  Rosemary’s voice dropped a little and she smiled slightly as a friendly hand rested on her wrist.  “Anyway, please stay and join us.”

Fern nodded and walked into the house towards the bedroom as Rosemary ran to get more plates and silverware.  When she entered the room, the two were in discussion, their voices low and serious.  The conversation stopped as she walked up to them and both smiled at her.

The three sat and ate, enjoying each other’s company and Rosemary noted that Robert ate more than he usually did, which made her feel better. Fern stayed long after dinner was over and as Robert dozed off, the two women continued to visit, but moved the conversation into the living room.  

They had been friends for several years, meeting after bumping into each other at Robert’s store.  Soon their duo became a quartet as local banker Amy met them at a local charity event and Rosemary’s old college friend Tina joined them as she set up her vet practice in Douglas, just south of the town.  The three women had been worried about Rosemary for weeks, visiting where they could and keeping a lively group text going.

When she realized it was midnight, Fern took her leave and Rosemary cleaned up the kitchen.  She walked into Robert’s bedroom to check on him.  He woke up when he heard her and smiled.  She touched his shoulder and sat in the chair next to his bed, the place she spent the most time in these days.

“I’m sorry I woke you.  How are you feeling?”  He reached out to pat her hand and she held it as tight as she dared.  He was so pale, as if he were fading away from her in front of her very eyes.

“Like death warmed over.”  The chuckle sounded strained as his breathing continued to be hard for him.  “Rosie, I never said it, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“I always make time for you, Robert.  You know that.”

“And dinner is always Coral Gables.”

“Exactly.  Tradition.”

“Tradition.”  Robert coughed hard and heavy.  He took the tissue she handed to him and wiped the spittle from his mouth.  “A good historian loves tradition.”

“And the story it tells.”  She sat back and watched him.  He suddenly looked at her, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“Rosie, are you happy?”  She looked at him, surprise on her face.  “I mean in general.  I’ve never seen you date anyone long term, you hardly go on vacation.  You work a lot.  Are you happy?”

“I guess?  I don’t know. I love my work, I have the girls, I have you.  And yeah, sure I could do with more vacation time, but who doesn’t?”  She looked away, focusing on the window, although it was too dark to see. “Dating is. . .  It’s not easy and most men don’t seem to appreciate my odd hours.  Or I’m too tall.  Or I’m too loud.  And I’d rather be single and happy than in a relationship and miserable.”

“That’s fair.”  He smiled. “What happened to that doctor in Kalamazoo?”

“Him?”  She wrinkled her nose.  “God, he was a massive asshole.  Ego the size of the Grand Canyon.  I went on two dates with him and had enough.”

Robert laugh slightly before sighing.

“I just worry about you Rose.  I don’t want you to be alone when I’m gone.  I want you to live a happy life, full of love that you deserve.  Promise me that you’ll make time for that.”

“I promise, Robert.”  She smiled as his eyes drooped closed, his soft snores starting almost immediately. She set back in the chair, propping her feet up on the edge of the bed to watch him until sleep came to claim her.

[hot-tea-gardenparty]

Title: Moments 

Author: coffeeforcastiel 

Rating: Mature 

Length: 1,105 

Pairings: Dean x Castiel, Destiel 

Warnings: Mild sexual content 

Summary: What I imagine could happen in the daily life of our two hunter boyfriends following the downfall of Chuck in S15. 

Note: I am honestly just testing the waters here with a short example of my writing to see what kind of reception (if any) it gets. I've been out of the fanfiction writing business for many years due to adulting, but recently I've been itching to write again. This is just a drabble I quickly typed out over the past few days when I had the chance, so this isn't really meant to go anywhere or really be...solid. It's just weird daydreams I have had that I decided to put on paper. 

Dean was covered in brown goo. Brown, smelly, slimy, all too gag-inducing goo that had been lining the walls of the garbage dump cave dwelling of a hygiene ignorant shapeshifter. A shapeshifter that, once shot by a buck round from Castiel’s sawed-off, splattered it’s loose-skinned body in every single direction.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean grimaced, running a hand down his face and watching the slime slip down between his fingers to the muddy floor. “I got some in my mouth!”

Rolling his eyes and shrugging in return, Castiel tiredly dropped his gun barrel down against his muddy leg, “Would you rather you’d been attacked?”

“Dude, chunks of his skin is in my hair.” With a shiver, Dean looked over to Castiel, noticing he hadn’t fared all that well either, goo and muck weighing down his new black leather jacket and smooshed across the front of his blue plaid button up.  

“You’re welcome.” Castiel sighed.

Prying his sopping boots up out of the mud, Dean motioned to Castiel, pushing them to move towards the exit of the not-so-deep cave. Castiel fell into line next to Dean, watching in amusement as Dean continued to fuss with his appearance until they reached the slightly sunlit opening of the cave. It was finally dawn. They had been out hunting this shapeshifter for over 12 hours.

“We should hurry and get out of here before the morning shift starts.” Castiel stated as he squinted under the glare of the rising sun, trying to make out the distant shape of the dump’s front entrance sign.

Dean nodded his agreement, pointing the way with the butt of his gun, fingers prying at a fruit sticker currently glued to the side of his neck.

Ten minutes and a painful climb over a sharp metal fence later and they were back in the Impala, albeit not until after Dean had laid out a scrap blanket for them to sit on.

The Impala roared to life and quickly rumbled out the back entrance to the trash yard, the harsh right turn onto the pot-holed gravel road leaving Dean to wince as a fresh cut oozed against the pull of skin under his shirt and near his belly button.

“We’re getting too old for this shit.” Was all he said.

***************************************************

“Why does this matter again?” Castiel asked from the bed, his large arms crossed over his naked chest, a flimsy white motel sheet covering the rest of his exposed body.

Dean scoffed from across the room while he gripped tighter to a long, tan trench coat he’d recently bought at a thrift store, the tags still attached to the floppy lapel. “Just humor me.”

A soft smile tugged at Castiel’s lips, hindering the harsh effect of a deep eye roll. Dean had been the one to tell him to lose the trench coat once he lost his angelic grace, to push him to ‘change up the duds a bit, be more human’ and yet now, he wants to put him right back into the same old outfit.

“Just admit,” Castiel started, getting up from the bed and walking bare across the thread-bare hotel carpet to grab at the coat and hold it up to the ceiling light, “You have a fetish for the old coat.”

“Maybe.” Dean shrugged, his mind too preoccupied with a very naked boyfriend looking over a cheap-ass coat like it was the contents of a witch’s hex bag, to formulate a coherent reply.  It amazed Dean to no end watching Castiel truly embrace being human this go around, being content with the body he had and appreciating the feelings that came with it.

Immediately following the big battle with Chuck, Castiel had been beaten and bloody, his clothes ripped and torn to pieces. With no grace to assist in their repair, and with Sam and Dean both horrendously unskilled in the art of sewing, Cas had had no other choice but to replace his once daily outfit with Dean’s hand-me-downs and random findings from the nearby Wal-Mart.

All in all, Dean loved Castiel’s ‘new look’, but there was still the random moments where he missed the routine and comforting appearance of the crooked tie, white shirt and baggy trench coat had given him. That look was all Cas, uniquely Cas…his Cas. Soft dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes, tinted caramel skin, ill-fitting suit and a stupid tan coat. That was him.

Although, Castiel’s tight new pair of Levi’s were never a distraction Dean would complain about.

Speaking of distraction… “Cas, are you serious?”

The new trench coat was now fitted perfectly over Castiel’s shoulders, his naked body almost completely covered by the two front lapels.  With a chuckle, Castiel looked up at Dean in amusement, “What? Did you change your mind? Should I forgo the coat?”

“Uhm…” Dean stuttered and cleared his throat, mind once again faltering at the…intriguing…image in front of him, “No…nah…uhm, still suits you.”

Dean could feel his heartbeat start to race as Castiel casually walked up to him, a soft smile on his lips and the trench coat swinging with his gait, revealing tantalizing strips of skin as he moved.  

Once their chests were about to touch, Castiel leaned forward, bringing his lips to Dean’s ear, his voice low and seductive as he whispered, “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

Static shudders cascaded down Dean’s skin as he slid a warm finger into the slit in the front of Castiel’s coat, bumping and brushing teasingly down the smooth skin of his partner’s chest and the slight dip of his stomach.  Castiel’s bright eyes were focused solely on Dean’s as his head pulled away slightly, the intensity of his gaze holding firm even as Dean’s hands and fingers continued to stroke and tease under the shadow of the coat.

Castiel finally leaned in and pressed his lips to Dean’s a heartbeat later, the kiss full of heat and sticky-sweet promise as they wrapped their arms around each other.  

