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miracleonice87 · 1 year ago

Note

17 w barzy pls! i feel like he only ever gets smut or fluff written w him

from m's midnights prompt list

warnings (cw / tw): miscarriage, pregnancy loss, mourning... this one's a doozy, folks 😔 please don't read if these subjects are triggering or sensitive for you

word count: ~2,100

17. Bigger Than The Whole Sky

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It started as the most typical Isles weekday gameday. Mat woke up an hour before morning skate, kissed your forehead, and rolled out of bed as you snoozed away for just a few more minutes, the early-pregnancy exhaustion hitting you hard the last several weeks. He made himself a coffee, you an Earl Grey, and carried both back to the bedroom where he found you just beginning to stir. You both sipped at your drinks as you went through your morning grooming and threw on athleticwear. Soon, after a playful kiss in the hallway, you were both headed out the door, Mat to the rink and you to the Lees’ to workout with Grace in their home gym.

At least, with the intention to workout with Grace.

Instead, your world as you knew it and your greatest dream came crashing down during the short drive to the Lee house.

What started as light cramping quickly gave way to sharp, stabbing pains that had you doubled over in Grace’s doorway by the time you reached their stately home. She knowingly shuffled you inside, alarm bells blaring in her head even as she used her calmest tone and did everything she could to soothe you. Her babysitter quickly led the girls away from the scene, distracting them with an invitation to play princess dress-up in the toyroom down the hall, away from your intensifying sobs.

As Grace guided you toward her car in the garage, your hands gripping hers with knuckles white as you leaned into her for strength, she noticed a figment of every expectant parent’s worst fear… the seat of your grey leggings stained with an unsettlingly substantial amount of blood.

“Is this it?” you cried. “Is this what it feels like?”

The pit deepened in her gut, her maternal instincts screaming yes.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” she answered softly. “We’re gonna go find out, okay? Together.”

“A-and Mat…”

“I know. Of course.”

You reached the passenger door, and with one hand Grace opened the adjacent rear door, grabbed one of the girls’ pink travel pillows, and tossed it onto your seat in the hope that it would somehow make you more comfortable on the drive to the hospital. She got you settled into the passenger seat and seconds later, was already rolling down her driveway at a speed faster than she ever hit on a normal day, making an impossible phone call via her hands-free navigation.

At the other end of that call was her sweet husband, who thank god had gotten caught up talking to one of the assistant coaches about gameplans and hadn’t yet stepped onto the ice for morning skate as Mat had minutes ago.

Anders looked at his phone with a furrowed brow and a knot in his stomach… Grace never called him when she knew he was at the rink.

“G? What’s going on?”

That’s when she told him it was you, not herself, who was the reason for the call.

“Shit… is she…”

“I don’t know. She’s in a lot of pain, Anders.” Which he already knew from your muffled sobs on the speakerphone. He’d never heard you cry before. “She’s bleeding. Get Mat off the ice now and tell him to meet us at the hospital.”

“Fuck. Okay. Be careful – I’m-I’m hanging up.”

“Okay. I’ll call you.”

“Yeah.”

Anders tapped the red button and sat in silence at his stall for the briefest of seconds, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath through pursed lips, absolutely dreading what he had to do next.

He made his way down the tunnel, stopping at the bench instead of immediately hopping out onto the ice. Lane noticed and caught his eye. Anders closed the short gap between himself and his head coach, ducked his head, and explained the situation as quietly and briefly as he could. Lane’s expression went cold, and he offered a slow, single nod, then cleared his throat.

“I’ll do it if you want me to, but I think you should maybe be the one to…”

Anders cut him off, shaking his head.

“No… no, he should hear it from me.”

Lane set his jaw, clapped the captain’s shoulder, and fixed his gaze back across the ice with a pained exhale.

Anders shuffled to the end of the bench at its opening and waited a few moments for Mat to skate past him on a loop. When he did, he called, “Barz.” Hoarse, somber, short. The younger player immediately skidded to a stop, sending snow flying from beneath his blades.

“What’s up?” he asked, panting.

Anders swallowed, tucking his chin to his chest for a moment.

“Leezy? What’s up?” Mat repeated, brow furrowing.

Anders met Mat’s eyes again and sighed.

“You gotta go to the hospital, bud,” he said softly, unable to keep his voice from shaking. “Grace just called, and-”

Mat didn’t even let Anders finish his thought before he jumped the threshold and ran down the tunnel, shedding his gear as he went, trying to hold it all in his hands and beneath his arms. Anders followed close behind.

“Barzy, bud, are you good to drive?”

Mat nodded furiously without so much as a glance Anders’ way.

“I’ll drive you if you want.”

Mat shook his head.

“You call me if you need anything, you hear me?”

He was nodding again, and simultaneously busting through the doors of the locker room, where he threw all his gear into his bag, pried off his skates, and tugged on his crewneck and sweats in the blink of an eye before heading for the exit with just his keys and his phone… but he stopped in front of his friend before he could make it that far.

Anders could see the red already rimming his eyes, and he felt his own throat constricting as he heard Mat’s breath coming in short, stuttering gasps.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, man,” Mat managed between breaths.

All Anders could do was grab Mat in a crushing hug, the sounds of him clapping Mat’s back echoing in the empty locker room.

“It never is. I’m sorry.”

No words appear before me in the aftermath

Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea…

The ultrasound screen had been turned off for at least half an hour by now, you and Mat left alone by the doctor for nearly as long, but you still lay flat on your back, wet cheek pressed to the ugly pleather exam table, willing the black screen to turn back on and tell you something different than it already had. Willing this nightmare to end, willing yourself to wake up, willing it not to be true, to be some giant, cruel misunderstanding.

No words came to your lips, though thousands of them hummed incessantly between your ears, intrusive thoughts even louder than they’d been all morning in the now-silent room. You heard Mat sniffling behind you, felt his lips kissing the back of your hand every few seconds. Before he’d arrived, you had thought you could not possibly ever feel the sting of devastation more acutely than when the doctor had uttered the words “I’m so sorry; you’re miscarrying.” But good god, the second Mat ran through those sliding glass doors in an utter panic, hair wild no doubt from pulling it throughout the entire drive to the hospital, eyes and nose and cheeks pink from crying, lips parted and shoulders rising and falling as he attempted to catch his breath… you realized how wrong you’d been.

You could handle the pain this would inflict upon you. But seeing Mat suffering just as much… that made you want to crawl in a hole and never see the light of day again. And since that moment, after he’d gathered you in his arms, you’d tried your damndest to avoid making eye contact with him altogether.

He was sad because of you. Mourning because of you. Depressed and angry and sick and childless because of you.

And that was simply too much to bear.

So it was nearly an hour since he’d gotten there and you had yet to look him in the face again. And while looking him in the face was killing you, you not looking him in the face was killing him.

Nobody won in this situation. It was a lose-lose-lose.

“Honey, look at me. Please look at me?” Mat begged from your side.

Unsurprisingly, he was met with silence, and no motion.

“It’s not your fault. Alright? It’s not your fault, babe,” he said firmly, squeezing your hand. “I need you to hear that.”

More silence. It wasn’t even that you wouldn’t speak, it was that you simply couldn’t.

Mat sighed, using his free hand to swipe at the never-ending tears streaming down his cheeks. Then, he trailed his palm along the length of your arm.

“You can be as quiet as you want for as long as you want, baby, because this is an awful fucking thing that’s just happened to us, to you,” he spoke, voice wavering. “But I’m gonna keep talking because I’ve gotta make sure you know that this isn’t because of anything you did, or didn’t do. Like the doctor said, these things happen for reasons we’ll never know. And I’m not upset with you. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. I love you.”

You closed your eyes, swearing your eyelids were suddenly outfitted with weights. It was all sinking in… the reality of it, the heaviness, the emptiness. You just wanted to sleep.

You finally opened your mouth, feeling how dry and cotton it had become. You didn’t have the strength to debate him on why this had happened, how it had to be your fault somehow, but you mustered enough to give him what you knew he needed.

“I love you,” you whispered, unnerved by how weak and small your own voice sounded in the sterile room.

Behind you, you heard Mat rise up from the uncomfortable vinyl chair. He bent over you, pushing some hair back from your damp face, and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, relieved and grateful to have gotten any response, any sign of human function, from you at all. Then, he patted your shoulder and said the very thing you’d been dreading.

“Come on… let’s go home.”

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time…

Mat didn’t know how he’d found himself in the nursery or how long he'd been there, but after laying with you in your bed and softly stroking your hair as you finally fell into a much-needed slumber, that’s where his aimless wandering had eventually led. He didn’t bother to turn on the light; the afternoon sun streaming through the still untreated windows cast a golden glow on everything in the room.

It had once felt so cozy, a representation of all that the two of you had to look forward to in the weeks and months to come. He loved sitting in the room all alone when he arrived home from a road trip, late at night when you were already sound asleep, dreaming about who your baby would look like, what they would sound like, who they would someday grow to be.

