#prompt 1340

[wonderful-prompts]

Prompt #1340

Metal clinked against glass beads.

[thepromptfoundry]

Calling all history nerds, period piece connoisseurs, and fans of time-travel plots! Decades December is coming up here at The Prompt Foundry!

This list is being posted a little earlier than usual because historical work can take some time. The list has some reference points for you to jump off from. Show off your special interest in a particular era or event, or start a wiki walk from the the Wikipedia page for each decade to learn something new!

Have fun exploring resources like @thetimelinesofslang, the Fashion History Timelines from NYSU's Fashion Institute of Technology, or the fashion plates and historical photos from blogs like @omgthatdress or @historical-fashion-polls!

If you use this list, please tag me here @thepromptfoundry, I’d love to see your writing and art!

Feel free to combine different days' prompts with each other, or combine them with other events! Use your OCs, your favorite characters from media, your own experiences, whatever tickles your fancy.

Respond to as many prompts as you want or as interest you, don’t worry about missing or skipping any. Remember, this is supposed to be fun!

If you have any questions or musings, check our FAQ, and if you don't find your answer, shoot me an ask.

Plain text list below the cut:

1) 0010s Xin dynasty in China, Caesar Augustus in Rome

2) 1900s Edwardian era, Russo-Japanese War, release of the first feature film The Great Train Robbery

3) 300s Teotihuacan flourishing in present-day Mexico, writing of the Kama Sutra

4) 1910s World War 1, the Russian Revolution

5) 1440s Late Middle Ages/Early Renaissance in Europe, the hangul writing system is introduced in Korea

6) 1920s Prohibition in the US, rise of fascism in Europe, earliest sync-sound movies

7) 0070s Roman Epire, destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, eruption of Mt. Vesuvius and destruction of Pompeii

8) 1930s The Great Depression, the Declaration of the Independence of India, art deco, color film

9) 1090s The First Crusade, the Liao, Xia, and Song dynasties in various parts of China

10) 1810s The Napoleonic Wars, the Regency era in England

11) 1940s World War 2, post-war rebuilding

12) 1000s BC The Iron Age, King David of the Israelites, development of the Phoenician alphabet

13) 1950s Baby Boom, Red Scare, the Korean War, rock'n'roll, zippers and television both become commonplace

14) 1340s The Black Death in Europe, decline of the Mongol Empire

15) 1590s Late Elizabethan Era in Europe, William Shakespeare, Imjin War between Japan and Korea

16) 1960s Moon landing, hippies, mod fashion, Chinese Cultural Revolution, Stonewall, Star Trek, the Civil Rights movement

17) 1770s The American Revolution, founding of the real Illuminati

18) 1860s American Civil War era, late Edo period in Japan

19) 1970s The Sexual Revolution, disco, the first video games, end of the Vietnam War

20) 2200s Whatever the future holds!

21) 1980s End of the Cold War and fall of the Berlin Wall, beginnings of the World Wide Web, the First Intifada in Gaza

22) 1660s Part of the Golden Age of Piracy, the English Restoration

23) 1990s Internet access becomes widespread, grunge, the Gulf War, the Troubles in Ireland, height of the AIDS crisis, Princess Dianna, first Pokemon games

24) 1230s University of Cambridge founded in England, beginnings of the Mali Empire in Africa, rein of Emperor Shijo in Japan

25) 2000s The “War On Terror”, rise of Big Tech, Y2K fashion, emo culture, cell phones become commonplace

26) 1880s Gilded Age, the first skyscrapers, electrification of cities, first household electrical appliances like fans and irons

27) 1640s Qing dynasty begins in China, the First English Civil War

28) 2010s Hipster culture, height of video streaming, YA lit boom

29) 500s Liang and Northern Wei dynasties in China, Heptarchy period in England, height of prosperity of the Mayan Empire

30) 2020s Present day!

31) 3130s Whatever the future holds!

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1340

@skiny406 asked:

Would you do a prompt where caretaker and whumpee have a huge fight, and then whumpee is hurt (stabbed, poisoned, whatever you want) and tries to call caretaker but they just don’t answer (either is busy or just mad) and later they got to hear the VOICEMAILS.

I thought of a string of voicemails. Feel free to change them to suit your injury/situation!

“Hey it’s me, I know you don’t want to talk to me but I- fuck I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and If I can do anything, I will. I’ll uh- I’ll maybe talk to you later?”

“Hi [character], I hope you’re alright. Um. I know you don’t want to talk to me, and I do understand but- but I really need you to call me back.”

“I’m sorry. That’s selfish of me, you don’t need to call me back… it would just be good to hear your voice. I’m um, I’m sorry for everything. I hope you’re okay. Probably better than me right now, ha, but don’t worry, I’ll uh. I’ll be alright.”

“Fuck, ouch, alright. Hey [character], ah, would you- could- maybe call me back? It’s um. Shit I’m sorry, it’s not important, I’ll try [another character] again.”

*starts with the whumpee gasping for breath* “H- hi, it’s me, please, I know you’re mad, and you don’t want to talk to me again but I- I really need you to call me back.”

“Alright. Message received. You’re pissed at me- you’re fucking pissed and I’m sorry, alright? Just- pick up the phone. Please. I-I’m in trouble again.”

*there’s a pause with just some breathing. There are voices in the background.*

“Heeeyyy [character], sorry about the last one. Pocket dial hahah! Must have done it when I sat down.” *they stop to cough, it’s hacking and wheezy.* “I’m sorry. I really am- I shouldn’t have shouted at you, you didn’t deserve that. I’m in a bit of trouble… it’s’all a bit blurry, but- but I managed to get here on my own. Call me back… please?”

“It’s um. It’s not looking good. I- I just want to say I’m sorry, again, I truly am.” They’re gasping now, perhaps crying. “I’m sorry….”

“This is [nurses name] calling from [the hospital], [whumpee] has you listed as their emergency contact. Please call this number as soon as you’re available.”

*there’s another message. Just voices and the whirring of machines. Maybe some crying. There’s a muffled curse before it cuts off again.*

“… I miss you.”

“Do you miss me? I- I understand if you don’t. Just tell me you’re okay, please?”

“I can go home tomorrow. I’ve been given the all clear, I’m sorry for scaring you. I’ll um. I’ll leave you alone. I um. I understand, I’m a mess. You were right. Just - no - don’t call me back.”

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1340

"Run away, little mouse! RUN AWAY!" the villain yelled, gleefully watching as their nemesis fled the disastrous scene. "You'll never make it out anyway!"

As Hero ran for their life, the laughter of their enemy haunted their uneven steps. They had to get back to base… but would the others even let them in after this big of a fuck up?

[desertfangs]

Grocery Store - Marius/Daniel - Slice of Life - 1340 words

Just a little slice of life ficlet written for the @vamptember prompt "Grocery Store." I love imagining the immortals in stores and shops, IDK why but it's always fun to picture so I couldn't resist.

Full text beneath the cut.

The air was electric with the impending storm and it made Daniel’s hair stand on end. Marius hurried him along the sidewalk, wanting to get home before the downpour.

They made it two more blocks before thunder cracked overhead and the sky opened. Rain pelted down in great sheets, raindrops slamming into the pavement with such force that they bounced back up and soaked the legs of his jeans. Daniel spotted the bright lights of the supermarket across the street and pulled Marius toward it. 

They rushed inside, the automatic doors dinging as they closed behind them. Daniel’s sweatshirt dripped water on the floor. Marius watched the rain through the glass, squeezing the wetness out of his long hair. He glanced at Daniel. “Are you all right?” 

Daniel bit back a sarcastic retort about how he was not the Wicked Witch of the West who could be melted with water. “A little wet but I think I’ll survive.” 

“I was sure we’d make it home before it started,” Marius said, clearly annoyed that he’d misjudged the timing. 

Daniel shrugged. “It’s the weather. Not even our Norse friend Thorne can hold back the thunder.” 

Marius smiled faintly and then sighed. “I guess we can remain here for a bit, see if it stops.” 

Daniel noticed one of the cashiers watching them. The store was open for several hours yet but it was pretty empty. He grabbed a hand basket and urged Marius deeper into the store. They could at least pretend they were doing more than riding out the rain.