Dean slid his hands fully under the coat, finally smoothing them down the firm muscle of Castiel’s backside, “Dean…” Castiel gasped, “Dean, wait, your pocket’s vibrating.”

Stopping his ministrations but keeping his left palm filled with Castiel’s skin, Dean groaned as he pulled his phone from his right pocket, eyeing the reminder he’d set on his phone earlier the previous day.

“Check out’s in ten.” Dean huffed as he slid the phone back into his pocket, his arms coming back to fully encase his boyfriend once again.

Castiel chuckled, softly kissed Dean’s temple and took a deep breath, “Guess I need to put pants on then?”  

[sign-from-god-complex]

The Well

Summary: Virgil couldn’t speak—too caught up in the way every aspect of the fae looked just a little too perfect. It felt like a viewing someone from a dream, features seeming to shift and change before his eyes, almost fluid.

Patton smiled brightly, showcasing his teeth in a brilliant and terrifying display. “That’s what I thought.”

Or, Virgil’s always appreciated water, but this time he may be in too deep.

Pairing: Moxiety with background logince.

Warnings: Talk about a mostly nondescript (probably) terminal illness, mentions of death.

A/N: I don’t have a drabble for y’all today, but I do have a fic I wrote in my writing course this evening! so hopefully this is good too. I’ve wanted to do a fae fic for fucking forever.

Tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun​

AO3 Link

He’d always had an affinity for deep water.

It was something that should have made him afraid—after all, the ocean was often treacherous and unkind—but instead, it made him feel safe. It reminded him, the same way the stars did for Logan, how insignificant they really were. There was so much to uncover, so much to know that they didn’t know yet and it was immensely fascinating.

The well before him was dark and damp, rough under his fingertips as he gripped on to it, leaning over the side to see the water below. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the blackness, but eventually, a picture came into focus on the surface of the water, rippling and moving ever so slightly before his eyes. Despite the distance, he was still able to make it out perfectly.

The boy in the image was dark-haired—strong but afraid, the adrenaline once coursing through his veins seemingly absent in the solitude of this clearing. There was eyeliner smudged under big, brown eyes, as they studied the water, just watching. Waiting.

“I told you it was going to be fine, Virgil!”

A voice pulled him from his reverie, boisterous and not at all discreet—he was starting to wonder if Roman understood the concept of being discreet. Recent events seemed to prove otherwise.

He pushed back from the well, pressing a finger to his lips in an insistent shush. Roman rolled his eyes and Virgil had to fight to not hit him over the head at his arrogance.

“We could easily still be found, dumbass,” he hissed, pulling Roman away from the entrance of the clearing so he was further obscured, just in case, “I’d rather you not go around yelling out our position if you could be so kind.”

The sound of the guards had faded away a long time ago but it always paid to be cautious—plus, someone had to look out for the two of them without Logan around, god knows Roman wasn’t doing it.

Roman approached the structure beside them, hesitant for the first time since he’d arrived. “So this is the well?”

It was unassuming—a basic cobblestone well, with a wooden roof overhead, a bucket and a rope. You’d think nothing of it if you happened to pass by it on your morning walk—something you were unlikely to do, it was quite enclosed and out of the way—which Virgil supposed was the point.

He joined Roman staring down into the well again, the vision of the man now joined by his friend—a shock of red hair and freckles and big bright eyes, chewing at his lip in concern. Virgil didn’t really think Roman had the right to be worried now, considering he was the one who’d suggested this in the first place.

“You got the coin?” Virgil asked.

He watched his companion pull a small medallion out of his coat pocket, turning it over in his fingers a few times. “I do. Though I have to admit, it was a bitch to acquire, Virge. We’re gonna owe Remy so much after this one.”

Virgil scoffed. “As if we don’t already.”

“Touche.”

They both stood there, staring down at the slowly curling water of the well, neither wanting to make the final move to seal their fates. It lasted a few moments more before Virgil stood up, taking a deep breath and holding out a hand for Roman to pass him the coin. The medallion felt heavy in his palm, the weight of both the solid metal and the choice he was about to make pressing him down towards the ground.

“Well,” he said, holding the coin out over the top of the well, “Here goes nothing.”

And then he dropped it.

Distantly a splash could be heard as the coin hit the surface of the water, but Virgil’s ears were ringing so it was lost to him. He stepped back, his heartbeat speeding up as he came to the realisation of what he had just done. Roman was much the same—shock on his face, though missing the dread present on his own as Roman was not the one to make the sacrifice. It wasn’t Roman’s life at stake.

There were a few moments where nothing happened, and Virgil was almost hoping in the back of his mind that the legend was only that—a legend—but then… there was light.

The well began to glow—softly at first, though picking up intensity as the seconds ticked by—and though it hurt Virgil’s eyes to see at he found himself unable to look away. He was unaware and uncaring of whether Roman was doing the same; right then all that existed was Virgil and the well.

“Oh, and what do we have here?”

Jerked out of whatever spell he’d been caught up in, Virgil spun around towards the voice, worried that it was one of the other villagers who’d caught them… but it wasn’t. It definitely wasn’t.

The man standing before them was terrifyingly beautiful—large grey eyes framed with thick eyelashes, a smattering of freckles like stardust across his skin and perfectly pink lips pulled into a smile with too many teeth. He was inhuman, but gods above, he was gorgeous and Virgil found himself speechless.

Unfortunately, Roman had no such affliction.

“Oh! Hello, sir! Uh.” Roman seemed to pause there, unsure of what exactly the etiquette was for asking mythical deities for a favour. Virgil couldn’t blame him. “We were hoping to find you!”

The being laughed, bright and bell-like. It seemed to whip through the trees like a breeze, chasing its way through the clearing and causing Virgil’s breath to catch in his throat.

“Well, you found me!” the being said, taking a step forward, “I’ve had many names over the years, but you can call me Patton. May I have your name?”

Roman perked up, preparing to introduce himself. “Oh! I-”

“No.”

Virgil cut straight through Roman’s words, breaking them into pieces in the air around them.

Patton laughed again—there was more of an echo to it this time, bouncing around inside his skull. “Oh! A clever one, huh? Alright. What may I call you then?”

Virgil thought for a moment, pushing down the want running through every inch of his body that asked for him to give himself up to this being, to push himself forward and sink into his arms and never leave. What they were doing was already dangerous enough; they weren’t going to receive anything if they weren’t careful here.

“You can call me Anxiety. This is Princey.”

Roman spluttered for a second at the choice of nickname but froze when Virgil turned a glare on him. Now was really not the time to be arguing about what the fae was allowed to call him. If he wasn’t such an idiot, next time, he could pick the nicknames.

Listen to him. “Next time”. As if they were likely to even get through this time unscathed.

Patton walked closer, almost gliding along the grass beneath him and Virgil vaguely noticed that the fae wasn’t wearing any shoes. He’s not sure why he was surprised, it wasn’t like he had much need for them.

“Alright, Anxiety,” Patton hummed, slipping around the human to lean against the well—his well, “What’d you call me up for? Hmm? Are you looking for riches? Fame? Love?”

He tilted his head just a little bit more with each suggestion, curiosity stirred into his words, and Virgil tensed at the reminder of why they came, why they risked all of this in the first place.

“My brother.” Patton eyes, once trained over his shoulder into the forest behind, snapped to meet Virgil’s. “He’s sick; there’s something wrong with his lungs—they don’t know what and it’s just getting worse… He can barely even tell me about the stars anymore.”

His voice was close to breaking now, tears building up behind his eyes though he tried so hard not to let them fall. This was a negotiation, and he couldn’t afford to show such weakness.

“I’m here to trade for his health. I want to know what it’ll cost to have my brother alive and well again.”

The fae looked contemplative, but there was a glint in his eyes that caused Virgil to think he’d already made up his mind.

“That’s a pretty big ask, you know…” Patton’s tone was playful, teasing with just an undercurrent of cockiness, “Who says I’d even be able to save your brother?”

Roman spoke up this time, pushing his way to the forefront of Virgil’s mind. Truthfully, he regretted even bringing him along, but it was Roman’s idea and he loved Logan just as much as Virgil did—albeit in a different way.

“You’ve done it before,” he said, words dripping with fake confidence, “For Thomas.”

Virgil cursed Roman out under his breath for using their friend’s real name, but he supposed it was just one name. Don’t get him wrong, he was definitely gonna kick his ass for it later—assuming there was a later, of course—but he supposed it wasn’t the worst thing he could have possibly done.

“Thomas, hmm?” The fae���s eyes were sparkling and Virgil couldn’t tell if it was the light, his imagination or just plain old magic. “And how do you know this Thomas exactly?”

