#prompt / secret wars

[mischievous-thunder]

[lavendernlilac]

secret husbands 100% tried to bring the turf war roleplay into the bedroom at least once by “hatefucking” as their mother spore/mayor personas

omg yeah, 100%

one of them offhandedly suggests it and they agree to try it and see what happens. it’s the “roughest” they’ve ever been with each other — all teeth and bruising kisses. the mayor doesn’t go easy on mother spore either, pushing him into the mattress and completely ruining him

mother spore always puts up a fight, whether it’s their “hatefuck” or some other scene they’re doing — but the mayor knows how to make him fold. they walk away with a significant amount of bruises, and grian is definitely limping a bit, but it’s fine

scar showers him with so much love afterward, worried that he might’ve hurt him. but grian gently reminds him that he’s perfect, and he enjoys a bit of roughness from scar

I think mother spore and the mayor were definitely one of their spicier segments of their sex life, mhm mhm. the mayor certainly tried to “fuck the mycelium out” of mother spore (read: he railed grian within an inch of his life—) a few times.

scar knows how to command grian in the bedroom, and grian knows how to get what he wants too.

[revvethasmythh]

what people don't understand about my relationship with essek is that I do love him, but in a Cain instinct kind of way, like that's my little guy, sure, but I DO want to punch him in the face at all times

[parvuls]

high school romcom trope subversion: unpopular kid eric bittle is failing history, and notorious jock jack zimmermann is assigned as his tutor.

[bebagerie]

i am a plague to spider-man fan spaces

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Prompt

Whumpee and Caretaker had been through hell and back together countless times, and somewhere between rough beginnings and the present, they'd fallen in love. Whumpee spent years by their side, a stoic right hand who carried out the will of Caretaker, the virtuous leader of the group, making the tough calls, but not without guilt that they admitted to Whumpee behind closed doors. In turn, Whumpee would open up about their own past and concerns. They were each other’s person, matching halves.

Most didn't know about their relationship, not really anyway. There were rumors of course, but given Caretaker's rank, things were mostly kept quiet. A, Caretaker and Whumpee's friend, knew and often was the one spreading rumors, making jokes about how Caretaker and Whumpee embodied the "tall x smol" dynamic.

One day, Caretaker dies in a battle of some sort, and despite Whumpee's efforts, they can't stop them from bleeding to death. A watches with utter horror, openly bursting into tears as Whumpee closes Caretaker's eyes.

The rest of the group grieves quietly, busy tending to their wounds, not paying much mind as Whumpee and A take Caretaker's body to a nearby building where they can retrieve it later for burial.

For the first time ever, A sees Whumpee fall apart, kneeling before them, crying violently. They find themself at a loss for words, Whumpee's screams of agony the only sound in the building.

The only difference the rest of the group seemed to notice when they returned was that Whumpee's cloak/coat was a bit larger. Only A knew that it was Caretaker's name inscribed on the inside.

[tremorsmackenzie]

okay, so hear me out:

no agents of sword, because i dont think it makes much sense for the astro ambassadors to leave shield, its literally their life, and its not even necessary for space exploration. shield is back, they dont need to covertly go through other agencies anymore.

now lets assume daisys mission after the finale is to get out there, get the lay of the land, find allies for earth, and figure out who the enemies are or something to this effect (just because thats what i think makes the most logical sense). not the most interesting premise, but stay with me. the main characters would obviously be kora, sousa, and daisy, with kora essentially taking the role skye had in season 1 as the audience bait. depending on how much you want to recreate the full-on ensemble feel of aos itself, you could also add maybe two relatively major characters from the crew, piper and davis style but more relevant.

it would be a miniseries with about 6-8 episodes as part of the secret wars arc theyre setting up for phases 4-6. we would get one episode at the beginning a couple of months after the mission has started, and wed get to see what theyre up to and what their team dynamics are and everything. they could then meet with a representative of xandar to discuss possible cooperation in security matters (not diplomatic relations, that would need to be left up to official first contact teams etc, despite sousas nicknames these are still spies). the talks would go okay but not well due to earth still being perceived as a primitive backwater, and the ship would depart. just as its jumping away, it suddenly and violently explodes, leaving the team to stare out the cockpit in shock. roll credits.

the crew have skrull saboteurs among them, sent not to stop the mission (because earth could just send another team), but rather to sabotage it so thoroughly that earth remains completely isolated and alone, with noone coming to its aid once the skrulls pull off their plan and take control. making it look as if the widely known outlaw quake destroyed a xandarian transport with some kind of dignitary on it in service of earth would be pretty damning. xandar responds immediatley and puts out a bounty on her head, and the rest of the show would be them trying to root out the saboteurs, set the record straight, and win xandars support for earth after finding out about the skrulls plans from the infiltrator in their crew once they reveal them, all while trying to avoid a slew of pursuers of varying allegiances. could maybe contain the stereotypical "somethings off" detective character on the xandarian side who smells something fishy and cooperates with the team behind their superiors back to help stop the skrulls. the end of the show could be the team getting called up by nick fury to assisst him, or contacting him themselves in order to inform him of their findings.

i tried to come up with something thats new and compelling for aos just like every new season used to be different from what came before, but also sort of keeps the feel of the show to a degree, and is distinctly its own thing and relevant to whats going on in the mcu right now and ends with the team being set up for future appearances. if i wasnt so lazy id maybe turn it into its own fanfiction.

[disastertriowriting]

@clonefandomevents

Here's our fill for "secrets". :)

In a universe where Wrecker and Crosshair are born twins, their closeness results in a telepathic connection only they share. It isn't always a good thing. It also isn't always bad. Either way, it makes confronting each other, and everything they did to each other, simultaneously more difficult and easier.

[harmonyandco]

Being public figures, Harry and Hermione kept the fact they were dating, and later married, secret. When it gets out, they're surprised at how much more convenient things are. No more getting hassled for dates and reporters realize that telling everyone how in love a married couple is makes for a rather boring story.

@johnburtonlee

[viviennes-tears]

Keeping a secret (Tom Hiddleston & Tom Holland one shot)

18+ blog: It is YOUR responsibility, as a reader, to think about the content that you consume at your own discretion. 

~

A/N: I'm so excited for you all to read the first prompt from the new batch of requests! I hope you like it 😊 x

Prompt request by VampireQueen666 on A03: Tom Hiddleston is on the Avengers set and the others are giving him a little surprise celebration for something. Holland is tasked to watch him till they're done setting up. Hiddleston and Holland are watching tv in their costumes. Hiddleston knows Holland is hiding something, and he knows he can't keep a secret, So Hiddleston stars seducing him, kissing his neck and stripping him out of his costume, playing with Hollands naked body, Holland is having a hard time keeping the secret, sex ensues but Holland succeeds in keeping his mouth shut.

Summary: Tom Holland accidentally found out that The Avengers Infinity War cast and crew have been planning an anniversary party for him and Tom Hiddleston. Much to everyone's reluctance they intrust him to keep their secret from Tom, despite how he's never been any good at not giving away any spoilers. However he finds himself betting with Tom whether or not he can truly stay true to his word, having to endure a tortuously pleasurable coaxing, without spoiling anything. 

Warnings: Smut, spanking, deprived orgasm, dirty talk, oral sex, masturbation, bondage, anal fingering, m/m established relationship, fuck used once?, teasing and dom Tom Hiddleston if you squint.

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

The Avengers Infinity War cast and crew cheered and clapped as filming had finally wrapped after an exhaustingly long day. During the aftermath some people formed small groups, standing around whilst chatting and laughing among themselves, also exchanges of a job well done. Hiddleston jumped up out of his chair and rushed over, wrapping an arm around Holland's neck, as he messed up his already static hair which was caused from wearing his Spiderman mask. Both Toms were laughing in between Holland's puny attempts at protesting.

"Now, now Loki play nice." RDJR mockingly-chastised with a smirk across his lips. Tom lets Holland go shortly thereafter, receiving a playful shove in return, then he follows that by pushing his face away playfully as if to get rid of his smile. Of course neither could stop smiling, and being close to each other. As proven by Hiddleston pulling Holland close to his side and placing a peck to his cheek.

