#shitty fic prompts

[ms-scarletwings]

Zim and Gir have to go off world for a while. Important A-plot business. Eats up quite a few days of Earth time.

Naturally, Dib notices their absence and takes this as the perfect opportunity to make another break-in attempt at Zim’s base. Gets past the gnomes with one of his magazine doohickeys or science gizmos. Stops cold in his tracks after landing in the living room. There’s a heavy, colorful fog lining the ceiling in ghostly wisps. A foul, akrid odor clings to the air.

Sitting on the couch, covered in cheesy crumbs, open bag of space-Doritos beside him, is Invader Skoodge. Dib has never heard of or seen Skoodge. The guy is open mouthed and staring blankly at the Monty Python sequence playing out on the TV screen. He doesn’t seem to notice the new presence until Dib gives a confused “Um….”

The line of drool that was threatening to reach Skoodge’s shirt retreats back into his mouth. He turns slowly and stares hard at the intruder for a second of focusing. “Oh…” He smiles and greets with a “hey guy” and a half-hearted wave, and then he sinks a bit deeper into the sofa with a complacent expression.

“Bloopin” is playing in the background during this whole thing.

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo 66' au ! old!serial killer!rafe x young!sugardoll!reader (how they met, and their first night together.)

you were red and you liked me 'cause i was blue. but you touched me and suddenly i was a lilac sky.

warnings : lmfaooo this part always killing me but here it is....rafe being 90% of the warning part and the menace he already is, kidnapping, daddy issues, urge of sexualing your own self, slight of stockholm syndrome, dubcon, smut, dark!rafe, violence, mentions of threats, r being a missing girl, age gap, size difference, choking. rafe being mean to the reader. slight of daddy kink. sick attitude. dirty talk. attention whore. just minors DNI. (why it's bigger than my grocery list actually...). please carefully pay attention to the tags !!?

author's note : it's my first time writing a dark fic so don't expect too much 🙏🏿 you can read this without watching buffalo 66.

some girls were the trailer park princess, and others the queen of the gas station.

as the girl of the gas station, you were there all day on the road of these men much older than you, who had and drove pretty vintage cars who were literally bigger than you. those rich daddies surely had more money than your poor father who was always sitting behind the desk of his shop waiting for the night.

your father never gave you any attention, not even a look, he didn't care about what you did on your summer days as long as he never saw you. so you stayed all day at your playground queendom across from the pitiful, filthy motel where you lived. because here at least the men were looking at you.

of course they were looking at you, you always gave them something to look at with your tiny dresses that showed your naked thighs, your tits pressed together in that backless top. you always dressed in that soft and milky blue shades. as the sea and the sky, you were blue.

while their wives found you sick, you could feel their stares every time you leaned down to grab the keys that they forgot to give you each time. you could feel their eyes completely charmed by the way your summer dress rode up above your ass, and your panties stuck out.

fully bent over, you could hear the groans of these old men, the way they forced their hands themselves to not touch you when you wanted nothing more than to see them give in to the young temptation that you were.

you had a power in them and you loved to see them completely crazy.

you worked as a gas pump attendant. in reality, you did it behind your father's back because it allowed you to stay in the company of these men who only had eyes for you.

you always put on a show for them, and it always worked because you were irresistible.

but there was this guy every time, a regular customer, cold and short-spoken who never spoke to you.

he had a beautiful and luxurious car and you always wondered what job he did to drive such an incredible vehicle, and to spoil you so much with all this money.

he never said thank you for your service. after all, you were paid for it. his eyes were blue as you. he could park and glare at you for hours, sitting deep in his seat, a cigarette stuck between his opened lips.

he was so much older than you, so much to the point it was indecent. when you had first seen him, you had melted like sugar.

as you were coming back from the ice cream parlor, your lips sucking that delicious vanilla ice cream, you sat on the edge of the gas station, right in front of his car, your legs completely spread, white cream melting and dripping between your thighs. he rubbed his painful boner through his boxer.

you were sick, you let him look at you with this completely perverted stare while you let chunks of ice fall into your cleavage.

his eyes were all over you, but this time it was different, because this time it was him who was thinking about you while touching himself. this time it was him who was sick about you , him who had all these furious ideas about you. he pumped himself so hard, biting his lips harshly. and you continued your depraved show, while he jerked off, his big cock shaked and leaked in his own hand, his thick and already experimented fingers moved around his length faster and faster, the sweaty and dirty sound of his balls slapping, the squeaking noises of his chair, his arched back making the chair shaking. you thought of the veins of his dick engorged of blood pulsated against his hefty strength. that was enough to make you fully wet.

you wanted nothing more than to make this old man reach for you. but the problem was, you were too young and naive to know how mad he was, and what he really wanted to do with a pretty doll like you.

you stood up when you finished your ice cream, putting your dress back on neatly, and leaned down, leaning your porcelain princess arms over his car window.

you shuddered when he spread his cum on your face without any warning, smeared the remains of vanilla ice cream over your sloppy lips gloss with lick of drool.

he pushed his big thumb against your little mouth, pushed it into an o shape, and you closed her to start licking up the drops of his cum.

but like every time he came here, he never spoke to you. you had just seen the car leave, while you still had the taste of him on your lips. it was rude.

the next day, your father sent you out to do some groceries on a sweltering hot summer day, tired of seeing you around doing nothing. what he didn’t know was that this was probably the last time he saw you. and even shoupe that you had seen earlier in the morning, and who had told you to be careful, something with a killer around.

when you were done with the grocery, you started walking through the empty parking lot.

you thought you were alone, even though there were a few empty cars.

but it was a mistake, a terrible mistake that you were going to regret.