From the corner of his eye, Virgil caught Roman tug at the necklace he wore under his shirt. It had been an anniversary present from Logan—a clear red stone tucked into a delicate wire frame, twisted into the shape of a tiny flower. Roman had insisted that he wear it, claiming it would be their good luck charm, though it didn’t seem to have brought them much luck so far.

“He runs the bar that we go to for drinks!” Roman hesitated then, rubbing lightly against the side of his neck. “Or, that we used to go to… before.”

There was something that flickered through the fae’s eyes but it was gone before Virgil could identify it, leaving behind only the barest hint of amusement. “Mmm, well maybe he’s lying. Maybe I can’t save your brother.”

Virgil felt rage bubbling up inside him, pressing up against his throat and threatening to spill out. He knew what Patton was saying wasn’t true—Thomas wouldn’t lie to them, especially not about this—and he was beginning to tire of the constant games. His patience was wearing thin, ready to snap, every word out of the fae’s mouth bringing him closer to that edge.

“You can and you will.”

The atmosphere changed in an instant.

Patton pushed himself from the well and strode towards him, seemingly towering over Virgil despite being several inches shorter. The playfulness in his eyes was absent. Instead, they felt void and ageless and Virgil shrunk down under his gaze, a chill making its way through his body. The forest became quiet, all background noises dying away as Virgil was completely spellbound by the fae in front of him—dangerous and so incredibly captivating.

“Oh, will I?” Patton asked, tone innocent but demeanour anything but, “I think you’d better remember your place. After all, who’s the one asking whom for help?”

Virgil couldn’t speak—too caught up in the way every aspect of the fae looked just a little too perfect. It felt like a viewing someone from a dream, features seeming to shift and change before his eyes, almost fluid. He could identify them, sure, but there was still something about the fae’s appearance that was just too much for him to comprehend.

Virgil’s lips sat parted ever so slightly in shock and Patton giggled, bringing the noises of the forest rushing back, along with Roman’s shaky exhale from beside him.

The fae smiled brightly, showcasing his teeth in a brilliant and terrifying display. “That’s what I thought.”

Roman reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, but Virgil brushed him off. There would be time for feelings later—hopefully. They had to concentrate on the task at hand. They couldn’t lose focus.

Once again, he opened his mouth to speak but Patton cut him off before he could.

“A year.”

The fae’s face was almost impassive as he regarded them, all of the earlier emotion hiding itself under his skin and seeping out into the air around them. Virgil couldn’t understand what the feeling was particularly, but it caused a buzz to take up residence in his chest and made him want once again for things he couldn’t have.

He furrowed his brow as he tried to make sense of what Patton had said. “What?”

“That’s what it will cost you. Your brother’s life for a year, I’d say that’s a steal.” He paused for a moment, twisting his lips as he thought. “I suppose, though, it would have to be a year from both of you to make this a fair trad-”

“I’ll take his.”

Virgil’s offer was immediate and decisive and a smile widened across Patton’s face.

“Wonderful,” he purred, tracing his tongue swiftly along his bottom lip and grinning at the way Virgil’s cheeks flushed hot.

Roman’s protests were drowned out by the fae stepping closer, crowding into his space and Virgil could only hear the sound of blood rushing in his ears and Patton’s lilting voice. “Two years with me—two years where I own you—and your brother will be saved. Do you understand what you’re agreeing to, Anxiety? Consent is important.”

His head was whirling from the close proximity, but he managed to form a coherent thought through all the haze. “You promise that I’ll come out of it safe and alive?”

“I do.” Patton’s expression was sincere, and maybe it was a mistake—maybe it was magic or maybe it was just poor judgement—but Virgil trusted him.

He took a deep, steadying breath. “Then I accept.”

And then lips were pressed to his.

It wasn’t anything that Virgil had expected it to be, and yet it was. It was sweet, cloying and hot and overwhelming, leaving him gasping for air but unable to move away—not wanting to move away. The heat felt almost possessive. It trickled across his skin like honey, slow and syrupy and coating every inch of him, inside and out.

The way Patton’s hand rested against Virgil’s face caused a warmth to flare in his chest and Virgil finally pulled back, not missing the way Patton’s lips quirked for just a moment as he did.

“I’ll give you a day to prepare,” he spoke softly, gaze not leaving Virgil’s, “Meet me here at sundown tomorrow evening.”

Virgil nodded numbly, blinked twice and then the fae was gone.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, spinning him away from where he was gazing at the well with a blank look on his face. Maybe he was in shock, he didn’t know, but as his friend’s face came into view Virgil felt a spike of emotions shoot through him.

“Virge? What in the world have you done?” Roman’s skin was ashy, his eyes wide and desperate and Virgil was wondering now if Roman had truly expected any of this to work at all. He knew this is what they’d set out here to do, yet he seemed so regretful now.

That made one of them.

He knew in his heart he’d made the right decision; Logan was so fucking important.

Logan had the most brilliant mind of anyone Virgil had ever met, breezing his way through school and on track to graduate university early before his illness had gotten in the way. Virgil had C’s in every class and a problem with authority, getting on teacher’s bad-lists before they’d even met him.

Logan had a boyfriend and friends who loved him, constantly inviting him out to drinks and whatever performance was running at the time, even if he did often turn them down. Virgil had Roman, Logan and the drawings on his walls, and it was really kind of sad that the only friends he could claim to have were his brother and his brother’s boyfriend.

Logan had a path in life, plans for where he was going to end up once he’d finally beaten the illness that kept him bedridden—and it was always when, never if, confidence unwavering even in the face of certain doom, though certainly exaggerated for his sake. Virgil had only fear for the future—certain he was never going to make a single thing of himself, a belief cooperated by every adult who’d ever had the pleasure of meeting him.

Logan was everything Virgil wished he could be and it wasn’t fair for that to be cut short because of situations outside anyone’s control. It wasn’t fair for Virgil to lose his big brother.

So, he knew exactly what he did. It was exactly what he had come here to do.

Virgil took a breath, looking Roman in the eyes with all of the confidence he could muster up.

“All that matters. I saved my brother.”

[lcnguor]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon?  — Since she is an OC with her own lore I would say pretty much . Of course there are some heres and theres and she changed a lot from the first time I dragged her out of the void of my head . I originally wanted to make more of a gag character but ended up taking too much of the screen if I’m honest . but of course , since there is many other lores and crossovers are a must , some things change once or twice .

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  Nora is a mentor character , supportive and most likely to be the ace under the sleeve like a Kisuke Urahara from Bleach or Sinbad from Magi --- you know there’s something fishy but there is a charm that even thought they are slidding in the background for the main character , their relevance is vast . As a mentor characters , she would often help with insight , understanding of complex things , giving moral lessons and giving others a sense of security whilst also making sure to throw hints about a doubious nature . Keeping a character around her to keep their feet on ground while never shooting down their hopes and dreams .

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  She is not approachable unless you have enough guts to -- perhaps even looks intimidating or hard to come up with something plausible to make the meeting more natural . And honestly , she looks like a mainstream angst character at first glance --- even I myself believe this and start having second thoughts ... :laughs:  

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  An old project I had archived in my closet of memories (?). She was the main , nameless character of a journal about , well , her and the emotions she had to deal with in the everyday . I will be seriously honest ... it was a self insert :blushes: after all it was like a personal journal I was doing on my darkest days . But after that , she became Sable -- the first character on her own -- who also served as a mentor ( but the story was much more dark , seriously ) and then just came to this . I even used the pre-prototype name lol . The idea was to put the whole story into a RPG pixel game or a short comic series where she ( Sable ) and the protagonist would wander around a city called “Nobody’s Home” , a place were people with “thats” ( what now are called Stalkers ) got dragged into and either confront their emotions and solve / comes in terms with them or get eaten by them ( a metaphor for suicide or dead by mental illness ) . The story was more or less about Sable teaching Nona ( the genderless protagonist ) about different mental states , issues and others and helping people solve them so they can return to the real world . Needless to say , the story ends with Nona returning after coming in terms with their condition ( funnily enough , the protagonist had a bunny shaped emotion ) while on the other hand Sable stayed behind along with her closest friend , who she question why he keeps being around if he could return himself , to what he replies he doesn’t want to leave her alone esp since she can no longer return --- hinting Sable committed suicide but by sheer will power remained there to help others to deal with what she couldn’t . Voez , the friend I mention , is even Victor from her current lore . Haha , I like recycling I guess . When I came with Nora , it was mostly to kill time and altered her base story a bit since the original plot was way to close up to make an interaction .