Before long both Toms exit the set with Chris Hemsworth, the three of them chatting away, whilst Hiddleston walks with his arm around Holland's shoulders and Holland has his around Hiddleston's slim waist. Also, despite Hiddleston's last scene of the day having ended ages ago he waited around the set for Holland to finish, he enjoyed watching the younger man perfect his craft, and he couldn't wait to spend some alone time with him now the filming part of the day was over. Especially since it's their third month anniversary, having met during a meeting with Kevin Feige and other executives, as well as many others like Downey. It was merely their paths crossing briefly, kind of meeting, until they had gotten together a short while after filming had begun, both falling fast for the other. However what Hiddleston doesn't realise is that the cast and crew have been planning a little surprise party to celebrate the special occasion. Whereas Holland found out accidentally, and he now has been tasked keeping Hiddleston occupied, at least until the final preparations are finished.

"Remember what we all said earlier?" Chris Evans asks, after he races to catch up with them and Elizabeth Olsen in tow.

"Yeah, it's important mate. Keep this...." Hemsworth covers Holland's mouth with his palm as they halt in their tracks, "shut, alright?" He says seriously and then removes his hand, as Holland just nods in agreement.

"We're trusting you, ok?" Evans adds as he points his finger at him.

Hiddleston's eyebrows knit together in confusion, "about what?," he asks as he glances between them all.

Holland opens his mouth to speak but..."couldn't say, sorry..." Elizabeth says, then shrugs with her lips pressed into a thin line. Whereas both Chrises mumbled some nonsense, before they pointed into different directions, as if pretending they had been called away.

"Lizzy?" Tom tries to coax her to talk in his low menacing Loki voice, as he closes the distance between them.

"It won't work on me, Hiddles." Elizabeth says, folding her arms under her cleavage with a satisfying confidence in herself.

"Humph...it did when we were dating." The pair narrowed their gaze at each other and his jaw flexed while tightly clenched together.

Elizabeth is the first to break eye contact, "good luck with this one." She says teasingly and playfully pats Holland's cheek as she passes him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hiddleston asks defensively, but he's not given an answer or even a backwards glance as she disappears.

Holland came up beside Hiddleston and kissed his cheek. "Come on, don't let it spoil our anniversary." He says in an annoyingly comforting way, causing Hiddleston to roll his eyes at him, while a smile plays on his lips simultaneously.

Hiddleston then takes Holland's hand as they single file into Hiddleston's trailer. Once inside Holland gets comfy in the seating booth and instantly reaches for the TV remote, as Hiddleston closes the door behind them, then he moves gracefully towards the kitchenette which is opposite Holland. He is careful not to block the TV screen that is attached to the wall underneath some cabinets, as he grabs them a couple of beers out of the fridge. He twists off the caps before tossing them carelessly onto the counter and then he joins Holland in the booth. He sets both beers down onto the table before he slouches down and leans back into Holland's chest as he flicks through the TV channels.

The TV flickers from picture to picture until Holland finally settles on a random movie which had barely started. Satisfied with the find Holland puts the remote down next to his untouched beer before his fingers find their way into Hiddleston's inky black Loki wig. He twizzles a strand around his fingers as Hiddleston wraps his other arm around him. They settle into a peaceful silence for a while as they watch the movie, that is until Hiddleston begins interrogating Holland for some answers.

"What did Chris mean when he told you to shut it?" Hiddleston asks, as he peers up at Holland as he stays nestled back in his chest.

"Oh...er...you know just about the usual spoilers and stuff." Holland replies without taking his eyes off the TV screen.

"Right...." Tom trails off in disbelief, a questioning quirk of his brow, as he sits up in order to look Tom sternly in the eye. "You're not usually this quiet." His gaze unfaltering as Tom tries to appear innocent, evidently his facial expression was too transparent, Hiddleston knows him far too well and Holland knows it too.

As Hiddleston's gaze softens slightly he leans in close to Holland, so close that his lips are ghosting Holland's, their lips don't touch as he waits to see what he does first. Waiting to see if there's any cracks in his futile innocence. Albeit as the seconds tick by and Hiddleston doesn't seem to be backing away, Holland presses his lips into a thin line, as if to keep himself from slipping up. When Hiddleston finally does make a move he kisses the side of Holland's mouth, then he kisses along his jaw while his left hand cradles Holland's head, as it lulls to the side and exposes his neck completely to him. Now Hiddleston has access he slowly makes his way down his neck. The soft caress of Hiddleston's lips on Holland's neck causes him to let out a moan and his hands grip onto Hiddleston's forearms. His grip tightens as the kisses soon turn into bruising ones instead.

"You've never been able to keep that pretty little mouth of yours closed for long though." Tom says seductively, once he looks back into Tom's eyes, and he runs his thumb along Holland's bottom lip as he speaks.

"I can keep a secret!" Holland whinily complained with a pouty lip.

"Just like the time when you told Jacob Batalon and then the rest of our Marvel co-stars about us after we agreed to keep it between us for a while." Hiddleston said seriously.

"When are you going to let it go? I apologised several times and then some." Holland says and then bites his lip.

"Insufferable..." Hiddleston mockingly-scoffed.

"Yeah, but you love meeeee." Holland pecks Hiddleston on the lips.

"I suppose so..." Hiddleston agrees as another sly smile across his lips. "Do you want to make a bet?" He suggested.

"What kind of bet?" Holland asks cautiously.

"You let me do whatever I want to you until your writhing beneath me...unable to keep quiet...panting, moaning and crooning into my ear." Hiddleston says in his most seductive Loki voice and he nips Holland's earlobe for good measure. "You'll be so putty in my hands that you will tell me everything and you'll cum harder than you've ever cum before." He whispers into his ear.

"W-what happens if I don't?" Holland replies a little breathlessly after that imagery was put into his head.

"If you don't I won't let you cum." Hiddleston says, gently patting Holland's cheek with a knowing look.

"No, don't be like that. It's our anniversary. Anything but that, please?" Holland pleads with puppy dog eyes.

"Ehehe, I know that look, I'm the master of that look as well as others..." Hiddleston winks with two fingers hooked underneath Holland's chin. "Those are my terms, not that you have any say in the matter."

"But-" Hiddleston's lips crash against Holland's, silencing him this time, hungrily moving against his. Within moments Hiddleston's tongue prods eagerly against Holland's lips, asking permission for them to part, which they do so willingly and Hiddleston's tongue is met by Holland's, massaging against the other's and teeth slightly scraping together.

As Holland's eyes slowly open after their lips part to catch their breath, he sees Hiddleston sliding on his knees backwards, until he steps out of the booth and his eyes never leaving Holland's as he moves gracefully. However Holland isn't given long to get his breath back before he's dragged to the edge of the booth by his ankles, his hands are now in Hiddleston's reach, and then he's yanked up onto his feet. Tom instantly presses his body into Hiddleston's as their lips find each other again, with his arms wrapped around Hiddleston's waist, while Hiddleston's wrap around his neck. As the kiss deepens Hiddleston toys with the zipper at the back of Holland's SpiderMan costume, pulling it down slowly, his knuckles brushing against his flesh. Once the zipper reaches half way down Tom's back Tom pulls the latex away from his right shoulder, exposing his delectable soft skin to him, which is asking to be marked like his neck had done earlier. A gasp leaves Holland's lips at the sudden bite to his shoulder.

Hiddleston soon carries on, pulling Holland's costume down slowly and with the newly presented areas on his chest becoming bruisingly marked, licked and caressed affectionately. Each nipple taken into Hiddleston's hot mouth in turn as the other was rolled and pinched between his fingers. Thus far Holland hadn't said a word except for the sounds of approval. Evidently Hiddleston had to up his ammo. Firstly Hiddleston wiggles Holland's costume down past his hips, then he yanks it off the rest of the way, and reveals his cheeky black lacy thong underneath. Tom curled his fingers around the thin edges wrapped around his hips, once he stood back to his full height and then he roughly pulled Tom's hips to his own, both groaning at the sudden closeness.