They meandered through the produce section. Daniel picked up a pineapple. He could just barely remember how it had tasted: sweet, tart, acidic. “Did you ever get to try one of these?” 

Marius shook his head.

“Shame.” He set the pineapple down. Sometimes the things some of the older vampires had never gotten to experience astounded him: tomatoes, chocolate, Spaghetti-Os in a can. Things he’d always taken for granted. In another five hundred years, who knew what new wonders Daniel would find strange or incomprehensible, or simply never get to taste? 

Marius wandered in front of an endcap stacked with soft drinks. As he stood there in front of cans of Pepsi and Dr. Pepper, Daniel was struck suddenly by how out of place Marius looked here inside a garishly lit supermarket. Even in the modern clothes he wore tonight—khakis and a red polo shirt—he had an air of timelessness that made him stand out, exacerbated by the pallor of his marble skin. 

Of course, any mortal who noticed something off would chalk it up to their imagination, but he looked so otherworldly that it made Daniel’s pulse race. He was beautifully inhuman. Daniel surreptitiously snapped a photo with his iPhone. 

Marius turned, smiling indulgently, and Daniel felt his cheeks flush a little, sure Marius had heard his thoughts.

They moved on to the bakery section. There, they studied the display case of cakes, decorated with bright colored frostings and little sugar flowers. 

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Daniel pointed to a cake with beautiful orchids in shades of pink and orange made out of icing.

“It is a fascinating use of colored sugar,” Marius said. 

Daniel started to say something about the artistic merit of cake decoration but decided against it. He wasn’t in the mood to get roped into another debate about what constituted art. 

He headed down the next aisle and found himself in front of an array of canned vegetables with glossy, colorful labels. Daniel lifted a can of peas from the shelf as Marius came up silently beside him. 

“Armand used to love the canned food aisle,” Daniel said, remembering the first time he’d taken him to a grocery store. Armand had spent an hour lifting cans, reading the labels, and questioning Daniel about the contents. They’d bought a cart full of stuff, so much that they’d had to take a taxi back to their apartment, where Armand diligently opened every single can and dumped the contents out onto styrofoam plates to study it. 

Daniel laughed at the memory, even as the ache of missing his maker wormed through him. 

“New York is not that far,” Marius said softly. 

Daniel sighed. He thought about that a lot, but he wasn’t ready. The stilted phone calls he and Armand shared were awkward and strange and Daniel didn’t know how to talk to him anymore. The thought of being in the same room as him again was overwhelming. He placed the can of peas back on the shelf.

“We can’t even get a mile back to our place,” Daniel quipped. 

Marius smiled at the bad joke but Daniel caught something in his eyes, a sadness or a longing perhaps. It was gone before he could be sure, replaced with something more playful. “Is that a challenge?”

“You know I enjoy challenging you, but that was merely an observation,” Daniel said, purposely bumping Marius’ shoulder as he moved down the aisle. “Come on, Old Man, I’ll blow your mind.” 

He heard Marius laugh softly as he turned the corner to the next aisle. When Marius reached him, Daniel gestured to the shelves full of colorful cereal boxes with cartoon mascots and big, colorful fonts. 

“Behold, the modern breakfast of champions,” Daniel said. 

Amusement crinkled the skin around Marius’ eyes. “I know what cereal is, Daniel. I do watch television occasionally.” 

“But did you ever imagine such a thing when you were young, mortal, and hungry in the morning?”

“Did I ever envision an illustrated tiger trying to sell me a box of sweetened grain? No, I can’t say that I did.” 

Daniel sighed. “Sometimes I think about how much has changed in the few decades since I was mortal and then I try to imagine how different everything will be in another hundred years, let alone a thousand.” 

“Does that worry you?” Marius asked.

Daniel shook his head. “I want to see how the world changes, what advancements are made, what new technologies and inventions appear. It’s part of why I wanted this.” 

“But…” Marius pressed.

Daniel shrugged. “I guess I didn’t expect things to change so fast.”

Marius laughed, loud and boisterous, his voice ringing through the aisle. He put his arm around Daniel’s shoulders. “The longer you live, the faster things seem to change. The more you will step out of the house and realize the world is not the one you knew a century or even a decade before.”

Daniel stared at the glossy cereal boxes that now had metallic shiny letters decorating them. He couldn’t even remember what Frosted Flakes tasted like. “How do you handle it?” 

Marius considered. “A passion for the world and the people in it, I suppose. A desire to discover what will happen next.” 

“And that keeps you going?” Daniel asked. 

Marius was silent for a long moment. “I endure because I must.”

“For yourself or for everyone else?” 

Marius ruffled Daniel’s hair affectionately. “Always asking pointed questions.” 

“You like that about me,” Daniel said wryly.

“Indeed I do.” Marius was silent for a long moment. “I believe surrounding ourselves with others is how we remain connected to the world and keep our desire to exist in it. Mortals and their art and creativity and philosophy and new wonders.” Marius’ arm slid down and around Daniel’s waist, tightening around him. “And there’s our own kind, of course. Never discount the power of connection to others who also endure.” 

Daniel leaned against him, Marius’ body solid and powerful like it was made of his stone, his arm around Daniel like a marble vice, keeping him close and safe. 

“I think that’s the key,” Daniel said. “Connection to our kind.” 

“You’ve always been wise beyond your years.” Marius kissed the top of Daniel’s head and led him out of the aisle, back to the front of the store. 

The rain had abated, becoming only a light drizzle. Daniel replaced his empty hand basket in the holder and they walked out into the damp night, arm in arm. 

[not-krys]

Prompt: #4: No, We're Not Doing That Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku Rating: Teen and Up Characters: Mitsuhide Akechi, Miss Mouse (Fem!Reader Insert using a moniker) Summary: Detective Mitsuhide is given the task of returning a runaway bride to her husband back East. Miss Mouse, as she's calling herself, refuses to return. Notes: 1880s America/Historic Travel AU, Fem!Reader insert with feminine terms used to refer to them (ma'am, miss, missy, etc), Mitsuhide is a lil shit in general, but now they're both little shits and that amuses me, not beta-read WC: 1340

The brainworms came back, so I'm continuing this piece for Fictober again this year. For the first two parts here on tumblr, here's part 1 and here's part 2! For the story all in one place, check it out on ao3!

My Masterlist

And shoutout to @honeybyte for doing the art for the banner! And tagging @fictober-event in case this doesn't show up in the tags bc tumblr is a functioning website :) And @lorei-writes for following along on this journey despite how long it takes me to post things

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The train had pulled into the station at their latest stop when the grasslands were giving way to pebbles and sand. In the distance, you could just make out the silhouettes of mountains. The air was cleaner than it was in the city, the sky a lighter blue than you had ever seen in the city. It was a truly breathtaking sight for someone that had never seen it before.

Ah, yes, and Mr. Akechi was here too, he reminded you with a tap to your shoulder.

Truthfully, since that fateful breakfast yesterday where you made the agreement to be wife and husband (his idea entirely), he's refused to leave your side. It was a charade, you both had agreed it was such, but Mr. Akechi, or Mr. Fox as you had named him, seemed determined to be the ideal husband, even other ladies on the train reprimanded their own husbands, sighing and wishing they were as attentive as the white-haired gentlemen. He held your hand as you stepped down from the narrow train car stairs, always kept three steps behind you, and would smile politely whenever you glanced his way. He even found a flower shop selling lavender that you could replace for your hat and bought some for you.

Even so, however loving he appeared, you knew it was more to keep his eye on you, especially with this planned stop. It was unnerving, having a man you barely knew following you so diligently. He watched as you looked at the small tourist shop, admiring this book or that little trinket. You had already evaded him once on this trip, he likely wouldn't let it happen a second time. Every time you walked faster, he would as well, the same each time you slowed down as well, reminding you that he could easily outpace you with his longer legs. 

Claiming fatigue, you asked him if you could sit for a moment. He obliged, sitting at your side on a bench and removed his hat, using it as a makeshift fan to cool your face. He still looked as fresh as a daisy in spring, frustratingly so.

"You're taking the husband facade a little too seriously, Mr. Fox. No man is this attentive to his wife."

"You have a poor view on marriage if you think a man can't do even this for his distraught wife."

"I'm not distraught."

"Perhaps the heat is too much for you? Do you want me to fetch you a lemonade? Or a parasol?"