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  How well received she became , I know it sounds a bit ... uh , bad . But I honestly never expected people to like her . heck I even have my doubts about myself liking her haha . plus I know it’s not easy to deal with a character with a somewhat meta power ... I still struggle from time to time but I’m managing and having the support I have atm is something that keeps me going . I love plot a shit lot . I love to come up with ideas with others . To expand what I already have . besides , there is so much I haven’t write down yet that is about her lore but I’m a bit insecure yet . I guess I’m too used to forums where everyon follows a general plot haha ... old habits die hard .

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO / EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO / 50-50

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO, I HATE DRABBLES.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES/ NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO / .... UHHHH

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / HAHA NO.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES VERY MUCH A LOT / NO.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  I haven’t got any so far --- which honestly surprises me because well ... there is so much that can bother people . as I said , I received a lot of support and praise , which also surprises me haha ... I won’t deny I would love to hear what people think , even if I later end up riding the anxiety train to the moon but it’s also a way to grow up , I believe . god ... I sound like nora Uu

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  I absolute love this and need this . It comes easier for me to make a 20 word pages of information about stuff if I’m asking specifically about it . even add explanatory drawings with it lolol since I’m kinda bad with words . besides , showing me interest on a character would just fire the heck out of me to keep going . I mean , everyone likes to get some curiosity and a chance to develop more their characters , canon or not .

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  I would for sure . I’m not smart and I actually do a shit ton of research --- but even so I can miss a lot of shit people would say <nah that’s not how it works> and that would be helpful as heckie . but of course , needing the why also would tell me if the person disagreeing is doing it with a solid ground or just because they are being a piece of crap . I’m really tired of tumblr mentality and shitty people who aren’t mature enough to act decently .

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  you cannot like everyone or have everyone like you either . I don’t really care much ... esp since nora is an original character . if it constructive critisism , okay -- I will take it , but gimme a solid reason other than “ your character is / is not ... “ and then give a crappy critique because she doesn’t fit your agenda or standards .

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  you are fucking free to unfollow me and ignore me for the rest of your life . I really don’t get the point of hating on the internet just because and keep promoting your hate just to be a pain in the ass .

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  I fucking wrote in my rules that people are even fricking free to fix my grammar and english because holy heck , even to this day I still do some ugly shit . I’m dumb , help ...

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  ehhhhhhhhhhhhh, kinda . I take everything with water . whenever it’s of ideology , people as it is , characters ... I am quite tolerant and try to keep the “okay this person thinks this way , fine .” but as long as nobody crosses the line where they try to spoil it for me or others , I get super bitter . I love OOC , getting to know the one behind the character makes me feel more secure about coming to them and just rambling about plots and hcs and whatever idea got in my mind . but if I see someone and , forgive me god for misjudging , see them as a person that will put me on my nerves -- I won’t even try . as for the friends I have and those who don’t know me as much ... I am obnoxiously sporadic and have a lot of ups and downs very often . one day I could be talking 100 words per second others I will just take a fucking week to respond . honestly , I had mined my social skills for two years plus several other irl stuff previous to that , so I’m always a bit too anxious around people , esp people I REALLY like . I’m insecure as heck , if someone is vague ( just because , idk , it was a lazy day for them ) I think at least 10 different reason why probably that person hates me now . I’m a bit dumb 26 year old baby .......... but I’m very aware that is completely on me . I’m a mess.......  so , what was the question again ??? ... I , yeah ... it’s a kinda . but I try , at least haha.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by:  @skyvar​ herself Tagging: y’all , cowgirls and cowbois . i hate tagging bc i forget urls :finger guns:

[sweetcatmintea]

Lemon and Ginger and All That

@hannahs-creations very kindly provided a random four word prompt to make into a drabble. Thanks for the prompt! Sorry it took a hot minute to write <u<;; 

I hope you enjoy this little scene ^u^ Feedback is appreciated!

Prompt:  vitality, manage, fluster and gleefully

Words: 1768

Characters: Marcos, Whitney, Freddy (Briefly), and Mella

          Chaotic didn’t cover the state of the 6pm Café. Freddy’s promotion idea went over so well last fortnight, people were practically lining up to see what they’d do to the menu this time. The apple and elder-flower brew did not disappoint. Perfectly refreshing in the warming days of early spring, with a gentle aroma that transported you to the countryside, apple picking with your gran. Light, crumbly, pastries and tiny finger sandwiches sold almost as quickly as they were prepared. Every time a happy customer left, two more would arrive. That may be a little dramatic. It certainly felt like facing the hydra of the food industry at least. Marcos and Freddy were run off their feet greeting customers, taking orders, brewing tea, selling dry blends, answering questions, transporting food, and trying to squeeze in spot cleans. Uncle Antonio hopped between the register and the kitchen, saving Leroy from the flood of demands.

          What terrible timing for Whitney to have to skip out. Although she complained about it, she lived for the busy days like today. She loved to get lost in the hustle, while still managing to find a sense of order and co-ordinating the boys. Marcos had never seen anyone more determined not to take a sick day. When the first thing Whitney did that morning was bolt to the bathroom to re-evaluate dinner, it was clear there was no avoiding it. Regardless of how it went down, the result was the same. Whitney was stuck at home while the boys played the service edition of the floor is lava. (Or would that be the customers?)

          Marcos’ mind was a blur of orders and customers, but he didn’t let himself lose track of time. As soon as the hour ticked over, he tagged out. Of course, he checked that Freddy and Uncle Antonio could manage without him first. Not wasting a second more of his lunch break, he slipped into the backroom, tore off his uniform, replacing it with a change of clothes he’d prepared earlier, and was gone.

          The walk to their house was made significantly faster by running. Marcos was at the painted off-white door in record time. The plan to catch his breath while he fiddled with his pockets looking for his key met a hitch when he couldn’t locate it. Briefly panicking that he’d left it at the café, Marcos tried to calculate how long it would take to run back to get it, would that take too long? It didn’t fall out while he was running did it?? He’d have to go and find it before someone else did. Should he just risk waking Whitney and asking her to let him in? Ah but she won’t get better if she’s no- wait a minute. There it is. False alarm. Fishing the key out of the depths of its fabric prison, Marcos let himself in as quietly as possible. If he was careful, he should be able to avoid the creaky floorboards.

          “I cab ‘ear ‘ou.”

          Never mind. He followed Whitney’s raspy croak to the living room, still mindful to tread lightly. She was huddled on the couch, cocooned with blankets and half draped over the arm of the chair. Mella, taking the role of mother hen, sprawled over Whitney’s tracksuit clad legs, incubating her just in case folding herself into cotton origami wasn’t enough. Fever was obvious, painted over Whitney’s sweaty face, interrupted occasionally by loose strands of hair. She hadn’t even bothered to tie it back. Even in illness, she was an over-achiever.

          “Were you asleep?” He tired to keep his voice soft despite its gravelly texture. Judging by the way the radio was on, but turned down to its lowest possible volume, she probably had a headache. He wondered briefly if she was resenting her rabbit hearing at the moment.

          Whitney shook her head, waving his worries off. “I was ju- uh- aacho!” Another balled up tissue in the over-stuffed bin. “I was jus’ dyin’g apparendly. No, I was listenig do the mid-day stories. Whab are ‘ou doin’g ‘ere?” Mella whined and wiggled closer to Whitney’s flushed face. She was supposed to be resting!

          Marcos shrugged. “I got you some tea. Give me a second, I’ll make it for you. It’s called, uh, ‘Vitalitea’ and it’s got lemon and ginger and all that. Should hopefully make you feel better.” It couldn’t make her any worse at least. Red eyes and streaming nose, it was almost painful to see her so far from her bubbly self.

          Whitney had always been good at reading people. Just because she was unwell didn’t mean she couldn’t see the crease setting into Marcos’ forehead. He was always so busy worrying about others. The demand he not pity her fell away to the realisation of what he’d said.

          “You cabe back jusd ‘o bake tea?”

          “No. I’ll get you some lunch too.” He wandered off to the kitchen to get started, entirely missing the touched shock he left her in. According to his calculations, he was still on track even after stalling to get into the house. The majority of making food was just waiting for the tea to brew. It took next to no time to make a sandwich or boil water. While the tea was brewing, he grabbed a brush and a hair tie, returning to the sick bunny.

          Seeing her face a tiny bit more flushed made his stomach twist. Was it really okay for her to stay here alone?

          “Can you sit up? I’ll put your hair up since I’m here.”

          Whitney sighed dramatically but wiggled her way to a sitting(ish) position, much to Mella’s disapproval. “Leab me here to die. I’b not lon’g for thid worlb.”

          “Nah, I think we’ll save ya Cottontail. You know Freddy and me’ll be lost without ya at the café.” He chuckled, combing the brush through her long, long, hair. She tried not to think about how his breath tickled her ear, sending tingles down her spine.