“didn't shoupe tell you to be careful this morning, sweetheart ? because i'm pretty sure, he did. ”

you screamed when the man grabbed you by the waist, pressing your little ragdoll body against his chest much stronger. the stranger quickly covered your mouth, and bruised your pretty lips with violence without any caring, shoved down his fingers between them to the point that you almost choked with your own breath and saliva.

“ you hurt..me…! ” you tried to say with a lot of difficulty, as his firm grip crushed against your breasts.

“ not yet actually, doll. but i promise, i will if you continue to fight. so beware, or i will fucking kill you. not a threat, sweetheart. it's a promise. “ and you knew that even god couldn't save you at this time.

you tried to bite him, but your teeth barely touched his skin. his lips hovered above your ear, you could hear his deep older voice warned you.

" bite me one more time, and i will break you. i love wrestle with you little girl, but i think you will really hate the way i fight. because when daddy fight sugardoll, he kills. and tiny things like you are so easy to wreck. and you dont want to die today, right ? you're too young for that. do you got it ? nod if you got it, yes. smart baby, understand easily that she needs to listen and not fucking run away. ”

his strength was heavy. you had stopped resisting a few minutes ago, even when he put you in his car.

he started driving, with a smirk, he looked in the rearview mirror before telling you.

“ what's the matter, sugardoll ? don't want to put a show for me, anymore ? ”

he had taken you to a shitty old motel down the road, where no one would be able to pick you up here. you knew he was intelligent, you knew it because you understood that every time he came to see you, he tried to learn more about you, but not to know you no, but to know when would be the right time to kidnap you. you knew it because he had stalked you carefully.

he had tried to tie you up while you tried to struggle one last time. but he had grabbed your jaw so violently that you felt your face shiver in his hands. “one more move, and i’ll show you how dolls are really treated, how i have no fucking bother to kill a tiny thing like you. ”

“i’m not going to run away.”

"i know.” he shushed you with a sick evil smirk. “ but it's not because you don't want to, sugardoll .but more because you can't.” he said, while releasing your jaw.

“ that's the small but important difference. i kidnapped you. do you even know what it means ? "

you started to cry, tears running down your cheeks.

“ you want a real reason to cry? fine. i can do that for you. i kidnapped you but you want to know the big part of all this? is that no one will come for you. your father doesn't love you , and that's why you work in this stupid gas station. you love the attention of these men so bad that you feel obliged to sexualize yourself to feel desired but me, i wanted you the first time i saw you. i let you do it, i let you play with them, but now it's all over. since i own you, this game is fucking over. ”

“shoupe will come after me ! ”

“but maybe you won’t be around to see it anymore.” he looked at you, and shushed your tears, while staring in your wet eyes. “ yes, i really like when you give me those tears, cry to me, little girl i'm the only men that really got you. ”

you glared at him as if he had fallen from the sky.

“ but now you have to be careful, don’t get on my nerves. i know it's hard for you, but don't do stupid things. ”

he placed your hand on his lower back, where you had felt the metallic coldness of the gun. and you shivered.

"yes, you got it. don't ever get on my nerves.”

“ how can i get on your nerves ? you don't really seems like a bad guy. more like a sweet guy ? ”

“ i'm not. and i'm not trying to be so watch your mouth. “

“ but i really think you are. can i hug you ? ”

“ try it, doll, literally try it. just try to touch me, i dare you. and i bet you will never tell me i'm the sweetest guy again. ”

“ can you at least bathe me ? ” you asked seriously.

“ jesus, do you think i'm your slave or whatever ? do you forget which position you are in ? in the captive one. so do not ask me those stupid things again. and don't try, no, never try to run away because, i can promise you that when i will find you, it will not be a pleasant time for you. and not even a little, but to the point, you will ask me to kill you. and i will be in a mood to accept your request ? yes, me. ”

you nodded as the kind and little girl you are who cannot argue against this tall man. he released your small face, and you were bathing alone. while you were taking your bath, alone in the tub, you heard rafe on the phone without being able to understand what he was saying but after that call, he left the room.

you had decided to buy some food with the little money you had at the food and drink vending machine.

with a happy smile, you went back up, hoping to please him. but you had found him on the chair in front of the TV.

“look, what…”

“i think you’re really nice. but not at your own good, sugar. ”

“ i just wan…”

“ get on the bed, now. ”

he couldn't help but relaxing when he saw how your blue dress was so tiny, already showing your soaked underwear.