With you losing your pregnancy so soon into it, the material items in the room were still few. As he ran his fingertips along the covers of the gifted copies of “Goodnight, Moon,” “On The Night You Were Born,” and “Love You Forever,” and over the stuffed Sparky the Dragon next to them on the shelf, his eyes filled with fresh tears, realizing that he would never get to snuggle his first baby earthside, read to them with Sparky tucked in their lap. He leaned wearily against the railing of the crib he had just put together mere days ago, and as he looked toward the tiny “13” jersey laying on the still plastic-wrapped mattress, a sob escaped his throat and he let himself fall completely apart for the very first time, without needing to remind himself to hold it together in your presence. He turned and sunk down to the floor, leaning against the solid oak frame of the crib, and buried his head in his hands, crying as he never had in all his life.

Eventually, there would be conversations about the next steps to take for your health, whether or not to try again, and when, and whether to leave the nursery as it was or pack it up until, hopefully, you were pregnant once more. But for now, there was just sheer sadness as you and Mat grieved the little one that just wasn’t to be.

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you…

#m's midnights prompt list #my writing #mathew barzal #mat barzal #tw miscarriage #cw miscarriage #mathew barzal fic #mathew barzal fanfic #mathew barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fanfic #mat barzal fanfiction

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nythtak · 9 months ago

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Thought it'd be fun to do a little drabble soooo-

Cattonquick Oxford Days - the first cigarette

(This is based in the Maneater AU - unless I change my mind on details later - but can be read as in canon universe)

The lighter fails to catch the first couple of times Felix tries it. But after a final, despairing shake of the crappy thing, the flame sputters to life.

“Thank fuck,” he mumbles around the ciggie, and hurriedly brings the lighter up. April’s swung in with far too much chill, because fuck England, right? No spring for them, nooope. Just horrible grey rainy days, where even brief lulls like this evening are tarnished by cold winds.

He’s regretting not grabbing a jacket when he had chance to, and he eyes Oliver’s long-sleeves jealously. They’re on their way back from the pub, and it’s still early enough that most streetlights feel unnecessary. After a of couple hours there Felix realised he just wasn’t feeling it tonight, that stickiness of going through the motions and not enjoying himself like usual, where even a few pints couldn’t soften it up.

So when Oliver gave him a nudge, mentioned he has an essay he really needs to work on, Felix leapt at the chance to head out. He has his own pile of coursework to dive into before the Easter holidays start. Maybe speed through a chunk of it tonight, get that late night focus on, and then he can decide how much is usable tomorrow.

He’s glad he decided to stick it out at Oxford over the coming break. Originally it was more about keeping his word on staying at university all year, rather than nipping home every holiday - or even every other weekend, like some silly sods do. He went as far as to swear off a trip abroad this school year, fully committed to the uni life, which means no fluttering off to sunnier skies.

He aims a glower up at the dark clouds far above them. Curse thy existence.

“Felix?”

Felix’s head snaps down, and down, and he has to grin. Oliver is so short. Like, okay, so he’s not actually super-duper short. A bit below average, perhaps, and around the height of most girls. But he’s a lot shorter than Felix, which is what really matters.

It means he’s the perfect height - practically made for it - for Felix to sling an arm around his shoulders and drag him into his side. Oliver runs a bit cool, but he’s still a damn sight warmer than the nippy evening air.

“Yeah, mate?” Felix takes a pull from the ciggie, careful not to blow it all in Oliver’s face. Would be awfully rude. But that does get him thinking about how Oliver doesn’t smoke, and he frowns at him. “You know, I don’t think you ever said why you don’t smoke.”

Could it be something to do with his family? Cigarettes are a huge leap from heroin and meth and whatever else, but traumas can be multi-layered, can’t they? A full-on aversion to anything even related. But Oliver is clearly battling through it, going to the pub and clubs where alcohol abounds, not even flinching at all the casual drug use their group gets up to.

“Just not keen.” Oliver shrugs slightly, and it’s interesting to feel the motion of it under his arm. Makes him want to squeeze Oliver a bit. His hand slides down to cup Oliver’s bicep rather than hanging loosely, but he holds off on the full grabby. For now.

“So you’ve tried one before?”

Oliver hesitates, but shakes his head. He’s looking ahead rather than at Felix, and while he does have lovely thick hair, that isn’t quite the view Felix wants currently.

So he brings them to a stop, Oliver stumbling into him a bit and looking up questioningly. There it is. Christ, Oliver’s eyes seem to get bluer every time Felix catches a glimpse. Like, with each additional second he knows Oliver, he’s able to see more of him. Another droplet of paint on the colour palette, swirled in with patient brush strokes.

“If you’ve never tried it…” Felix puts the ciggie between his lips, just so he can flip his hand and pluck it out again. Holding it filter-first toward Oliver with an inviting smile. “How can you know you won’t like it?”

Now, Felix would never pressure anyone into doing something they don’t want to. That would be terrible manners. All he’s doing here is giving Oliver the chance to expand his horizons. Indulge in a little fun, like he’s clearly not had chance to- well, probably in his whole life.

Felix has been making up for that. He’s fully embraced showing Oliver the highlights of uni life, and it’s been an absolute blast so far. Letting Oliver have a go at smoking is just another part of that.

“I dunno, mate.” The corner of Oliver’s mouth ticks up as he looks from the ciggie to Felix. “They’re not great for your health, right?”

The little right? at the end softens what might’ve been an annoying admonishment, to something that makes Felix smirk. “All part of the appeal. If we only did what was healthy, we’d be a proper dull lot.” He raises his eyebrows and tips the cigarette closer to Oliver’s lips, his pinky finger grazing Oliver’s chin. “You’re not dull, are you, Ollie?”

He knows most of his friends think Oliver is boring. That he outlived any novelty within the first week; Felix’s unlikely saviour from a tutorial scolding, the scholarship boy with the funny accent. Farleigh has certainly made his opinion clear, his pissy attitude the real bore around here.

They just don’t get Oliver. None of them.

Nah, Felix is the only one who gets the real Ollie, the one Oliver trusts and opens up to. They’re already best mates, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. And the way Oliver looks at him - yeah, it can get a bit much at times, but it’s all part of Oliver’s charm, really. He’s completely genuine and clearly thinks the world of Felix, so obviously he can’t filter that intensity down. Felix would never ask him to. He accepts Oliver exactly as he is.

Oliver takes the cigarette, pinched between his thumb and forefinger as he eyes it like it might bite him. Or give him lung cancer.

Felix would give him a drumroll if he could. He settles for an encouraging shake and cheering, “Go oooooon, Oll-aaaaay!”

And Oliver does.

Not that there was ever any doubt. But it’s still satisfying in a warm, buzzy way to watch Oliver take a drag, lips pursed and the shadows on his cheeks deepening a little. Takes it like a pro, his Ollie, and it’s only once Oliver’s eyes close that Felix realises they’ve been locked in a staredown.

Then Oliver breathes out, and Felix is hit by a faceful of smoke.

The moment his coughing fit is done, he grabs a hastily apologising Oliver by the shoulder, snatches the ciggie back, and gets revenge.

#saltburn #cattonquick #saltburn fanfiction #fic: maneater #oxford days #az writes #probs post this on ao3 later even tho feels kinda short for it #i just love this time period for these two #i have a few more ideas too #like 'first time' ollie gets 'propa sozzled'#midnight snacks in the dorm kitchen #dang i need to check out prompt lists again

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runefactorynonsense · 1 year ago

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Cozytober - Day 7 - Flannel Shirt

Can we make uncle one, too?

#Cozytober #Margot's RF Art #Rune Factory 5 #RF5 #It's not midnight yet so this is stilll on time #I almost slept the entire day away after work on accident #oh man this week is just trying to sabotage; but I will prevail!!#This was the FIRST idea I had when looking at the prompt list tbh. Such a clear image #I honestly adored Murakumo and family in the game when I did play it so like. So like. Alice gives her new family all flannels #Flannels are so COZY we support in this household #Rune Factory Alice #RF Alice #Rune Factory Hina #RF Hina

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starbear36768 · 3 months ago

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troutober day 1

#this looks like shit but that's ok #I needed something quick and easy #'quick' as if its not nearly midnight #I cant promise I'll follow through w a draeing everyday #since I fail every year #but I like this prompt list a lot #troutober 2024 #digital art #art #inktober #my childhood bedroom btw :)

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stormxpadme · 1 year ago

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Sexy Days of Summers

A new oneshot in the IF THIS IS WHAT WE'VE GOT, THEN WHAT WE'VE GOT IS GOLD collection is online.

In which a heist goes wrong for Scott and Bucky and they find some intriguing ways to kill time before the rescue.

Written for @scottsummersbingo and as a little gift for Tweedledeedum who has the best birthday date in the world, obviously ;). I hope you have a little fun with this. Have a wonderful day!

#x men #everything after x2 didn't happen sue me #x men original timeline movies #x men movies #nsft #fanfiction #stormys fanfics #bucky barnes #mcu #also give me prompts from that prompt list guys #i'm soon back on mom's couch for recovering high on pills #i need smut to write :D #shut up it's past midnight here so definitely 11th #Scott Summers #Cyclops

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the-otleus-parlor-archived · 2 years ago

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I Love You Like A Love Song || IDV OC Ship Prompts

these are all just ship-related questions/ideas I think of late at night,,, all compiled into a prompt list for anyone to use :]

The format I'm using here is your OC being asked about their ship partner,,, [probably clarifying the ship because multishipppp]

Is This Just Fantasy? || The things they love about their ship partner

» What is your favorite thing about your partner? Is it their hair? Their eyes? Their smile?

» What do you adore about them the most?