          “I tolb ‘ou nod do call be that.” She huffed. Her mock anger easy to see through. It she’d really wanted him to stop, he would have done so immediately. “You’re righbt tho. You do neeb me. Who else can stob Fred’dy frob gleefully bestering beople on dates?”

          “He’s not even here and you’re picking on ‘im?”

          “I’b allobed to. It’s by twind given righbt.”

          “Can’t argue with that.” Marcos’ hands worked quickly, twisting the strands into a roughly uniform braid. Whitney may have preferred a bun, but that just wasn’t in his skill set yet. As he worked, his own auburn curls wiggled loose. The ponytail must’ve come undone on his way over. He probably should just cut the shaggy mane, but he liked the feeling of it brushing his skin.

          Whitney released her arm from the blanket burrito to playfully tug a strand. “You’re kinba a bess. Whab did ‘ou do, rub the whole bay?”

          “Yup.”

          His steady gaze caught her off guard. “Waib, really?” Whitney’s pink cheeks shifted much closer to a shade of red, causing Marcos’ brow to furrow. It didn’t help that she only seemed to heat up more when he pressed his hand to her forehead. She must’ve been really unwell, even her usually pale rabbit ears were tinted rose.

          “Hold on. I think your tea should be ready.” He vanished back into the kitchen, retying his hair as he went.

          The butterflies in Whitney’s brain were certainly just sickness making her dizzy. Nothing else. Mella stared at her. Judgementally. It wasn’t her fault her dumb heart was fluttering. Her pop rock pulse was obviously not her buzzing with giddiness. Of course she didn’t have a crush on Marcos. It didn’t matter how thoughtful he was, or how he made her feel special and appreciated with no ulterior motive. His gentle presence was just a part of him being Marcos. Falling for that would just be… well, it would be… Okay. She couldn’t lie to herself. Frog toes. It wasn’t the plague she’d managed to contract that made her face glow when he touched her. His concerned expression flashed across her mind. The tiny tilt of his scruffy eyebrows, the amber that almost glowed against the dark lines that always seemed to line his eyes, the way he looked at her. Oh dear, she melted into a goopy mess. Stars Above, she had Feelings for the scraggly hare. She had to compose herself. Pondering whether he felt something for her too would have to wait until he was gone. Working herself into a fluster was less than ideal. Upon the realisation, Mella smiled at her, in the way dogs do. If Whitney didn’t know better, she’d think Mella could read her mind. Why was she being so cocky? As if she figured it out first! Whitney’s mental rambling was interrupted by Marcos bringing in her lunch.

          “Here. I put honey in the tea. It’s s’posed to be good for sore throats? Mum used to do that for me, honey and milk I mean. Should help you too.” His ears twitched self-consciously. Sure it was common knowledge that honey was a good soother, but he still felt the need to explain himself. Maybe because Whitney almost always preferred not to sweeten her teas and he hadn’t forgotten that. Whitney smiled, still too pink for his liking, thanked him and took a sip, evaporating his worries.

          “There’s some medicine if you need it, and a bottle of water for later, y’know, so you don’t have to get up again… I’ve gotta head now or I’ll be late back. You gonna be okay?”

          “I’b a big girl, I’ll be okay.” She took another sip. “Than’gs fo’ this. I abbreciate ib.”

          “Not a problem. Just focus on betting better.”

          “Oh byeah, before you go, there’s somb faze wibes in by roob. Take theb with you to geb rib ob the sweat. You brobably smbell.” To make certain she wasn’t being overly sincere, she poked her tongue at him.

          “’course I do. I’m healthy so I can still breathe through my nose.” Marcos grabbed the wipes and darted out of the door before he had to face her faux fury.

          It took a sprint, but he made it back to the café with just enough time to clean up and get re-dressed. He was tired as anything and had forgotten about his own lunch in the process of it all, but still found a spring in his step for the rest of the day. It was nice to think he might’ve made her feel a little better.

 ----------

Taglist

@inkovert and @snobbysnekboi

[itsalliepg]

Drabbles - Mark x Renata (MC) - Part 1

SUMMARY: An anthology about Mark and Renata (MC)

PAIRING: Mark x Renata (MC)

RATING: Everyone

WORDS: 1803 divided in 7 drabbles

NOTE: Hey! Here some drabbles I made based on this post here. I divided in two parts. English isn’t my native language. I write to practice and learn, so please sorry any mistakes. I hope you like it, and if you do, I’d appreciate if you like/comment/reblog!Tagging  @seawhite-seafair @maxwells-nut@writtenbycandy @teamtomsato @endlessly-searching-for-you @thedepthsremember

1. “This has to be the second best day of my life.” Words: 317 

            After a day of working at Net4U, Renata came home and found Mark in the kitchen. He was putting something in the oven, and she could already identify the smell.

            _Mmm…lasagna…my favorite…- Mark turned to her and smiled.

            _I know – she approached him and he caught her lips in a passionate kiss – I went to the grocery today, and decided to cook something special for my beautiful girlfriend – she grinned – so, how was your day?

            _It was great! – Renata said excitedly, and Mark’s eyes widened in surprise – my last article had the record of clicks, Leah and I realized we already have enough money to hire another Net4U collaborator! – she took a dress from the bag in her hands – I went into a boutique, because of this gorgeous dress, and I found out the only dress they had was this one, that was in the shop window and was my size! – he giggled – and now my amazing boyfriend is cooking my favorite dish!

            _How lucky you are!

            _I know! This has to be the second best day of my life! – Mark turned to her, arching an eyebrow.

            _Really? – he wrapped his arms around her waist – and what’s your first best day?

            _Well, obviously the day Net4U won that prize… - Renata wrapped her arms around his neck.

            _Of course – he kissed her forehead – which is also the day our relationship became official, right?

            _Oh, yeah? I don’t remember that – she said innocently – if it wasn’t for the award, this would be the fourth or fifth best day of my life – Mark rolled his eyes, but kissed Renata deeply. She pulled back panting.

            _And now? – he smirked.

            _Well…now it’s the third one – she winked.

            _Oh? So I guess I’ll have to do something after dinner to make you change your mind – they shared a sly smile and kissed again – I love you, Renata.

            _I love you too, Mark.

2. “Your hair is the softest thing I have ever had the blessing of touching.” Words: 269

           On a Saturday afternoon, Mark and Renata were sitting on the couch watching TV. At some point, he lay down on the couch and rested his head on her lap. She laughed.

           _It’s me who usually does it – they smiled and she stroked his hair, as he did when she lay on his lap. After a while, he sighed.

           _If I tell you something you promise me you will not be angry?

           _Of course no, Mark! – she widened her eyes – why?

           _Well, my shampoo was over and I used yours…

           _...and?

           _Was it. I used your shampoo.

           _Mark, did you really think I’d be mad at you over of a shampoo? – she tickled his stomach.

           _It’s yours, Renata. I used it without asking permission.

           _Well, you don’t have to ask permission to use my things, okay? – she enlaced her hand on his and kissed his knuckles. He grinned.

           _Thanks. But I must confess I’ve always wanted to try on your shampoo – Renata chuckled.

           _Really? Why?

           _Well, your hair is the softest thing I have ever had the blessing of touching – Mark put his hand to her hair and stroked it – I’m not so vain, but I wanted to see what it would do to my hair – she laughed.

           _You’re lovely, Mark Collins – she turned her head and kissed his hand – and I think you should use my shampoo from now on. Your hair is significantly soft.

           _You think so? – he smiled broadly.

           _Definitely – she smiled back.

           _There’s another thing I love about this shampoo: it smells like you – he caressed her cheek. Blushing slightly, she bent to kiss him.

 3. “I don’t know, go eat a cabbage or something.” Words: 203

           _Nata…- Mark sat beside Renata in the bed, and softly tucked her hair behind her ear.

           _Hum? – she asked, still looking at her laptop.

           _Come play video game with me? – he asked, almost begging.

           _I already said we can do it later, baby.

           _Pleeeease? – he pouted, looking at her with puppy eyes. She finally looked at him.

           _I’m busy, Mark. I have to finish this article, review and post today.

           _Aaaah, I hate when you bring work home…what am I going to do until you finish?

           _I don’t know, go eat a cabbage or something.

           _What? – he grimaced – you know I hate cabbage!            _Exactly. You’ll be pretty busy trying to eat something you don’t like. Who knows you end up liking cabbage – she arched an eyebrow to him, and he laughed.

           _You call me a dork, but so do you – he kissed her cheek.

           _I know. It’s daily living with you – Mark rolled his eyes.