" no whining. " he said as he shoved himself deeply in your tight abused cunt, your ragdoll body pressed down in the mattress, his thick stronger arms hugged your small waist, while thrusting harder and harder, your walls clenched around his fat cock. you can felt the size growing bigger in your wettering pussy, as he turned you into a real crybaby, tears flowing down your cheeks. you were caged by his beefy and muscular body on the bed, gasped on the edge. “ you wanted to act like a big girl ? then take it like a big girl. no fucking whining, i'm just giving you what you want. ”

he was literally buried inside you, snapping your hips, moving in and out. the atmosphere was hot, you felt the heat, there were trails of saliva around your mouth. “stop whining babydoll, daddy is not at his worse actually. and you don't want to see this happen.” you wanted to hate him but it was like you appreciated him being so mean to you, your pussy was dripping, your fluids drenching him, your sticky walls surrounded his girth. " yes, that's it. pull up some juices for daddy, make it easier for him to destroy you. "

everytime you runned away from him, he lifted your head with a grunt, and with a wild thrust inside of you, making you drip even more as his glistening tip reached your spot, the dirty and wetness sound of his moves echoed in the room, your body trapped against his taller one.

with a hand on your throat, you were arched to the point where he could see your wetted eyes rolled up. "try to run away again, and you will have the fucking pleasure to be a momma, as well as a missing girl. i'm not asking you to take my cock better.” he said with a threat. “ no, i'm telling you to do it as your fucking job. ”

all teary, you could bet that rafe didn't know how big he was for telling you this. you were trying your best actually. he was rutting in you, holding your tiny size with one big hand, getting so feral everytime he saw your small body twitching when he pushed himself further. your moans were loud, as your squirted more than one time on him, your dripping walls clamped his hard cock. even when your third orgasm flowed against your bulging pussy, creating a mess at the surface, he continued.

" you know sugardoll, you better work faster for my cum, because i will only stop when i will see how creampie your pussy is for my dick.”

he stuffed your puffy messy cunt, while your pumped his fingers who slidded deep down in your throat, your warm and bullied tongue fighting to not dropped them.

you slobbed more with the overstimulation. you felt like this man was insatiable. rafe loved to see you, his sugardoll in pain, taking so much for him.

when he finally stopped teasing you, and fighting himself to not cum, and clearly toying you, he exploded, making you cried out. all your body was filled with spasms.

you expected something from rafe when he pulled out, a little soft spot, or at least, just one look but he just went to the bathroom. alone.

you expected him to be sweet for you, like the sugar you were for him. and you knew, that you will work for this later.

when he came back, you looked at him, always attracted by his charisma, the way he made you felt so tiny by his big size, the way he was old enough to make you feel like a little girl, just the way his raised voice made you feel so small.

“ can i sleep with you ? ”

“ whatever. just don't touch me. ”

“ you're not gonna be my big spoon ? “

“ what the fuck is this ? i'm not gonna be your spoon. jesus, can you just sleep and not ask for any stupid things that you think i will do because you're already so obsessed with me ? and give me your hands. ”

he tied them up on the bed with your little blue ribbon.

“ just in case you think you can escape me. ”

“ i can't sleep like that ! ”

“ i fear it's not my fucking problem, sugardoll.”

“ fine. i will talk and talk all night. ”

“ i can fuck you all the night too. but one of us will not survive this. so stop being so damn annoying. ”

“ what if i want to pee in the middle of the night ? ”

“ you're strong enough to hold it. and you fucking better be strong enough to hold it. ”

“ why are you so mean to me ? why you kidnapped me ? ”

“ sugardoll, listen to me. look at me, yes. eyes on daddy right now. i swear, and you need to listen carefully because i will tell you once, just once, so your dumby brain need to pay attention, if you're talking another time, even if i see your lips moving, just a twitch, i will put my dick right in your mouth, making you suck it for without a break until the sun rises again. and i can promise you that after, you will never talk to me because you will never be able to open that mouth again. do you got it ? nod your head if you got it, doll.”

and you nodded.

as a doll, you were conditionned to listen to your owner, even if he was so mean to you. but you were as soft as sugar, always melted around, already thinking he was the best guy around.

“ sweet dreams, sugardoll. ”

i promise one day i will write something very good, just give me a chance. i think the only sweet thing in this work, it's rafe calling r " sugardoll ", he's so mean please 😭😭 i think i make him a little too dark to the point, i'm questionning about how he can be sweet to the reader now ????? but i guess, it's part of the game. tysm @bunnyrafe and @fae-of-prey me a lot !

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Would love for you to work your magic on this prompt 💜 @shhhsecretsideblog

Heavily pregnant and overdue, she’s been waiting in line for over an hour to meet her favorite author. Unfortunately, the baby’s decided to arrive now. If she could just make it a little longer, she could ask her all of her burning questions about her novel and tell her how appreciative she is of her work!

