#so it feels especially appropriate and i love it

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Smooth Operator

Pairing: Warriors x Reader

Warning(s): References to age-appropriate drinking and a few dirty jokes, but this is surprisingly tame compared to my other Warriors works

Notes: Ugh I love Wars so bad, writing him is such a treat.

Masterlist

The tavern was as crowded as it could be; a heavy throng of people milling about the small space, some in time to the cheery music and others to the swirling rhythm of their heart, swaying on their feet as bodies and inhibitions melded together. The atmosphere was darkly carefree, the air thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. It wasn't an ideal meeting spot, but you needed information more than your dignity.

The candlelight flickered as you brought your glass up, wetting your lips with the gentlest sips of red wine, tongue flicking to carefully swipe over the painted curve of your bottom lip, not wanting to disturb Wild's handiwork. You had no idea where the champion had learned to apply lip stain like he had, but you weren't complaining when your eyes caught the rough silhouette of your target, a well-connected merchant rumored to possess knowledge on the whereabouts of a certain black lizalfos.

The music swelled and dipped, filling you with a sort of confidence as you pulled away from the side of the bar, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles of your dress–a gift from Warriors–and stalking forward with the grace of a panther, the deep neckline accentuating the curve of your chest and the tasteful slit in the thigh revealing hints of flesh beneath, though not enough to label you as something... more than you were.

The crowd seemed to part as you made your way forward, the merchant's back to you until the very last second, when your shoulder brushed his and you squeaked in a tone borrowed from Wind himself. "My apologies, my lord–"

The man turned, his disgruntled expression quickly turning into something far more appreciative. "Why, my lady, no apologies necessary," his gaze swept down your body in a way that made you feel horribly exposed, but you covered it up by placing a hand over your mouth, batting your lashes softly. "I can't help as though I've seen you before."

You tensed when his unoccupied hand–the one not holding a massive mug of beer–swept down to rest on the curve of your waist, lightly covered by patterned mesh. His breath, hot and rank, washed over you, and you regretted not taking the fan Sky offered you. "Oh, my lord..." you cooed, putting as much simpering charm as you could manage into those three words.

"But how could I forget a face as delicate as yours," the merchant mused, brown eyes glinting like dried blood on cloth. "Especially not with a body so... enticing."

You were positive you could have thrown up in that moment, bile rising in your throat, bitter and burning. You needed to take control. Now. "You flatter me when I am but a humble traveler."

"A traveler? And where, pray tell, is your destination?"

"East, my lord."

"East," he hummed, and your skin crawled, hands gripping your glass hard enough to shatter it. "Pity, I am returning West myself."

"How coincidental, should we have both headed West," you said, keeping the conversation in motion until you were ready, putting on the best vexed face you could. "After the attacks, I fear..."

The merchant raised a brow. You smiled internally, knowing you had him hook, line, and sinker. "Attacks?"

"Yes," you glanced around the bar, and his gaze followed. "I have heard rumors... of a creature. A lizalfos, as dark as the night itself."

"Ah, and why would a delicate creature such as yourself be concerned with those matters?" The man pressed, eyes lighting up with hunger and lust as he considered his next words. "Unless, of course, you travel alone?"

"I'm afraid so," you confirmed, biting your tongue when his hand tightened around your waist. "If I knew the whereabouts, perhaps I would be more inclined to," you paused for effect, making sure your lips were as pouty as you could make them. "accept companions on my travels."

The merchant's eyes shone in a way that made you want to stab him with the dagger cleverly hidden in the folds of your dress. "Companions, my lady?"

You opened your mouth to respond, and that's when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes, a rogue flash of royal blue among the milling crowd. The hero. Your hero.

Warriors.

Warriors, who currently stalked forward like an apex predator. Warriors, dressed to the nines in his captain's uniform, scarf billowing behind him like the sail of a deadly ship. Warriors, whose gaze held nothing but broiling rage at the sight of you in the arms of someone other than him.

And you, the decoy, not quite able to remove him from the corners of your vision as you used the ticking seconds to simper about the whereabouts of the lizalfos, praying to whatever deity existed that you got your information before the hero got his penitence. Your wishes were granted when you caught sight of a tan scroll in the pocket of the merchant's coat, practically begging to be noticed by nimble minds and stolen by even nimbler fingers.

"Won't you tell me, my lord?" you simpered in one last ditch effort, trying to look as pathetic as possible to tempt him into submission. You didn't notice the way his gaze roved over every inch of your body, so focused on getting that map.

You didn't notice him look over, face falling slightly as he met the hero's glare.

You didn't notice the tension crackle between the two men.

But you did notice the shattering of glass and screams that filled the tavern as the merchant's grip tightened around your waist, turning into something painful and bruising as he drew himself up, attempting to intimidate Warriors with his height.

It didn't work.

You gasped when the Captain's fist collided with the merchant's cheek, sending the taller man staggering back into the wall, before seizing your wrist and pulling you against his side in a protective embrace. "Come on," he all but growled, though it wasn't directed at you, and you hardly had any time to react before he was tugging you in the direction of the exit, the sound of curses and breaking glass following you all the way out.

Warriors practically shoved the door open, gently pushing you into the alleyway before grabbing a stick from the ground and shoving it into the hinges, preventing anyone from coming through. You turned to face him, arms wrapped around yourself as the chill of the night began to take hold, hissing: "What the hell was that?!"

"You looked uncomfortable," the captain said, mirroring your stance with a stern, dangerous look, his tone devoid of its usually flirty cadence.

"I– that's the point!" You pinched your temples. "Or have you forgotten how these things work?"