           _I don’t know if I’m offended or flattered – Renata brushed her nose against his.

           _Believe me, it was a compliment – he smiled.

           _Thank you – he sighed – okay, I’m not going to bother you anymore.

           _Thanks – she returned to her article, and he picked up his phone and earphones.

 4. “Leaving me alone was everyone’s first mistake.” Words:249

           _Hello, Mark! – Renata greeted as he locked the front door. She walked to him for a kiss – how was your day?

           _It was…interesting. My room is being renovated, and I have to share a room with three interns, who kept talking all the time. I was getting very annoyed and didn’t know what to do, and finally they left the room to do, I don’t know what. When the room finally fell silent, I noticed how my head was aching.

           _Oh, poor Mark – she massaged his temples – but dit you get to work?

           _Well, I took advantage of my solitude and I worked on the plot for a new game.

           _Oh, that’s nice! – she smiled – so, can I see the drabbles you did?

           _Actually, the drafts are almost ready – he showed the graphics on his tablet.

           _Mark! Did you do all this in just one day? – Renata’s eyes widened.

           _Leaving me alone was everyone’s first mistake – he grinned proudly – I found out when I’m annoyed I feel more creative.

           _So I think you should hire some interns to bother you from now on – they burst into laughter and shared a deep kiss – how about we order a takeout to celebrate?

           _Great idea – Mark hugged Renata and kissed her again – and I think your hands are magic, my head isn’t aching anymore.

           _Oh, you know very well how powerful my hands are – she winked.

           _Mmm…I think I’ll have to see this more closely later – he smirked and they kissed again.

 5. “So, funny story, I might have done some not so intentional redecorating when you were gone.” Words: 314

           Renata got home after going to the gym, and noticed something different in the living room.

           _Mark? Are you there? – Mark came out of the bedroom.

           _Hey, baby – he smiled and kissed her – did you see the wall? – he pointed to a landscape painting hanging above the couch.

           _Yeah, I saw the wall, the rack, the chairs…what happened here?

           _This painting is too beautiful to hang in our bedroom, so I decided to put it here. But the best place was this wall, so we could see when we got home. But it didn’t look good above the TV, so I had to put the rack there – he pointed out – and of course, the couch and the chairs had to move places too, or we couldn’t watch TV! – she giggled – I didn’t mean to change everything, I just wanted to put the painting here, and when I realized, the living room was completely different. So, funny story, I might have done some not so intentional redecorating when you were gone – he took her hands – so, did you like it?

           _Actually, I liked this setup more than the previous one! – Renata grinned – it was a great idea to bring the painting here! And here I thought you were into Feng Shui or something…

           _Feng…what? – Mark grimaced and Renata shook her head, smiling.

           _Never mind, it’s nothing. So, what do we do now? – she wrapped her arms around his neck.

           _What about we take advantage of this change of positions in the room and try new positions as well? – he blinked in surprise – sorry, this sounded better in my mind…

           _I love the idea! – she interrupted, laughing – but I have to take a shower first, I just left the gym.

           _Well, I need a shower too. I’m all sweaty from dragging the furniture – he smirked before taking her in his arms and walking to the bathroom.

6. “That fish looks like me! Look! We have the same distant cold stare.” Words: 280

           _Okay, what kind of animal do you want, Nata? – Mark asked s they arrived at the animal shelter.

           _If you don’t mind, I’d love a cat. I always wanted one, but my sister is allergic – Renata smiled when she saw a Siamese cat in a cage and walked over there – awwww, aren’t you the cutest thing in the world? – she approached and the cat bat its paw in the cage – I think she likes me!

           _How do you know it’s a girl?

           _This little sign here says her name is Lola…I like that – Renata opened the cage and took Lola in her arms. The cat snuggled up and purred – Mark…

           _I think it’s fate. She has to come with us, right, Lola? – he smiled and stroked Lola’s head, and she moved closer to his hand.

           _She likes you too! Oh, my God, she’s the one, baby! – Renata bounced, holding Lola tight – let’s go to sign the adoption papers!

           _Sure, let’s go – Mark took her hand and they walked over the counter. Next to them, she noticed a bunch of aquariums and stared at them for a while – did you find something interesting?

           _That fish looks like me! Look! We have the same distant cold stare –Renata pointed to a golden fish. Mark looked at it, attentively.

           _Mmm…you’re right. It looks like you when you’re working and ignore me – he smirked and she pinched his cheek.

           _And Lola looks like you when I’m working and you want to cuddle – she looked at the cat in her arms. When Renata said that, Lola stretched and snuggled even closer to her. They giggled.

           _I have no doubt she’s the perfect pet for us.

7. “You know what, I don’t really feel like getting tortured today, can you just let me go with a stern warning.” Words:171

           Mark was leaving the apartment to go to work, when Renata appeared in front of him, arms folded.

           _What?

           _You forgot to do the dishes last night – he tapped his forehead.

           _Sorry, babe. I really forgot.

           _This will have consequences for you, mister – she remained serious.

           _Oh? – he widened his eyes – what kind of consequences?

           _Bad consequences.

           _ You know what, I don’t really feel like getting tortured today, can you just let me go with a stern warning? – Renata sighed and rolled her eyes.

           _Okay, I’ll give you a chance. If you don’t wash tonight, you will sleep on the couch – she arched an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh, but she let out when he tickled her – this is unfair! I can’t get mad at you!

           _Believe me, I know – he kissed her deeply, and she pulled back grinning – don’t worry, the first thing I’ll do when I get back from work is wash everything.

           _Okay – she smiled – I love you so much, Mark.

��          _I love you too, Nata.

Thanks for reading!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics!

[howdidthisevenhappenanyway]

so last year I got maaajorly triggered while reading a fan fiction and it sent me into a spiral of suicidal thoughts the like that had never happened to me before -as in firectly resulting from media I had consumed

I'm an adult and a responsible reader, and am quite diligent about what I do or don't allow into my head and when. I'm a survivor of abuse and neglect and I am disabled queer woman and so I have a few tags that I tend to avoid or tread carefully around. However this trauma came completely out of left field and I only just sort of realised the seed of the issue a whole year later and so I decided to write this out

the person who wrote the story is quite popular in darcyland but has never once spoken to me, but I want to be clear that though I have realised that my previous belief that she wasn't responsible for this particular trauma is incorrect (because she couldn't have tagged for it), I'm not going to disclose who they were because the issue was something that is so pervasive in society and esp in scifi and paranormal stories that she certainly isn't entirely responsible and almost definitely didn't cause harm on purpose.

so what was the trigger?

a tiny, very smuttyvampire au wherein popular and very sexy hero type was described as being an honourable vampire because they never took blood from ablebodied people; instead picking off chronically ill and infirm people instead

like he was a vegan or something. what a great fucking guy. He didn't truly feel bad about it until he feasts on Darcy while fucking her which...

at the time I thought the story was hot and even wrote an off hand comment about how as a chronically ill person the joke would be on him because I don't have enough blood lmao

but then that night my head started to extrapolate. Maybe I deserve to be eaten by a vampire. After all I can't contribute to society. I am the weak link in any pack. What am I even doing here trying to get better? I'll never be well enough that it would matter...I'll always be pretty useless

It only got worse from there

It took me an entire month to get back to an even keel. I can't take meds for my depression so everything is slow going and I don't have a counsellor at the time; but I eventually was able to remember that I do contribute to the community around me and am worthy of life and the blood in my veins

I never blamed the writer. it was just a fucking drabble you know? But eventually I had to unfollow her on here and avoid posts with her in it because it would remind me of the traumaand I'd start thinking about it again

but like...that's fucking eugenics

I can't remember if I was even aware of that word at the time but

writing a heroic character who actively judges people's worth on their use to society is eugenics

writing disabled people who are sacrificed to the zombies or whatever? That's eugenics

she's disabled so it was better that she died because she's slowing the group down? that's eugenics

that's deciding that I and my disabled fellows don't deserve to live, don't deserve to survive

who cares if I fucking contribute to society? who cares if other disabled people can't? what fucking right does vampire steve fucking rogers have to my blood over another?

and on that point? It was steve fucking rogers -the sick boy who was guess what? fucking chronically ill and disabled. it's central to his character. It is a major thing that everyone knows about captain america

and to think that I turned the responsibility for that trigger onto myself thinking that I was a fragile fucking snowflake and weak because a story where steve rogers would happily take my blood but felt guilty taking another's is like ... omg

anyway I don't know what the take away point is other than to think about disability a little more when you're writing because society has taught you to be pretty fucking shitty about how little we matter and how cheap our lives are nobody notices when we die right?