» What do they do that just makes you melt? It can be anything small, like holding your hand, or waking you up in the morning with a gentle kiss.

» What weird quirk do they have that you can't help but smile whenever it appears?

» When you think of them, what's the first thing you think of?

» What's the fondest memory of them you have?

Erhm... || The things they dislike about their ship partner

» What's your least favorite thing about your ship partner? Are they too mean? Too prideful? Are they too busy?

» Are they secretive? Why can't you fully trust them?

» Are you pretending to be someone you're not? Are you somehow deceiving them?

» Or do you think they aren't who they say they are, and that they're hiding something from you?

» What is your least favorite habit of theirs? Smoking? Gambling? Drinking?

» What are your suspicions about them? Why is that?

I used up all of my tricks, I hope that you like this. || Ship Angst

» You are the hunter, and your partner is a survivor. Would you rather kill them, or surrender and lose the only shot to your wildest dreams?

» They are the hunter, and you are the survivor. Would you rather die so they can have a shot at their dreams, or would you rather they surrender, but give you a shot for your wildest dreams?

» You are both survivors. During the end phase, your partner gets downed by the hunter and placed on a rocket chair, already past half. There are no rescuers on the team, and everyone is injured, but the nearest gate is open. Would you rather let them blast off to secure a 3 man win, or would you run to try and save them?

» You've finally found your way out of the manor, but you cannot take your partner with you. What would you do? Do you feel like you're abandoning them by leaving?

» They have died in a match, and have left you all alone... what do you do?

» Do you find it difficult to fall in love? Would it have been easier if you never met them at all?

All of the Time || Ship Fluff

» The manor is hosting a ballroom dance, and you're planning on asking your partner to go with you! How do you do it?

» You and your partner have been put into an essence together! How exciting! You both learn you will have matching costumes, how do you react?

» Your partner sneaks up behind you, catching you off guard with a kiss on the cheek! How do you react?

» *insert silly wedding on Red Church here*

» You're on your way somewhere when you catch a glimpse of your partner dancing/singing along to some music. They don't seem to notice you! What do you do?

» You stumble across your partner randomly and see they're wearing one of your shirts/sweaters! What's your response?

» And visa versa! You're caught wearing one of their shirts/sweaters! What's your response?

» Your partner is telling you a story from their childhood! Do you think you'll remember the story, even once they finish telling it?

» Your partner drew a picture of you, but they're embarrassed to show you, because art isn't their strong suit. What's your response?

» You're going to buy your partner a gift!! What do you get them? Why?

Think we kissed! But... I forgot. || First Meeting Prompts

» Meeting for the first time in the park.

» Meeting in the grocery store.

» Meeting in the match waiting room.

» They are your brand new muse, and you're meeting them for the first time.

» Meeting at a party.

» Meeting in the coffee shop.

» Meeting because of a dating app!

» Meeting as kids and reconnecting as adults.

» Meeting because of a school group project.

A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E || First Date Prompts

» Feeding the ducks at the lake together

» going on a shopping date

» going to an arcade

» going to the mall

» going to the roller rink

» going to a nice restaurant/having a nice home-cooked meal together.

» going to a Japanese friendship garden together and having lunch by the koi fish.

» going to a festival together

» visiting the hometown of your partner

» and visa versa [visiting your hometown]

» going to the carnival

» going to an amusement park

Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve them. || AU Ideas for your favorite ships

» Royalty x Pesasnt AU

» Red String AU

» Telephone AU

» Lemon Boy AU [Based on the song Lemon Boy by cavetown]

» Cop x Criminal AU

» Gods/Goddesses AU

» Flower Shop AU

» Sculptor x Muse AU

» Designer x Muse AU

» College AU

» Superhero AU

» Magic Researcher AU

» Story Themed AUs

» Ghost AU/Supernatural AU

#mod ghost #idv #idv oc #idv au #idv oc askblog #prompt list #Spotify #*hands you all this* this isn't all of it of course but this as general as I can get i think #anyways have at it #these are yami's midnight thoughts. materialized skdjnskjfsn

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ravendruid · 2 years ago

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hello! Can i please request — playing with the other’s hair while they sleep for vaxleth! thank you!!

HI! Thank you so much for the prompt! Here you go, I hope you like it <3 This drabble is set during the night in C1E42. Playing With The Other's Hair While They Sleep

Keyleth woke up with a start, bolting upright on the bed as her heart raced in her chest. It was just a dream, everything is fine. She told herself, hoping it would help calm her breath. She had dreamed that four dragons had attacked Emon, one of them the largest, most powerful red dragon she had ever seen. In her dream, countless people had died from the attack, some at the gates of Greyskull Keep. It was just a dream. She repeated to herself, but something felt weird.

The first thing she noticed out of place was that she was not sitting on a comfortable mattress but on an alternative bed made from thin blankets. The second thing, which made her heart race again, was that she was not alone. A lithe half-elf was sprawled out at her side on his stomach, one leg bent upwards, a restful face turned in her direction, and his hair spread out on her pillow. Keyleth’s heart jumped at the sight of his bare back, the burned mark of her hand between his shoulder blades, and tears started falling down her cheeks. It wasn’t a dream.

Sudden bile rose from her stomach, and Keyleth barely had time to get up and reach a wooden bucket that had been forgotten in her bedroom. She wiped the corners of her mouth and crossed the room to peer out the window. Catha was still high in the skies, illuminating the barren fields outside of the keep, the ones that still stood unburned, and, from Emon, she could see a faint glow of red-ish lights that she assumed were fires that hadn’t been put out yet. It wasn’t a dream. Her legs faltered as she looked over her shoulder to the rogue, still sleeping peacefully. Keyleth had half a mind to wake him from his slumber, but Vax had been exhausted – and so had she – and she did not dare to wake him for a stupid reason such as this.

I wish it were a dream. Keyleth hugged her stomach, her gaze still lost in the landscape below. Ire filled her blood, sorrow for the lives she could not protect crushed her heart, and revenge boiled within her as she glared at the hill where once the Palace had been erected, now completely razed. You can’t let them win. This is what they want. Keyleth closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. Turning her back to the window and the desolation outside, her heart warmed again at the sight of Vax, who had crawled closer to the middle of their makeshift bed, no doubt in search of her warmth.

Keyleth laid back down on her side, facing him, she wiggled as close to Vax as she could without waking him up, and when her limbs were decently entangled with his, she brought one hand to his soft, dark hair and tucked a mesh behind his ear. He isn’t a dream. He is real. Keyleth kissed his brow and let her forehead lean against his as her hands combed his hair.

“You okay?” Vax’s rough voice was barely a whisper.

“Mhm. Go back to sleep,” Keyleth replied in an equally hushed tone. Vax gave a soft nod and shifted so his body was pressed against her, laying his head on her chest. Keyleth couldn’t help but smile at how tight he held on to her, at how big his smile was as if there weren’t dragons out there, killing people and destroying cities. She kept playing with his hair – it was the most soothing thing ever – interchanging from combing her fingers to wrapping them in his locks, and, eventually, sleep found her again.

Keyleth didn’t dream of dragons anymore that night. She didn’t dream of fire, death, or pain. Instead, she dreamt of Vax, smiling big at her, holding her in his arms as they sat atop a hill overlooking Zephrah. She dreamed of her village full of color and cheer, of the lives of countless half-elves and halflings she would lead one day. Keyleth dreamed of love and happiness, and when she woke up the next morning, still entangled in Vax’s embrace, the memories of dragons from the day before were the last things on her mind.

#critical role #cr fic #vox machina #vaxleth #prompted #I'm super exhausted so I hope this is decent enough #I actually wrote this last night at midnight #I'm still taking prompts from this list <3

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outeremissary · 2 years ago

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3, 14, 19 for Balthazar/Tristian for the OTP ask game :)

3. Do they wear each other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Not much, really. In a practical sense, it would be difficult. Balthazar’s a bit smaller and a lot more slight than Tristian, so Tristian borrowing clothes wouldn’t exactly be comfortable. And Balthazar has some terribly awkward wings by the time the two of them are together- his clothes have to be tailored to him to accommodate the wings, and it’s difficult to wear clothes that haven’t been altered. Although it doesn’t stop him from occasionally stealing Tristian’s cloak or robe just in the spirit of mischief (and slowing down the process of getting dressed).

Not clothing per se, but Balthazar enjoys using his own brooches to fasten Tristian’s cloak whenever he helps Tristian get dressed- something to serve as a subtle touch of connection even when they’re apart. Tristian always waits until they’re apart to check what he’s been given. It’s a pleasant ritual to discover it, and it’s a point of comfort to reach for over the course of the day. He always returns Balthazar’s things very carefully at the end of the day.

14. How do their personalities complement each other? How do they clash?

The ways they clash are probably more obvious. Tristian is earnest to a fault and a person with very strong moral principles that he lives by (theoretically), while Balthazar is an ambitious person who often gets what he wants through deceit and trickery. There's a lot of natural tension between them- for a long time after meeting they really didn't like each other at all. Balthazar was quick to write Tristian off as dull and uptight, while Tristian rankled at the callous disregard Balthazar had for others. Tristian is also someone who clings a lot to an ideal of celestial virtue that Balthazar has spent most of his life trying to get away from. Even though the initial hostility faded there's still always some degree of friction. It can seem that Balthazar is too careless or too cold, or that Tristian demands too much without compromise. Always some arguments in there.