Warriors' gaze darkened, and you knew you were pushing him. Too bad, because you were pissed, too. "He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, (Y/n)– and don't get me started on how he was feeling you up. I'll be damned if I sit back and watch you get–"

You interrupted him with a scoff. "Thanks, but I don't need your help, Warriors. I can handle myself just fine."

"It's not about that," he pressed, looking more and more frustrated. "It's about the fact that he touched something that doesn't belong to him."

"And what's that?" You shot back, knowing full well what he was referring to. This wasn't the first time you and Warriors had been at odds like this before, but it was certainly the most spontaneous.

"You."

You made a face at the insinuation. "I never said I belonged to you–"

"Neither did I, but you sure as hell don't belong to him," the hero interrupted with a snarl, cerulean eyes flashing with something vaguely protective. He was pissed, but not at you.

"I don't belong to anyone," you said, willing yourself not to think of the kiss you shared with him under the moonlight a few weeks ago. It happened during one of the rare breaks, with the chain stopping at an inn for a few days to recuperate after a particularly tough series of events, and, being the consenting adult you were, you had taken advantage of the downtime and gone to buy a flask of wine, which led to you and the captain sharing it in the back of the inn like a pair of misbehaving teenagers. You could still remember the chill of the tree as he pressed you against it, kissing you until all you saw were stars.

Nothing had happened since then.

Until now, though you weren't quite sure if the look in his eyes meant he was going to kiss or kill you.

"You don't," Warriors agreed, though there was something in his tone that hinted to something more. "I could have killed him, (Y/n)."

"And ruin that stellar reputation of yours?" You snarked, glad that the mood was lightening slightly. "Besides, I've gotten what I wanted."

His eyebrows shot up. "You–"

"Of course," you reached into the front of your dress and pulled out the scroll. "What, did you think I was flirting with him for fun?"

Warriors gave a noncommittal grunt, arms crossed over his chest.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh. "Pfft– seriously? Besides, it was either me or Wild, take your pick."

"Wild could have–"

"Wild would have set him on fire within the first minute," you interrupted with a grimace.

"Good."

For a split second, you were silent, mostly because you agreed with him and partly because the satisfied grin on his face was a bit much for your poor, exhausted brain at this time, but you managed a disapproving tut. "Nope, gotta preserve your reputation, pretty boy."

"Pretty boy," he echoed, trying and failing to look offended. You shrugged, offering him the scroll, which he took with an expression of shock. "You really..."

"What can I say?" you grinned. "I'm a great actor."

"Among other things," said the hero, and you laughed softly, irritation melting away like snow on a summer's day. You had gotten the plans with minimal casualties, so why waste the evening on some smudged feelings? Cerulean eyes scanned the scroll with careful attention, and you had to force yourself not to preen when his gaze turned slightly awestruck. "This is... everything. I don't think you could have done better."

"You think?" You parroted, still wearing a wide grin. It wasn't that he never tossed compliments your way, but this went so much further than your daily encounters. The night hardly felt cold when he was so close, though you wouldn't mind wrapping yourself up in that scarf of his. "Is the night over or am I required to flirt with more merchants to earn my keep?"

Warriors regarded you with a flat expression, looking seconds away from rolling those beautiful eyes of his. "Tch. If you think I'm going to let anyone else disrespect you like that again, you've got another thing coming."

Your smile was good-natured, even as you leaned over to sling an arm across his upper back, nudging him to walk with you, which he did without complaint. "My hero. Let's head back, yeah? I'm starving."

"Starving?" for a moment, you swore there was a glimmer in his gaze. A arm settled around your own back, so light that you hardly felt it. "In that case, allow me to escort you back, fair maiden."

You smacked his shoulder with a snort. "Pfft, save it for the girls back home, flirt."

"What girls?" he joked, but there was something far less teasing in those eyes of his. You tried not to think of that night.

You tried.

And failed.

The feeling of his soft, wine-stained lips was still fresh in your mind, as were the gentle hands holding your cheeks and the warmth of his body pressing you to the tree. There was nothing remotely platonic about that night, and yet, you dared wonder if it was all a fluke, a drunken mishap that he hoped to erase from your minds. You didn't even remember being that buzzed, just hopefully tipsy in a way that made your toes tingle and your heart beat a bit harder in your chest.

There were lines, you knew, but the scariest part was that you had no idea how many either of you were willing to cross.

You were torn from your thoughts when the Captain called your name, soft enough for only your ears to register. His arm drew a bit closer, letting you feel the respectful press against the semi-exposed skin of your upper back. It was such a stark difference from your reaction to the merchant's touch that you would have fallen back into wondering had he not been staring directly at you with... what was that emotion. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," you said on reflex, only to freeze when he unlooped his scarf from his neck, setting the warm, soft fabric atop your own shoulders, deftly adjusting it so that it sat perfectly on your frame, not unlike a great billowing cloak. You were hit with the overwhelming urge to smell it, but held back at the last second, fingers fiddling with the embroidered end. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Warriors responded with a soft smile that you couldn't decide fit his face or not. His cheeks were flushed the softest pink, and you had a hard time believing it was from the cold. You turned a corner, joining a slightly busier street. "You look stunning, by the way... I don't think I ever told you."

He had, but you weren't about to tell him. "You don't look too bad yourself," you nodded to his outfit and grinned. "Do you wear it on all your espionage missions or am I just lucky?"

"Actually–"

"Hey! You!"

Your head whipped around as a shout tore through the street, stiffening when you recognized the merchant from earlier. "Shit," you hissed, a rush of adrenaline shooting through you. The man looked unfathomably angry, four lackeys at his heels, and you really didn't want to fight in a dress and heels. "Run?!"

Warriors' eyes met yours and he nodded. You yelped when the hand hovering over your shoulder clamped down, forcing you to pivot slightly as he scooped you into his arms and took off down the street like a keese out of hell. "Wars–!"