(birth denial, inconvenient birth, public labor)

What an amazing prompt, your ideas never fail to inspire me!! Thanks my lovely for the ask, really hope you like it 💜

[fpreg, 2500 words]

Dedicated Book Worm

The contractions had started on the bus ride into town, but she ignored them. A few twinges was nothing to worry about, certainly not today; today Ricki was going to the release and book signing of her favourite author’s latest novel. Her stomach was bubbling with excitement and nerves. She'd been a fan of this writer for years now but had never had the opportunity to get anything signed before, let alone meet the writer in person.

Unsurprisingly it was a very popular event at the bookstore and the queue was already pouring out the doors and lacing down the street. She was glad to have gotten here so early, with only a few dozen people in front of her. The downside of arriving so early meant having to wait in line, which wasn’t so great when you were over 40 weeks pregnant.

Ricki rubbed the taut skin of her stretched belly and exhaled a long quiet breath. The cramping had started to ramp up on the bus journey and she tried to dismiss them, but after standing outside for the best part of an hour she was slowly realising these pains were the real deal - consistent and definitely getting stronger. She debated texting her partner, to tell her she was having contractions, but then she’d have to leave this event. Looking longingly through the glass window of the bookstore and seeing the rows of chairs all set up for the author’s reading of the new book, Ricki nodded to herself, determined. She would stay. She had time to get her copy of the new book, listen to her favourite author, and get it signed before she’d have to tell her girlfriend about the baby’s expected arrival. Labour took ages, and this baby certainly hadn’t been in any hurry to be born.

The line was slow-moving when they started letting people in, everyone inching forward every few minutes. As her large belly regularly tightened, Ricki found herself holding it and swaying slightly as she waited eagerly in the queue, thinking about what she might say when she met the famous writer. Her stomach flipped with nerves but then spasmed aggressively, resulting in a soft moan slipping out her mouth as she exhaled. The person in front gave her a worried look after clocking the large and low baby bump hanging off Ricki’s hips. “This little one is just as excited as I am to get a copy of the new book.” Ricki tried to joke and reassure the concerned looks she was getting. But her mind couldn’t help noticing just how frequently her belly was cramping.

All this standing around had put a serious strain on her back, but there was something else, something new; a weighted pressure sitting deeper in her pelvis. Maybe the baby had finally got in the right position. It would be about bloody time, but they wouldn’t be ruining this afternoon for her, Ricki thought to herself.

Eventually she got to the front of the line and presented her ticket for the event. Ricki would be glad to sit down, her back was killing her and the constant cramping of her heavy belly was draining all her energy. “Wow, you look ready to pop.” The bookshop employee said, scanning her ticket and letting the heavily pregnant woman into the cordoned off area. Ricki managed a half-hearted smile, trying to keep her face from showing any signs of discomfort.

Despite the need to sit down, the weight and pressure between her hips was squashing her bladder and Ricki made a beeline to the toilets before the reading started. Thankfully the single unisex toilet was vacant and she disappeared inside. She used the privacy to let out the pained groans she’d been holding in for the last hour, as her belly contracted yet again. “Mnnnnghhhh…. Oh why now…” Ricki moaned, palming the walls of the bathroom and shifting her hips around in large circles. “You can wait a little bit longer. You were quite comfy in there last week on your due date.”

When the contraction faded she used the facilities, noticing quite a bit more liquid leaking into her pad, and hoped that wasn’t the start of her waters breaking. Standing up from the toilet seat Ricki felt the weight quite literally drop back down in her pelvis, the head of the baby wedged harshly against her dilating cervix. “Ooof!—” she clasped her bump, taking a moment to get used to the heavy feeling and the pressure that it brought.

The hustle and bustle of the bookstore was getting louder, the sounds of excited people entering the event seeping through the bathroom door. “Come on bubs, let’s go hear all about the new book.” Ricki said to her bump before leaving the bathroom and going back into the store.

Unfortunately for Ricki the contractions were still coming and getting closer and closer, now almost impossible to stay standing. After waiting in another line to collect her copy of the latest book she had to grasp onto the counter and swallow down the grunt she so desperately wanted to make.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” The girl behind the desk asked, panicked.

“Mmm-hmm.” Ricki gritted and nodded her head, pulling her lips into a forced smile. “Just a c-cramp.”

She needed to sit down, and fast. The labouring woman took the first empty chair she could find in the back row and sighed a heavy breath of relief. She would be okay. She just needed to rest, yes, that was it. Her excitement was heightening everything, that’s all. Holding her copy of the new book in one hand, she rubbed her swollen stomach with the other and prayed the pains would slow down enough to enjoy this event.

Typically there was a delay in the start time, the author had only just arrived and it would be a bit longer before the event could begin. Ricki was sweating by this point, squirming in her seat and trying to keep an even and subtle breathing rhythm. The pressure in her pelvis had suddenly built to astronomical heights and she found herself rocking and quietly humming on the chair. Her hands gripped the edges of the seat, knuckles turning white, as the waves got stronger and stronger. She tried not to clasp her bump so as not to attract unwanted attention, but god did it hurt. The contracting muscles contorting the shape of her pregnant belly was almost visible through her clothing.

