#i am happy to consider prompts if anyone has some they’d particularly like to read 💖

[crippleprophet]

from the fic writer who brought you “every sex scene i write is gonna be t4t until i stop caring whether cis men are attracted to me” (2018-2021) begins a new journey of self-acceptance & rejecting societal norms. “in every fic with 3 or more characters, one of them will be homebound”: coming soon to an ao3 account near you !

#i am happy to consider prompts if anyone has some they’d particularly like to read 💖 #mac.txt #homebound #life is in your house too

[thusspoketrish]

Words Are Very Unnecessary

TW: Dark fic; Angst; mental illness; mention of past suicide attempt; implied self-harm; scarring; psychiatric ward; unethical medical practices/harm; inappropriate patient/doctor/staff interactions; shifting tenses

Created for the prompt Pretend for @drarrymicrofic

Title taken from Depeche Mode’s Enjoy the Silence

3.3K words. This is something that I may consider coming back to expand on in the future. READ ON AO3.

A heartwarming thank you to @starlitsilvereyes for the thorough beta!

When Healer Robins announces that Harry will not be carrying out his final rotation at St Mungo’s, he’s shocked. He’s done everything he can within the last few months to prove himself capable: he’s completed his clinical rotations with commendations, he’s saved lives, he’s brought coffee and donuts in from his favourite bakery in Diagon every Friday, and he’s even played nice with the first-year Trainee Healers. But as Healer Robins announces his fate, Harry not only feels the bottom of his stomach fall—he can practically feel the smug smile burning a hole into the back of his head from his colleague, competitor, and overall pain in his arse, Blaise Zabini.

“I’m sorry Harry, but Blaise has already proven quite successful with some of the patients in Janus Thickey. I’m afraid that if we remove him, many of the patients will respond negatively to the change,” Healer Robins says, aiming a warm smile at Zabini.

“And you have a muggle vehicle, that James Bond-looking thing, am I right, Harry?” Zabini asks.

Harry turns to face him. He hates to admit it, but Zabini looks attractive in the lime green robes—but everything about him is stylish, with his broad shoulders, his fancy clothing under his robes, his stylish haircut. Too stylish for a Healer, Harry thinks glumly, staring down at his beat-up trainers he’s had for three years now. Harry grimaces as the other man smiles widely at him. He’d wager his entire Gringotts vault that Zabini has charmed a tooth to twinkle when he smiles like that.

“Yeah, why?” Harry grunts. He doesn’t want to show just how disappointed he is over missing out on the Thickey Ward, but he’s never been that great at compartmentalising his feelings.

“You’ll need one where you’re going,” Healer Robins says.

--------

As soon as Harry pulled his sleek black ’52 Jaguar XK-120 (a result of his quarter-life crisis earlier in the year) into the driveway of St Peter’s Asylum, the 16th century estate sends a chill up his spine. He exits his car and ambles around the property for a while, wanting to gain a better sense of his new work environment. There’s a 25-mile-long anti-Apparition ward surrounding the property and no Floo Network connection. Everything about the property felt duplicitous. The beautiful large bay windows were covered excessively with sharp, pointy metal bars, stained-glass depicting religious iconography were covered in grime and spiderwebs. The columned archway framing the front entrance has cracks in them and are covered in rotting foliage. Behind the estate is a crematorium where ominous black smoke currently poured from the vents, spilling upward into the grey sky. He should have known then that something was amiss.

After a confusing meeting with Head Healer Madison, a quick introduction to the nurses and orderlies, Harry is shown to his small, gloomy office. Settled in, when he finally glanced through the files of his new patients, he nearly spilled his coffee on the pile.

He did not expect to see Draco Malfoy on his rota.

He can recall the last time he saw Malfoy, right after the trials, when Harry’s testimony wasn’t enough to save him completely from time in Azkaban, but anything after? He can’t. He does not recall exactly how much time Malfoy served—had it been three years or four? Did he receive early release or was that his father? How had Harry simply put Malfoy out of his mind after everything they had both been through? How had Zabini not warned him Malfoy would be in a psychiatric ward? Did he even know?