"Stay still," he huffed, turning a corner in a move that nearly gave you whiplash, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for some semblance of stability. There were several gasps from the townspeople as the Captain barreled down a couple of alleys, holding you close as his scarf flapped in the wind like the tail of a bird. After what felt like an eternity, he slowed to a jog, head swiveling to gauge your surroundings. "Do you see them?"

"No," you whispered back, canvassing the street with keen eyes. "I think we lost them."

"Thank Hylia," he breathed. You did the same, too high on adrenaline to register the suggestiveness of the situation. "I think that's enough excitement for today."

"You think?" You asked, somewhat sarcastically before your tone grew serious. "No, seriously, if I don't get out of these heels soon, I might actually ruin both our reputations... and status as law-abiding citizens."

"You? Law-abiding?" he chuckled, eyes glinting with amusement. You wanted to kiss and kill whoever taught him to apply eyeliner like that. "Never heard that one before."

"Because it's implied, you wet rag," you smacked his shoulder, huffing as the breeze hit the bared skin of your arm. "Hylia, it's freezing. Maybe Wild would have been better for this."

The Captain arched a perfectly-manicured brow. "Didn't you say he would have set that merchant on fire?"

"Didn't you say he should have?" you countered without missing a beat.

Warriors grumbled, averting his eyes. He began to walk, and you could say with absolute certainty that you had no idea where you were going. "Are you going to put me down or...?"

"Or?"

"I can walk," you huffed.

"And I can carry you."

Your scowl deepened, eyes narrowing. You were upset, and neither was he, but it was more fun this way. "I will break your arms."

"Kinky."

A long-suffering sigh slipped past your lips as you briefly, seriously considered throttling him. However, he had technically saved you–twice, but you would rather die than let the little bastard know–and you would hate to get blood all over that scarf of his. "At least buy me a drink first, weirdo."

Warriors made a curious noise, not rising to the bait like you expected him to. His gaze flicked to the left, head tilting as a grin split his features. "There's a tavern," he told you; seriously, thoughtfully. "And I promise you won't have to flirt with any old rich merchants to have a good time."

"Oh, so now you're saying I can't have fun?" You joked, and he snorted good-naturedly.

"My deepest apologies, I assumed you were a person of high-standing–"

You smacked his shoulder. "Oh, I'll show you high-standing–!"

Warriors didn't flinch. In fact, he almost seemed to enjoy the banter, if his widening smile was of any indication. Weirdo. "I'll take that seriously when you find a way to be taller than me."

"That is not a problem, I promise you'll be just fine without your kneecaps–"

You cut yourself off when he began to laugh. It wasn't mocking; rather, the opposite, a sound of pure delight that had you blinking in surprise. His hold on you shook withe the force of his chortles, head tilted back, neck bared, adam's apple bobbing. You tried not to look. You really did, chewing your bottom lip in an attempt to remain unbothered.

"Yeah, laugh it up, you weirdo...."

It was a losing battle.

After a few minutes, the Captain seemed to regain control of himself, though it did nothing to quell the dumb grin spreading across his face. "Now, about that drink..."

You rolled your eyes. He was cute, but not that cute. "Don't push your luck, Captain."

"...I can't believe I let you drag me here."

"Hm?" Warriors' gaze, which had previously been focused on the grimy ceiling of the tavern. Cobalt eyes sparked with mirth, and you immediately regretted opening your mouth. "That's funny, because I could have sworn I carried you."

"Tomato tom-mat-o, Cap," you waved a hand and took a perfunctory sip of your drink as an excuse to not look at him. Until he did the same, and you got another eyeful of mug he had been nursing for a solid fifteen minutes. "You look like you're preparing to have your heart broken."

"I'll be fine so long as you're gentle with me," he winked, and while you knew it was suppose to be a joke, there was little you could do to stop the clenching sensation in your chest.

You gulped down the rest of your drink, placing the now empty mug onto the counter with a slightly violent thunk. "You're an idiot," you told him; matter-of-fact, testing. "Or is it the other way around?"

Warriors' gaze sharpened. Suddenly, the tavern didn't feel quite as bad. Suddenly, you were wishing there was a bit more noise to distract you. Suddenly, you wondered what this drink would taste like on his lips. "What do you mean by that?"

This was dangerous, you knew, yet you would be a fool to stop, when it felt as though the stars themselves had aligned to grant you this chance. "I mean," you paused, wishing you had a bit left in your mug to fill the silence. "Is it me or the alcohol, Link?"

His lips parted, then closed. The Captain's eyes narrowed as he leaned an inch forward, expression far too serious for what likely looked like the beginnings of a tavern hook-up to anyone who was watching. "You're not drunk," he said; too pointed to be a question, and too soft to be a statement.

"Not yet," you shrugged. Should you call for another round? Did you need another round?

"Then why," there was a pause; a long pause, one that had your hands fidgeting in your lap, head held high in a manner that felt more exposing than anything. "Did you think it was the alcohol?"

It was as if the scarf around your neck weighed a thousand pounds.

Your sigh was soft as you combed a bit of your hair back. Back-and-forth was exhausting. "I'm not in the mood for games, Link."

"Neither am I," he responded quickly, to-the-point. You readjusted your butt more firmly against the seat.

A beat passed. It was a long beat, one that made the silence only more profound. You were no longer sure if this was a good idea; you had never known time spent with him to be so loaded, so... uncomfortable. Why were you uncomfortable?

From across the counter, your eyes caught with the blonde barmaid. She was watching you, hands frozen on a spotless glass, eyes flicking to Warriors. An eyebrow arched. She waited.