I don't think I've expressed this particularly elloquently, I'm sure someone like @thebibliosphere has already talked about this and far better, and I know my stories can be problematic and frankly a bit shit-like I'm still trying to be a better writer when it comes to race and gender especially but like...just be careful when you're thinking about the casualties in your stories please? it's so easy to make mistakes, we internalise more than we sometimes know and it's not just sexual violence and homophobia in stories that can trigger people in a really bad way. We're all trying our best and a lot of the source material is already problematic in so many ways but like, this is a thing. Pleeease be wary

[thebulletinhamilton-quotes]

Alexander: *looking very annoyed and scruffy, hair is all messed up and he's covered in blankets*

John: *stares at him, dreamily*

John: Burr, who is that guy? He's really cute. *sighs*

Burr: ???

[jerichofound]

@iraesanctus

Hello! I’m answering this over on my new DBH-centric blog as opposed to my main. I hope that’s okay and that this finds you well. 

So this was a fun one, even if it is a little short. Sweet, and fluffy, too!

Also tagging: @birdsandivory, @kirahnanase, and @alexeiiimashkov.  If you would like to be added or removed from my tagging list, please let me know! 

Kara + North = “Go back to bed.” 

Word count: 669

North, despite her birth given name, didn’t much care for winter. It was cold – that much was obvious – and it gave off a barren feeling, the end of a cycle that had lost a yearlong battle. Everything was dead, brown and white, and the chill that settled in her bones made her ache.

It also made her susceptible the sniffles.

“Achoo!”

North groaned as she curled her knees up to her chest, remote in hand as she clicked through the channels. There was nothing on, at least, nothing that particularly interested her, but she kept finding herself lingering on those ridiculous home improvement shows that Kara could spend hours engrossed in. 

Speaking of Kara, she glanced at her phone for what seemed to be the fifth time in the last ten minutes. She hadn’t heard from her girlfriend since she told her she was on her way over. That was over an hour ago, but North refrained from sending any more worried texts, despite the worry that continued to etch itself into her already ill-feeling face. She sneezed again, resigning herself to some show about baking cupcakes and pulling a giant, comfy blanket around her.

Sometime later, North couldn’t be sure due to being sucked into countless episodes of that crap cupcake show, she heard the jingle of keys outside of her door, followed by the entrance of Kara and her daughter.

“North!” she exclaimed, puffy jacket covered in snow as she ran to cuddle with her on the couch.

“Alice!” Kara giggled as she set down several grocery bags in the doorway to shuck off her own snowy coat. “You’ll get the couch wet.”

“I don’t mind,” North smiled and hugged the girl tightly. She did mind the cold, but she would let it slide for Alice just this once.

“Mom said you were sick,” Alice pouted as she felt North’s forehead. She frowned further after pulling her hand back. “Your face feels like it’s on fire.”

“Does it?” North blinked, and now that Alice mentioned it, it did hurt to move, and she was probably more cold than she should be, even with a little snow girl cuddling her. Groaning again, she sank further into the couch and whined.

“Let’s give North some room, Alice.” Kara suggested, and North felt the little girl climb off of her before she felt the familiar touch of Kara’s hands on her face. Normally, those hands were cradling her cheeks, memorizing each and every pore on her skin, thumbs pressing into the corners of her lips before kissing her. Now, though, they were concerned, worrying hands.

“Go back to bed,” she commanded with a soft smile. “I’ll fix you some soup.”

“What? No…” North whined again, a pout on her lips, and she sighed when Kara’s hands left her face. She yearned for the contact again, but Kara was already picking up the bags from the door and carrying them to the kitchen. “Babe, I’m fine.”

“You’re running a fever, North.” Kara informed her gently. “You need to rest.” North wanted to argue, but she just didn’t have any fight in her. Or much strength for anything at all for that matter. With some difficulty – and some help from Alice – she managed to sit up from the couch and trudge her way back to bed. She tried to reason that maybe the cool, dark room would help with the pounding that was starting to form behind her eyes, and as she melted into the cool sheets, she promptly decided that whether it helped or not, it felt amazing on her warm skin.

Distantly, she heard Kara and Alice in the kitchen, but the more comfortable she got, the more their voices faded. She was relatively aware of the kisses on her head, and Kara’s voice beside her, but she couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. The kisses were nice, though.

North didn’t like the cold, but maybe she didn’t mind the company that came along with having one, either.

Send me two (2) numbers 1-10 and a third number 1-195 and I’ll write you a drabble. 

DBH Fic Roulette Master Post

[luckyfaeth]

2018 fic roundup

tagged by @chloebeale​! thank u cole 

ficlist under the cut this got long i didnt realize how much ive done whoops 

Total 2018 Word Count:  125,140

Total 2018 Hits:  33,367

Other 2018 AO3 Stats: Kudos: 2,410 Comment Threads: 237 Bookmarks: 300 Subscriptions: 287

Links & Titles to 2018 Works:

talk about your taste in women (triple treble coffee shop au) (7000 words) 

in the middle; (triple treble drabbles) (6213 words)

we're spinning with the stars above (triple treble good place au) (14560 words)

what a beautiful wedding (bemily week: fake dating) (1608 words)

I've been here the whole time, I'm just small (bemily week: height difference) (1024 words) 

open up my eager eyes (bemily week: love triangle polyship) (662 words)

we're not bruised (they're just party tattoos) (bemily week: soulmate au) (1950 words)

I think that I found myself a cheerleader (she's always right there when I need her) (bemily week: marching band/cheerleader au) (3170 words)

hey honey you could be my drug (...all this trash talk make me itchin') (bemily week: free choice/competing acapalla teams au) (4168 words)

across fields full of lilies (mitchsen flower shop au) (10555 words) (WIP) 

family matters (rare pair week (junksen): meet the parents) (2778 words)

we are one of a kind, irreplaceable (steca fluff) (835 words)

you were out of my league (got my heartbeat racing) (sk8er au: steca) (16333 words)

am i still on her mind? (i've been undone) (sk8er au: junksen pov) (6576 words)

every night, I live and die (meet somebody take 'em home) (mitchsen princess? au) (1265 words)

pynk like your tongue going round, baby (chemily fluff/smut) (1898 words)

think we kissed, but I forgot (b99 gina/amy smut that canonically happened) (1441 words)

in those rare moments you and I were brilliant (we were gonna be alright) (staubremily fluff/smut) (1767 words)

there's something lonesome about you (something so wholesome about you) (bemily soft angst) (4301 words)

maybe I should stop and start confessing (stemily week: fake dating) (1548 words)

now all I see is colour (like a rainbow in the sky) (stemily week: soulmate au) (1325 words)

have you no idea that you're in deep? (stemily week: fwb) (7121 words)

scared of pretty girls and starting conversations (junksen week: fwb) (3241 words)

can't stop my heart (when you're shinin' in my eyes) (junksen week: hogwarts au) (1750 words)

couldn't hide from the thunder (in a sky full of song) (junksen week: royal au (knight/princess au)) (8839 words)

the electronics of your heart (see how fast they fall apart) (junksen abducted au) (11476 words) (WIP)

standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset (tswift series: chacie + wildest dreams) (1736 words)

Favorite Fic: god, i feel like sk8er au is the obvious choice because that’s my baby, but i’d also say abducted au (26), stemily fwb (22), junksen royal au (25), and the bemily soft angst (19) would be in my top faves

Hardest Fic: definitely abducted au or junksen royal au because they required the most like outlining and stuff because they’re more plot than character driven which is something i tend to not do as much (which is why, even tho sk8er au is the longest it’s not here because there is virtually no plot its just me having a good time) 

Do you plan on taking prompts in 2019? maybe? i already have so many stuff in progress that im working on sjdlkfjsldjf hopefully later in the year ill take prompts again? 

What was the best thing about 2018? well i only really got back into writing this year so uh, that! but seriously, coming back into being a content creator for a fandom has been such a good experience for me, and I hope that i dont lose that motivation to again because I’ve met so many awesome friends through the fandom this year 

What was the worst thing about 2018? a lot of big writing slumps because of my mental health fluctuating

Any last thoughts for 2018? no

Goals for 2019:

finish abducted au, or at least make decent progress with it

finish junksen week lmao 

finally write bellas inc. !!! still haven’t done that even tho it was my first big au!!! fuck!!!!!

put out more in the tswift series! i enjoy writing them and i have one in the works rn that i hope to get out in the next week or so 

get at least one chapter of my chaubrey gravity falls au publishes lmao i forgot i even had this started i hate me

pup perfect @emilyjunk 👀👀 (i hate us) (this is not furry content dont @ me) 

rewrite/finish mitchsen flower shop au; i started rewriting it a while ago and liked the feel of it a lot better so we’ll uh see 

write junksen girl next door au! i love it so much and literally all of it is planned im just terrible! 

i literally have so many things on my to write list sjdlfkjsdlkfj 

ive been wanting to write stuff outside of pitch perfect so maybe more b99 stuff? i have a sort of idea for a dianetti fic that i might try soon idk 

work on original stuff!!! develop your OCs, dumbass!!!!!!! 

not tagging anyone bc anyone id tag has already been tagged i think lmao but i love u all and this has been a great year of writing for me and seeing the progress i made and meeting so many great people!! i love u all little bumblebees and i’m sorry i haven’t been as active creating stuff in the past few months of 2018 but that will CHANGE! mark my worms

[builder051]

prompt list

I actually have 435 followers now; IDK how that happened…

Alright.  Here’s how this is going to work.  Last time I did a prompt list, I got an overwhelming response (I wrote 22 fics), and I only had 100 followers back then.  This time around, I’m instituting some rules to keep things running smoothly.