All these questions left a sour taste in Harry’s mouth. He had asked Healer Madison to give Malfoy’s file to a different Healer due to the conflict of interest, but there were no other Healers that would take Malfoy, and so Harry was left with a quandary: either help Malfoy or they’ll send him back to Azkaban, untreated, to serve out the rest of his sentence.

Malfoy’s file was as depressing as Harry imagined it to be.

Malfoy was considered a permanent resident on the ward, but the history is muddled as to why he’s been labelled permanent if his psychiatric care was part of his early release requirements from Azkaban. The threadbare treatment plan had no end goals or date to reintegrate Malfoy into Magical society. The file simply read of an attempted suicide in Azkaban, manic depression, and tendencies towards excessive violence to not just himself but those around him when angered—this was one of the reasons Healers refused him care. He had apparently injured the last three, one almost fatally. He’s been kept heavily medicated, but lately has been refusing treatment. The nurses have been providing the necessary potions intravenously.

Malfoy also hasn’t uttered a single word to anyone—not staff or other patients—for over two years.

From the gossip that the nurses regularly indulged in, Harry was able to learn that Malfoy befriended a young Scottish man named Ziggy and an elderly woman named Lottie that was also considered mute and antisocial. Ziggy had died exactly over two years ago under mysterious conditions and his body was sent to the crematorium instead of autopsied by the local Medical Examiner. When Harry had brought this oversight to Healer Madison, he had been scolded and suspended for three days for viewing files not assigned to him. She threatened to send him back to St. Mungos if he continued to work on the files that have been sealed by the Chief Healer, which would result in him failing his final rotation.

This, of course, further fuelled Harry’s interests.

-------

Harry began to watch Draco’s condition much more closely.

The other man still wouldn’t utter a word to Harry, and sometimes he wondered if Draco even recognised who he was sitting in front of, his eyes unfocused, body slumped in his chair with his bandaged arms wrapped around his body, his long blond hair falling to his shoulders in messy clumps.

Harry began to discover bruises around Draco’s wrists when they’d meet for sessions. When they began to appear around Draco’s neck, and finally, his left eye, Harry calmly enquired about it, and this sent Draco into a silent, violent frenzy. Draco had shoved most of the contents on Harry’s desk to the floor, thrown books at the walls, and ripped one of his bandages free to viciously dig his nails up and down his arm. Harry had to call a CODE RED as he scrambled to unlock his wand from the warded drawer of his desk to Stupefy Draco before he reopened all his wounds. It was the first time Harry had seen any kind of real reaction from the other man and quite frankly, it scared the hell out of him. He had watched helplessly as the orderlies rushed in to gather Draco’s limp body from the floor.

Later that day, he approached Healer Madison.

“I’d like the evaluation forms for any other medical treatments Mr Malfoy is having here,” Harry had demanded. She had popped her gum in Harry’s face before rolling her eyes at his request.

“Those records are private, Potter. For the Chief Healer’s eyes only,” she had said.

“Well, I need the evaluation forms as well. I should be aware of any changes in treatment methods, considering Malfoy is one of my patients.”

Healer Madison patted Harry on the shoulder. “Relax, Potter. No need to be such a bloody worry-wort. Code reds happen all the time here. You’ll soon come to realise how we do things at St Peter’s.”

-------

Harry left the hospital at 5pm every day. Like clockwork, when he’s just about to get into his car, he’ll look up to the third-floor window of the recreation room where he’ll catch Draco staring down at him through the slats of the bars. Each time, the monster in Harry’s chest that’s begun to grow with Harry’s concern and affection for Draco, roared to life. He knew it would be just a matter of time before Draco ended up dead if Harry did not figure out what’s going on in this hospital.

--------

On a particularly cold, grey day in October, one month into Harry’s rotation at St Peter’s, Harry enters the third-floor recreation room. All of Harry’s patients have been improving greatly, Draco in particular. Intravenous treatment ended a week ago as he’s now more cooperative in taking his medication by mouth. His self-harming had eased somewhat, but there were still bad days that Harry monitored closely. Draco interacts with staff and his friend Lottie again, sitting next to her to watch the Muggle telly or just holding her wrinkled hand as they both stare out the window. His grey gaze seemed stronger, more focused, determined, even. It made Harry happy to see a sliver of the person he once knew shining through, and he hoped it would just be a matter of time before Draco speaks, so Harry can help him.