As for complementing... really, some of the clashes can be ways they cover each other's weaknesses at times. Neither cold pragmatism nor strong optimism can solve every problem- there's a sort of balance there, in a way. Or at the least a way to keep Balthazar's Machiavellian tendencies in check. And also I guess I'd like to think that their positive traits can influence one another as well- Tristian being a bit more flexible and better able to see nuance in a situation, and Balthazar becoming more open and trusting. Maybe this doesn't really count as a "complementary" thing but also like... the ability to be very earnest with one another. Balthazar is someone who doesn't let his guard down easily, but over time he begins to trust Tristian to understand his experiences without condescending to him about them. While Tristian isn't as obviously closed off as Balthazar is, he still doesn't put himself out there easily and feels a lot of shame confronting things about himself. Balthazar doesn't judge Tristian for any of his choices. He has a lot of empathy for the situation that makes beginning to sort through it easier. (And Balthazar does sincerely love Tristian's flaws, even if Tristian doesn't)

19. How do they feel about PDA?

Not at all self-conscious, that’s for sure. There aren’t a lot of big, dramatic gestures, but certainly there are plenty of small, intimate ones: entwining fingers, leaning into one another, gently brushing hair away from the face, a soft kiss pressed to the hand… It’s about the reassurance of knowing the other is present. It’s also the case that Balthazar is a bit clingy (something that surprises him) and Tristian is somewhat touch starved so…

It's embarrassing to watch, really.

#hiiiiiiiiiiii answering this a uhhhhhhh month and a half late (Jesus Christ.)#whoops!!#not sure what happened with that. anyway.#I know romance isn't my strong suit so honestly I think I was just nervous. and also the executive dysfunction but #a lot of it was probably having a lot of thoughts and not really knowing how best to articulate.#it's probably a bit silly but I always feel like I'm trying to make a case for this when I'm talking about it #possibly because I was once asked “how does that work” and told my explanation made no sense ^^;;#living and learning though.#anyway I've rewritten parts of this many times and then finished it all in after midnight hours so! hope it's coherent.#it is so so long overdue.#ask game #ask me emithing #balthazar and tristian #turbulentpumpkin43 #just recently realized many people put the URL of the asker in the tags...?#trying to develop better habits. may dig up and link the prompt list post later but it's 3 in the morning right now

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silhouettecrow · 2 years ago

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365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 67

Adjective: Silent

Noun: Queen

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Silent: not making or accompanied by any sound; (of a person) not speaking; not expressed aloud; (of a letter) written but not pronounced, e.g. b in doubt; (of a movie) without an accompanying soundtrack; saying or recording nothing on a particular subject; (of a person) not prone to speak much, or taciturn

Queen: the female ruler of an independent state, especially one who inherits the position by right of birth; a king's wife; a woman or thing regarded as the finest or most outstanding in a particular sphere or group; a woman or girl chosen to hold the most important position in a festival or event; (dated) (in the UK) the national anthem when there is a female sovereign; the most powerful chess piece that each player has, able to move any number of unobstructed squares in any direction along a rank, file, or diagonal on which it stands; a playing card bearing a representation of a queen, normally ranking next below a king and above a jack; (entomology) a reproductive female in a colony of social ants, bees, wasps, etc; (sometimes offensive) a gay man, especially one with an ostentatiously affected, flamboyant, or feminine manner; an adult female cat that has not been spayed

#im almost late cos im working on submitting some of my work to a literary magazine before midnight (so wish me luck)#also i have two comments about this prompt #1) i love the inclusion of the defintion of 'queen' being a queer word #but its also listed as being 'sometimes offensive' which is funny to me cos i honestly think we started reclaiming it with the band queen #2) this prompt makes me think of the flower silent princess from breath of the wild (and probably other zelda games)#and i love that #thanks for reading #writing #writer #creative writing #writing prompt #writeblr #trying to be a writeblr at least

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whumptober · 4 months ago

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WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!

#whumptober #whumptober2024 #writing challenge #prompts list #prompts #writing prompts #whump

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miracleonice87 · 2 years ago

Note

Lavender Haze with my favorite lovie aka Sidney Crosby 🥹🥹

from m's midnights prompt list

warnings: online / social media bullying, swearing, implied 10 year age gap between Sid (age 36) and reader insert (age 26)

word count: ~4,100

1. Lavender Haze: “Staring at the ceiling with you / Oh, you don’t ever say too much / And you don’t really read into my melancholia / I been under scrutiny / You handle it beautifully / All this shit is new to me”

---

“Alright, guys, thanks for your patience today – everybody did a great job with media today and all year, and now you finally get a break for a couple months,” Jen told the team with a smirk, earning a few stray whoops and hollers from around the locker room, the loudest from one Evgeni Malkin. It went without saying that locker room clean-out day was one of his favorite days of the year. Many of the guys thanked Jen in return as they packed up the remnants of their lockers and prepared to head to their respective homes for the summer. “Have a great offseason, call me if you need me, and I’ll see you guys in August,” she added as she did one last pass through the semi-circle of stalls, then stopped at the last one before the exit.

“Sid, can you stop by my office before you head out, please?” she asked, softly enough that only the veteran superstar could hear as he bent over his hockey bag.

He stood up straight in front of his stall and nodded slowly. Jen gave him an oddly tight smile that felt forced before turning to walk out the dressing room doors.

What was that all about…

Sidney’s brows knit together slightly as he wondered why she had addressed him so seriously. Considering his long tenure as captain and, therefore, the primary spokesperson for the players, it wasn’t at all uncommon for Jen to pull him aside for a brief one-on-one to discuss upcoming appearances or media needs that pertained only to him. It was uncommon, though, for her to do so in such a subdued and solemn manner, as though whatever she had to say to him was a sensitive matter.

He rarely felt uneasy, but Jen’s request had certainly set him on edge. He silently packed up the final contents of his locker and made sure to bid farewell to each member of the team he hadn’t yet, his mind elsewhere all the while. Ten minutes later, he threw his bag over his shoulder, grabbed his bundle of sticks, and headed to Jen’s office.

Sidney used a single knuckle to knock on her half-open door, where he could hear her speaking to someone else, in a hushed tone.

Seriously, what the fuck is going on here…

“Come in,” she called out to him before returning to her previous volume. “Yeah, he just got here,” she said into her office phone. “Yep, I’ll tell him. Thanks.” She hung up the receiver and sighed heavily, folding her arms in front of her on the glass-topped desk. “Will you close the door?” she asked him.

“Jen, what the hell-”

“I know, Sid,” she said, shaking her head sadly, her eyes cast downward. “This isn’t how I wanted to go into the summer, but this needs to be addressed before you go home.”

Sid passed by her desk in favor of leaning against her windowsill, unable to actually take a seat in the middle of the discomfort.

“What’s going on?” he asked firmly, crossing his arms against his chest.

Jen pursed her lips and took a beat before answering. Sid could see her switching from friend-mode to PR-mode before his very eyes, which rarely happened these days. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time it had.

When the next two words out of her mouth were “it’s…” followed by your name, he felt every muscle in his body tense. His brows shot skyward and his eyes went wide, rendered utterly speechless as Jen quickly continued. “I don’t even know if this is something she’s aware of yet, but it’s something you need to be,” she told him. “The social team brought it to my attention earlier today. You know it’s par for the course for us to get a few dozen, sometimes even a couple hundred, stupid comments about you on a post, particularly at the end of a season. But this is… it’s just something we really haven’t had to deal with to this extent before.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, though he certainly didn’t actually want to know the answer to that question.

“So we posted your final media availability from this morning as a standalone on Instagram,” she began. “It started out with just a couple of random comments, blaming her for the early exit. Just stupid shit like that. But… things have escalated. It’s become something of a… I don’t know, a trend? …to tag her handle in the comment section. And it’s gained some momentum, unfortunately. Seemingly primarily by Philly and Boston fans, which isn’t necessarily shocking.”

Sid tensed and flexed his fingers against the cool window frame. “How much ‘momentum’ are we talking about here?” he asked, voice cool.

There was a long pause. One far too long for comfort.

“About 14,000. Kind of… going viral, at least by our standards.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jen,” he spat.

“I know.”

“This is exactly why I never engaged in this social media bullshit.”

“I know.”

“But she didn’t, either. Her account is fucking private. Family and friends only.”

“I know.”

“I never wanted to ask her to shut it down.”

“I know.”

Sid sighed, his head falling backwards as he closed his eyes, trying to calm his rapidly firing nerve endings. Eventually, he pushed away from the window and held out his hand.

“Let me see.” He nodded toward Jen’s work iPhone, which was currently buzzing so frequently that it was about to fall off the edge of her desk.

“Sid, I really don’t-”

“Let… me see.”

Jen heaved a sigh, glancing upward, before picking up, unlocking, and, after scrolling in her camera roll to her most recent screenshots, handing over the phone.

We’re blaming Sid’s new gf. He had to spend too much time helping her with her algebra homework this year

⮑ How much do you think he pays her per season

⮑ For what, prostitution or her daycare?