All you had to do was scream–

With a sigh, you let your gaze fall back to Warriors. If he noticed your poignant eyeing with the barmaid, he said nothing. He didn't need to, because you knew he wasn't like the others. Captain Link of Her Majesty's army was a good man.

Cocky, but good.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, no less redder than when Wild sat you down to apply it. "Are you going to finish that?" you jerked your thumb to his mug.

"Depends."

He didn't elaborate.

You let yourself lean an inch forward, hands on the middle of your thighs. It was no one's goddamn business if the action caused your chest to plump under the fabric of your beautiful, terrible dress. "On what?"

There was a light stiffness in his tone. "Whether you'll stay here and enjoy it with me or not."

Ah.

"What?" you could believe yourself, though it remained to be seen whether it was for rising to the bait or how pathetically biting your response came out as. "Trees are too good for you now?"

Your attention was rapt when he took a long-awaited sip. The mug was placed on the counter with a heavy thud. Warriors folded his hands in his lap, somehow managing to look both regretful and pleased. "Everything's too good for me."

You couldn't resist. "Even me?"

Cobalt eyes pinned you where you sat. Was it hot in here or was it just you? "Especially you," said the Captain, and you remembered hands, tangled in the mesh of your hair, and lips, sealed over yours like they belonged. Maybe they did.

That was it. You were done. Warriors blinked, caught off guard, when you reached across the counter, grabbing his mug. You took a long, slow sip, letting the alcohol burn all the way to your heart, as if that would give you the bravado needed to conquer a man like him. "Uh–"

"Link."

He was a bit closer now. You could have kissed him if you tried.

"Yes?"

You swallowed. You licked the plump of your bottom lip. Now or never. "If you don't kiss me right now, I'll find someone who will."

It happened in an instant; a hand shot forward to cup the back of your neck through the scarf, coaxing you forward, as a pair of lips bridged the gap. You grabbed his shoulders, fingernails clinking on the polished metal of his left pauldron, and it was the most perfect sound in the world. Warriors was warm, and a bit wet, but he tasted sweet, a soft undertone of strawberries beneath the lull of mediocre alcohol. When he pulled back, your heart thumped at the rose imprint your lipstick skewed across the planes of his own lips.

He was beautiful.

But he wasn't yours.

"I think," you paused; for breath, for moral support. He was watching you, so carefully that not even a fall could break your heart. "We should get out of here."

Warriors reached into his pouch. Warriors plopped a fat red rupee onto the counter.

You caught the blonde barmaid's approving thumbs-up as you left.

A bit ambiguous, but I'm still proud of this!

[idrawprettyboys]

Advice for Aspiring Commissions Artists

I recently had someone ask for advice on how to sell art commissions, so I thought it would be nice to compile a list for others aspiring to do so, as well as to remind myself of some important things to keep in mind.

1. Have one tumblr blog strictly for art. People will follow it specifically because they like your art, and it will be easy for them to find your artwork without having to scroll through a jumble of other stuff.

2. Draw and post just about every day! Most people will say to draw every single day, but please let yourself rest. You will end up being miserable if you force yourself to draw when you aren’t feeling well. The more you draw, the more your art will improve, and the more followers you will naturally accumulate over time.

3. Post fan art to bring in fans. You don’t have to strictly draw fan art, of course. But people are more likely to interact if they’re familiar with the character already. A lot of people will follow you for fan art initially, and some of them will grow to love your original art as well.

4. Develop your own unique style. This will occur naturally over time. Learn from artists you love, and over time, your art will evolve into a mix of art styles you like into something uniquely yours!

5. It takes time to find supporters who are willing to spend money on your art. Building an art business is a slow process, and it takes patience and perseverance. Only a small percentage of social media followers will pay for commissions or Patreon support, but those few are precious.

6. Use every platform and website you can to share your art and have links between platforms, so your fans can find you in multiple places. Examples of places to share your art are social media sites like Twitter, Instagram, BlueSky, and Pillowfort, as well as art sites like Cara and Pixiv.

7. Get a Patreon and Ko-Fi account and be sure to provide links to these means of financial support on your art posts (especially the art pieces you’re proud of).

8. Make use of as many means of making money with art as you can. Sell prints on inprnt, sell stickers on Redbubble. Youtube videos can eventually give you ad revenue. If you make comics, Tapas is another option to make a little bit of ad revenue. You can use Etsy to sell originals, prints, or even commissions! Some people may feel more comfortable buying commissions through an official store like Etsy rather than on social media, so it’s good to have that as a back-up in addition to selling through other sites.

9. Use a secure payment method that you’re comfortable with! I recommend using PayPal with invoices, so that you have proof of their purchase in case anything goes wrong. A lot of artists use Ko-Fi as well.

10. Post your commission guidelines on all the sites where you post your art! Don’t be afraid to reblog/repost your commission price list multiple times!

11. Art commissions are not a steady job. You might get nonstop commissions for a couple months and then not get any for a few months. There are some times of year when people are less willing to spend money. I’ve noticed this happening towards the end of the year. At times when you aren’t getting commissions, I recommend doing a limited time sale!

12. Price yourself appropriately for the amount of effort it takes for you to get the work done! Don’t overprice or underprice! Ask your friends for advice on what you should charge. You’ll probably want to start low and slowly increase your prices as your work gets higher demand.

13. Make your commission price list legible! Check out other people’s sheets for guidance!

14. Have patience and perseverance! It may take years after you start posting before you get a commission, but the more you put yourself out there, the more you’ll get noticed!

15. Draw what you enjoy! Maybe cater to your audience once in a while, but your own happiness is important to give yourself the drive to keep on going!

16. Don’t be afraid to reblog your own art at various times of day, for maximum visibility! Not all of your followers will be online at the time that you initially posted it.