"I'm fine." You frowned. "When are we supposed to reboard the train again?"

"In another hour or so. We have plenty of time."

You looked him in his eyes, golden as a newly polished ring. His smile was pleasant and polite, the image of a perfect gentleman.

He has to be lying, you thought. If only you had thought to check the schedule before leaving the main area, but you had been too flustered by Mr. Akechi's good manners to spare it a glance. Could it have been part of his ploy so that you wouldn't notice? To be especially attentive as a distraction?

A loud, shrill whistle echoed throughout the station. You stood up, eyes wide. Mr. Akechi put his hand on your arm.

"You're in a train station, Miss Mouse." he said calmly, "Whistles are a normal thing to hear."

"I… I would like to go check the schedule again."

"That's not our train getting ready to leave."

"I-I'd like to be sure."

"All right." Mr. Akechi stood up, hooking his elbow in yours. "We'll go and check the times. Just to be sure."

"…You don't have to hold my arm. I can walk on my own."

"On the contrary, dearest," he said with that saccharine smile again, "you're shaking."

"I'm not shaking."

"Now your face is pale. Hmm… Perhaps we should get you that lemonade…"

His arm pulled you forward, pointing the two of you towards the concessions, but another shrill whistle interrupted your thoughts.

"T-the train schedule… please."

"Our train isn't leaving for another hour." Mr. Akechi said again, "the heat must be getting to you."

You tugged on his arm, his grip only tightening.

"Let's- please, I need to check the schedule."

"Don't you believe me, Miss Mouse?" That damned smile again. "I wouldn't steer my dear wife wrong, now would I?"

A third whistle sounded, screeching against your ears.

With a quick breath, you elbowed Mr. Akechi in his side and took off when he briefly let go.

"Wait!"

You ran, ignoring his calls, boots clicking and clacking with each hurried step. Steam was rising in the air as the wheels of the train slowly moved away from the station. Your heart was beating in your ears but you ignored that too, hiking up your skirts and ran once again, jumping and catching hold of the train step railing, pulling yourself up onto the narrow metal platform. Your hands and knees hurt from the landing, but you were on the train, thankfully.

However, your heart stopped when you heard a second set of shoes hit the metal platform and a deep voice grumbled with the effort. A white long coat fluttered in the wind at the corner of your vision.

"Well, you're certainly reckless, my dear!"

You looked back only to see him standing over you, one hand holding onto the railing while the other held onto his hat. He was smiling still, this time with his teeth. It wasn't the pleasant, placid smile from before, but something more sinister. No, he wasn't pleased at all. Not with a grin that perturbed.

"Let's not do that again!" he said after getting a more secure footing on the platform, then helped you to your feet. 

You huffed and refused to look at him. Mr. Akechi sighed as you entered the car and sat on the nearest seat.

"Happy now?"

"You weren't going to let me get back on our train, were you, Mr. Fox?"

"I was."

"Liar."

"Normally, that's quite the fitting moniker, but not this time."

You frowned.

"You did yourself in by jumping on a random train you heard leaving. Especially one heading in an Eastern direction."

"You're lying."

"Well, if you don't believe me, here comes the conductor to check our tickets. Surely you'll believe him?"

The two of you stared at each other, gazes heated enough to burn holes in each other. The approaching conductor looked a little nervous for interrupting your spat.

"Tickets, please, sir."

How Mr. Akechi got a hold of your ticket, you didn't want to think about, but you felt your blood turning colder as the conductor looked puzzled.

"Hmm… it seems there's been a mistake."

"A mistake?" You asked.

"Yes, ma'am. These are for the ten o' four train heading towards San Francisco.  We're bound for New York."

You could feel the smug smirk above you.

"If you want, I can talk to my boss and set you on the next train once we reach the next station in a few hours?"

"Thank you," said Mr. Akechi, the polite smile back on his face, "we're sorry for the trouble. My wife is a little excitable."

"Oh, no trouble at all! It happens all the time!"

The two of them were making small talk over you, but you barely heard it, feeling sorry for jumping to conclusions, along with an undercurrent of dread.  New York was where your 'fiancé' was. Where that disgusting man was… You shuddered at the thought. And after you had come so far…

Forlornly, you looked towards the window, watching the scenery passing by. Even the grass was getting greener again as the train passed it by. You sighed in defeat, then notice a long string above the window. It carried the length of the car with a sign on the end saying in large letters 'PULL IN CASE OF EMERGENCY'.

You glanced at Mr. Akechi, saw that he was still talking to the conductor.

Well, what's one more bout of reckless behavior?

[avalost]

The Hands That Held Her

@owlcatober prompt 17, Parents

fandom: Pathfinder: Kingmaker characters: Octavia, Clarida Della Fiorni (Octavia's mother), Regongar (mentioned) rating: T warnings: None

In a shell of a mansion in Pitax, surrounded by cobwebs and former glory, Octavia meets her mother. (1340 words)

Read here or on AO3!

-----

A ghost stood in the threshold.

Was it the moth-eaten, threadbare shawl hanging from the woman's bony shoulders that made Octavia think of a shade’s gossamer form? Or her wrinkled skin, sagging as if weary of hiding the bones beneath, longing for eternal rest?

Or perhaps it was the her bearing – tall and regal, defying the rags that clung to her – that recalled the ghost of a noble past?

When she spoke, her clipped diction failed to conceal the waver in her voice. “I am the Marchioness Clarida Della Fiorni. Welcome to my manor. I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you, nor do I have the honor of knowing you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Octavia searched her face. Lank hair fell across eyes the color of coal. A blunt, round nose perched above full lips pursed in suspicion. She had expected some part of herself to call out, to be answered – but this woman standing amidst the dust and squalor was a stranger.

“Mother…?” A hope more than a question, flickering uncertainly inside her.

The woman’s jaw went slack. She took a step forward. “Oct– Octavia? My Octavia?”

My.

The word scalded like the memory of the whip, and Octavia recoiled.

All her life she had dreamed of this moment. She'd dreamed of looking into her mother's eyes – emerald as her own, of course – and rushing into her arms. She’d dreamed of how it would feel to finally stop running, to finally know she was safe.

Instead, her mother – this stranger – met her with that word. A sharp reminder of the torture she had sold her own daughter into.

Why did everyone insist on claiming her for themselves? 

Anger flared deep in her gut, hot and sick and yellow. She crossed her arms. “Your Octavia?” she echoed derisively. “You sold me to slave traders! I came of age in shackles! And now you dare to call me yours?”

“Octavia, please! Allow me to explain!” Clarida took another step.

Octavia felt the familiar weight of a hand on her shoulder. Regongar said nothing; he only stood behind her, reassuring her with his presence. There was a phrase he’d said to her time and time again, and at his touch it drifted through her mind once more. “‘My’ as in ‘my heart’; not ‘my’ as in ‘my boots’.”

She exhaled. The anger inside her subsided just enough. “I'm listening,” she said, though her voice still held an acid edge.

“I… your father…” Clarida began hesitantly. She looked at Octavia and something in her seemed to unravel. She looked away, cleared her throat, and began again. “I met a visiting adventurer once, and we… grew close. But as soon as he learned that I was expecting, he fled. When my father – your grandfather, the marquess Giorgio Della Fiorni – found out, he expelled me from the house and cut off my inheritance. For three years, you and I scraped by. I worked as a seamstress in a small shop...” Her voice grew quiet then, so that Octavia had to strain to hear.  “But when Father’s health took a turn for the worse, and he realized the Della Fiorni line would end, he called me to him. He told me I could still gain the full inheritance, if I only… if I got rid of you.”

Octavia's anger blazed anew. “So you traded me for an inheritance?!”

“No! It wasn’t like that! I had – I had a plan to deceive him. I made arrangements with a man from the Technic League.” Clarida's hands flew out, imploring. 

Were these, then, the hands that had held her once, long ago? Were these the hands that had given her away?

Regongar spat on the floor. “Technic League…” he muttered under his breath.