She’s gotta be his cover

No wonder he’s lost a step, can’t keep up on the ice AND chase after his toddler

Watch out, Sid. She might run off with Nate. Much closer to her age

From Crybaby Crosby to Sugar Daddy Crosby

Gonna pull a Wayno and request a trade to LA because his girl wants to be famous

⮑ Or end up like Mario when she gets pregnant and traps him

That one made him chuckle darkly. “Yeah, because Mario was so miserable that he’s stayed married to Nathalie for 30-some years and had three more children,” he said bitterly.

⮑ For real, make sure you keep it wrapped, 87

⮑ She's also only as old as Mario's youngest kid. Like let that sink in

Wonder if G’s and Tanger’s girls have to take her to the playground

⮑ Anna and Catherine are so fucking fine, and then there’s her. Blegh

⮑ At least she’s well endowed

⮑ That’s just because she’s chubby

Was hoping she was just a one night stand but apparently not. Hope he doesn’t wife her

Dumb gold digging wh*re

⮑ We want prenup

Hope she dies in a car crash

What’s her @? I don’t wanna f*ck her, just wanna make her life a living hell

⮑ Found her - @yourusername - ig do yo thang!

⮑ Thanks for nothing @yourusername you stupid bitch

And on and on it went from there.

Phone still in hand, fingers gripped tightly around it, Sid met Jen’s concerned eyes. He swallowed hard.

“Is that it?” Please, god, let that be it…

With a single shake of her head, she instructed, “Scroll to the left.”

He did as she said, and a meme from a widely-followed hockey rumor account appeared.

SID’S MUCH YOUNGER GIRL GETS ANNIHILATED ON SOCIAL, BLAMED FOR PENS MISSING PLAYOFFS, the first slide read in bold red letters printed above a photo of her, which he knew had been pulled from the account of one of the other Pens’ partners, sporting her “87” beanie at the Winter Classic in January. The following slides in the post were screenshots highlighting some of the nastiest comments from the original post.

“So that’s the main reason I’m calling this to your attention,” Jen said as he scrolled reluctantly, waves of nausea rolling in his gut. “It might have flown under the radar if it had stayed contained in our comments, but this account picked it up and ran with it. So it’s being more widely discussed.”

Sid inhaled and exhaled slowly, then muttered, “fuck,” as he returned Jen’s phone, letting his hands fall to the leather seatback in front of him. “So what can we do?” he asked.

“We can release a statement,” she said as she clicked the phone locked and placed it back on her desk. “If you want to. Management is fine with that and supports whatever decision you make.”

Sid nodded, grateful for that sentiment, but still unsure that that was the best course of action.

“Anybody say what they’d do in this situation?” he asked.

Jen couldn’t help but smirk.

“Yeah, one of them said they’d go full Will Smith. ‘Keep my wife’s name out your fuckin’ mouth,’” she told him. “He didn’t actually say that part, but… I’ll let you guess who.”

Sid breathed a slight chuckle. “Sounds like Sully.”

Jen nodded. “It was him on the phone when you walked in,” she informed him. “He didn’t want to say it in front of everyone, but he wanted me to tell you to call him if you need him. Unfortunately, he’s familiar with situations like yours because of Charlie and Kiley, so don’t hesitate to reach out to him - or to any of them - if you need some advice.”

He exhaled forcefully, glancing at his shoes. “Thanks,” he mumbled. He looked back up toward Jen, one of his most trusted companions and confidants. “What would you do? If you were me.”

Jen pursed her lips and leaned her palms against her desk.

“I’d go talk to my partner first.”

___

It was a quick drive from PPG to your condo in the Strip District. Door to door was typically about seven minutes, ten with traffic.

Today, though, it felt like it took hours.

Sid hadn’t told you he was coming over. He planned to make use of the spare key you had given him months ago. Because as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to catch you off-guard for once, make it so you wouldn’t have time to pull yourself together or freshen up or plaster a grin on your face, as he had a sneaking suspicion that you sometimes did in an attempt to put on a brave front for him.

He simply wanted to meet you, literally, right where you were. He didn’t know how aware you even were of the situation, if at all, so determining that was first on his priority list.

With a nod to the security guard at the front desk, who recognized him not only as a Penguin but from his frequent visits to the building, usually hand-in-hand with you, Sid made his way to the elevator, then to your floor.

Upon reaching your place, he called out to you through the door, before he even unlocked it and turned the handle, so as not to frighten you in what could be considered a fragile time, no matter how you might actually be feeling currently.

“It’s me,” he announced. “I’m coming in.”

This certainly didn’t come as a surprise to you. You didn’t make a move, but instead called out, “In the living room.”

Sid pushed the door open, then closed and locked it behind him, kicked off his shoes, and left his ball cap in the entryway. He slowly made his way down the hall toward the living room. As he approached, he saw you lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling with your head propped on a throw pillow from the nearby sofa. The sliding glass door leading to your private terrace was open, and the light breeze danced through the gauzy drapes that hung in the threshold.

“Hi, love,” he greeted quietly.

You forced yourself to look up at him, although your expression was unreadable.

“Hi,” you replied. “I’ve kind of been expecting you,” you told him as you fixed your eyes upward again.

Sid nodded, grabbing a pillow for himself before crouching down next to you. Although he leaned over to kiss your forehead, a warm and welcome gesture in the midst of your inner turmoil, he didn’t say anything else right away. He didn't have to. He knew what you needed, and that was just for him to be there with you. To be in it with you.

And you didn’t say anything, either. Sid didn’t really read into it – you didn’t need to say so out loud for him to understand that this wasn’t about him, or your relationship from the inside out.

It was just about the outsiders, the pathetic trolls who had spent the last several hours taking unnecessary and unprompted shots at you online.

This scrutiny you were currently under wasn’t necessarily shocking. When you thought back on it, you supposed you had been bracing yourself for it ever since you had agreed to that very first date with Sid over a year ago now after being introduced by mutual friends. He had been the primary face of the league, the Canadian golden boy in every sense of the word, for two decades now, simultaneously adored and hated by literal millions of people, which would never be a figure you’d be able to fully wrap your brain around.

And you’d never shown Sidney the hundreds of message requests that piled up in your inbox from week to week, until you remembered to go in and delete them, and while you made it a point not to read them, it was damn near impossible for your eyes not to catch words such as “hooker,” “slut,” “clout chaser” and worse before tapping Delete All and doing your best to move on with your day with a positive attitude. You’d never told him about the obscene things that people would nearly fall out their car windows to scream at you as you made the short walk from the downtown bars near the arena, on the few nights that you opted to meet the girls or your family for a drink before the games rather than enter the arena through the comfort of the private garage attached to the venue. You’d never mentioned the dozens of times you’d watched partners of the guys on the team mutter and cluck their tongues in disgust while deleting hateful comments about you from their own posts in the past year, which was always followed up by tapping Report and Block in quick succession.

So no, it wasn’t shocking. What it was, though, was hurtful, no matter how far removed from reality the comments and messages actually were.

Finally, Sidney moved beside you, rolling his head to the side to study you intently, still silent for a long while. He knew this couldn’t be the first time you’d been hurt, even if indirectly, because of his profession. But it was the first time he’d seen you dwell on it before his very eyes, and it shattered him.

“You doing okay?” he asked gently.

You, too, let your head fall to the side to meet his gaze.

“Who, me? Oh, never better,” you teased, opting for humor.

Sid let out a singular, sad chuckle, then reached his thumb to smooth across your cheekbone.

“So much for the lavender haze, huh?” you sighed, curling into his touch as he opened his palm to caress your face.

“Doesn’t change a goddamn thing about the way I feel about you,” he asserted. “About how crazy I am about you. How much I adore you.”

You nodded, grasping his forearm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. You kissed the fleshy crease of his hand.

“I know that,” you said. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you either, it’s just…” You sighed, and he took this opportunity to open his arms and invite you closer. You rolled onto your side and rested your head on his chest, and he wound his arms around you as tightly as he possibly could. “All this shit is new to me, Sid,” you said in a small voice.

He gave your waist a squeeze and used his fingertips to trace up and down your arm soothingly, then pressed a kiss to your hairline.

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry you have to deal with it at all. It’s because of me. And I hate that more than anything.”

You reached to cup your hand against his neck.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” you protested. “I don’t want you to be. It’s not your fault”

He sighed. “Maybe not, but, still…”

He trailed off, and you let his words hang in the air for a moment before adding, “Well, for what it’s worth, you handle it beautifully.”

You looked up at him adoringly. He returned the gesture, smiling down at you softly as his thumb tapped your shoulder appreciatively.

You settled back against him, eyes fixed on the shelf of plants across the room, unable to look at him for this next part. You swallowed hard.

“I think I’m gonna shut down my acc-”

“I don’t want you to do that,” he said immediately, shaking his head. He had never spoken to you so sharply. “Not because of this. Not because of me. We can’t let people win. That's exactly what they want.”

Your voice wavered as you tried your best to argue. “It’s not just this one time, Sid,” you admitted, but didn’t elaborate any further. “I don’t want people talking about you like that-”

“I don’t give a damn what people say,” he said, his volume rising. “Let them fucking talk all the shit they want. It’ll never change the way I look at you, the way I feel about you. And that’s what they’re trying to do. They’re trying to poke holes in this where there are none. Let’s not give them any more power than they already think they have.”