"I like these ones." Hiddleston growls.

"I thought you'd prefer a more grown up look for the special occasion instead of my usual novelty ones you keep tearing off." Holland said and it was his turn to nip at Hiddleston, taking his bottom lip between his teeth, pulling gently on it for a few seconds.

"What makes you think these ones won't get torn?" Hiddleston asks as he rolls his hips against Holland.

"Because I'll run out before filming wraps." Holland replies, his cheeks heat up as Hiddleston lovingly strokes his face with one hand, the other still tangled around the edge of his thong.

"Humm...we can get you more." Hiddleston said, as he ripped Tom's thong off with one hand, letting the torn material fall by their feet, his fingers then tracing down the v-dip and brushing the light sprinkling of pubic hairs.

Tom's breath hitches in his throat as anticipation within his body tingles delightfully, albeit Hiddleston doesn't touch him where he needs him most, at least not yet anyway. Instead he stood there in all his bare glory for a couple of minutes only to have Hiddleston return to him with his famous Loki scarf. The scarf runs along his jaw, down the side of his neck and his chest, the fluffiness causing him to giggle as it dances across his ticklish skin. He easily allows his arms to be caged between his back and Hiddleston's chest once he was spun around. He felt the scarf being tied tightly around his wrists, as Hiddleston gently kissed his shoulder blades, the last of Mr Nice Guy for the time being.

Hiddleston seats himself back into the booth, spreading his thighs generously to accommodate Holland's naked form, which he draped over them roughly before his hand thwacked against his backside. The full spans of Hiddleston's hand struck in quick sessions, reddening the pale skin beneath his hand, Holland letting out cries of pleasure mixed with hisses as he felt the sting and heat begin to radiate from his tush. It had been a while since he'd been spanked and unashamedly he missed it. He felt his cock hardening between his thighs and he could feel Hiddleston's own growing bulge against his stomach too.

Heavy pants filled the air following on from the relentless spanking session mixed with the low murmurs of the TV still on in the background. Holland lay draped over Hiddleston's lap still waiting to be let up, as he felt Hiddleston knead his bum, and then he felt a cold lotion being poured onto his reddened flesh. It was gently rubbed into his skin to help soothe him.

"Ready to talk yet?" Came Hiddleston's gruffly voice.

"N-no..." Holland said around the lump in his throat.

Clearly it wasn't the correct answer, earning himself another harsh thwack, before he was forced to stand on shaky legs as Hiddleston dragged himself out of the booth. Next he was forced down onto the table. The untouched beer bottles and TV remote were pushed to the end to make space for his body, while his arms remained trapped beneath him, as his wrist remained tied together. His legs were hoisted up and forcefully parted with his feet planted firmly on the table. Hiddleston's lusty gaze roamed over the fine specimen before him and he bit his lip to suppress a groan. Eventually his fingers traveled lightly down the valley of Holland's chest, spreading the light sheen of sweat, and spares of hairs matted together. His fingers stilling at his navel as he meets his gaze. Next Hiddleston leans down, peppering kisses once more down chest, Holland's toned abdomen tightening, caused by Hiddleston tracing around his muscles. Before long Hiddleston was kneeling down with his head between his thighs, placing sloppy kisses to each of them, whilst his fingers stroked in small circles on Holland's hips.

"Anything you wish to tell me?" Hiddleston asks, his lips ghosting hotly against one thigh.

"I-I told you....n-no." Holland panted.

"No?" Hiddleston growled lowly.

Tom sat back on his heels as he spat into his palm before taking hold of Holland's engorged red flushed cock into his hand. Holland gasped and felt his cock twitch in his hand as he was being stroked at a leisurely pace. Hiddleston's salvia coated his cock as he spread it from head to base. He then pressed the pad of his thumb against the slit and massaged his balls with the other hand. Pearls of precum trickled out after a few swipes of his thumb. Leaning forward Hiddleston used the flat of his tongue and licked a wet stripe along the slit, making Holland hiss through gritted teeth, and his fingers twitched behind his back to ensure the blood still flowed.

Hiddleston nuzzled his nose against Tom's manhood, inhaling deeply, his own cock practically wanted to burst out of his tight leather trousers. He swallowed thickly before taking the head of his cock between his already reddened lips. He sucked gently at first, creating sounds as though he was enjoying a lollipop instead, until he returned to licking the tip. A few times this happened before his gaze through his lashes was met by the younger man's own gaze, his lips slightly parted, a dreamily glint in his eyes, as he held his head up to watch. Watching his cock disappear between beautiful thin lips, and the feeling of wanting to tangle his fingers into Tom's own hair instead of the wig, which now fell around his face in messy tendrils. Yet the upwards thrust of his hips begged Hiddleston to take more of his needy cock. Thankfully he obliged. Hiddleston took him all the way down his throat and hollowed his cheeks, until he pulled back, the head only seated between his lips. He repeated this action several times at his own pace until Holland began rutting upwards and further down his throat. Usually Holland would lay back and let Tom take his fill, but seeing as this was a bet he wanted to push him, to get Tom to make him cum without spilling the tea. He managed to slide off the table and began to impatiently force his length all the way to the back of Tom's throat. Hiddleston had to grab tightly onto the backs of his thighs as Tom used his mouth, tears springing up from his eyes, while he tried to relax his throat and keep breathing through the merciless fucking.

The quack in Holland's thighs was the telltale sign of his pending climax, but before he could fathom what was happening Hiddleston ripped himself away, his saliva and Tom's precum dribbling down his chin. Holland whined at the loss of his hot wet mouth around him. His plan had failed.

Hiddleston tsk'd as he rose onto his feet, wiping his chin and mouth with the back of his hand, before he forced Holland back down onto the table. Forcing him back into his previous position with his legs hoisted up and parted. Holland didn't dare try anything else and waited for his boyfriend to resume his agonising bet. That he did when he was pleased enough with the way his climax had subsided. He continued with his ministrations, his hand collecting the slick from his cock, before tracing and rubbing two fingers around Tom's hole. His sore ass scraping against the knotted wood beneath him. Also no matter how many times he was touched there by Tom he always shivered with delight at knowing the inevitability. A gasp escaped his parted lips as one finger entered him, it wiggled around inside a bit, until only the tip remained. Hiddleston repeated the action two more times before a second finger joined in. Wiggling both around and then gently spreading them, opening him up, enjoyment etched on his face from the slow torture.

"Tom p-please go faster." Holland pleaded through ragged breaths.

Tom removed his fingers momentarily, allowing Tom to sit up as he untied him, "don't try anything just because I untied you." He warned and gently laid him back again once his arms were freed.

Holland embraced the freedom of his hands, allowing Tom to massage them above his head with one hand, the other hand finding its way down his body. He moaned at the feeling of his fingers returning to his now sodden hole. Only this time he was a lot more rougher, his fingers fucking him wildly and Holland's hands flew up to hold steadfast onto Hiddleston's leather bound hips to keep him grounded. The feeling intensified as his cock was taken back into his hand, being pleasured in such a way that just as Hiddleston said he was crooning into his ear as he lent down to him.

"That's it baby, sing for me. Tell me all." Hiddleston whispered hoarsely.

Unfortunately just as Hiddleston also said Holland didn't get to cum. He lost the bet as he stayed true to his word. Although deep down Tom was proud, but he wouldn't let it show.

Heaving breaths filled the air as Tom sat up and saw Hiddleston stooped against the kitchenette counter, as he unzipped his leather trousers, freeing his flushed viney cock out of its tight confinements. He spits into his palm again and takes hold of his needy cock. Bravely Tom slid off the table and wobbled towards the older man who's fist was tightly assaulting his length. Upon approaching closer he could see Hiddleston's pupils are completely blown out, just like he suspected his own to be like, the same could be said for their lips to be red and swollen.