Clarida froze, watching him warily before steeling herself to continue. “He – he was to take you to Numeria and keep you safe until my father died, then bring you back. I wanted you to grow up in your own manor, not in the back of some seamstress’ shop…” The last vestiges of her regal composure fell away. Her shoulders hunched. “But once Father died, the man from the Technic League said he did not remember any such arrangements. He had already sold you, and did not know where you were.” Her dark eyes swept across the room, taking in the peeling upholstery and dull unpolished wood. “Instead, I spent the inheritance that should have been yours on hiring sleuths and investigators to scour Numeria and the River Kingdoms for you. I knew you were still alive. I could feel it in my heart. My only wish was to see you, just once, just to… to beg your forgiveness.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. Clarida looked away still, not meeting Octavia’s gaze. Her eyes shone with tears, and she dabbed at them with the edge of a ragged sleeve.

Gone was the noble marchioness, clinging to the remnants of her crumbling dominion. In her place stood a woman slowly being swallowed by a room full of cobwebs and dust.

A mother, giving away all she had so she might see her child once more.

Octavia’s anger fled. “Mother, you’re such a fool…” Her eyes were damp, blurring her vision. Her voice broke. “You think we wouldn’t have done fine without a title? I’d have grown up, learned some craft… We’d have been poor, probably, but at least we’d have been together…”

Clarida exhaled. “Octavia… I regret so many things. I am so sorry for all that has – for all the pain I have caused you. If you never forgive me, then it is what I deserve. But… I am grateful too. To know you are alive, and healthy, and to see what a beautiful woman you’ve grown into – I will carry this with me for the rest of my days.”

The tears in Octavia’s eyes overflowed then, and she ducked her head, wiping at them roughly with the heel of her hand. Regongar’s hand was still on her shoulder, comforting and solid – and something else, something long-forgotten, was stirring to life inside her, warm and bright.

When she looked up again, a peaceful expression had settled over Clarida’s face. Her mouth quirked up in a faint smile.

A lopsided smile.

And all at once, Octavia saw her own reflection in those features. The mouth, tugging up higher at one corner, a mirror image of her own smile; the eyes, crinkling at the edges just as her own did; the brows – how had she not noticed the brows, soft and dark, exactly like hers?

A sob choked her, and suddenly she was rushing forward, arms outstretched, colliding with – with her mother. They clung to each other, and there was a gentle hand cradling the back of Octavia’s head, and she pressed her forehead into a bony shoulder, tears soaking into ragged fabric. Her mother held her, so frail and small and – surprisingly strong, her arms encircling Octavia, her body wracked with her own sobs.

“My girl,” Clarida whispered over and over, “my little girl. My little girl, you’re here, you’re home…”

And in that moment, that word Octavia had grown to hate so much – in that moment, that word meant something else entirely. It meant loving arms to hold her close, and gentle hands to stroke her hair.

It meant just what her mother said.

It meant home.

As they separated, Octavia’s hands lingered on her mother’s arms, unwilling to let go. “Come live with me,” she said in a rush. “At the capital. In the Stolen Lands.”

“Tuskdale? You live in…?” Clarida’s eyes swept across Octavia and her companions, filled with wonder. “My girl, you have done so much better for yourself than I could have ever done for you.” Another sob escaped her, even as she beamed. “Of course. Of course I will. I will start packing right away!”

Her dark eyes still shone with tears, glittering, and finally Octavia saw.

They were not coal after all.

They were onyx.

[autistpride]

Autism Acceptance

CAMP AU

Prompt day 1: April 1

word count 1340

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus did not want to go to day camp. But his parents would not hear his no. They insisted that it would be good for him to learn these life skills and it was just during the day for the month of June. He would go after breakfast and be back home before supper, the same hours as the school day. It was even at his highschool, so he would know the building and where everything was.

But he still was adamant that he did not want to go. He wanted to stay home and read his books, draw, and listen to music and his videos. He wanted to play with his legos. Yes they absolutely needed to be reorganised again, this time by the number of studs instead of by colour like his mum had helped him do years ago.

Who needs to learn to ride a bike, make a sandwich, swim, do washing, or tie his shoes anyways?! He could keep wearing his velcro ones and when would he ever care to use a bike. He was perfectly fine not going in the gross water at the pool or the beach or the lake or wherever they were at. He liked playing in the water during the summer, but he much preferred the sprinkler or the kiddie pool that his parents set up each year in the back garden.

Remus grumbled and made his displeasure known the whole time his mum was packing his snack and lunch and putting them, his rescue meds, and his favourite book and his taggie in his backpack.

He frowned when his dad made a joke about him wearing the same grey hoodie and blue knitted stocking cap in the middle of summer but he wore them anyways like he always did.

He wore his headphones over his ears and clung to his stuffed kitty as he waited outside their small home for the bus to arrive to take him to the first day of the worst summer of his life.

Sirius did not want to attend the life skills camp. What a waste of a perfectly good summer in which he could be tanning, swimming, bowling, or at the arcade. Hell Sirius could even just spend it sleeping in and getting laid.

James however talked him into it. James had said it would look good on their college applications to have volunteer hours on there and this would be a good cause to support.

The camp needed peer mentors to partner with the disabled students as a “buddy” while they learned to do things that would help them be more independent. So Sirius packed his lunch and tossed it and a few bottles of water into his bag, started his bike, and rode to the public school that he had never attended.

When he arrived he was lucky no one was able to see through the visor of his helmet as his face contorted to one of shock and slight disgust. The school was a two story brick building obviously made in the early 1900s. The white paint on the window frames was chipped and peeling and the sign out front had obviously been the newest thing about the entire facility. He parked, locked his helmet up, slung his bag over his shoulder and pocketed his keys as he headed to meet with James, sign in, get his name tag, and find out which poor sod he would be partnered with.

Sirius was now the official buddy of someone named Remus Lupin. Poor boy had parents similar to him, giving a kid an unusual name like that. He was given a little “about me” about Remus to look over before the attendees arrived on the bus in twenty minutes.

Remus was autistic. He carried around a stuffed cat named Pandy that he had had since he was a toddler. His hat and hoodie were comfort items and he did not need to take them off unless he wanted to. He hated his clothes getting wet, getting his hands dirty, and did not like some activities due to sensory aversion like paint, mud, playdough, glue, or slime. He loved to read and build with legos. He also loved music and hummed and sang songs he liked. He hated loud noises and wore headphones, but he vocally stimmed loudly and liked to script his favourite films. James explained that stimmed or stimming was a repetitive movement or noise that served a purpose, often to help regulate. Remus also had epilepsy and would have emergency medication with him in case he had a seizure. Sirius wasn’t sure that he would be a good fit. He knew nothing about autism or epilepsy. But he wanted to make it work and he was determined. He had never been a quitter. So he read everything he could find quickly on his phone and prepared for the bus to arrive.

Remus had counted the turns of the familiar route while his legs bounced and his little hand man jumped over the cars and people and signs they passed. When the bus came to a halt, Remus stayed seated until most of the students had left and Ms Hootch came over and told him he could unbuckle like she always did. Ms Hootch had been his driver ever since he could remember. He liked her and the other students didn’t be mean to Remus on the bus because she wouldn’t let anyone feel sad on her bus.

He unbuckled and he stood, grabbed his bag and carefully put it on before clutching Pandy to his chest and walking to the exit. He slowly went down the stairs and was met by his friend Minnie. She was his helper, but she was still his friend. With her was another boy. He was the prettiest boy Remus had ever seen. He had long dark hair and even wore sparkles on his eyes!

“Remus, this is Sirius. He will be your buddy for camp this summer,” Minnie said with a smile.

“You're pretty and shiny like a disco ball,” Remus said.

The boy, Sirius, laughed. “Thanks I think.”

“You're welcome” Remus replied nonchalantly before looking at Sirius’ outfit. He was wearing a band tee with one of Remus’ favourite bands on it and Remus squealed loud and high pitched.

Remus started to sing one of the songs from the album and thought maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad summer after all.

Sirius had waited while students climbed down off the bus when he was approached by a stern looking woman.

“Sirius Black?” she asked in a no nonsense tone.

“Yes.”

“I am Minerva. I am one of Remus’ teachers. I’ll come with you to introduce you both and will be close by during the days while you both are here in case he needs anything. You can come to me at any point if you need help.”

Minerva motioned for him to move forward. There was no one around the door to the bus anymore and all the other students and their partners, including James, had already made their way inside to do the welcome games.

Sirius was surprised when a tall, gorgeous boy stepped into view and down the stairs. His smile when he saw Minerva was breathtaking.