You didn’t have a comeback for that one. Instead, silence fell over the room once again as you lay in his strong arms. About five minutes later, after replaying his little monologue again and again in his head, he kissed your temple.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, lips still pressed to your skin. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I just need you to know that you’re more important to me than any of this shit. You’re the most important thing in my life, and it’s not close.”

You lifted yourself from your prone position in favor of straddling Sid’s waist, not in a sexual way, but simply in one that kept him close. He reached for your hands to entangle your fingers in his, and you leaned down to kiss him.

“Once again, no need to apologize, but I do appreciate it,” you said, sitting back up. “You know you’re the only thing that truly matters to me, too. We’ll get through this – we’re way stronger than the shit they’re trying to throw at us.” Below you, Sid nodded, smoothing the back of your hands with his thumb. “But I, for one, am ready to take a break from talking about this for right now, and I’m starving. Can I order us some delivery?” you asked, climbing off of him. Sid, too, stood up.

“Let me order,” he insisted, bringing you in with a hand at the small of your back. “What sounds good to you?”

You barely needed a moment to respond. “Pizza?” you suggested.

“Pizza it is,” he agreed. “I’ll call Milano.”

You grinned at the mention of your favorite local joint and pushed yourself up to kiss him.

“Sounds perfect,” you said. “Thank you. I’m gonna go put on some sweats. I’ll be right back,” you said, kissing him one more time before disappearing into your bedroom.

Sid's gaze followed you as you entered your closet, grateful that you’d unwittingly fallen for his plan to be able to nonchalantly check his phone. He pulled it from his pocket as he walked out onto the terrace. On his screen were notifications of dozens of calls and texts, but a few names stood out from the rest.

Sully - iMessage: Sid - Jen has kept me up to speed on the situation this afternoon. I'm sorry that you both are dealing with this nonsense. With the way this has escalated, I would encourage you to strongly consider allowing her team to make a statement. That being said, I understand and support whatever decision you make, and I know you’ll do what’s best for the both of you. Always in your corner. - MS

Geno - iMessage: Anna told me what happened. Bullshit!!!!! Make Jen write statement, NOW!!!!!

Jen - iMessage: I already have a few sentences drafted based on our conversation earlier. If you’d like to move forward, just say the word. For now, just take care of her.

Sidney turned and quietly slid the terrace door shut behind him, then tapped Jen’s contact number and pressed the phone to his ear. It rang only one-and-a-half times before…

“Thought I might hear from you.”

“Thought you might say that,” Sid retorted, eyes trailing across the cityscape below.

“How is she?” Jen asked.

Sid blew out a long breath. “Honestly, better than I expected. It was a little rough when I first got here, but you know her, nothing keeps her down for too long.”

Jen offered a sound of approval. “Yep, that’s my girl. So… what’s up?”

“I wanna put out a statement,” he said confidently. “Not from me, but from the team, if that’s possible.”

“It’s more than possible - it’s what I was going to suggest if you decided to go this route,” she replied. “Like I said, I already have something started, so I’ll continue to work on that.”

“Send me a draft beforehand, okay? I’d like to offer input,” Sidney requested, glancing over his shoulder to ensure you hadn’t yet emerged from your bedroom, lest you grow suspicious of his clandestine phone conversation.

“Of course,” said Jen. “I’d never release without your approval.”

“That’s why you’re the best in the biz,” he told her jokingly, though genuinely. “Could you just email it to me rather than read it over the phone like normal? I haven’t, uh, exactly told her I’m doing this yet.”

“Understood,” she responded immediately. “Give me 20 and I’ll shoot something your way.”

“Thanks, Jen. Truly,” he said. “I’m really grateful to you and your team.”

“Always in your corner, Sid,” she said, calling back to mind the same promise from his head coach via text just hours ago. “You’re easy to defend. Talk soon. Bye.”

“Bye, Jen.”

- - -

The next morning…

A statement from the Pittsburgh Penguins:

The Pittsburgh Penguins are aware of and do not condone the despicable and disparaging comments made online recently regarding a member of our captain’s family. Involving and attempting to implicate our players’ families in discussions about the results of our season and the future of our organization is simply heinous and unacceptable. While our organization does not typically respond to immature and ill-informed social media comments, we are unable to stand by and allow these words to go unchecked. We will not allow so-called fans of this game to post unfair and patently untrue accusations against our players’ loved ones without publicly denouncing them ourselves. We applaud the dignity and grace with which our players’ families approach these difficult situations, and our organization fully supports and stands with them.

- - -

“I read it,” Sidney heard from the open French doors of his office half an hour after Jen told him the statement had gone live.

Apparently, it was his turn for a visit previously unannounced.

He spun in his chair to find you standing in front of him, arms crossed tightly against your chest, eyes rimmed with red but also with a small smile on your lips. "I was already on my way here anyway, but..."

“Come here,” he invited, pushing his chair back from his desk. You obliged, crossing the room toward him and taking a seat on his lap as he circled his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to the back of your arm, eyes closing in reverence as his lips lingered against your skin.

You rested the side of your head against the top of his. “‘A member of your family,’ huh?” you asked softly, unable to keep the wide grin from your face.

Sid pressed a few more quick kisses to your skin before shifting you slightly in his lap so that he could meet your eyes. He looked up at you reverently, pushing some of your hair away from your face.

“That verbiage was my choice,” he informed you firmly. “Because that’s what you are to me. You are my family,” he said, conviction in every syllable. “Yes, you’re my girlfriend for now, but in time, you’ll be my fiancé, my wife, the mother of my children. You know that. ‘Girlfriend’ or even ‘partner’ just didn’t feel like enough. You’re… you’re my everything. I love you.”

You nodded. With more tears forming in your eyes, you pressed your hand to his smooth cheek and leaned down to kiss him.

“I love you, too,” you whispered against his lips as he cupped the back of your head in his hand. “Thank you.”

#sidney crosby #m's midnights prompt list #requests #my writing #sidney crosby fanfiction #sidney crosby fanfic #sidney crosby fic #blurbs #hockey rpf

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midnightenigmados · 1 year ago

Text

It was a crude drawing made of blood.

It appeared to be a pentagram made of individual symbols and flourishes, except the symbols themselves were messy and disordered and the lines they created were sloppy. Placed in the center of the drawing, Tim could spot multiple splotches and smears where someone must have accidentally brushed upon the floor with the still drying blood.

His kidnappers may be skilled in their tricks to capture him, but artistry, they were not.

Alas, he figures, it is not often that his guard is let down as it had been tonight, they must have jumped at the chance and rushed to complete whatever preparations previously made.

A chemical attack by the Riddler set an entire apartment ablaze and Tim had been tasked to rescue those inside. The suddenness of the blast had left many unaware and left him no choice but to sacrifice not only his spare gas masks but his own personal one as he came upon entire families stranded within the burning building.

Practical he may be, but he cannot simply leave a child to the whims of carbon dioxide as he takes their siblings to safety.

With the combination of the odd mix of chemicals and carbon dioxide, it was no wonder the cultists found him easy pickings when he finally found respite in the nearby alley.

At least he had the sense in him to place a tracker on one of the attackers before he was taken and stripped of his equipment. For now he’d have to bide his time until his family would be free of the Riddler to assist in his own escape.

That is, if he could get his mouth to move.

The heavy scent of iron mixed with the sage, juniper, and myrrh burning from the candles placed strategically around and outside the circle penetrated Tim’s nostrils even as he avoided breathing through them.

Purification herbs.

He wondered if their main purpose was to cleanse him before sacrifice or to simply hide the drugs laced within the candles.

An odd choice of incense if it was the latter.

The candles themselves were an odd assortment. The majority were the typical long candelabra ones, flipping between black and red in placement, but Tim could spot the odd thicker one one the outside with black wax that dripped over a red base as well as–

Was that a hand?

Tim supposed it was a nice mix up to the usual skull based adornments.

The little red duck candle at his feet was cute at least, if a bit out of place.

…Maybe he was hallucinating.

He blinked.

Next thing he knew there were twenty robed people standing around the circle, one for each candle. Every third robe sat yet another candle between them. This one in the shape of a black skull with triquetras engraved on the forehead and decorated throughout.

So much for the mix up.

When had they even gotten there? Tim was slipping. The air grew heavy as the chanting began. To give credit where credit was due, some of the people there actually seemed quite proficient in the not-latin, not-spanish language, but it was clear not all.

Despite his muddled state, Tim could hear the stutters clear as day as they attempted to speak in unison. Such is the fate of a natural polyglot. He knew not the language they spoke, nor was he able to make out the words as his world began to tilt, but he could hear the inconsistencies, the uncertainties, the anxieties.

Or maybe that was something else.

The lights stuttered and flickered to green, the trails of red on the ground grew luminescent and erupted into their own emerald flame, growing larger but the second and startling a few of the cultists backwards.

Tim was just starting to ponder if the drugs were getting to his head when he found himself afloat over a large Lazurus pit. One that swirled instead of bubbled.

He couldn’t find it in himself to react.

Tim really hoped this was the drugs.

A massive claw emerged below him, easily the size of his torso. Covered in black scales with an iridescent shine, it could easily eclipse his form if it held him.

An eternity passed, or possibly a few seconds, but a second claw soon followed. The waters rippled where they were disturbed and Tim watched as they traveled further and further away from their starting point to meet their sisters in the center of the pool. Tim waited with baited breath for the resulting disruption of the waves, but instead the very pool beneath him glowed a fierce neon.