@artist-kreating-stuff

[witherby]

First of all I LOVE your works i love how much effort you put into them!! You’re keeping this community aliveeee. Second, what would the batfam do if punchline cried? Like I’m talking out of no where just straight up cried. I know it must be hard to show emotions such as sadness because of her past and it would be hard to show such vulnerability to anyone. Thanking for listening to my Ted talk 😎

First of all thank you so much! I wish I could write full, one-shot-length replies to every single question I get asked, but sometimes I simply don't have the energy or skill to execute the idea that might manifest from that question!

Second of all, that's a great question! I think it would take an absurdly long time for anybody to catch her crying. I think it would take an absurdly long time for her to cry at all!

Punchline has Congenital Analgesia, so pain wouldn't make any tears well up. She also doesn't feel or notice any appropriate hunger cues, so exhaustion or starvation wouldn't do it either, especially because she's almost perpetually existing in that state anyway.

We also have to consider who her father is, and how she was raised. A lot of her childhood is left to speculation because she's not exactly opening up to people about the Joker's treatment of her. And why would she? In her eyes, he can do no wrong. Anything he has ever said or done to her was completely justified. What's the sense in crying over spilled blood? She just needs to do more. Try harder. Be greater. But not better. She can't be better than her Popsy. Nobody is better than Popsy!

It's difficult to find out what her triggers are when she isn't giving the bat family much to work with. That's not her job, it's theirs to find out and learn from, but the entire situation is layers upon layers of complicated.

When they first take in Punchline, she's roughly 8 years old and some change. I think they'll see her cry for the first time when she's 10.

Punchline doesn't know her birthday. The Joker didn't celebrate it. The bats don't know it, either, so they choose to celebrate her with the day they brought her to the Manor. They make a cake and set up a small surprise party, with things they know she likes such as more face paint, colorful clothes, books, and maybe some new accessories like bows and ribbons. She wouldn't know how to handle that. A party for her? What did she do? How did she earn this?

I think Punchline would cry over being celebrated just for being alive. She's never felt that way before.

[fandombingo]

Fandom Bingo: Valentine Trope Flash

The Fandom Bingo blog has reached 200 followers! And since Valentine's Day happens to be coming up, we're celebrating with a Valentine Trope Flash.

Like last time, this will be a quick flash event, with a 3x3 bingo format and a focus on love/relationship prompts.

This event is multifandom, so you can write for any fandom you want.

**Signups are open for one week, so this form will close on February 17th, 2025.**

General Rules:

You can interpret the prompts any way you want. If you think it fits, then it fits. All prompts can just be used as inspiration or a general fit, no need to actually include them word for word in the fanwork, and tenses and pronouns can be swapped accordingly.

You can write for any fandom you want, including crossovers and original works.

You can combine multiple prompts in one fanwork.

Each submitted fanwork should be new and complete, but it can be a standalone, part of a series, or one chapter of a multi-chaptered fic.

This event is primarily geared towards fanfic, but any medium is fine if you feel you can do it.

For fanfic, the minimum is 100 words with no maximum.

You can use fanworks submitted for this event for other events as well, so long as it’s okay with the other side too.

While signups are only open for a week, there is no time limit for completing a card.

There will be a total of 9 prompts on each card, and everyone can sign up for a maximum of FOUR cards (only one signup necessary).

All content and ratings are allowed but please tag everything appropriately, especially if there’s trigger-warning content.

Please be respectful of each other. If you see content tags you don’t like, just scroll past and move on.

All works must be your own creation. No plagiarism. No AI-generated works.

To Finish a Card:

There's no real requirements for this. Just cross off as many prompts as you can.

There is no completion form for this event, but if you make a masterpost after you finish and ping @fandombingo, I'll reblog that.

When Posting:

You can post your fanworks to this AO3 collection here.

If you make a Tumblr post for your fanwork, remember to ping @fandombingo and tag #ValentineTropeFlash so I can reblog it.

On your post, please clearly indicate the Fandom, Prompt(s), Rating, and Tag(s)/Content Warning(s).

If you have any other questions, don't hesitate to send in an ask!

@thebigbangblogproject

[millyphobic]

ᯓ★ PRETTY LADY

⌗ a shitty friday night date, cold weather, and a late night bus ride back home. just when you think you’ve fucked up the start to your weekend, a real good-looking lady comes sitting next to you. but one problem, how the actual fuck are you getting her attention??

Di!Jill Valentine x fem!reader

꩜ .ᐟ cw :: implied age gap, smoking, awkward reader (this is basically a self-insert), a lot of internal dialogue (this is this is basically a self-insert), reader doesn't actually know who tf Jill is until the end help, rabbit wand mentioned (๑°o°๑)

꩜ .ᐟ notes :: I actually have no idea where this idea spawned from. probably from a dream or some embarrassing experience I had back in high school (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 wc :: 1.5k

You don’t hate the entire world. Just half of it. The male half. 

Nothing like another shitty date to ruin your Friday night. The fact you spent a whole hour listening to a frat guy talk about his shitty “achievements” was painfully depressing. Honestly, why do you even try? It’s already hard living in an area where girls don’t seem to be kissing other girls. But now every guy you think is semi-decent turns out to be a total dickwad. 

Is this a sign from above to stay single? Because it’s not funny. 

You trudged out of the dinner, miserable and with twenty dollars less in your pocket. Stupid bastard couldn’t even pay for your meal and looked at you like you were crazy when you tried to order a burger at a fucking diner. Well, he could suck your dick because it’s not your fault he was probably too broke to get anything more than potato wedges.  

The winter air nipped at your skin as you pulled your coat more tightly over your body, making your way to the nearest bus stop and plopping yourself on a bench. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late to catch a ride home. You just wanted to crawl into bed and never have to think about this night again. Or even better, crawl into bed and finally have a partner to cuddle with. 