Sirius listened as Minerva introduced him and laughed in surprise when Remus called him pretty like a disco ball. That had to be the weirdest compliment he had ever received but he liked it.

Remus’ squeal startled him at first and he jumped at the sudden noise right near his ears but resisted the urge to yell out. Minerva gave him a look of approval at that and he felt a sense of pride that he did something right.

However, what shocked him the most was to hear Remus begin to sing his favourite song. His voice was enough to make Sirius think he had heard angels. He grinned and began to hum along.

Maybe this would be a great summer after all.

[prolix-yuy]

Well uh... boy howdy. I got kneeling reach around for the position... so I'm gonna have to go for Dieter <3

Ohhhhh baby, that boy does deserve a kneeling reach around (and oh so many other positions!). I'm taking a slight change from my normal F!Reader characters though, because I want to give our bi boy a little love in a different way this time around.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x M!Reader

Position: Kneeling Reach-Around

Word Count: 1340

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, mlm dynamics, bi Dieter, implied fingering (m receiving), anal sex, handjob, unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), references to blowjobs, cumming inside, consensual degradation dirty talk (requested by Dieter), some feelings at the end because our sweet boy needs to be cared for.

Notes: Dieter is our resident filthy boy, but I can never write him without some feelings so here we go! And this time we're going to have fun with a male reader! I default to F!Readers a lot just from my own personal experiences, but I really enjoyed this prompt with this reader character. There is a short scene including degrading talk going on here (as part of safe sexytimes), so if that's not your thing here's a quick heads-up!

Your hands smooth over Dieter’s back, riding the ridges and lines of his muscles from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine. When your thumb teases just at the top of his crack he hisses into the pillow.

“Still want to do this, handsome?” you say, adding just the slightest edge to your touch with a scrape of nails. Dieter keens, veins popping on the backs of his hands as he fists the sheets. 

“Yes, please, want you inside me,” he groans, arching back against your cock. The slick slide of his well-lubed hole tugs at your restraint, fingers digging into his hips. 

“Good boy, asking so nicely,” you say, circling the base and teasing your head against his fluttering entrance. 

It was not the way you thought your night would go, but when Dieter’s involved all bets are off.

He’d strode up to you at a gala, emerald velvet suit glimmering like a jungle cat under the candlelight, and offered you a drink. Two in his hands, so clearly this was a plan from the get-go. He talked to you at length, gently urging you away from the crowd with subtle motions until you no longer had to half-shout to be heard. Drinks finished, and enjoying a cooler breeze on a private balcony, he looked you up and down with a smirk.

“Seen some of your work,” he said, allowing you to try and make polite thanks before continuing. “The early stuff. You had a much worse stage name then.”

Your blood ran hot, then cold, then blazing as you realized what Dieter Bravo had seen you act in. A handful of softcore porn art films that toed the line of decency. You had a secret sense of pride in them, especially the one where you played Pan to a number of nubile men and women. Some of those scenes were much less simulated than others.

“Hey, don’t go swallowing your tongue on me, I liked them,” Dieter said, sidling up to you close enough that his heat ate through your jacket. “Liked you in them especially.” One of his expansive hands slipped under your jacket to stroke your waist, making your eyes flutter briefly. Regaining your senses you snapped your head around to see who might be looking or photographing. Dieter turned your head back with two fingers, dark promise in his eyes.

“I liked how you took charge,” he purred, brushing his lips against yours before stealing a kiss. His mouth made you weak in the knees, letting him part your lips to lick sinfully in. 

The path to his place was blurred around the edges, flashes of him straddling your lap in the back of his town car, palming your aching cock, a desperate whine muffled in your jacket when you gave him a hickey just below his collar. By the time you were stumbling in his hotel room all you wanted was his skin under yours. Pressing him against the door you kissed him breathless, tearing off your jackets and shirts before tumbling into the king bed. 

“Knew you’d be fucking sublime,” Dieter gasped as you hovered over him, hungrier for another person than you’d been in ages. 

“What do you want?” you asked, the deep rasp foreign to your ears. Dieter breaks into a beatific smile, eyes hooded with desire.

“I want anything you’ll give me.”

What you want to give him now, after plunging your fingers into his tight hole to work him open, is your cock for as long and hard as he can take it. He certainly feels ready for just that, pressing back on your length just enough to begin stretching him open. 

“Nice and slow, I don’t want to hurt you,” you say, and Dieter scoffs into the pillow. Your first push knocks the sass out of him, shuddering and moaning as you give him inch after inch. He gasps when the thick ridge of your head fits snugly inside, holding still so patiently as your eyes roll back at his tight heat. He feels fucking amazing around you, muscles clenching as he tries his best to be good for you. He’ll be richly rewarded for that.

One last pump and your hips are flush with his pert ass, letting him adjust to your full weight inside him. Reaching up, you stroke his sweaty locks.

“Ready for me to fuck you, handsome?” you ask, and when he turns his head pride surges in your chest. He’s fucked out and you’ve barely begun. A simple nod urges you to set the pace.

A shallow pull back, then a firm thrust forward has Dieter babbling into the pillow, every new pulse into his ass pulling wanton moans and whines. He’s slick and wet clutching at you, making you bite your lip at each new slide.

“Please, tell me…tell me I’m…f-fucking filthy. Tell me I’m a little whore,” Dieter stutters, your balls tightening up as you grind into him. Leaning over his sweat-slicked back, you pull him to his knees to sit back on your lap. You tug his head back on your shoulder, holding him firmly there as you grip his throbbing cock. 

“That the way you like it? You like me telling you how you’re dripping on my dick? I can feel how desperate your ass is for me to pound it. Pretty little slut, prancing around that party waiting to suck my dick. Begging me to go home with you. You’d do anything to have me split you open.” You steadily pour filth into his ear as you fuck sharply up into him, relishing in the slap of skin on skin. Dieter’s nails bite into your thighs but the pinpricks of pain only sharpen your arousal, taking his earlobe between your teeth to press just short of breaking the skin. 

“Fuck, yes, please, I’m your slut, let you fuck me any way you like, please please please…” Dieter wails, your first twisting at the tip of his cock to put him right on edge. Your orgasm is breaths away, Dieter’s perfect ass sucking you in and urging your hips to slam him recklessly. 

“Perfect. Little. Whore. Cum for me, you gorgeous cockslut,” you snarl out, and like you’ve found the button to Dieter’s fantasies he cums with wracking shouts and shakes over your fist, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. You follow quickly in the impossibly tighter grip of him, spilling hot spurts of cum deep inside. A primal being roars in your chest, pleased that you’ve marked him inside and out. 

You stay inside until his breathing evens out, hard grip turning smoother and softer through his hair and over his chest. He giggles dryly a few times when your fingertips trace a sensitive spot. Finally you steady his hips and slowly pull out, kissing the back of his shoulders as you ease him down. You use the edge of the bedsheet to wipe your cum dribbling down, parting Dieter’s cheeks to collect the last of it there. 

Dieter is silent now, lying on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow. It makes your heart clench, a worry you didn’t expect prevailing.

“That was fun. I had a good time,” you say.

“Yeah, me too,” Dieter mumbles, tugging the comforter around him in a messy jumble. Over his shoulder you think you see deep red on his cheeks, and it strengthens your resolve.

“Can I stay for a while?” you ask, already sliding in beside Dieter. He’s stiff at first, then eases when you pull him back into your chest. 

“Sure, yeah, that would be…nice,” he says, lacing your fingers together as you press a kiss to the back of his head. 

“You don’t do this much?” you ask quietly when your eyelids start to droop. Dieter hums for a moment.

“Not this part,” he finally answers, barely a whisper. You press your laced fingers to his heart.

“You can do this with me. Anytime.”

You hope he believes you.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[fourmula1]

Maxiel Prompt: Daniel and Max after Abu Dhabi. How Daniel is feeling now that he's free from McLaren at last :)

1340 words. definitely nsfw. cw for idk rough but consensual sex i guess.

-

“I want you to fuck me,” Daniel says, grinding up against Max’s hips where Daniel’s pressed against the door of their hotel suite.

Daniel had no where to be, no commitments tomorrow, and he wanted to take advantage of this feeling. He was fucking free and the season was over and 2023 was going to be time away to figure his shit out and relax and start fresh.