Holland tries to reach for him with pleading eyes, but his hand is instantly slapped away, followed by a grunt falling from Hiddleston's lips causing his own cock to twitch wantonly in his hand. His lustful gaze roaming over Holland's flushed aroused body, soaking in every ounce of him, his thrusts into his hand becoming erratic as his eyes stopped at Tom's proudly erected cock.

"F-fuckkk!" Tom groaned with his eyes tightly closing in perfect timing of his release. He comes in thick ropes, spurting out onto his hand, some dripping through his fingers and landing on his leather boots.

Holland finally closes the distance between them and kisses Tom's temple. "You're beautiful." He whispers.

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

Later Holland manages to convince Tom to go out instead of being cooped up in the trailer for the rest of the night, like they'd previously planned on doing, at least that's what Tom thought their plans were. Plans of eating a takeaway and staying in for the night just the two of them. Although Holland's foolproof excuse was that he needed it after the torturous bet between them, it seemed to work too.

Their car pulls up at a quiet out of the way grand stoned venue. Hiddleston looked out the window as his eyebrows knitted together, his mouth opening to ask where they were, but the words could barely form as his attention was drawn away from the window. The sounds of Holland opening the door on his side and hoping out onto the gravelled drive had confused him more. He thought they were going to some restaurant in town, evidently the newer and better TH he often referred to Holland as had other ideas. Wordlessly Hiddleston decided to join Holland, stepping out onto the gravelled driveway, holding his hand when he rounded the car and letting the younger man guide him inside.

The venue's foyer was elegant, empty of people, and warmly lit by the posh glass chandelier above their heads. Not that Tom gave Hiddleston much time to enjoy the architecture or finer details of the entrance, he was beaming that much was clear, guiding Tom further inside. Ahead of them down the other end of the corridor was a large wooden door and as if on cue they swung open once they were right outside of them.

"SURPRISE!" Came a chorus of familiar voices of the cast and crew who had grouped together in the centre awaiting their arrival.

Hiddleston was completely stunned. They'd made a lot of effort in elaborately decorating the venue. A banner hung across two pillars, it read 'happy anniversary!' in a bold black font, with a golden swirly pattern in the banner's corners which complimented the back writing. Balloons of black and gold were scattered about the dance floor as well as helium ones decorating the decked out tables. After everybody had spurts out Hiddleston became mobile again. Both Toms got to drink, dance and laugh as well as tuck into the delicious buffet that was spread out at the back.

Near the end of the night when a slow song came on both Toms got onto the dance floor with the rest of the couples. They swayed gently in each other's arms to the music.

"Soooo...do I get to cum later?" Tom asks loud enough for only Tom to hear him with a wiggle of eyebrows.

"I'm not promising anything." Tom says as if thinking about the request, adding to Holland's accomplishment of keeping all of this a secret, except for the twinkle in his eyes was giving him away.

Tom Hiddleston Masterlist

Source: @viviennes-tears​ ​

[iceman-kazansky]

REQUESTS

Hello! I'm Iceman-Kazansky. I am a small fanfic writer. You most likely came here to find out what exactly my Request rules are and Who I write for, correct? So I won't try to come up with anything overly.. intricate to put here and will get straight to the point.

Rules:

I do not write smut whatsoever. No exceptions.

I write for exclusively x female readers, as it is easier for me.

I do not write ships. I'm terrible at them, and I don't feel comfortable with writing them.

I don't write for OCs or Pregnant readers. Anything to do with being pregnant, I can't write.

I hold the right to deny any request, and if need be I will exercise that right.

I Also might be adding on to this, so keep watch.

I write for the characters in the following fandoms:

Top Gun

All, just request and I'll try :)

Star Wars

All

The Hunger Games

Finnick Odair

80's movie characters

Kyle Reese (terminator)

Johnny Castle (Dirty Dancing)

Ren McCormack (footloose)

John Rambo (Rambo)

Marty Mcfly (back to the future)

Daniel Larusso (karate kid)

Johnny Lawrence (Karate kid)

John McClane (Die Hard 1 only)

James T. "Joker" Davis (Full Metal Jacket)

Animal Mother (Full Metal Jacket)

Saving Private Ryan

Private Jackson

Private Rieben

Corporal Upham

Private Wade

Private Ryan

Private Mellish

Private Caparzo

Detroit: Become Human

RK800 Connor

Markus

Simon (maybe?)

Band of Brothers

Almost all

Formula 1

Ayrton Senna

Michael Schumacher

Sebastian Vettel

Niki Lauda (Irl or Daniel Brühl in Rush)

Kimi Raikkonen

Mika Hakkinen (I can try)

Prompt Lists:

(Feel free to use these as inspo in a request, but don't let these restrict you!!)

Romantic prompts (list with a bunch of external lists)

Soldier x Medic prompts

Fluff:

Cute fluff prompts

Short Fluff sentence starters

Angst:

Enemies to lovers <3

Short angst sentences

Injured prompts

Angst prompts (extra stuff on the 1st Fluff list)

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“If buying isn’t owning, piracy isn’t stealing”

20 years ago, I got in a (friendly) public spat with Chris Anderson, who was then the editor in chief of Wired. I'd publicly noted my disappointment with glowing Wired reviews of DRM-encumbered digital devices, prompting Anderson to call me unrealistic for expecting the magazine to condemn gadgets for their DRM:

https://longtail.typepad.com/the_long_tail/2004/12/is_drm_evil.html

I replied in public, telling him that he'd misunderstood. This wasn't an issue of ideological purity – it was about good reviewing practice. Wired was telling readers to buy a product because it had features x, y and z, but at any time in the future, without warning, without recourse, the vendor could switch off any of those features:

https://memex.craphound.com/2004/12/29/cory-responds-to-wired-editor-on-drm/

I proposed that all Wired endorsements for DRM-encumbered products should come with this disclaimer:

WARNING: THIS DEVICE’S FEATURES ARE SUBJECT TO REVOCATION WITHOUT NOTICE, ACCORDING TO TERMS SET OUT IN SECRET NEGOTIATIONS. YOUR INVESTMENT IS CONTINGENT ON THE GOODWILL OF THE WORLD’S MOST PARANOID, TECHNOPHOBIC ENTERTAINMENT EXECS. THIS DEVICE AND DEVICES LIKE IT ARE TYPICALLY USED TO CHARGE YOU FOR THINGS YOU USED TO GET FOR FREE — BE SURE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF BUYING ALL YOUR MEDIA OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AT NO TIME IN HISTORY HAS ANY ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY GOTTEN A SWEET DEAL LIKE THIS FROM THE ELECTRONICS PEOPLE, BUT THIS TIME THEY’RE GETTING A TOTAL WALK. HERE, PUT THIS IN YOUR MOUTH, IT’LL MUFFLE YOUR WHIMPERS.

Wired didn't take me up on this suggestion.

But I was right. The ability to change features, prices, and availability of things you've already paid for is a powerful temptation to corporations. Inkjet printers were always a sleazy business, but once these printers got directly connected to the internet, companies like HP started pushing out "security updates" that modified your printer to make it reject the third-party ink you'd paid for:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Now, this scam wouldn't work if you could just put things back the way they were before the "update," which is where the DRM comes in. A thicket of IP laws make reverse-engineering DRM-encumbered products into a felony. Combine always-on network access with indiscriminate criminalization of user modification, and the enshittification will follow, as surely as night follows day.