It was then that Tim watched before his very eyes as a head that appeared to be a mix between a snake and a lion materialized beneath him, lifting itself further upwards until it sat directly in front of him.

It was then that he belatedly realized that in the course of the portal appearing, that his restraints had disappeared and that he was floating freely some twenty feet in the air. His freedom mattered not, however, as he found himself fully unable to move in the gaze of the creature before him. Its five eyes seemed to hold the universe in them, with its greens and purples and blues. Its scales continued to cover its body here, although its face was much more of that of a lion, with its muzzle and teeth. A mane of brilliant white flowed down its serpentine body until it stopped just before the body disappeared beneath the portal.

Tim held its gaze, captivated in the pure pressure its presence gave off. Time held still as it seemed to hold his very soul but eventually it passed its judgment with a tilt of its head.

A rather innocent gesture for something so terrifying to behold.

Eternity turned to moments and moments to seconds and suddenly the creature had surrounded him, blocking Tim from the cultist’s view. Its body, long and scaly, gave off a gentle glow. Six magnificent wings emerged from its back as four more pairs of limbs allowed it to rest upon the ground and the portal faded away.

Tim found himself floating closer to the ground as the walls of fire diminished to simple flames flickering at the summoner’s feet. The fog lifted from his mind as the forces holding him deposited him softly onto the newly exposed floor, but his body still refused to cooperate.

All he could be certain of in the moment was that the creature they had summoned here had decided to spare him for whatever reason.

Who dares summon me?

The voice did not come from any direction. Tim struggled to call it a voice at all. It resonated in his head, deep within his soul, with a power so intrinsic to its existence that Tim could feel the instinctual need to bow where he lay, had his body been capable of such.

The ruffle of fabric, however, deemed the cultists in full capacity to follow such soul bearing orders, even if Tim was unable to see them at the moment.

“Forgive us, Your Everlasting Majesty” The relatively normal voice, on the other hand, was a shock to his system in comparison,” we are the Sons and Daughters of the Darkness.”

Tim really wished he could roll his eyes at the moment.

“We have long since heard of the predicament you have been in and sought to free you of your shackles of slumber such that you may take reign in your rightful place in this world once again. As you can tell, we have done much research and devoted our very being to your cause.”

Shackles of slumber? Pray tell, mortal, could you be discussing of the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep?

“Indeed, O Powerful One! Have we not freed you of your prison?”

And what have you to gain, from such endeavors?

“Nothing, Your Fearsomeness, but fulfillment of our most true desires. To pledge our infinite fealty to, Your Highness, Pariah Dark! The namesake of our clan!”

And you wished to do so with purifying herbs and symbols?

“Wha-”

No, do not speak. I fear your feeble brain may not be able to handle the speed of which you open your mouth.

There was a shifting of the body surrounding him as the being seemed to adjust.

You. Wherefore did you acquire this knowledge?

“I-in the ruins o-of a little town called Am-Amity, Your Unholiness.” The voice shook as she spoke, unable to find stability in the pressure surrounding her.

There was a pause as the creature seemed to take in this information, but Tim could feel the moment it had made its decision.

Burn thy knowledge and cease this foolishness at once. Pray that we never cross paths again for this Pariah Dark you speak of is no more.

There was a great flash and Tim found himself suddenly capable of movement. The air cleared up and the wall of scales disappeared, allowing him insight to the rest of the room.

It was empty.

The cultists were long gone with no trace of their existence in the first place. The ethereal green flames of the candles had died down to a simmering red and the circle itself had faded back to its dry blood appearance. Even the creature, massive that it was, was nowhere to be found.

In their place stood a boy.

A teenager young enough to be in high school with blinding white hair that flowed without gravity and eyes brighter than the portal that had nearly swallowed Tim whole mere moments prior. A crown of ice floated gently above his head as frost floated down and encompassed his head, refracting the flickers of candle light around them to create a sort of halo outside of his soft aura. A cape sewn from the stars itself danced at his feet as he stood at the side of the circle examining three floating candles in front of him.

It had almost appeared regal, if not for the words that escaped the boy's mouth.

“I brought you myrrh,” He mimicked under his breath, “Myrrh-der.”

“Judas, no.” Out of instinct, Tim replied, immediately regretting it as his eyes locked onto Tim’s.

For a moment, Tim felt as if he was under the gaze of a microscope, more acute and more pointed than Batman could ever hope to achieve. As if the heaven’s above were watching him and passing judgment.

For a moment, Tim felt the very same pressure as he had upon the gaze of the creature.

But, then the kid smiled and it all disappeared, as if it was never really there in the first place. Yet another trick of his mind.

Tim had a headache.

This boy…could he possibly be…?

He certainly appeared ethereal enough, but quoting vine references?

The kid was talking again, an unnatural echo bouncing through the air as he floated towards him.

“-od, I was worried you were unconscious. You okay now?” His face held a gentle smirk as he leaned over in a pseudo bow with his hand extended for Tim to take.

The change in the manner of speech nearly gave Tim whiplash, throwing him off further, and he narrowed his eyes at the hand before ignoring it in favor of the warehouse.

He was perfectly fine on the floor, thank you very much.

“I’m good, thanks,” He replied absentmindedly, fighting off any reactions to the waves of pain the simple action of speaking gave him, “Where are the cultists?”

The kid paid no heed, but kept his arm extended as he tilted his head in thought, wisps of hair flickering around his head, “Arabia, I think. Don’t worry, I’m well aware of Batsy’s rule. No killing in Gotham.”

Tim snapped his eyes up to the boy, biting down his instinct to cower in the face of the glowing green eyes, “So, you’ll kill them in Arabia instead?”

He flinched back in disgust, the movement small but precise, “I don’t plan on killing them at all? All souls will come to me eventually, there’s no reason to rush an inevitability. I just didn’t want them here.”

That…didn’t really make Tim feel much better.

But, he didn’t seem to hold any malice at the moment, “Who are you?” He asked, because if the kid was going to be cooperative, the very least Tim could do was get some answers.

The smirk was back again, “You may call me Phantom,” He wiggled his fingers.

Tim took his hand.

It was then that the skylights burst in.

DPxDC Prompt

Summoning is an imperfect art, mispronouncing a name or having an incorrect symbol can lead to unexpected, and sometimes explosive results. Summoning can open unexpected doors. No one's prepared for what--or who--steps through when a rising gang tries to summon backup.

My little ficlet for this is below the cut:

Smoke. The acrid slam of it in the nose, brought on by the screaming wind. Chanting. A chorus of voices, steady and thrumming. Pain. Everything is hazy, and it’s equal odds on it being from the smoke or the potential head injury.

Bruce stumbles to his feet, body throbbing.

This was not how he’d planned this night.

Of course, he hadn’t planned for Gotham to suddenly be overrun with a new…gang? They claimed to be a government organization, but Bruce has his doubts. He hadn’t had a chance to go through the GIW’s information, but according to Barbara, their claims were sketchy at best.

The shouting about ghosts and waving around sci-fi weapons with no trigger discipline certainly didn’t help their claims.

Government organization or not, they had no right to raid homes, to drag people out onto the street, or overall threaten his city.

His ears ring, and the chanting rises in volume, impossibly. His chest reverbes with the sound. It’s steady enough to feel like a second heart. His blurry vision locks onto the center of the summoning circle. Because this night couldn’t get any worse, of course.

First the GIW had rocketed up his list of threats with one simple move.

They’d gone after Jason.

Jason, who even now was laid out in the middle of the summoning circle, eyes bright, bright, bright green through the haze.

First they’d taken his son.

Then they’d used him as a sacrifice.

Bruce bared his teeth, locking eyes with the closest GIW agent. The man held up his weapon, a glowing baton. His form is weak.

The baton gord flying, Bruce’s armored elbow slamming the man to the ground. The agent curls up, groaning. Nightwing’s escrima sing electric in the background, followed by the whip of Tim’s bow staff. Damian’s sword glints through the haze, and purple flashes through the crowd of white, white, white.

He can’t see Cass, but he doesn’t expect too.

The ground rocks under his feet, and it takes several precious seconds to regain his balance. There seems to be an almost endless flood of agents, with more and more meeting his fists as he tries to make it through the gauntlet.

Suddenly, the air shifts, the scream of it heading for the circle instead of out.

The circle glows toxic green, and Jason’s at the center, frozen in the light.

“No!” Bruce shouts, the sound ripping from his soul.

It’s echoed by Dick, who stands just outside the circle’s boundaries. His hands are pressed against the light, his blue eyes a shock against the green.

It’s a confusion of people - GIW white and the summoner’s black. The GIW is here to end whatever it is they need Jason to summon to them. The summoners themselves seem to have broken away from the “agency” and want power from the being they’re calling. It’s a fight on multiple fronts, with the GIW fighting the summoners and Bruce and his family fighting them all.

The temperature drops.

“HOOD!” Dick screams, as Jason is swallowed by the green.

The chant is all he can hear, even as he shoves towards the circle, even as he slams against the same wall Dick’s against.

The world goes bright and he can’t keep his eyes on Jason. On his son.

When the light fades, Jason’s not alone.