But tonight.

“Please, baby,” Daniel moans against Max’s lips, both of them already panting for breath. Max’s hands slide up under his shirt, over his abs, pressing him harder against the door. “Want it so bad, so hard,” he says as he bites at Max’s lower lip to egg him on a little.

It works well enough because they’re moving through the suite to the bedroom, shirts tossed, hands scrambling to undo jeans and shimmy out. He’s naked before he knows it and Max has pushed him down onto the bed. Daniel goes willingly, reaches up for Max as Max climbs up and over him, cages him in.

Daniel’s hands run up Max’s chest, over his big, broad shoulders, and down his back to pull him close and kiss him deeply, hungrily, again.

When Max breaks away to kiss down his throat Daniel tilts his head to give him room, pants a little as Max’s hand runs down his body. When he kisses further down Daniel’s chest Daniel pulls him back up, shakes his head as he reaches for the lube on the night stand.

“No,” Daniel tells him. He doesn’t need to be warmed up. He knows what he wants. “Just fuck me, Maxy, please,” He says when he finally gets his hand around the lube and nearly shoves it in Max’s face.

Daniel bends his knees back, spreads his legs wider to make his point as Max shifts between his legs to sit up on his knees and look down at him as he takes the lube from Daniel. He nods appreciatively when Max pops the top, gasps when Max inverts the bottle and straight up dribbles the lube out right onto Daniel’s body – dripping it out messy and wet all over his dick and balls and hole. It’s fucking cold and Daniel arches his back as he gasps, shuddering at how filthy it feels.

Max tosses the bottle aside when he’s satisfied, runs his hand up Daniel’s thigh and slides his fingers messily through the lube all over Daniel until he’s rubbing at his hole and – just like Daniel hoped he would – wastes no time in pressing a finger inside. He wants it to be a little intense tonight. He’s keyed up with the end of season emotions and the fucking relief he feels being done with this year.

“Good?” Max asks and Daniel nods, eager to get on with it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel says, rocks his hips back against Max’s fingers a little and shudders when Max teasingly brushes over his spot before pulling back again. “Enough, I’m good,” he insists, nearly pushing Max away in order to push himself up again. Daniel leans up for a heated, bitey kiss, moaning into it before pulling back again to shift over onto his front.

“Fuck me, yeah?” He grins over his shoulder at Max, lifts his leg to spread himself all on display for the taking. “Hold me down, babe,” Daniel says, loves the way he can see the hunger ignite in Max’s eyes.

Max, who wastes no time. He knows how this goes, knows what Daniel wants.

When Max pushes into his body Daniel arches his back, drops his head in a gasp. It’s the right side of painful, exactly what he wanted tonight, to be consumed and used and taken by Max completely.

“Yessss,” he hisses, dropping his head to the bed and shuddering as Max fills him. It’s lazy of him but this is the best position for what he wants – stretched out on his front, grinding against the bed with each of Max’s thrusts, the angle perfect for Max to grind into his prostate.

And hold him down.

Max isn’t much for dirty talk but Daniel’s happy to do enough for them.

“Like that, babe, yes,” Daniel says, hands clenching in the sheets as Max fucks into him; hard, fast, rough like he knows Daniel wants tonight.

Max is bigger, stronger, more powerful than Daniel is, these days. The feel of Max’s weight pressing him into the mattress, Max’s forearm braced against Daniel’s upper back to keep his balance, is enough to make Daniel’s dick twitch where it’s trapped beneath him against the bed. Max is heavy, strong, and Daniel shudders beneath him as he lies there.

This is what he wanted. He wanted Max to use him, and fuck him, and make himself come with Daniel’s body. To be pressed down and feel Max’s hips smack against his ass, to feel Max’s thick cock stretch him open with almost-but-not-quite-enough prep, to feel so taken by Max like this.

“Hold me down,” Daniel demands through gritted teeth, fighting just a little beneath Max to make his point. Max lets him, for a moment, but then he’s pushing himself up to curl his hand around the back of Daniel’s neck and shove, hard, pressing Daniel down and keeping him there. Daniel tests the resistance, pushes back a little on his arms but Max is stronger than he is and it’s futile. But it’s what he wants.

He moans loud for Max, nodding a little and whining under the weight of Max’s big, broad body holding him against the bed. He can do nothing more now but lie there and take whatever Max is giving him, and it’s everything he needs. Max’s dick is grinding over his prostate so perfectly at this angle and Daniel knows he’s going to come into these sheets sooner than later.

What does it, is.

Is Max. Max leaning down to press all of his body weight heavy against Daniel’s back, lips biting at Daniel’s neck before panting against his ear.

“You love it when I hold you down and make you take it, don’t you?” Max asks, voice rough and gravely and Daniel practically wails as his dick jerks and he comes, bucking back against Max and crying out as Max only fucks into him harder, faster.

Daniel is fucking blissed out as he rides through his own orgasm, dick twitching again when Max cries out against his neck and comes too. Daniel whines when Max pulls out of him, no doubt to watch his come leak out of Daniel. It’s hot and Daniel is boneless, sprawled on the bed in his own mess but not giving a single fuck. When Max smacks his ass, sharp and quick, Daniel thinks he could maybe get hard again.

“Fuck,” he whines as Max – breathing hard and so flushed and pretty – flops next to him on his back, hand possessively reaching over to squeeze Daniel’s ass.

“That was hot,” Max says when Daniel shifts to turn his head and look at Max next to him.

“So hot,” he agrees, still a little breathless himself.

He feels the deep ache of Max still inside him, knows he’ll feel it tomorrow, but he fucking wanted this.

No commitments, no need to worry about hard, rough sex with his boyfriend. To be held down and fucked and feel the adrenaline of belonging to no one and nothing but Max right now.

He pushes himself onto his side so he can drape an arm over Max’s belly, press against his side and press a kiss to Max’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” he says, appreciative that Max knew – and was willing to give – what he needed.

Beside him, Max hums his agreement, eyes closed and ready to sleep. They’re gross, and sweaty, and there’s come in him and on his thighs and in the messed-up sheets but Daniel can’t care right now. He’s a free man and if he wants to get fucked and make a mess, he damn well will.

[febuwhump]

febuwhump 2023 survey results

to finish off with this year’s round of febuwhump, let’s talk about the stats! there will be a bit of discrepancy between the numbers of people who took part and those who filled in the survey, but to start us off:

the prompts post had a little under 4000 notes, the survey had 93 responders and the ao3 collection 1340 works. there were 51 people in the hall of fame, and the blog hit 1946 total followers.

86% of survey takers took part in febuwhump via fanfic. super interesting to me is that singular entry of “memes”. i know exactly who you are.

as for the fandoms and subject matters of the subject. there were 135 specified topics (some went into groups such as band RPF (3), minecraft misc (3), various NCISs (2)), with original fiction being the most frequent (12) and marvel misc second (11). the ao3 collection itself spans 340 fandoms. yes, i did write them all out so i could do the tallies. it took up 3 pages of my journal.

only 31.2% had taken part in a previous febuwhump, meaning that this was the first time around for the majority of people.

but-

over half completed the month!

if you didn’t complete the month:

the majority of creators answered for only 1 prompt (16.7%), then 3 prompts (14.3%) and 14 and 17 prompts equally (9.5%)

majority of prompts were shared on ao3 and tumblr

regarding the discord server:

unsurprisingly, a majority of people were not on the server (it had a ~100 member cap limit), but a further 61.1% of people who didn’t join had no idea there even was a server. i also got a lot of great feedback about ways the server can be improved for next year

most importantly:

there were a lot of suggestions for next year’s colour themes, chief among them blue, purple or red (apparently no one remembers febuwhump 2 being blue)

some ungodly soul recommended neon green and another simply the word “lurid”

also, here are the highlights of the absolutely abominal nickname concepts that you guys suggested. some of them i think are good, some are terrible. i will not tell you which is which.

febuwhump 5: none comfort, left whump

febuwhump: revenge of the fifth

whumpback whale

febuwhump 2024: revenge of the bees

“I don't know, but it should be Februwhump. February has two rs in it.”

cinco de whump

whumpcookies

multiple people thinking i’m asking after a febuwhump 4 title and suggesting “fourbuwhump” as if that wasn’t literally the name of this year’s event

febuwhump 2024: why are we doing this anymore

feef

feBuwHumP

“I’m not funny enough to answer this”

[fullmoonficlet]

MASTERLIST 520 - DECADE

Check out the fanworks created for the latest prompt: DECADE. Don't forget to express your appreciation by leaving a comment!