This is the root of all the right to repair shenanigans. Sure, companies withhold access to diagnostic codes and parts, but codes can be extracted and parts can be cloned. The real teeth in blocking repair comes from the law, not the tech. The company that makes McDonald's wildly unreliable McFlurry machines makes a fortune charging franchisees to fix these eternally broken appliances. When a third party threatened this racket by reverse-engineering the DRM that blocked independent repair, they got buried in legal threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cold-war

Everybody loves this racket. In Poland, a team of security researchers at the OhMyHack conference just presented their teardown of the anti-repair features in NEWAG Impuls locomotives. NEWAG boobytrapped their trains to try and detect if they've been independently serviced, and to respond to any unauthorized repairs by bricking themselves:

https://mamot.fr/@q3k@hackerspace.pl/111528162905209453

Poland is part of the EU, meaning that they are required to uphold the provisions of the 2001 EU Copyright Directive, including Article 6, which bans this kind of reverse-engineering. The researchers are planning to present their work again at the Chaos Communications Congress in Hamburg this month – Germany is also a party to the EUCD. The threat to researchers from presenting this work is real – but so is the threat to conferences that host them:

https://www.cnet.com/tech/services-and-software/researchers-face-legal-threats-over-sdmi-hack/

20 years ago, Chris Anderson told me that it was unrealistic to expect tech companies to refuse demands for DRM from the entertainment companies whose media they hoped to play. My argument – then and now – was that any tech company that sells you a gadget that can have its features revoked is defrauding you. You're paying for x, y and z – and if they are contractually required to remove x and y on demand, they are selling you something that you can't rely on, without making that clear to you.

But it's worse than that. When a tech company designs a device for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades, they invite both external and internal parties to demand those downgrades. Like Pavel Chekov says, a phaser on the bridge in Act I is going to go off by Act III. Selling a product that can be remotely, irreversibly, nonconsensually downgraded inevitably results in the worst person at the product-planning meeting proposing to do so. The fact that there are no penalties for doing so makes it impossible for the better people in that meeting to win the ensuing argument, leading to the moral injury of seeing a product you care about reduced to a pile of shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

But even if everyone at that table is a swell egg who wouldn't dream of enshittifying the product, the existence of a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature makes the product vulnerable to external actors who will demand that it be used. Back in 2022, Adobe informed its customers that it had lost its deal to include Pantone colors in Photoshop, Illustrator and other "software as a service" packages. As a result, users would now have to start paying a monthly fee to see their own, completed images. Fail to pay the fee and all the Pantone-coded pixels in your artwork would just show up as black:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/28/fade-to-black/#trust-the-process

Adobe blamed this on Pantone, and there was lots of speculation about what had happened. Had Pantone jacked up its price to Adobe, so Adobe passed the price on to its users in the hopes of embarrassing Pantone? Who knows? Who can know? That's the point: you invested in Photoshop, you spent money and time creating images with it, but you have no way to know whether or how you'll be able to access those images in the future. Those terms can change at any time, and if you don't like it, you can go fuck yourself.

These companies are all run by CEOs who got their MBAs at Darth Vader University, where the first lesson is "I have altered the deal, pray I don't alter it further." Adobe chose to design its software so it would be vulnerable to this kind of demand, and then its customers paid for that choice. Sure, Pantone are dicks, but this is Adobe's fault. They stuck a KICK ME sign to your back, and Pantone obliged.

This keeps happening and it's gonna keep happening. Last week, Playstation owners who'd bought (or "bought") Warner TV shows got messages telling them that Warner had walked away from its deal to sell videos through the Playstation store, and so all the videos they'd paid for were going to be deleted forever. They wouldn't even get refunds (to be clear, refunds would also be bullshit – when I was a bookseller, I didn't get to break into your house and steal the books I'd sold you, not even if I left some cash on your kitchen table).

Sure, Warner is an unbelievably shitty company run by the single most guillotineable executive in all of Southern California, the loathsome David Zaslav, who oversaw the merger of Warner with Discovery. Zaslav is the creep who figured out that he could make more money cancelling completed movies and TV shows and taking a tax writeoff than he stood to make by releasing them:

https://aftermath.site/there-is-no-piracy-without-ownership

Imagine putting years of your life into making a program – showing up on set at 5AM and leaving your kids to get their own breakfast, performing stunts that could maim or kill you, working 16-hour days during the acute phase of the covid pandemic and driving home in the night, only to have this absolute turd of a man delete the program before anyone could see it, forever, to get a minor tax advantage. Talk about moral injury!

But without Sony's complicity in designing a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature into the Playstation, Zaslav's war on art and creative workers would be limited to material that hadn't been released yet. Thanks to Sony's awful choices, David Zaslav can break into your house, steal your movies – and he doesn't even have to leave a twenty on your kitchen table.

The point here – the point I made 20 years ago to Chris Anderson – is that this is the foreseeable, inevitable result of designing devices for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades. Anyone who was paying attention should have figured that out in the GW Bush administration. Anyone who does this today? Absolute flaming garbage.

Sure, Zaslav deserves to be staked out over an anthill and slathered in high-fructose corn syrup. But save the next anthill for the Sony exec who shipped a product that would let Zaslav come into your home and rob you. That piece of shit knew what they were doing and they did it anyway. Fuck them. Sideways. With a brick.

Meanwhile, the studios keep making the case for stealing movies rather than paying for them. As Tyler James Hill wrote: "If buying isn't owning, piracy isn't stealing":

https://bsky.app/profile/tylerjameshill.bsky.social/post/3kflw2lvam42n

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/08/playstationed/#tyler-james-hill

Image: Alan Levine (modified) https://pxhere.com/en/photo/218986

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[psychotic-nonsense]

In October of 1967, Steve Harrington is born in Hawkins, Indiana.

He's raised there, forced to live under the strict expectations of his parents, Richard and Samantha. Barely escapes their clutches, freedom fueled by the kids and adults that take the role of guardian and family when the time is right. Keeps himself in check with the always impending apocalypses that arise beneath his feet.

In June of 1985 - when Steve Harrington is 18, while Richard and Samantha Harrington are visiting New York for an extended work trip - Veronica Harrington is born.

She was carried and raised in secret from their hometown. They take care of her between their business hours, dropping her in the hands of nannies and babysitters galore. They don't even think of Indiana during Veronica's early childhood, too focused on work and making sure their daughter starts up right.

In October of 1986 - when Steve Harrington is 19, aged further by ending the Vecna War, yet tamed by his newfound love in Eddie Munson - Richard and Samantha Harrington return to Hawkins.

They don't ask about what happened to their son. They don't ask about the town. They don't ask questions, just give responses to them. Sneering at Steve's friends, complaining about the state of the house, commenting at the disfunctional chaos their home has become.

In November of 1986, Richard and Samantha Harrington disown Steve.

They just let him go. They at least give him a folder of his legal documents, but otherwise just tell him to get out of their house and never use their name again. Claiming Steve doesn't need anything from the room because the Harrington's own everything in it. They don't call him son, they don't say goodbye, they don't acknowledge who's actually taken care of the house, they don't admit most of Steve's former room has changed with money Steve earned himself, they don't dare to give him any money or care where he goes. They just say they're sick of dealing with an unworthy mistake of a child, and force him out of their house.

In November of 1986, the Party's adults adopt Steve.

He runs to them first after everything happens. Held himself together at the start, but broke down the second the words were out. While everyone was trying to comfort Steve, Wayne Munson and Jim Hopper were the first to succeed. They know firsthand that this family would never be the same as blood, no matter how much that blood has boiled and burned before, but the love will be stronger and it will be here. When everyone seconds it, Steve finally accepts it. He becomes a child of the Party - he's everyone's son and everyone's brother, taking whatever surname he sees fit.

In November of 1986, Steve Henderson and Eddie Munson leave Hawkins.

Despite all this good, Steve can't bear to stay in this damned town a second longer, where everyone knows who he is and will soon know everything he isn't. And it's not like Eddie was looking forward to sticking around Hawkins either, especially without his Steve. The kids are the first to agree, surprisingly, and the adults promise to find a way for the boys to get out. Later that week, when Richard and Samantha leave the house to prepare for Veronica, Steve and Eddie break in to take everything that's rightfully theirs. While they're there, not sure what prompts him, Steve makes a bag of his clothes with shoes and his wallet tucked within it, shoving it into his closet. Dustin's mom uses an old favor to get the boys an apartment in Chicago, the Party has one last farewell, and the two boys are gone.

From 1986 onward, Veronica Harrington is raised in Hawkins, Indiana.