Time passed by and you blanked out for a moment, staring at your Mary Janes and softly humming to yourself. It’s not until you hear another person come up and sit next to you do you finally tear your eyes away from the ground. And you do what literally anyone else would do, take a look at who was sitting next to you. 

Holy shit.

Now, you’ve seen beautiful women all your life. To you, every girl out there was beautiful. But damn, in the most respectful way possible, that was one pretty lady. You didn’t really know what to think at the moment. Couldn’t exactly pinpoint what was so attractive about her. Everything seemed to be the appropriate answer. From the grey streaks in her hair to her brown bomber jacket fitted snuggly over her body. But something about the way she held an unlit cigarette between her lips made you feel especially warm from under the collar of your shirt. 

It was like she walked out of one of those badass fighting games where men hate her and women love her. Or even better: where men hate her and women want to kiss you. You’d like to kiss her. Wrinkles and grey hairs and all. If she’s not graying then she’s not staying you’d often joke. But this you might actually be deadass.

“Uhm, Miss?” What the hell am I doing?

The woman’s eyes snapped towards you and you could practically do a back flip into traffic. Whether out of embarrassment or excitement, you didn’t know. She’s got real pretty eyes, pale blue eyes, and not the usual scary soul-piercing blue eyes. 

You gingerly pointed to the cigarette between her lips and before you could think about the fact you’re probably about to embarrass yourself, you asked your next question. 

“Can I have one?” 

What the actual fuck am I doing, I’ve never smoked a day in my life.

And clearly, the lady thought so too, cocking an eyebrow at your nervous face. Silence. Awkward silence. And then she scoffed, digging her hand into her coat pocket. “You sure you want one, baby?” 

Okay, that has to be a murder attempt.

The heat on your face was unbearable as you nod like a puppy, feeling so stupid and embarrassed and turned on all at the same time. Thank god for the darkness of the night, your faces poorly illuminated by flickering street lamps.

A pack of Marlboros and a violet lighter are in her hand, those pretty and slender hands that any girl would fawn over. She flicked the pack open and pulled a cigarette out for you, holding it up to your lips. 

Wait a minute…am I being flirted with?

You’ve never been the sharpest tool in the shed. Most of the time when it came to other people, it was like your light bulb was on but no one was home. So you took the cigarette between your teeth, awkwardly staring at her so she’d get the idea to light it for you. Because, duh, you don’t have a lighter. 

Fake smoker. And for what? Five seconds of getting to make eye contact with a milf? Embarassing. 

The woman lit her own cigarette and raised it to her lips, taking a long drag as the end began to glow. You heard as she breathed in deeply and later saw as she exhaled smoke into the air. And then she tucked her lighter and Marlboros back in her pocket, leaving you like an idiot just sitting there as you stared at her.

Okay, great, let’s just ignore me now and while you’re at it why don’t you curb-stomp me? Does God just not want me to get laid or something because what is-

“Hold still, pretty girl.”

“Huh?”

Another chuckle from the lady is all you heard before she reached out to grab your chin. Her fingers so gently cradled your jaw, holding you in place as she leaned in close. *Oh my god.* All she does is stare at you for a moment and you drink in the way her lips quirked into a little smirk and how that playful glint in her eyes seemed to shine.

Holy shit, I am being flirted with.

With a gentle touch, the woman brought the lit end of her cigarette to yours, the ends kissing as your cigarette sparked to life. Your eyes locked onto hers, faces inches apart as you shared a moment of surprising intimacy. You could smell fresh laundry on her and even hints of cedar wood, easily becoming one of the sexiest scents in the world. 

And once there’s a steady glow from your cigarette she pulled away and you had to consciously stop yourself from following her. It’s been maybe about thirty seconds but you already missed her scent and closeness. 

Oh my god, get off the ground!

Enough about your pathetic self. You had a bigger problem now. Smoking. You couldn’t just have this burning thing between your lips. Not when Pretty Woman was still looking at you. So you did the only thing that makes sense at the moment; take a drag. 

So…you were right. As you took a deep breath in, you didn’t look all cool or suave or whatever. No. Of course not! You started coughing uncontrollably, eyes watering from the harsh smoke as you let out a wheeze. I need to kill myself now. Like right now.

But maybe some divine intervention took place in the next few moments. Maybe your guardian angel looked at you and thought wow, this girl can’t be bitchless forever and took pity on you. Once more you felt a calloused yet tender hand cup your face, the woman’s other hand pulling the cigarette out of your mouth. “You’re funny,” she mused, letting the stick drop to the floor and snuffing it out from under her boot. “Do you always risk your lungs for women your mom’s age?”

Okay, damn, no need to come for my throat like that. “No, not really. But usually, I’m doing something embarrassing anyways so this doesn’t really matter.” Wow, way to sound like a fucking loser.

And she laughed. Her nose scrunched up as she chuckled and you didn’t care if she was making fun of you or thought you were a grade-A freak, you don’t think you’ve ever been so wet before. It’s so dumb because you don’t even know her name and she’s literally just a lady but she’s so much more than that because she looked so…hot.

“You just get cuter and cuter. Hold up.” You watched dumbly as she pulled her hand away, fishing out the Marlboros pack and a pen. Of course, she has a pen, she might as well pull out a rabbit wand next. Something gets scribbled on the front and she tossed it to you, nearly dropping it on the floor as you fumbled to grab it. 

She laughed again, almost akin to a giggle. She stood up, patted you on the head, and walked off like at the end of an epic action film while dramatic 80s music plays in the background.

What the fuck just happened?