If you haven't already added your work to our collection on AO3, please feel free to add it to the collection for this prompt. If you have any questions about submitting, please leave us an ask to let us know.

Submissions are listed in order by word count. Please check the content notes and pairing for more information about each submission.

Time of Your Life by polanthie (FICLET, Gen, G, 326) Alternative Universe, Stream of Consciousness

Decade by @acaranna (FICLET, Derek/Stiles, G, 356)

Decades of Decades by @josjournal (FICLET, Derek/Stiles, G, 953)

Protecting Beacon Hills by @goddess47 (FICLET, Derek/Stiles, PG, 1140) Part of an ongoing story; may stand alone

Ten Years of Tears by @wulfnerd (FICLET, Derek/Stiles, PG-13, 1340) Eichen House, Hurt Scott, Memory Alteration, Brain Damage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Isaac/Scott

Decade by @darkjediqueen (FICLET, Chris/Peter/Stiles, PG-13, 1420)

[rocknrollsalad]

Open Mic Night pt 2 - for no challenge or prompt

😵‍💫 read part one here

🎙️ Steve and Eddie (years down the road) go to the local open mic night because they’re both mean girls out living their best lives…together. After a magical performance they'll be talking about for the rest of their lives, the boys take a chance on a bit of added magic.

🎶 content/trigger warnings: drinking, smoking, implied threesome, idk it's like there but it's the most mild version there is

🍺 word count: 1340

🎸 bonus author note: no one asked for this. i was supposed to be writing other things but instead this sprang out of my fingers. please blame @connected-dots-st-reblogger 's tags on the part one

“We better not be nuns,” Steve said. The first complete sentence he’d offered since coming home from work. Positivity was still a work in progress.

With careful movements, he both finished his beer and slid out of the booth. Now standing inches apart, Steve wore a look of mischief Eddie usually only saw one place. It was enough to slow the energy vibrating out of Eddie as he tried to figure out what was happening.

He and Steve had been compatible from day one. Somehow they found a connection in an apocalypse that shouldn’t be possible. While fighting side by side they’d learned the art of the silent conversation. Looks showed words that couldn’t be said. A tilt of the head, the raise of an eyebrow, it was all something and they knew how to decode it better than anyone. Mostly anyone, Robin still had a leg up on Eddie but she and Steve shared a brain. There was no way to compete with that.

However, the face staring back at Eddie right now said a lot of things Eddie thought he understood. It'd been a while, a long while even and it could have been hope transfering over but Eddie was fairly sure they were on the same page. There was more magic in the room than a heavy metal pop song.

Before he could voice the confusion he knew Steve understood their hands were linked together and Steve was tugging him out the door. The next performer was being called to the stage and the bartender was shouting at them as they ran for the door like Vecna was demanding they pay their tab.

“You know we’re good for it!” Steve called as he pushed open the door.

Eddie tried to play innocent but when had he ever been good at that? There wasn’t a goon in that building that could chase after them at this speed and Eddie found himself loving Steve a little more. Petty crime was such a turn on.

Brought back to the present by the protesting horn honk as Steve led them across the street. Steve yelled at the car like it was the problem and Eddie realized Steve had been talking the whole time but he was so wrapped up in possibilities, in everything he’d just witnessed, that he hadn’t heard a word. Not that Steve seemed to mind.

Another middle finger to the guy who had the nerve to drive his car on the street and Steve crossed the last lane in two steps. Leaving them face-to-face with the material girl himself. Of all the perks to having a jock boyfriend, this might top the list. At least once someone popped Eddie's shoulder back in place.

“Wow.” was all Eddie managed. A word he immediately wished he could take back.

This guy was like seven feet tall, Eddie had never had to crane his neck so much to look at someone. The beard had the slightest touch of gray coming in, details they couldn’t see from their booth, and looked so well taken care of. Sure a lot of his appeal was stage presence and song choice but he was nice on the eyes and there was nothing wrong with that. Nor enjoying it even more now that they were closer.

His jewelry glimmered under the street lights and Eddie could swear his cheeks were starting to turn pink. Something that could have been the temperature outside compared to the sweltering hot bar they'd all left. Maybe even the performance itself did that to him but Eddie needed to believe it was them. That Steve was right for chasing him down. That Eddie had read everyone correctly.

“So, that was amazing,” Steve said in a voice that told Eddie had read Steve correctly, at least.

“Thanks,” the guy said as he walked toward a stool. Not annoyed, complimented but on a mission. Giving clear signs they should follow.

Eddie and Steve had let go of each other but stood close, following the stranger to his perch.

“They give me five minutes to blow off steam,” he elaborated. A man of few words but Eddie preferred that.

Pieces clicked into place and Eddie realized the guy was at work. Not at the bar they were in but another across the street. A perfect bouncer for even the seediest of dives, Eddie’s heart fluttered a little more.

“Well, I thought maybe you might need more than five minutes?” Steve said, licking his lips.

As impressive as it was, Eddie’s own lust gave him “We’re not nuns,” to offer as some sort of reassurance. Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a stare anyone could interpret.

The guy looked confused and…he should. He wasn’t put off though and that was a better test than anything else. To power on through the barely connected thoughts that occasionally slipped past the filters in Eddie's brain? It was a needed skill. With a brief pause as the guy checked two girls' IDs and they giggled and made eyes at Steve.

When the singer/bouncer turned back, Eddie nodded. “It’s constant,” he reassured him. “It took a long time to not feel threatened by it.”

“So you guys, you’re…” the question hung in the air the same way it always did. That touch of fear that no matter how safe things felt or what was going on, it could always take that turn for the worse.

“Yup,” Eddie said, a proud smile growing on his face. It was confirmation he was sure he’d never tire of giving.

“For years now,” Steve added and they both puffed up a little with pride.

“I thought so. The club isn’t…you know but–”

“It pretends not to see?” Eddie said with a grin.

“Exactly.”

Another group of people, IDs ready at least, and Eddie was getting annoyed with everyone’s jobs getting in the way of his good times. He needed, at least, five more minutes of conversation before he could get on Steve’s level of flirting.

Not that it was needed. Steve was pro enough for the both of them. He helped himself to a pen and some paper from the little station the guy had and wrote down their address. Eddie leaned in to make sure that was what was happening and looked back to the guy with an eager nod. Hardly a smooth and award-winning line but at least this guy wouldn't be surprised later.

“We’ll be across the street until closing time. If you get off later than that,” he passed over the paper.

For the first time, the guy smiled and Eddie knew the risk they'd taken was worth it. It likely wasn’t what Steve thought he needed to fix his bad day but judging by the way he floated back to the bar, it was doing the trick.

Eddie’s mind was racing with everything the night was about to hold, trying to decide what he wanted from the night. He and Steve had plenty of time to get on the same page but it wasn’t the sort of conversation one came to empty-handed. And at the speeds with which the thoughts went through, Eddie was ready with a whole list of planned activities (and a few hard nos).

They could nurse another pitcher of beer and set boundaries before last call. They could also make out in the bathroom for a while because the excitement was too much. A necessary and always welcomed evil. Something Steve said was for Eddie "so he could think" but it was purely for Steve. Every bit of it was a victory lap, not a charity make out.

Never in his life had Eddie called Madonna a blessing. Perhaps a blight against good music, all that's wrong with kids today, and so many other things but a blessing? No way. However, like her namesake, she'd brought untold blessings upon the Harrington-Munson household. One that, hopefully, would involve plenty of praising God, certainly people on their knees.

Eddie owed a lot to Madonna now.

[phillipcole]

Post-AGT Appearance 1249: The Greg Hill Show WEEI fm 93.7 May 19

I honestly thought that an earlier chapter was on The Doug Gottlieb Show.  It might have been but I can’t prove it.  The real me has been quite poor the last 9 years.  I was writing down each new chapter in the middle of an old notebook.  The pages going forward met used pages going backwards.  It was a couple years before I bought a new notebook.  One page in the middle was not connected and is now missing, maybe destroyed.  Gottlieb is on the Fox Sports radio Network, about 400 stations including WSBM am 1340.