Richard and Samantha are adamant in their daughter coming out exactly how she should. They steadily convince the town to forget the Harringtons ever had a son and lock the room on the second floor next to the stairs without ever touching the inside. They raise her with formality and pride at the top of their expectations, wanting at least one child to come out right.

But Veronica is the spitting image of Steve's honesty and care. She puts on a facade when needed, but even at a young age, she wants nothing more than to be someone's light in the darkness. She plays with every lonely kid at school, and tries to make people laugh at the business parties she's dragged to. It's not received well by her parents, but Veronica is much too strong willed and stubborn to let it phase her.

In April of 1991 - when she's 6 and they're so much stronger around their hearts - Veronica Harrington meets Steve and Eddie Munson for the first time.

It's the year Erica is set to graduate high school. Steve and Eddie have been making the drive for every holiday this year, ordered determined to give her the best senior year she could have. It's Easter Sunday, and Wayne somehow managed to drag his boys away to church - a Munson custom, as even Eddie insisted they go.

While at the snack table post sermon, a little girl comes up to Steve, mistaking him for her father. He and Eddie gently comfort the girl, introducing themselves and offering to help the girl find her parents. That's when Veronica introduces herself, striking Steve deep in his heart. Still, he keeps quiet, even gifting her a little origami crane made from napkins at the table. He calls her "chickpea" for the color of her dress, tells her to keep the crane secret and safe, "If ever you need to find your way back home, you hold that close, and it'll tell you."

Meanwhile, Wayne has come across Richard and Samantha in the crowd opposite the kids. Exchanging formalities, Wayne mentions his son and nephew are in town, news the Harrington's are surprised at, as Wayne didn't seem like the father type. However, trying to keep face, they remain civil and insist on introducing their daughter.

Cue Veronica running to her parents with Steve and Eddie in tow. Cue Steve calling Wayne dad right to Richard's face. Cue the Harrington's immediate leave from the church, Veronica waving behind her with a crane placed carefully in her pocket.

From then on, Veronica Harrington's life changes indefinitely.

Her parents' expectations grow tenfold. She finds out she's horribly allergic to chickpeas. All of her friends must be approved by her parents, and any that don't fit their image are ordered to leave her.

Veronica takes these changes in stride - is her class's top student, captain of the softball and volleyball teams in junior high, keeps the friends she wants in secret from her parents - but she can't help but keep the crane in a little box in her room. Gets a necklace with a little origami crane pendant, holds it whenever she needs to make a hard choice. Can't help but expand herself in secret, learn things her parents would never approve of - lock picking, other languages, sleight of hand, a clothing style that's nothing like the dark blues of her family, all warmth and light. She explores every room in her house, yet is unable to find her way into that room upstairs next to the steps.

In May of 1998, Veronica Harrington discovers the truth about her brother.

She's about to be a freshman. Her class was touring the high school in preparation, and while passing the athletics hall, her eyes hit the swimming trophies. Each row stuffed with trophies, and each one with a name that stabbed her right in the stomach: Steve Harrington.

After that, she couldn't bear all the secrecy anymore. Late that same night, she finally uses her lock picking skills to break into that room. And though it's devoid of life, it is a bedroom, so evidently lived in. It's frozen in time, twisted sheets covered in dust, old papers crinkled from being stepped on but not picked up, old clean clothes still sitting in the hamper. It's a boy's room, clearly, and Veronica is careful walking around this place of memories.

She does still explore, quietly clicking on lights around the room, too cautious to touch the overhead lights. She looks under the bed, finding a bat and a trash can lid, both embedded with rusty nails. A shirt that still smells like fresh laundry yet has a back stained permanently with long red lines down the shoulders. Dozens of stapled documents labeled NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT, detailing horrific events that each have that same name signed at the bottom.

With shaking hands she checks the closet, and finds it mostly empty. All except for a deep green graduation robe and cap, a cream Hawkins High letterman, and a duffel bag hidden in the back corner. The cap has a 1985 tassel, and the letterman has Harrington branded on the back with basketball and swimming patches galore. And the bag, when she checks it, looks like a survivalist pack someone would make in an apocalypse. At the top sits a wallet, and inside is an ID for a Steve Harrington, who has the same face as the one in her origami memories.

And Veronica is done. She wakes up the next morning and throws Steve's jacket on the kitchen table, startling both her parents mid sip of coffee. She finds herself in a screaming match with her father, demanding them to quit lying to her, begging to know who her brother is.

In a fit of rage, Richard tells her. Tells her everything Richard and Samantha never saw in Steve, about Veronica's secret birth, the disownment, Steve's disappearance from the Harrington house and Hawkins. She's reminded of that one Easter Sunday, and is told how Richard and Samantha faked Veronica's allergy to keep her mind from being tainted by whatever curse befell their bloodline before. Orders her to never say that name again.

In a fit of rage, Veronica bites back. Calls her parents cruel and overly expectant. Comes clean about her secret freedom. Says she'd rather be nothing than ever carry the burden of the Harrington name ever again.

She hides away in her room after the fight. Cries in her closet with her origami box cradled tightly to her chest, begging it to take her home because this place isn't anymore, maybe never was. Cries for the brother she never even got to meet, who went through so many horrible things yet still got put through this same punishment. Cries for the future she won't get to have, losing her hope for a new beginning that will now never be.

At the start of June, 1998, Veronica runs away.

She makes it through the rest of May in near silence. She writes notes for all of her friends at the end of the school year, and one for her parents to inevitably find. Finds 75 dollars in Steve's old wallet, stuffs the duffel bag the rest of the way with her belongings, and says goodbye to Hawkins.

She takes the first bus she can find out of town. Doesn't care that it's going to Chicago, doesn't really care where she's going now. She befriends an old homeless man riding the bus as well, becomes another interesting name in his "Book of Wanders (Pronounced as Wonders)." As Veronica's telling the story about unknowingly meeting her brother, she remembers the crane in her bag. She reaches in to retrieve the little box, then the crane, nearly crying seeing how disheveled and unfolded it is. Broken and doomed, just like her. But looking at it now after so long, she thinks she sees something written inside it. Despite it shattering her heart pieces, she carefully unfolds the little crane.

At its center, in old, bleeding blue text, reads, "Find the Swooping Bat if you've lost your way."

The old man laughs then, taking Veronica's hand and placing it onto her chest, over her heart. "It's fate," he whispers in the dark bus. "There's a place called that in Chicago."

Veronica uses her money to rent them both a hotel for the night, giving the old man a warm bath for the first time in weeks. She gifts him the clothes as well, saying it's, "an honorary thanks from my brother, for helping me get here." They bid each other farewell in the morning, the old man telling her to keep hold of fate.

She finds her way to the Swooping Bat easily, hand on her necklace guiding her way. It's a quaint little diner, popular enough to be comfortably warm when she walks in. A young lady in a wheelchair - Max, says her nametag, with pins saying things like, "Summer work blows" and "USC grad or bust!" resting on her collar - guides her to a booth next to the sunrise.

"Anything I can get you today?" Max asks when Veronica's seated.

Veronica's fully ready to order everything on the menu, what with how delicious this place smells, but then she remembers her funds. 5 bucks, if she's lucky. "Just a chocolate milk, for now. Biggest one you have, please." She somehow plays off Max's skeptical look, her eyes sweeping over Veronica's no doubt disheveled and no-food-in-36-hours appearance.

It somehow works out, and Max is wheeling away. Veronica allows herself a moment to collapse, stomach growling in pain and eyes burning with the realization she has no idea what she's going to do now. She just has this last bit of hope to hold onto, and without it, she'll be nothing but a husk.

She's not sure how long she sits there, staring at the sunrise and letting sound and AC whisk her mind away, but there's suddenly a little knock on her table. Her head snaps up, and there's Max again, setting down a giant glass of chocolate milk... alongside a loaded breakfast plate.

"It's on the house," Max rushes to explain, all fondness when Veronica scrambles to get her wallet. "Courtesy of the owner. And between you and me," she whispers with a wink, "just take the damn food, kid."