She was wearing a pair of wide legged dungarees patterned with sunflowers, a thin black cotton t shirt underneath. Even through the denim like fabric Ricki could see as well as feel the way the whole sphere of her belly hardened, squishing into a solid and narrow torpedo shape over her thighs. “Ooohhhhhhh….” She used the book to fan her damp and sweaty face, no doubt looking flushed in the bookstore, which was already getting steadily warmer as more and more people filled in.

Eventually the host took to the stage and introduced the special guest and Ricki’s eyes widened with glee at seeing her long time favourite author in person, standing only a few metres away. Her belly seized again in that moment, bringing forth a wave of pressure deep between her hips, and she couldn’t stop the groan from escaping her lips. Thankfully her labouring sounds were swallowed by the loud round of applause. Without thought, and focussed entirely on the beloved person at the front of the crowd, Ricki’s legs widened automatically on her chair. Unconsciously finding any way to relieve the building pressure.

Then, the room was silent, the writer stood centre stage with an open copy of her latest book. Ricki was going to hear a new extract, read aloud by the glorious female writer herself, and she waited like everyone else with bated breath.

As the reading began the heavily pregnant woman tried to focus, tried to give this once in a lifetime fangirl moment her undivided attention, but the pressure was getting unbearable. Every few seconds Ricki’s mind was pulled back to the baby in her womb, the feeling of the hard skull sinking deeper into her birth canal, her baby determined to be born today. She panted, as quietly as she could. The thought of attracting unwanted attention right now was mortifying, if anyone discovered she was in labour— No, she was not going to let anyone see her struggle, or give any reason to stop this talk and pull focus from the rightful star.

She lasted about 15 minutes into the reading before it happened, something instinctual and primal tripped a warning siren in her mind. The pressure, it had built too much and now… oh god, now she needed to push. She really needed to push.

It was automatic, she had no control. Ricki’s body slumped slightly in her chair and gripping her book tightly with both hands her uterus contracted and squeezed and…pushed the baby further down. Oh fuck. Her legs were wide on the chair, encroaching into the space of her neighbours. But she couldn’t close them. It felt like she was sitting on the baby’s head. Trapped in another bout of pushing Ricki sucked in a lung full of air and bore down once more. Silently as she could.

The labouring mother lost all track of what the author was saying or reading. Occasionally she’d hear the audience laugh or “awww”, and she was missing everything. All that she could focus on was not giving birth right here in the bookstore. She could make it. She had to. Her girlfriend wasn’t here, and her book hadn’t been signed. She had to make it just a little bit longer.

With every ounce of determination she could muster, Ricky shifted herself upright and painfully pulled her legs together. God it felt like she was sitting on a bowling ball. A whimper slipped from her throat and her eyes screwed shut. The person beside her gave Ricki a concerned look. The labouring woman gritted her teeth and forced a friendly grin.

The reading eventually came to a conclusion, Ricki having succumbed to another half a dozen pushes in that time, but any progress was halted by her posture on the chair and the unforgiving fabric of her dungarees. The owners of the bookstore advised everyone to start making an orderly queue to get their books signed, gesturing to a table and lines of rope set up nearby. Ricki was so close, so close to meeting her idol. Unfortunately the baby was keen to join in.

As she stood the boulder in her pelvis pressed fiercely against the walls of her birth canal and Ricki had to grasp the chair in front of her and instinctively bear down. Oh fuck… she wasn’t going to make it. Her primal grunt wasn’t noticed through the sounds of chairs scratching the floor and numerous conversations erupting around the room. The baby was so low, dangerously low. Feeling like it was sitting just behind her lips, bulging obscenely into her wide-leg trousers.

The crowd around her moved as one, all the guests making their way to the line for autographs. She should have said something, should have excused herself, the baby was quite literally trying to come out right here in the bookstore. Instead, Ricki got caught in the sea of people and somehow ended up in line and surrounded by excited people waiting for autographs.

Just a little bit longer bubs… please. She pleaded with the swell of her belly cradled in her palms. Sweat was dripping down her neck beneath her long hair, her black t-shirt sodden with the exhaustion of her labour. How Ricki managed to stay standing she did not know. Oddly the pain in her hips was easier to manage when upright but gravity was making the pressure unbearable. Whenever a contraction hit she was forced to give in, to bear down with the squeezing muscles, knees bendy subtly and her mouth clamping shut.

They were productive pushes… she was sure of that fact. The baby’s head was slowly but surely spreading her open, her gait unnaturally wide as the baby inched further into the world while she stood and waited in line. Oh god, just— just wait.

This queue moved faster than the one before and Ricki was shuffled forward every few seconds. The author was there, within metres, hair perfectly curled and wearing a flawless outfit. The mum-to-be looked around nervously, realising how stuck in the crowd she had gotten - the only clear way out was forward. Two people, there were just two people in front of her. She had to meet her idol, she couldn’t walk away now, not when she was this close.

Maybe she could time her pushes, was there enough time between them to say Hi, big fan, please sign my book before she had to push again? One person in front now. So close.

Another contraction, oh fuck, and Ricki widened her legs slightly, bending knees ever so subtly and bearing down. The crown in her underwear was getting bigger. It burnt, bringing tears to her eyes. The head was coming out!