My agent would have decided I needed to do at least one more interview about basketball, and on a Boston station.�� Boston lost game one Wednesday and he would decide it should be before game 2, Friday morning. Glenn Ordway retired and Lou Merloni left WEEI fm 93.7, so I would have ended up on The Greg Hill Show.  He is on 6 to 10 am eastern time, accompanied by Jermaine Wiggins.  I would be on in the third hour.

Hill: Welcome back to the Greg Hill Show.  I’m Greg hill, accompanied by Jermaine Wiggins, joining us now on the phone is Phil Cole of Phillip and Cole’s Variety Team.  Phil how are you?

PBC: Doing well, sir.

Wiggins: No need to be formal.

Hill: This is my sidekick Jermaine Wiggins.

PBC: Honored.

Wiggins: Whatapp.

PBC: Sigh.

Hill: Where are you this early morning?

PBC: I’m at the Oregon house, overseeing some construction.

Wiggins: Building a wall?

PBC: Yes, can’t be too careful anymore ha ha.

Hill: Well Phil, you went on record as saying you pick the Celtics to win it all this year.

PBC: Yes I did.

Hill: What prompted you to make it public?

PBC: I was doing an interview and it just slipped out.

Hill: Any regrets?

PBC: Yes.

Wiggins: Because they lost the first game to the Heat?

PBC: No, because I have to do more interviews to justify my prediction.

Hill: We know you’ve done this before with predictions about the weather and blue state-red state matchups.  Is there anything mystical about this?

PBC: No, I heard the Celtics got off to a record breaking start and figured they’d win.

Hill: That was the Bruins, and it didn’t help much.

PBC: I had a feeling that wouldn’t be enough.  Anyway those Canadiens of the 70s were just unstoppable and I don’t think there’s a team like that anymore.

Hill: No.

PBC: Shootouts don’t count anyways.  That’s not hockey.

Wiggins: Did you like it the old days with all those ties?

PBC: I didn’t like teams like the Blackhawks who played for a tie.  Still a tie is honest.  Now players can practice for one on ones.  It’s like the 3 pointer: exciting yes, but it’s ruined basketball.

Hill: Ha ha.

PBC: Do teams still use centers?

Wiggins: I hear ya.

Hill: Phil, the Celtics lost game one against the Heat Wednesday.

PBC: So I heard.

Hill: Do you change your predictions?

PBC: No, not til it’s over.  After a comeback like that you sometimes have a letdown.

Hill: You think they’ll come right back tonight?

PBC: You can’t count on 2 big comebacks in a row.  Besides, it’s not even the finals.

Wiggins: What about out west; you got any feelings about the Lakers and the Nuggets.

PBC: The nougat is the best part of a Milky Way Bar.

Hill: Ha ha ha ha ha.

Wiggins: Is there nougat in a Milky Way Bar?

PBC: You know ...Jermaine...answers like that are the reason I didn’t go into comedy until I was over 50.

Hill: Ha hahahaha.

PBC: I love it when they laugh and it’s absolutely true.

Hill: ha ha ha.

Wiggins: (Overlapping) Well, Phil, my friend’s cracking up here, so thanks for joining us.

PBC: Good, so long.

Wiggins: We’ll be right back on the Greg Hill Show.

Hill: Ha ha I’m sorry

[ainews]

In the 1340s, the world was a completely different place. Europe was in the midst of the Black Death, a devastating pandemic that would claim the lives of millions. At the same time, advancements in technology were being made, with the development of new tools and machines that would shape the world for centuries to come. One of these advancements was the use of chemistry in the creation of alarms.

During this time period, it was common for people to use bells as alarms to warn of danger or to call for help. However, this method was often unreliable as the sound of bells could easily be drowned out by other noises or could simply go unnoticed. This led to the need for a more effective and efficient way to alert people in times of emergency.

Chemistry, with its understanding of chemical reactions and properties of substances, offered a potential solution. By combining certain chemicals, a reaction could be triggered that would produce a loud and distinctive noise, similar to the sound of a bell. This noise could be used as an alarm, alerting people of danger or an emergency.

In the 1340s, an Italian inventor named Francesco Guardi patented a "chemical alarm device" based on this concept. Guardi's device consisted of a sealed glass container filled with a mixture of sulfur and saltpeter. When the container was opened, air would rush in and react with the chemicals, creating a loud hissing sound. This device could be easily carried and activated with just a simple twist of a cap or breaking of the container, making it a convenient and effective means of sounding an alarm.

But why did Guardi feel the need to patent his invention? In the Middle Ages, the concept of patents was still relatively new, but the practice of seeking official protection for one's inventions was becoming more common. With the chaotic and uncertain times of the Black Death, Guardi likely saw the potential for his device to be in high demand and wanted to secure his rights to its commercial use.

Indeed, Guardi's chemical alarm device proved to be a success and was widely adopted by households, businesses, and even cities. It was used to warn of fires, invasions, and other emergencies. Its effectiveness was also noted during the plague, as it could be used to quickly alert people of the spread of the disease and prompt them to take necessary precautions.

The use of chemistry in alarms would continue to evolve over the centuries, with modern-day fire alarms and security systems being based on similar principles. But it was the patenting of Guardi's invention in the 1340s that laid the foundation for such advancements and solidified the role of chemistry in early alarm systems.

[chemanalystdata]

Sodium Silicate Prices Trend, Monitor, News, Analytics and Forecast | ChemAnalyst

Sodium Silicate Prices: During the Quarter Ending December 2023

North America:

During the fourth quarter of 2023, the Sodium Silicate market in North America saw a rise in prices, driven by costly imports from Asian markets. The increase in the US non-manufacturing Purchasing Managers' Index (PMI) from October signaled growth in the construction sector, boosting demand for Sodium Silicate. This sustained uptick in business activity supported a positive momentum in construction, maintaining the upward price trend of Sodium Silicate throughout the quarter.

Furthermore, escalating shipping charges from Asia to the US, influenced by conflicts involving Houthi Armed forces in the Red Sea area, added to the cost pressure. Despite moderate construction activity in December, with housing playing a vital role, stable construction spending amid increased borrowing costs was observed. However, the manufacturing sector faced persistent challenges.

Get Real Time Prices of Sodium Silicate: https://www.chemanalyst.com/Pricing-data/sodium-silicate-1340

The constrained supply from China, alongside elevated product prices, impacted the US market. Disruptions in shipping routes in the Red Sea, linked to tensions from the Israel-Gaza conflict, and obstacles to container transport through the Panama Canal, due to lower water levels, contributed to increased freight costs in the overseas market.

APAC:

In the fourth quarter of 2023, the Sodium Silicate market in the Asia-Pacific (APAC) region displayed a mixed price pattern. October witnessed a notable decline in Sodium Silicate prices, primarily due to stagnant new orders from the construction industry. Despite a decrease in the manufacturing index, which remained above the limit, reduced activity in the service sector and construction indicated demand weakness, associated with a housing market slowdown and infrastructure spending deceleration in various Chinese regions.

However, during the mid and final months of the quarter, prices surged due to raw material cost pressures. This upward pressure influenced Sodium Silicate prices across the APAC region, even amidst declining downstream activities. Despite construction sector challenges, raw material cost dynamics significantly shaped the Sodium Silicate market during the latter part of the fourth quarter.

Europe:

In the fourth quarter of 2023, the Sodium Silicate market in Europe exhibited a mixed price pattern. October saw a continued decline in Sodium Silicate prices, primarily due to weak demand from the construction industry. Production challenges in the German manufacturing sector, stemming from reduced new orders, affected production levels.

Companies noted customers actively reducing inventories and delaying investments due to uncertainties and elevated interest rates. Despite declining downstream activities, limited availability and raw material cost pressures drove product costs up. Additionally, imported cargo from Asian markets reflected elevated prices in Germany.

Towards the end of the quarter, prices decreased as the year concluded, with the overseas market destocking material at affordable prices, contributing to the overall downward price movement. Reduced workloads in December prompted construction firms to downsize staff and cut back on purchases.

Get Real Time Prices of Sodium Silicate: https://www.chemanalyst.com/Pricing-data/sodium-silicate-1340

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