Veronica stumbles over herself for a moment, rendered near speechless, before she finally comes back. She begs Max to thank the owner profusely, before rushing to dig into the pancakes before her. She's halfway done dousing the stack in syrup by the time Max wheels away, when there's suddenly someone laughing.

"Of course," says a choked-up voice behind her. "Can't have any chickpeas starving in my booths."

Veronica nearly drops her fork. She turns so sharply she gets dizzy. Seven years can't change a person that much, surely, because though he's bigger in the torso and he has glasses on the bridge of his nose and his hair is cut so close, he still has the same softness in his voice and the same slouch in his stance and the same moles around his eyes and his smile is so bright despite the tears in his eyes, and though Veronica can barely see through tears herself, it's not like she needs them anyway to know it's-

"Steve!" she cries, scrambling out of the booth to meet her brother halfway. The relief of it all working out has the rest of her restraint collapsing, forcing harsh sobs out of her and into Steve's shoulder. The siblings hold each other in the middle of a restaurant, a voice in the background asking everyone to leave them be. Steve doesn't stop whispering, even as his chest heaves with broken gasps between tears, "You're save, Veronica, I got you, I got you, it's gonna be okay, you're safe here, it's okay, sis, it's okay..."

"That you, lil' chickpea?" whispers a different voice once they've calmed down. Veronica reluctantly pulls away and finds a man kneeling beside them, a hand on Steve's shoulder and similar tears in his eyes. His hair and tattoos remind her of the tamed wild from seven years ago, covered in black in the middle of church yet glowing brighter than the stained glass, the one that Steve looks at in past and present with a glowing love Veronica never saw between her parents.

"Yeah," she whispers, wiping her tears away before placing a hand atop her necklace. It catches Eddie and Steve's eyes and make them beam with pride and relief. "Yeah, it's... it's me...."

[ohisms]

↪     𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 , HISTORICAL 〳 FANTASY edition !   (  a  collection  of  25  settings  based upon the period 〳 fantasy genres ; meant  to  inspire  drabbles  or  be  used  as  prompts . WILL be updated .   )

001. the interior of an elegant carriage .

002. seated at a large dining table set with an elaborate meal .

003. the shadowy corner of a lively tavern .

004. the top of a light house during a raging storm .

005. along the dimly lit corridor of a large manor .

006. the damp , dark brig of a pirate ship .

007. the ruins of an ancient structure lost to time .

008. a theater hall brimming with attendees .

009. the bustling streets of a market town .

010. a sun - drenched vineyard .

011. along a boardwalk overlooking the sea .

012. a moonlit cemetery full of weathered graves .

013. on horseback , deep in the woods .

014. a luxurious drawing room smelling of tea .

015. a sprawling dragon roost , hidden atop craggy mountain peaks .

016. a war - torn battlefield .

017. a beautiful cathedral bustling with churchgoers .

018. within a crammed opera box during a performance .

019. an elegant tearoom serving afternoon refreshments .

020. a lakeside pavilion on an especially hot day .

021. a sprawling network of underground catacombs .

022. a hidden glade in the middle of the woods .

023. the deep , dark dungeon of a castle .

024. a market square full of fruit and fineries .

025. a baker's shop smelling of wonderful pastries .

026. the quiet stables of a large estate .

027. on the outskirts of a magnificent water fountain .

028. in a dimly lit library , hidden amongst the books .

029. among the high walls of a hedge maze .

030. at the front desk of a warm , homey inn .

031. under the protection of a gazebo as it rains .

032. on the landing of a busy train station .

033. a gambling hall alight with raucous laughter and drink .

034. a pristine infirmary , mostly empty .

035. on board a huge ship making a long voyage .

+   20  more  setting  prompts :    6 / 01 / 2024

036. in a sunlit garden adorned with blooming flowers .

037. at the edge of a serene forest lake under a starry sky.

038. within a quiet corridor of a castle during a lavish ball .

039. in a bustling blacksmith's forge , sparks flying .

040. on a rocky cliffside overlooking a vast ocean .

041. in a quaint village square during a festival .

042. within a secret chamber hidden behind a bookshelf .

043. in the grand atrium of a luxurious hotel .

044. along a narrow brick alleyway in a crowded town .

045. within a busy marketplace in a desert town .

046. on a tranquil beach at sunrise .

047. in a cozy cottage with a crackling fireplace .

048. at the helm of a majestic airship soaring through the clouds .

049. in a grand library filled with ancient tomes .

050. on a bustling harbor dock as ships come and go .

051. within a magical forest where the trees glow softly .

052. in an apothecary's shop filled with herbs and potion .

053. at a secluded cabin by a dangerously quick river .

054. within the opulent throne room of a powerful ruler .

055. in an enchanted glade where fairies dance in the moonlight .

[dcxdpdabbles]

I’ve seen you said you take prompts, so, I had an idea if you’re interested.

So, imagine Danny has an assignment from Clockwork, and as punishment for a prank he pulled where he messed with something and unintentionally pulled CW’s attention away from the timelines for long enough for the Flash to accidentally ruin the timeline, after the timeline was fixed Danny’s forced to go and fix every single broken clock in the solar system. This includes stuff like watches and the batcave clock, maybe a few timed bombs, something on the watchtower, villain bases, etc.. Everyone is extremely confused and concerned as to how and why this eldritch kid with the Mark of Kronos is appearing randomly in their secret bases. Danny isn’t just fixing the clocks, sometimes he pulls Shenanigans depending on where he has to go. If he sees clones in a lab, he’ll call up Dani and they’ll pull off a heist together and she’ll take care of teaching and raising them afterwards. Talons? Danny opens a portal to a section of the infinite realms and gives them their own island after having the yetis go through deprogramming with them and stuff. He sees some stuffy fruitloop batcave? Graffiti and glitter. Lazarus pits? Free smoothie! Of course, he’s respectful to civilians when he bumps into them, giving little unmeltable ice statues to kids, helping people who need it, etc. He fixes a family heirloom watch, bringing tears to a grandson’s eyes. He’s helping people while on his mission, while also messing with any fruitloops he finds. So all of these people around the world are just really confused and being like, what in the world, who/what is this kid?! And sharing stories about him online, painting him as a cryptid or god or whatever. The Justice League and the villains are just Concerned because the kid feels like Kronos, time, and death energy, and have no idea what he’s trying to accomplish. Maybe they think that working clocks give him power, idk, just thinking of the conspiracy boards about Danny as he goes through his punishment and fixes every single clock, including on other planets (Danny practically squealing the whole time as he meets *aliens* in *space*! What cool technology and life!) This is meant to be a punishment but Danny’s living out his dreams. Sure it’s boring at times, but all this traveling is interesting and can help him bond with Dani, so this isn’t much of a punishment for him. He gets to be mischievous and help people out, it’s a win-win. Meanwhile everyone else is thinking that the end of the world is coming and that Kronos has been reborn and is trying to take over the world somehow with clocks. If you’re willing to expand or add to this or make it your own, please do!

I love the idea of Danny just *poof* "Yes, hello, I am the clock-smith" in the middle of, say, the watch tower. Floating up to the clock wall to adjust the time while pulling out a manual on time zones in different parts of space. The watch tower is within Earth's intergalactic waters per se, but which Earth time did he set it to???

Should he anchor it to one place or just place a spell on it to show all the time zones in a cycle? Does Clockwork have a procedure for this?

Meanwhile, all the heroes in the cafeteria are jumping to their feet, some whispering, "A fifth dimension imp!" and others yelling, "It's Kronos!"

Wonder Woman kneeling before the flouting teen does not help these accusations, as she loudly proclaims, "It's an honor to be of service, Lord Kronos."

Danny looked down at her. "Oh hey, an Amazonian."

"Why have you graced us with your presence? Is there anything this lowly servant can help you with?"

".....Can you gather all the watches for me?"