“It’s an emotional time isn’t it? Meeting someone you’ve admired for so long.” The person next to her said, bouncing on their toes and excitedly watching the writer sign another book. Ricki couldn’t reply, couldn’t even nod, as her body fully committed to pushing out her baby and bringing it almost to a full crown.

Next. Ricki was next in line. Fuck, what was she gonna do? Before she could form any cohesive thought someone was ushering her forwards towards the desk, towards the friendly smiling face of her idol. The woman’s hand stretched out, ready to take Ricki’s copy of the book to sign.

“Who shall I make it out to?” The author asked kindly, despite having said it numerous times over.

“R-Ricki… w-with an ‘i’…. Oooohhhh….” She stuttered, trying to hold back the groan. Her hands were clasped beneath her contracting belly, every muscle tense and trembling as she fought to hold herself together.

“Are you alright my dear?” The writer asked, staring too long at Ricki’s swollen stomach and the way her fingers were gripped at the fabric of her clothing, knuckles thin and white.

“….no…..” Ricki admitted. “Ooooohhhhh….” The next wave of pressure suddenly hit her like a steam train and any previous plans shot straight out the window. She had to push…. She had to bear down right now…. this second. The burning, the stretching, it was all too much, she had to get this baby out—

“Mmmnnghhhhh!!!!!!!” Grabbing the edge of the desk Ricki bent her knees and dipped her hips as she pushed ferociously, bringing the baby beyond a crown, shoving it past her lips and almost birthing the head in one go.

“Oh my goodness, you poor dear. Someone call an ambulance! This woman is giving birth.” The author said, jumping to her feet and rushing around the desk. “What are you doing here in your condition?” The kind words were accompanied by the writer rubbing her back and holding her hand.

“I just— I just really wanted to meet y-you.”

[escespace]

Read part three of this here

Arthur didn't know what to say after that because he himself had been thinking that he had never really known Merlin (And He was not going to admit it, but it had also hurt).

Merlin came into his life like a whirlwind of disaster and Arthur, who had fought all his life to be the prince his father wanted him to be, felt a slight threat that all his effort would fall apart. The boy continued to act like everything a subordinate should not: too talkative, too critical, too clumsy. Sometimes people heard him talk to him as if he were not a prince and Arthur had fear his father come and scold him.Then Merlin would ruin a dinner by spilling something or speaking ill of a nobleman and the stain would fall on Arthur.

Arthur knew he would be a problem from the moment his father made him his servant without consulting him.

And now here they are, in a lodge forgotten by the gods, wounded, confused, with a political problem that could cause a stir among the peasants and Merlin proved that Arthur was right in the beginning, it is a weakness to trust. Merlin has dared to humiliate him, challenge his beliefs, spit on Arthur's legacy...

And Arthur would be lying if he said he hadn't conscientiously allowed him to do so.

Just as Arthur allow him to call him names, to hit him back, to make jokes, to question his instructions, just as he allow him to have opinions that contradict everything that the council members instruct him. Merlin became the person he let see the side he let no one else see. The one he turned to for resonance for his thoughts and insecurities, and damn! The person whose advice he value the most. All because from the first moment many years ago that Merlin stood before him as if Arthur were a simple man, to defend what was right, Arthur knew that Merlin had something. Something he wanted, that he needed, that he craved: Merlin was honest.

Honest to values, honest to people and honest to oneself

But it was all a facade, right?

Merlin hadn't been honest with him in gods knows how long...

Merlin has magic. Powerful magic that has healed every single person in the room (except him, of course) and he didn't even mutter a word. He said that if he thinks he's learned magic then he's not what Arthur thinks he is, but what does that even mean in principle?

Arthur sees how Gwaine is the first to approach Merlin, and it's not that he doubts that he would be (Lancelot doesn't count because he doesn't seem to leave his side since everything happened). And he was quite of smiling, really, like there was a joke that only Gwaine knew about, but that's just Gwaine every day so it didn't surprise him. He was surprised that the next one to approach was Leon, solemn and stone faced as se is only when he presents in front of a knight who should not stay in the line of service by mutilation or old age, only to break to ruffle the hair over Merlin's forehead.

And it was all so confusing because HOW IS EVERYONE SO CALM ABOUT THIS? Because Arthur feels like he's the only one with thoughts rioting from two very disorganized and violent sides of his mind. Percival and Elyan haven't moved at all, but the former doesn't even seem surprised and the latter is too shocked.

(I'm opening parentheses here because I didn't want to mess the previous paragraphs, but note that Arthur doesn't exactly repeat what Merlin said in the previous fragment because even though he never said it out loud, he and Merlin cannot be defined as just "close").

At some point even Elyan and Percival approached Merlin and seemed to have so many questions but Arthur was so deep in his own thoughts that he didn't notice. Leon returned to his position as close to Arthur as he would allow, knowing that although Arthur probably wouldn't see him approach, he wouldn't really appreciate it as soon as he came to himself.