To think this all happened because of a date. You finally took a look at the cigarette pack in your hand and, no fucking way, you nearly started jumping for joy. 

There were three things written on the pack. A name, a number, and a little message. Jill Valentine. You finally had a name for your Pretty Lady. At the very bottom, it read, “Glad I spotted you before I walked into that diner. Same time, same place next Friday? :)” 

[ultimate-marysue]

How I feel my Batfam ships may or may not have children (please don't take me seriously I just need wholesomeness):

Dickkory: multiple bio kids, I'm pretty sure this is canon in some future/alternative universes. I think DC should set Kori free on a PTA meeting with no one explain to her the absurd social rules Karens set. The shitty mothers would hate her because she's over here, playing dumb on purpose until they're forced to admit they're just being annoying/egocentric and not actually asking to better their kid's education. Also, career day would be crazy considering Dick changes jobs every few months to get involved into whatever business he's investigating. Like, one year he's a cop, next he's a super model, next he's a college professor somehow. Kori thinks it's really funny so she insists on Dick being the one to go.

Dickbabs: they either don't have kids (just adopt a bunch of rescues) or maybe have one adoptive kid. Other than Cass who is Babs daughter I don't care what anyone thinks. Just Dick, Barbara and Barbara's daughter who is also Dick's sister. Also, Babs got lucky with Cass being homeschooled, the second she has to deal with the school system she's on the phone with the president blackmailing him to fix it. Easy to say, Dick deals with school exclusively from them on.

BabsDinah: they're the lesbian aunts (that end up doing a lot of the parenting because they can't help themselves). Like, neither of them would really want to have kids of their own, but the second a young vigilante with a shit ton of issues gets dropped in their doorstep it's on. Like, officially they'd be mentors, but they all see each other as family.

Stephcass: Cass is a ticking bomb, she's going to find an ex-murderer kid in need of guidance and just bring them home. Steph is not thrilled at first because they're so young still until she realizes "oh wait no, we're like, adult adults now" and then she has a crisis (unrelated to the child). Also Steph would love love to prove she's better than her father (but would be terrified of messing up). At first they're really chill but soon enough they turn it into a competition with the other Bats. Not a competition between their kids, mind you ("no Cass, that's bad parenting") but a competition of who's the best parent. Jason is terrified of them, but the rest are absolutely down.

Jayroy: asides from our beautiful wonderful and just overall fantastic Lian Harper, I think they might end up adopting some kids. What can I say? I think Jason should have Bruce's adoption gene, but specially for kids in dangerous/hard situations. I'm talking the older kids that never get adopted or younger kids with some sort of disability that need extra accomodations. I think Jason would try very hard to avoid them being vigilantes at least until they're 18. Roy is more chill with vigilantism because well, Lian turned out fine, but he respects Jason's opinion. Most important, no child of his is going to be a Robin to Bruce fucking Wayne. Also, everyone in the PTA would love them, they'd be super involved and Jason would make sure to bribe the appropriate people with muffins.

TimKon: test tube baby, not on purpose though. Like, I don't see Tim as someone actively wanting kids (especially not biological ones) and Kon wouldn't want his kid having to face the problems he did. But like, if Cadmus pulls some weird shit and there's a super baby for the taking, they would both want to make sure they give him the most loving upbringing possible. Another option is Tim accidentally creating their baby while trying to clone Kon while he was dead. That one's plausible and has a lot of angst hurt/comfort potential. Also, Teen Dad Tim after being extremely parentified during his early teens taking care of Bruce (while grieving everyone!) is evil , but a compelling kind of evil. Like a trainwreck you can't look away from.

TimBer: dual income no kids kinda queers. They're over here taking their various nephews to Olive Garden and Disneyland only to drop them off and go live their lovely stress free lives. They may adopt a kid, but that would be only when they really settled down. Let Tim enjoy his 20s (if he ever gets there) my boy has been through enough.

Dukeizzy: again, maybe it's because Duke's still pretty young so he hasn't showed much interest or inclination toward parenting, but I don't have a lot of info to go with. Personally either Dual income "take the kids to do airsoft" kinda uncle/aunt, I can see both of them being really good at giving advice to younger vigilantes (the whole situation of We Are Robin gives you a lot of insight in the power of child vigilantes separated from any mentors, so they're in a particular good spot to mediate between the kids and adults). In the case of them having kids, I think they should inherit Dukes autism (I love that headcanon) and both he and Izzy would be those parents making damn sure their kids get the accommodations they need specially at school. If their kids choose to become vigilantes you bet they're gonna be unionized.

Also, I don't have any particular ship for Damian but you bet that if that boy ever becomes a parent they'd be the softest, sweetest father in the world.

[synergysilhouette]

10 BG3 character headcanons I have (Some thirst)

Note: I don't know ALL the lore of the characters, so my headcanons could be going against actual canon. This stuff isn't anything major, but just my thoughts on paper, so to speak.

Halsin wears no clothes (when appropriate)--At one point, Halsin mentions how society complicated the simple rules of nature, including the introduction of clothes. I like the idea that when no kids are at camp, he just goes nude, and no one complains. If someone ever thought to, the others would silence them.

2. Shadowheart raises/rescues children of Shar--I personally feel like all the companions can go the parenting route (Gale states he doesn't think he's dad material, but he gives off 50% fun dad, 50% helicopter dad vibes to me; he's probably just one of those people who won't feel ready until the situation actually arises), though Astarion and Shadowheart need more time to focus on themselves following their trauma, and with both of them having longer lifespans, they have time. Following the adoptive parent storyline you see with Lae'zel, Wyll, and Halsin, I could see Shadowheart founding an orphanage and rescuing children taken by Shar like she was, as Shar refuses to let go of the goal to corrupt Selune's children.