"At once!" And that's how the rest of the heroes almost have heart attacks because Wonder Woman herself is rushing at them at terrifying speed to rip away any form of watch from their bodies. She's on a war path, and no one can stop her. They can see it in her eyes- she'll draw blood if she has to.

They hand over their watches without much of a fight, feeling like they are being mugged. Wonder Woman sprints away to the next few levels- the screams of fellow heroes echoing in her wake.

Batman isn't as willing to cooperate with Kronos until he knows why the god is here, but Danny doesn't give him much of a choice. Mostly because he is uncontainable. Thankfully, he seems fixated on watches (Bruce writes in his notes, "Can gods be autistic???), and he leaves once they are all fixed.

He changes everything to be precisely twenty-nine hours ahead of whatever time they originally were at. Wonder Woman basically barked at everyone to not switch them back, banishing her sword.

From there, Batman does research with his sons and daughters. Tim finds the information of Danny appearing throughout history to fix watches, and Hal finds similar historical text in Oa's archives—usually right before a horrible tragedy. Further investigation shows a horrendous discovery.

Danny adds or subtracts the same number of hours from the told time as before the tragedy.

He was on Mars three hours before the tipping point of the civil war when the tremendous green Martian massacre happened. He added three hours to the green Martian's capital clock tower.

He was there on Krypton twenty-five hours before the planet was swallowed up by a black hole and exploded. Every public area with any form of time telling was changed to twenty-five regardless of whether it matched the planet's time zone.

And now he was here in the clock tower.

Bruce realizes that they have only one hour left, so he commands everyone to rush about and search for what could be the issue. It's only thanks to the Speedsters' quickness that they find the malfunction in the tower's core—the thing keeping them flouting. Had they been one hour too late, it would have caused the Tower to get pulled into Earth's gravitational pull.

Leading to them crashing into Earth- right above the most populated country of the world, possibly killing millions and leaving the world without their heroes.

The tragedy is avoided but now everyone is weary of when or where Kronos will appear.

Meanwhile, Clockwork is watching the timeline, amused that they think Danny is him when, in reality, Danny is just picking a random time and sticking the clocks to match since it's less math.

[leftoverpages]

Starlit Sands

Pairing 𓅪 Knight!Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood x Targaryen!reader

Tags 𓅪 forbidden love, angst, fluff-ish, no war AU, reader uses she/her but no physical description, she’s Rhaenyra’s daughter (no mention of the father)

Notes: spent all day writing for this man so you’re going to be fed for the next few days <3

Wordcount 𓅪 1.1k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's chambers in the Red Keep were a sanctuary of silk and velvet, where whispered secrets echoed in the tapestries and the scent of jasmine lingered in the air. From her window, Y/N watched the city of King's Landing bustle and buzz with life below, the setting sun casting a fiery glow over the rooftops. It was here, amidst the opulence of her mother's court, that she felt most trapped.

Tonight, however, a restlessness stirred within her heart, a yearning for something beyond the gilded confines of the castle. With nimble fingers, she unlatched the window and slipped out into the twilight, her silken gown billowing softly in the evening breeze. Moonlight bathed her in its gentle embrace as she made her way through deserted corridors and shadowed alcoves, guided by the distant murmur of the sea.

Unbeknownst to her, Ser Benjicot Blackwood stood vigilant outside her door, his silver armor gleaming in the flickering torchlight. His duty as a knight of the Kingsguard demanded unwavering vigilance, yet tonight, his thoughts strayed to the young princess whose safety was his charge. As the hours wore on, a sense of unease gnawed at him, prompting him to check on her.

When Lady Rhaenyra arrived at her daughter's chambers, her brow furrowed with concern. "Where is Y/N?" she demanded of the guards stationed outside, her voice edged with urgency.

"She was here, Your Grace," one of the guards stammered, his eyes darting nervously. "But we haven't seen her leave."

Rhaenyra's jaw tightened with worry. "Find her," she ordered sharply, her tone brooking no argument. "Now."

Meanwhile, Y/N reached the deserted beach at the edge of the Blackwater Rush, her bare feet sinking into the cool, damp sand. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery path upon the water's surface as waves whispered secrets to the shore. The rhythmic ebb and flow of the tide beckoned to her, offering solace amidst the tumult of her thoughts.

She paused at the water's edge, her gaze drawn to the horizon where the last remnants of daylight clung stubbornly to the sky. Stars began to twinkle overhead, painting the heavens with their ancient light. In that moment, Y/N felt a profound sense of peace, as if the weight of her responsibilities had been momentarily lifted.

Ser Benjicot, racing against time and worry, finally caught sight of Y/N's figure silhouetted against the waves. Relief flooded through him as he quickened his pace, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. "Y/N!" he called out, his voice echoing across the deserted beach.

Startled, Y/N turned to face him, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of guilt. "Ser Benjicot," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "I... I needed..."

Her words faltered, caught between explanation and apology, as Ser Benjicot approached her with measured steps. "My lady," he began, his tone a mixture of reproach and concern. "You cannot simply wander off like this. Your safety..."

Y/N met his gaze, her expression a mix of defiance and vulnerability. "I needed to escape," she confessed softly, her voice tinged with melancholy. "To breathe, to feel... alive."

Ser Benjicot's stern countenance softened as he regarded her with a depth of understanding that belied his knightly demeanor. "Your safety is paramount," he insisted, his voice tinged with anguish. "I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you."

Y/N reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing against his armored sleeve. "I know," she replied softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "But sometimes, I need to remind myself that there's beauty beyond these walls."

Their gazes locked in a silent exchange fraught with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. Ser Benjicot's heart raced with conflicting emotions, torn between duty and the undeniable pull of his feelings for the young princess under his protection.

"Y/N," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I am bound by oath, by duty..."

Before he could finish, Y/N closed the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of longing and forbidden passion. In that fleeting moment, time stood still as they shared a stolen embrace, their hearts beating in unison beneath the starlit sky.

When they finally pulled away, their breaths mingling in the salt-tinged air, Ser Benjicot's resolve wavered under the weight of their unspoken truth. "I cannot," he whispered hoarsely, his voice betraying the turmoil within. "I should not..."

Y/N silenced him with a gentle touch to his lips, her eyes shimmering with determination. "Sometimes, Ser Benjicot," she murmured, her voice filled with quiet resolve, "love cannot be bound by duty alone."

With a heavy heart and a lingering touch, Y/N turned towards the Red Keep, leaving Ser Benjicot alone with the echo of their forbidden kiss and the weight of their unspoken yearning.

But instead of leaving, Y/N hesitated, feeling the pull of the serene beach and the quiet company of the knight who watched over her. She turned back to Ser Benjicot, whose expression mirrored her inner turmoil.

"Let’s stay," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle rush of the waves. "Just for a moment."

Ser Benjicot hesitated, torn between his duty and the undeniable bond that had formed between them. But in the end, his heart won over his sense of duty, and he sank down beside her on the soft sand, his armor creaking softly with the movement.

They sat in silence, watching as the last vestiges of daylight faded from the sky, giving way to a tapestry of stars that glittered like diamonds overhead. Y/N leaned against Ser Benjicot, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

"This is beautiful," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder as she traced the outline of a constellation with her finger.

Ser Benjicot glanced down at her, his gaze softening as he looked upon the young princess who had captured his heart. "Yes," he agreed quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "But not as beautiful as you."

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I know we cannot be together," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But in this moment, let us forget about duty and honor."

Ser Benjicot's hand found hers, intertwining their fingers together in a silent promise. "Just for tonight," he vowed, his voice thick with emotion. "Let us be together."

They sat together in the tranquil embrace of the night, their hearts entwined amidst the stars and the whispering waves. For in that fleeting moment, duty and love coexisted harmoniously, bound by the silent oath of their hearts.

And as the moon sailed high overhead, casting its silvery light upon the world below, Y/N and Ser Benjicot watched the sunset fade into memory, cherishing the fragile yet enduring bond they had forged amidst the serenity of the beach, knowing their love was a secret whispered between the stars.