I’ll keep this event running for one week (Evening of Thursday 05 July through Evening of Thursday 12 July) OR until I receive 25 prompts (controlling for duplicates).  At that point, my inbox will close again until I’ve written all of them.  I plan to post them as I write them, so I’m not sure how many I’ll get done each day.  My goal is to write at least one prompt a day, however, don’t get upset if things get a little delayed; my leg is in a cast and I am back working full time, so I got some shit going on.

**When you ask for a prompt, please copy and paste it into the ask**  This saves me having to go back and look it up later.  It also makes it way easier to search for the posts after they’re published.

There is no length guarantee.  Some of these lend themselves to short drabbles, and others work as longer fics, so expect some variety there.  In order to appeal to everyone’s various interests, I’ve tried to mark the prompts as to whether or not they’ll feature emeto.  Per usual, most of the prompts are sickfic-, angst-, or h/c-based, but a few are comedic.  I’ve bolded a few of the fanfic prompts I’m super ecstatic about, but no pressure.  Choose whichever you like best.  If there’s something else you’re desperate to see (especially if it’s for creedless assassins, since I didn’t put them on the list), feel free to send in an ask with your own prompt, though I reserve the right to say no thanks.

Thank you so much for following and for sticking with me.  I hope this is a fun event for all of us.

My OCs: Jax Beach

1  Todd gets motion sickness when Mel brings home a VR headset (emeto)

2  Mark gets overheated and sick while he and Troy are at Pride (emeto)

3  Mel assists when Amelia is sick at work (emeto)

4  Mark tries to surprise Troy at work and take him out to dinner, but homeboy isn’t feeling up to it

My OCs: Mike & Co

5  Drunk/high Colby gets sick and spends the night on a street corner (AKA that one piece of his backstory I keep referencing but have never written about) (emeto)

6  Ash gets motion sickness while he and Hannah travel by greyhound bus (AKA that one prompt I keep meaning to get to and never do) (emeto)

7  Mike has strep and Jason threatens to quarantine her

8  Colby takes Jason to hot yoga and things go very badly (emeto)

My OCs: Bostonians (H and P are in the middle of a thing, so these are going to be either prequels to their current arc or prompts for Kris and Khalil)

9  Kris is a good Samaritan when a member of the church choir faints/gets sick (emeto)

10  Hildur drags herself to the drugstore for provisions when she’s sick with the flu

11 Kris takes a depressed Khalil out to breakfast and tries to cheer him up even though he really doesn’t want to hear it (sorry this is a super weird prompt, but it’s already a wip on my computer)

12  Pierce is determined to make it through the workday even though he’s sick and looks terrible (emeto)

Captain America

13  Pre-serum Steve takes care of a drunk Bucky (Heroverse, pre-WWII) (emeto)

14  Darcy looks out for Bucky when he’s sick at work (Powers/No Powers) (emeto)

15  More on Steve and Bucky’s “not bad for the end of the world” moment in Infinity War (could possibly go nsfw; missing moments)

16  Bucky has another seizure (Whoa Bessie) (emeto)

Irondad and Spiderson

17  Tony gives Peter a talking-to about staying up all night when he stays at the facility upstate (but sometimes you really do have to study for a Spanish quiz)

18  Tony’s injured on a mission, Peter fusses, Tony objects, and Peter pulls the “if it had happened to me, you’d be fussing” card

19  Peter throws up after doing some Spider-Man acrobatics and tries to walk it off, but he’s actually sick (emeto)

20  Tony has a panic attack in front of Peter (emeto)

Other Spider-Man

21  May tries to convince Peter he doesn’t have to go to his Stark internship when he’s sick (emeto)

22  Peter comes to school sick and ragged out, and Ned tries to guess what kind of adventures Peter was up to all night as Spider-Man (“No, dude, I’m just sick.  Gimme a break.”)

23  Peter and Shuri are working on a project and Peter’s super antsy.  Shuri asks him what’s up, and Peter tries to play it cool, but he’s super nauseated (emeto)

24  Peter’s on patrol even though he has a fever, and Karen gives him all kinds of warnings

Nat on Fire

25  Nat attempts to hide a concussion (emeto)

26  Steve and Nat have a fight about Nat’s declining health

27  Nat starts using again, and Steve finds her high

28  Flashback where Nat detoxes from cocaine before joining SHIELD (emeto)

Clint & Laura

29  Laura calls Clint in sick to work (“Sorry, Nick, Clint can’t come to the phone right now.  He’s hugging the toilet.”) (emeto)

30  It’s Clint’s turn to get up and soothe the crying baby, but when he gets out of bed, it’s all he can do to get to the bathroom before he pukes (emeto)

31  Clint and Laura have date night all planned, but Clint’s sick and they end up staying in for ginger ale and saltines (emeto)

32  When your wife tells you you don’t look so good, you should probably believe her

Science Bros

33  Tony and Bruce get drunk, and Tony’s a lot more used to it than poor Bruce (emeto)

34  Tony’s new suit upgrades go amiss and he ends up motion sick (emeto)

35  The boys work out a serum to calm Bruce down after hulking out, and it ends up doing a number on his stomach (emeto)

36  The giant bag of weed mentioned in Avengers (2012) is actually a thing

Nat & Bruce

37  Nat’s injured on a mission and in a lot of pain, Bruce hovers (emeto)

38  Bruce calms down after hulking out on a mission, Nat watches out for him (emeto)

39  Nat sleeps over in Bruce’s room and wakes early with a fever.  Cue some raised eyebrows when he starts looking for ibuprofen for homegirl while the rest of the team is eating breakfast

40  Bruce is hiding/avoiding everyone because he’s sick, and Nat just wants to check that he’s ok

Black Panther

41  T’Challa does take Shuri to Coachella, and she gets overheated

42  T’Challa takes a kick to the gut in combat and has a little trouble shaking it off (emeto)

43  T’Challa’s sick and Shuri has medication for him in her lab, but she makes him wait for her to bring it to him so he won’t vomit near her precious equipment (emeto)

44  Shuri tags along to train with Okoye and T’Challa and ends up pushing herself a bit too hard (emeto)

Daredevil

45  Foggy’s sick with a fever, and he’s super confused when he sees Matt taking care of him and running around the apartment like he’s not blind at all

46  Claire’s patching Matt up after a night of vigilante shenanigans, and he vomits from the pain (emeto)

47  Karen and Matt are alone in the office when Matt gets sick, and she’s not sure how much help he needs (ensue mega hovering) (emeto)

48  Claire suspects Matt has a concussion and calls Foggy to babysit him while she goes to work even though Matt insists he’s fine (he’s not) (emeto)

Jessica Jones (JJ/Avengers crossover)

49  Jess is belligerent and drunk; she and Nat have an argument

50  Jess is hungover (emeto)

51  Jess goes on a mission with Nat and gets injured but tries to convince Nat she’s fine

52  Nat and Jess get drunk together, and Nat doesn’t fare so well (emeto)

Criminal Minds

53  Spencer’s coming down with a bug, but being on the jet makes him sick to his stomach too (emeto)

54  JJ wakes up sick in the night and Will takes care of her (emeto)

55  Spencer’s anxious and craving drugs, so JJ comes to his aid

56  Spencer feels ill and faint at a crime scene and tries to explain that he’s not overwhelmed, he’s actually sick (emeto)

Titan A.E.

57  Akima’s reckless flying gives Cale motion sickness (emeto)

58  Cale is unwell and wandering the Valkyrie in the middle of the night when he runs into Akima

59  Alternate Cale and Korso meeting: Cale’s vomiting into a trash can and Korso comes to his aid (emeto)

60  Alternate Cale and Akima meeting: Cale’s nauseous when he wakes up injured on the Valkyrie (emeto)