A being sits six feet in the air, Jason collapsed over his lap, somehow hovering with the - what is he? He looks human, but there’s something wrong. Off. Bruce can’t quite pinpoint his age. A crown glows on his head, an ever shifting cape spills down his back, dragging close to the floor. His eyes are green as Lazarus, and just as deep. Jason is breathing, Bruce notes. The being’s hands curl in Jason’s hair, playing with it idly.

The air is *rigid, and everyone’s stopped fighting. No one can draw their eyes away from the being.

“You dare to summon me with one of my own?” The being speaks, and it’s like crackling glaciers. Someone whimpers.

“We - wanted to give you a gift,” One of the men in black says, his voice chattering.

It’s like breathing in ice.

“A gift?” The being says and the sound is fury, banked in a waiting avalanche. “What kind of gift is this? A denizen of my Realms, trapped and tortured? Used to summon his king, against his will? This is no gift.”

“B-but we didn’t know,” another speaks, and then obviously realizes he shouldn’t have.

“Ignorance will not save you,” the being says, and it - he’s? - still holding Jason like he’s something precious. “And I am not the only one you have infuriated.

“I am not the only one you have awoken.”

To a man, the GIW agents cry out in panic. Bruce turns, looking for the threat but - the agents are buried to various depths in the cracked concrete floor. The ground is decidedly solid beneath Bruce’s feet but the agents would obviously not agree. They flounder, like the concrete is quicksand. The summoners are next, but it’s ice that gets them, crawling up their bodies until they’re locked into place.

“My lord!” One cries and promptly finds himself gagged.

Bruce can’t stay silent any longer. “Hood was used against his will to summon you,” he starts. The being’s eyes meet Bruce’s. “He didn’t want this. Is he alright?”

“Your son is fine,” the voice is rough, but feminine, and obviously not from the being. It’s around him, dancing through the steel beams and pushing through concrete. “You are mine, my knight. You and yours are mine. The little king will not harm him, nor you.” A figure forms off to his right.

“Holy shit,” Dick whispers. Bruce has to agree.

She’s made of concrete, of broken brick and dust, of bone and police tape, of twisted metal and more.

“Gotham,” Bruce breathes, and he doesn’t know how he knows but he does.

“Hello, my knight,” she says, her form shifting. She turns slightly, and there’s something sharp in her movement. “Hello, little king.”

“Lady Gotham,” The being - the king? - returns. “You look well,”

Lady Gotham laughs, a ringing sound - it’s bells and gravel, fresh air on a summer day and rising wind. “How you flatter me, little king. Do you fear me?”

The being grins, mischief dancing around him, white hair floating high. “I respect you. It’s good to see you awake, Milady.”

“What is happening?” Tim asks no one in particular. Dick shrugs and Steph just leans harder on Tim. Cass holds Damian’s shoulder firmly, watching carefully.

Bruce wishes he had an answer.

“It is good to be awake,” Lady Gotham says, and she shifts closer to the circle, fingers skimming against the barrier of light. “How long do you intend to keep my reaper from me?”

Reaper. Bruce thinks, and it’s a gut punch.

It makes sense, to describe Jason. Jason can go where Bruce cannot, do what Bruce cannot.

The king laughs lightly. “The summoning harmed him, Milady. I’m just keeping him safe. I’m not here to undermine you,” the king’s eyes glow. “But remember who is king.”

Lady Gotham smiles. “I’m aware of hierarchy little king.”

“My son,” Bruce says, because there’s no point in pretending Jason is anything less. He’s talking to - the embodiment of gotham and a king of - something. “He’ll be okay?”

Lady Gotham sighs. “He will be fine, my knight. The little king cares for his own.”

“What - what are you the king of?” Tim asks, bold.

The being smiles.

“I am Phantom,” he says. “I am the Ghost King.”

Jason stirs in his lap, and the implications crash over Bruce. Maybe Reaper has more meaning than he’d thought.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #dc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc prompt #thank you for this prompt!!#i had a lot of fun responding to it!#yall have no idea how much research went into the making of this #imma be put on a list for the things i googled here #i found a witch website in the process!!#all but yorick are actual real candles that can be bought #judas nooo #vine references #okay but im also super proud of dannys insult to the cultists #there was a translator for his ghost speak but it sucked so everything sounds super formal #midnight memories

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cuz-reasons · 1 year ago

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Gotta say, the series function on ao3 is great cuz I love organizing

#literally just spent the last like 20mins or so putting my multi car train team fic and the country kidifying the twins fics #all in their own little series #its just so good to see them all together #and have them all in one place #esp now cuz i did that prompt list and now i got 53 fics up #theres a lot there and i just want to make sure ppl know if theres more of smth they liked #and also i like to see my fics all together as i mentioned before #enjoy my midnight ramblings

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these-lovely-monsters · 3 months ago

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Mating Season

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!werewolf x f!reader

Content: hunting, primal behavior, predator/prey, sex, p in v, knotting, claiming bite, possessiveness, mild dubcon

#13 Mating/Hunting Season from @ozzgin's Monstertober 2024 prompt list

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

It’s werewolf mating season in your village and it’s a full moon which means it’s time for the hunt.

It’s almost midnight and all the eligible women have been gathered in the town square to prepare for the event. You stand amongst the group, everyone dressed in thin gowns and barefooted. A cool breeze causes you to shiver or maybe it’s just the anticipation of the activities to come.

The soft murmurs of the crowd are punctuated by howls in the distance. The werewolves are prowling through the darkness, eagerly awaiting their prey. Under the bright moonlight, the women around you glance at each other with mixtures of nervousness and excitement.

When the first midnight bell rings out over the square, everyone jumps, and the crowd surges forward. At first it’s a tangled mess of jostling limbs as everyone heads for the gates at the town’s entrance. But once you’re all through, the mass of bodies disperse in different directions and you take off sprinting into the darkness.

You’re racing through the trees, leaping over logs and boulders as you try to ignore the pain in your feet and the sharp scrapes and nicks from nearby branches. Your heart is pounding in your chest and your breaths are coming heavy. Over the roar in your ears, you hear the snarls and howls of the werewolves stalking their prey, mixed with the shrieks and moans of those already caught.

Your legs are beginning to ache as you zig zag in no particular direction. So you slow down, wondering if you’ve gone too far. But then you hear a twig snap in the trees behind you. Your heart lurches into overdrive and you sprint forward again.

Moving as fast as you can, you recall the only instructions you were given. “Run.”

Your predator is close on your heels, his paws thudding softly on the ground as he nimbly trails you through the forest. Just as you turn to look over your shoulder, you catch sight of a giant, black werewolf leaping out from between the trees.

When he collides with your body, you let out a soft “Oof,” and you both go tumbling to the ground. He deftly rolls you so that he takes the brunt of the fall and when you come to a stop, he’s hovering over you, pinning your body to the cold hard ground.

Although his form is mostly humanoid, he’s covered from head to toe in thick, dark fur. His head is also the shape of a wolf’s and he has a long tail that swishes behind him. His massive claw-tipped hands are buried into the dirt on either side of your head and his heavy breaths wash across your skin.

Baring his teeth in your face, he starts to rock his hips against your naked pussy and you gasp. When he shifts his weight so his cock is dragging against your clit, you let out a soft moan and he snarls at the sound.

Faster than you can track, he swipes his claws at your gown, shredding the material and leaving faint red scratches where his nails nicked you. He stares down at you for a moment, his pupils dilating as he watches your exposed skin pebble in the cold air.

He bends his head to lick at your breasts, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipples, causing your back to arch off the ground. Then he lowers himself down so his hot body is draped over yours. Before you can appreciate the warmth, he shifts his hips so that the tip of his cock is nudging at your already slick entrance and you groan in anticipation.

Opening your legs wider in invitation, you grip his fur and tug. With a growl, he sheaths himself fully inside you until his hips are flush with your thighs. You cry out at the sudden fullness and he pauses to let you adjust. When your body begins to relax, he pulls out and then thrusts back in. He does it again and again until he’s setting a brutal pace, fucking you hard into the dirt.

You quickly become lost in the exquisite sensations as your back scrapes against the rock-strewn ground while his massive cock stretches and fills you to the brim. He’s snarling and wild-eyed above you as he ruts into you in a wild frenzy, unable to control himself at the feel of your hot cunt squeezing him so tightly.

When your orgasm climbs higher and higher, almost at its peak, his movements become jerky as he meets you at the top. Right before you tip over the edge, you feel his massive knot pushing against your entrance, trying to stretch your pussy impossibly wide.

Before you can protest, he lowers his mouth to your shoulder and growls one guttural word against your skin.

“Mine.”

And then his teeth are sinking into your flesh in a vicious claiming bite at the same time his knot pushes past your tight walls and you scream.

You’re launched into another stratosphere as your eyes roll back in your head and your entire body seizes up. Hot cum spurts inside you, filling you up endlessly until it starts to seep out around his knot and drip down your thighs. His hips are still jerking erratically as he rides out his orgasm, dragging your own out with it, until eventually he’s completely spent.

───

You must have passed out at some point because when you awake, he’s carrying you in his arms as he trudges through the forest.

“Where are we going?” You ask groggily.

“To my den,” comes a deep gravelly voice above you. “I’m going to fuck you until my cum is a part of your essence and everyone knows that you belong to me.”

Tip Jar :)

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster smut #terato #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #werewolf #these lovely monsters #tlm werewolf #tlm stories #monstertober #monstertober 2024 #f!reader #m!monster

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