Night fell and no one slept, either because they were watching the captured, because they still didn't feel safe (Merlin) or because they had a lot to think about (Arthur).

As the sun began to show its first signs of rising, Arthur had a new resolution.

He walked faster and more determined than any of the knights could have prevented and ended up grabbing Merlin by the lapels of his jacket to slam him into the wall.

«Heal me»

Seconds of expectant silence was all Arthur could bear before he repeated himself in a more aggressive voice, rolling out what could well have been a growl:

«HEAL.ME»

Feeling the contact of Merlin's palm against his wound, he turned his gaze there. Concentrated more than he should have in scars, veins, tendons... Any small detail that could distract him from the golden glow that would take away the cerulean gaze that was one of the few certainties he still held.

And as Merlin's accelerated breathing beat against his golden bangs, he can't help but notice that these are the hands of a worker. For while no one could attest that Merlin was even decent at his job, it was known that he still had a way of standing out in his very rare way

«Why didn't you do it before?» Arthur asked, looking up, once the warm sensation ended.

Arthur had thought that what made him stand out was that no one was more dedicated to him than Merlin, not his knights, nor the castle servants, not even those who had watched him grow up; and if someone as honest Merlin was so invested in him that had to mean something.

«You don't seem like the type to be comfortable with magic being used on them»

Perhaps that would be another certainty that remained after all but there was still so much to know before determining how deep the betrayal ran.

«You, the sorcerer who believes that Royalty it is corrupt, do you care about my comfort?»

But Merlin has no memory, right? Why would he care about Arthur? That still wouldn't erase that he is a liar.

A liar

A liar

A liar

« don't think deeply about it... Using magic on a few knights is not the same as using magic on the prince»

«You didn't want me to bleed out? To harm Camelot once and for all?»

«Cry me a river. That barely bled, You moron!»

THAT! That was a truth. And if Merlin can still be his absurd self, and his honesty is still there, then of all the doubts he has, only two might matter. Arthur was beginning to fear that the answer to whether Merlin feared him would be worse than hearing him say that it had always been a strategy to end the kingdom.

With a smile, too mocking for the nostalgia in Arthur's eyes, he finally asked:

«If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?»

The throne of camelot

The head of the Pendragons

A sea of blood for every drop spilled by a sorcerer

«Just freedom»

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I don't know what to say. I don't even know what I just wrote.

It took me so long to continue this because I wanted to make this concept a proper fic. But i'm in a terrible block. Either way I want to give it closure (This is not the end! But soon) because I know how it ends and it's not a big deal, but the idea has to get out of my head somehow.

[edenfire]

🌸💗 Haru Week - Day 4 - Past 💗🌸

childhood makoharu always makes me think about them having lil pretend weddings🥺💞🌸

would rin demand to officiate? or would nagisa fight him for it? XD maybe nagisa would be the ring bearer/flower girl lol

[aus-nobody-asked-for]

Goncharov, but every time someone gets shot, there is a sunset in the background.

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

So soulmate AU. Zack and Cloud yeah? Except Cloud doesn’t have a mark. Zack does though, had even met his soulmate already. But now he doesn’t know what to do.

Because he has his soulmate mark and he’s met her and she’s wonderful. Is literally the sweetest human being ever and she’s beautiful and kind and matches Zack so well in his energy and his stupid little antics. But Zack doesn’t love her. Not in the way he probably should.

Then there’s Cloud. Who isn’t his soulmate and doesn’t even have a mark but Zack loves him so much. Loves his dumb spiky hair and his attempts at being stoic when in reality he’s this shy, horribly considerate and kind man. Loves his drive and passion to accomplish his dreams no matter how many times he fails. Loves the small smiles and light blushes he gets when he’s been complimented.

And it’s not fucking fair. It’s not fair to Aerith who is his soulmate and is nothing but supportive of him and loves him and is far too understanding. It’s not fair to Cloud that Zack’s gone and fallen in love with him and now can’t spend a moment away from him, and it’s not fair that Zack wishes, with every horrible, terrible fibre of his being that it was Cloud’s mark he was wearing and not Aerith’s.

[stealthnoodle]

I see there's a new post on AO3 on AI and data scraping, the contents of which I would describe as a real mixed bag, and the sheer number of comments on it is activating my self-preservation instincts too much for me to subject myself to reading through them. Instead I'm thinking about how much daylight there is between does or doesn't constitute a TOS violation and what does or doesn't violate community norms, and how AO3 finally rolled out that blocking and muting feature recently, and how I think it would be good, actually, if most people's immediate reaction to seeing a work that announces itself as being the product of generative AI was to mute the user who posted it.

That's my reaction, anyway!

[boxofbonesfic]

“Did you fuck her?”

“No.” Lee takes a long, slow sip of his bourbon. “Well,” he grins as he draws the back of his hand across his full lips, catching the stray drops of liquor at the corners of his mouth. “Not like I fuck you, Honey.”

[ravendruid]

What if Syldor had died?