3. Wyll is 100% vanilla, but very horny--I feel like it's very easy to make the heroic guy with just values secretly kinky, though I love the idea that Wyll is pretty much face-value when it comes to sex. I even like to think he's a virgin, seeing how he wouldn't have sex with you until you accept his marriage proposal (unless you pass the persuasion check). Along with this, I do enjoy the idea that once Tav and Wyll become intimate, it's found Wyll has a heavy sex drive, but good self-control, and is always romantic about it. (I also just have him in his underwear at camp, so I also headcanon that that's just how he's comfortable and is 100% non-sexual.)

4. Astarion still has family and is an accomplished musician--I always found it sad how Astarion can't remember his family or much about his life pre-Cazador, but I like the idea that his family is still alive, seeing how long high-elves live, or even just having descendants in Baldur's Gate. The musiucian thing is just something I went with because I gave him proficiency with an instrument, and I like the idea that he came from a well-to-do family that trained him in music, and Cazador made sure he kept up with it when seducing victims.

5. Karlach and Wyll are a default couple if you don't romance either of them--I just love them so much together (though I need more hornless Wyll fanart; there's a way to rescue Karlach without giving him horns, you know). Shadowheart/Astarion has also been on my mind lately...

6. Minthara has evaluated all the men at camp for suitable consorts--Seeing how she wants to found a new house and comes to respect the team, I laugh at the idea of her evaluating Halsin, Gale, Astarion, Wyll, Minsc, and male Tav as her consorts, or at least the sire of her descendants. She goes through process of elimination: Wyll, Halsin, and Minsc are loyal, but would chafe under drow cruelty and her control; Astarion's an undead and cannot produce children; Gale would likely feel like a second-class citizen and rebel against her. Altogether, she decides none of them would make worthy consorts except male Tav (depending on the route, and ESPECIALLY if he's another drow), though Halsin and Wyll would make the best fathers for hypothetical children (and she could probably get away with sleeping with Minsc and him not realizing she's pregnant and her not telling him). She does consider the idea of reaching out to Astarion as a consort for aesthetic purposes if he leads the other spawn into the Underdark, though. (BTW, I found this fanart on Reddit)

7. Mizora mistreats Wyll because she's attracted to him--Evil corrupts, and it wouldn't shock me if Mizora was attracted to Wyll because she wants to break him. That said, due to their personalities and the nature of their relationship, Wyll has rebuffed her, and Mizora tries to make him miserable as a result. And if Tav romances Wyll, she starts to scheme to kill them just like his father. I also have the same vibe from Orin and Zevlor, but that's another thing entirely.

8. Yenna isn't an orphan--I never liked her to begin with, and I have no idea how she'd fit into any of the companions' epilogues except Wyll or Halsin's, so I feel like it'd be better for everyone if her mom turned out to be alive, or if her dad randomly popped up.

9. Gale has A LOT of (sexual) tension with Tav if they're a sorcerer--I'm not super well-versed in DnD lore, but I remember reading that wizards and sorcerers have a rivalry, and it'd be interesting if this played a role in Gale's journey to godhood, since sorcerer Tav would be born with their powers while wizard Gale spent years studying and falling from grace as Mystra's chosen. Plus this could also fuel the reason why he's the cook for the team, wanting to show how multitalented he is. Eventually, if the romances commences, it's a passionate physical affair before we get to the Toril-shattering soul intimacy.

10. Tav comes from a big family--No evidence to support this (and even not all my Tavs have big families; check out the post for my OCs), but I always think of this when they say "No one back home will ever believe this." Be it friends, biological family, or adoptive family, I imagine they have a large social group.

Do we share any headcanons? Any particular that you find interesting from my list? Lemme know!

[aces-to-apples]

Performance review: blog I follow to keep a finger on the pulse of sw discourse. like using a mirror to look around corners and dodge curses.

ASDFGHJKLKKKK I'M HONORED, COMRADE

[welcometogrouchland]

my Stephanie Brown hot take is that she should get mad bitches now that she's single in comics. Yes yes shipping BUT the one time she had sex she was punished by the narrative via teen pregnancy. I think she should be allowed to have as much sex as she wants with zero consequences. Could be a lot of sex, could be a little. Point is she should get to do it without getting narratively baby trapped this time. she should get them pregnant, actually.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

My jewish community, friends, rabbi, and educators: We are very invested in helping you be jewish. Do you want to help read the haftarah? Here's a chanukiah! You can have it!! Borrow these books! Here's some books! You need more books... Come to pesach! Come to the chanukah party! When are your classes done? We need a minyan for once!

Me and my 50000 IQ: What if I am Secretly Appropriating judaism? What if I am doing a Cultural Appropriation........

[starbuck]

people talk about how we shouldn’t put “romantic love” on a pedestal and consider it more important than “platonic love” or “familial love,” but have we considered not sorting love into categories to begin with? Have we tried that?

[geddy-leesbian]

cryptic spoiler for what im writing rn

[jewishcissiekj]

ok so I have many thoughts about the 90s Psylocke-Revanche storyline but first and foremost they were both victims. neither Kwannon nor Betsy chose to be a part of this whole thing. Betsy went into the Siege Perilous willingly, but she had no way of knowing what she was getting into. Kwannon was thrown into it all as she was dying. they didn't choose the change, and their identities following the change were tangled and mixed. neither can be blamed for what happened. Spiral, Matsu'o Tsurayaba, and Nyoirin, however can and should be blamed. it was a collaborative effort, but very much not the Psylockes'.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about fallout 4 against my will

[itspileofgoodthings]

Learning how to love my teenage boy students and they’re learning how to love me within the proper teacher-student dynamic.

[ivyithink]

some tired lads in the modern university au

+ some details))