Vex mourned the loss of a father who wasn’t really a father but who had taken her in regardless. Yes, he had taken her away from Elaina, and she would never forgive him for that, but he had tried to give her – them – a better life, and for that, Vex was grateful. For the few years they lived in Syngorn, Vex knew not hunger nor cold. She had a roof over her head, warm clothes, and plenty of meals. She studied and learned about cultures and new languages and had the best tutors teaching her how to behave like a lady. But what she didn’t have, though, what she really wanted, was what Vex never got: a father who would read her stories before bed and who she could go to in the middle of the night when the wind howled louder at her window. A father who, one day, would proudly walk her down the aisle and give her away to a man who succeeded in the difficult task of earning her heart. Vex’ahlia gave up her search for a loving father at a young age. Instead, she sought his approval. But no matter how hard she tried, she never felt enough. So when Syldor passed, a sense of relief overcame her. She had long been exhausted from trying, and with his passing, she finally felt free of his scrutinizing look. Vex’ahlia was free to be who she wanted to be now. Yet, his voice still rang in her head, reminding her over and over that she wasn’t good enough. But then another man entered her life and showed her the world was more than black and white. He proved to her not only that she was enough but that she was more than enough. Vex’ahlia felt seen, cared and loved. She was finally free, at last. As for Vax? He was confused at first. Syldor’s parental example to him was only one of what he should not do. Who he should not become. Yet, grief hit him like a wave hitting a cliff on a stormy night. He did not mourn the loss of a father. He had long grieved that. When Syldor died, he took with him the remaining hope Vax had that his father would change one day. That he would love him and be proud of him. The only relief Vax felt upon hearing the news was knowing the pain would now end for his sister and that she would finally be free from their father’s judgment. Vax didn’t know what a father was supposed to be like until he met the man who welcomed him into his house like he was already part of the family. Korrin was everything Syldor could never even dream of being one day: he was kind and caring, he voiced his love and pride for his daughter louder than any other, and he loved so wholeheartedly and effortlessly. Vax lost count of the number of hugs, the words of encouragement and advice, the meals, and the warming smiles Korrin thew his way. If this was what a father was like, then he was sure now that Syldor had never been one. Vax doesn’t grieve him anymore, nor the idea of what he could have been, not when he has someone in his life who grabbed the role with both hands and refuses to let go.

[stormyweaver]

I have a Mighty Need for your First Time for Everything continuation.

You and me both, Poni! (there would be a crying laughing emoji here if I was on mobile)

I made like barely any headway yesterday on part 3, but I'm still trying to juggle not sleeping well with work + school, so unfortunately fun things like writing and hopefully soon drawing are taking a backseat for the time being.

Kind of.

I'm still making time for it, but I also can't afford to like... dedicate as much time as I'd want to solely to writing fun stuff. The inspiration is there beneath all the extra shit, it's just hard to say 'Alright here's my hour or two of writing time!' when I'm exhausted and frankly too brain-dead to think and write cohesively.

Plus, I've been chronically online for a long, long time and I'm kinda trying to shift that this year because being online for too long (especially in a community like this) isn't healthy for me personally. I just tend to get sucked in and spend hours doing absolutely nothing productive or even relaxing or fun. It's purely doomscrolling.

Anyway, TL;DR: Part 3 is in the works but I have no definite date, nor will I have one until I can settle a lot of stuff outside of this space. It's super nice to know that someone's looking forward to it though! :3

[theflyingfeeling]

fanfic rambling in the tags, nothing interesting really, just me talking to myself lol, okay to ignore or read as you please ✨

[escespace]

Underrated plot in Merthur fics: Arthur being actively aware and sickeningly tired of his own "we're not friends because I'm a prince- you're servants" nonsense but only internally because externally he maintains a facade of a model part of the nobility that allows him to change the system from within.

[yantao-enthusiast]

bring back youtuber AUs pls. i need to read a fic about someone anonymously posts on reddit looking for advice about their troubles with love or something and the person of their affections, who is on a channel like smosh pit or something, reads it and gives advice and they’re like “i totally get it” all vague and stuff while thinking about the person and said person is like freaking the fuck out. bonus points is the initial someone is also on the channel, and even more bonus points if the audience already ships them but as like a mostly inside joke but there are people who are hardcore about it. i eat it up.

[aus-nobody-asked-for]

Captain Jack Harkness, current commander-in-chief of Torchwood Three, has one last mission: Trying to find out how exactly the invasion began.

At first it looked like a bad prank. But now he is sure. Pizza is not real and was the first sign of an ongoing invasion by unknown extraterrestrials.

He and his team start investigating.

The first thing they find: somehow the Doctor is involved.

[ninja-gay-go]

AU prompt

Like the Green Ninja, Princess Harumi too had 4 older "sisters" that took care of her. They were the royal handmaidens, in charge of raising and teaching the adopted daughter her role for the throne.

Slowly they got to know Harumi and help her open up about the incident that lost her her home and parents. Their thoughts of Harumi being a brat dissipated and realized the isolation and worsening trauma the Emperor has put Harumi through.

In the middle of the night, the handmaidens sneak away. Taking their daughter through the secret tunnels and disappearing without a trace...