Harry glances around the room. Soft music is playing from off the telly. There's plenty of places to sit, but he opts to walk over to the window where Draco is sitting and playing chess by himself. The man’s wrists are bandaged again, no doubt from picking at his scars. Harry can see a patch of blood through the gauze and wonders why none of the nurses have been around to replace them. He wishes he had his wand (which is locked in his office for safety reasons) so he can replace the bandage himself.

“Draco,” Harry starts warmly. “How are you doing today?”

Draco looks up from the board and Harry gasps. There’s another brutal black eye around his left eye, and the top of his lip is split. Harry reaches out, his fingers lightly touching Draco’s lips before grazing along his jaw. Draco remains very, very still under Harry’s touch, his lips parting slightly as his chest heaves. When Harry remembers himself, he snatches his hand back as if he’s been burned.

“Who did this to you?” Harry hisses.

For a moment, Draco’s eyes turn incredibly bright as he exhales a phlegmy breath before his gaze shutters. Harry sits on the opposite side of the board, staring down at it as Draco takes one trembling hand to move his black bishop to E5. Harry sighs.

“You can tell me, Draco. I…I want to help you. I know there’s something terrible happening in this hospital, and I know someone is hurting you. Please, Draco—”

Draco abruptly stands from his seat, startling Harry. Draco doesn’t pay him any notice as he stretches his long, rail-thin body before strolling up to the nurse’s station. He taps on the glass divider several times before Nurse Mathilde slides the panel open.

“What is it, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco mimes smoking a cigarette.

Nurse Mathilde purses her lips. “The Chief Healer has given you permission to smoke again, but not until 5pm and especially not without an orderly present. You’ll have to wait until then. No exceptions!” she snaps before slamming the panel shut.

Draco doesn’t come back to his board game, nor does he glance over at Harry.

Harry watches as he instead sits next to his friend Lottie who is staring at the only plant in the recreational room. He lifts her wrinkled hand and entwines it with his own before settling in to watch the plant with her.

---------

At approximately 5pm Harry exits the asylum, briefcase in one hand and car keys in the other. When he passes by one of the gnarled oak trees, he notices Draco leaning against it, blowing tendrils of smoke from his cigarette. Harry slows down to watch him.

Draco’s hip is cocked out, his hospital shirt bunched up slightly, exposing a sliver of pale flesh and a titillating v-line that disappears in his thin cotton hospital pyjamas. He’s properly beautiful—all long lines and sharp edges carved in delicate, alabaster marble. Harry has noticed just how clearer Draco’s eyes are now, how the grey is piercing, brimming with cleverness and an intelligence that reminds Harry of the boy he knew in Hogwarts.

Harry’s suddenly startled out of his reverence when he glances around and notices that Draco is currently unattended.

Harry decides to approach him.

“Draco. Are you out here by yourself? Where is your attending orderly?”

“He was recovering from the blowjob I gave him before I did this—” Draco says, his voice thick and raspy. Harry is so shocked to hear the familiar drawl that he stumbles forward, his eyes widening, realises too late that Draco has lunged towards him, left hand raised high to strike Harry on the side of his head with a large, jagged rock.

When Harry comes to, it’s with a sharp groan and with the sound of a string of complex Latin filling his ears. He grits his teeth as a burning sensation wraps around his wrist. He realises that he’s frozen on the ground by a particularly thorough Petrificus Totalus. Despite his throbbing head, he focuses enough to catch Draco at his side, hissing as a thin, red bracelet appears on his left wrist, the bandages now gone. Harry hasn’t seen his left arm exposed before, and he cries out as he takes in the horrific scarring over the Dark Mark, as if someone had tried to peel the Mark off with a scalpel and failed to dig deep enough. There were healed and freshly scabbed cuts from his wrist to his elbow on both arms.

Draco appears above Harry then. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

There are streaks of dirt across Draco’s face, his hands, and under his nails.

“Please, Draco, whatever it is…don’t…don’t…”

Draco snorts. “What, don’t hurt you? Don’t kill you? Why would I harm the person I’m currently Bonded to?” Draco asks, lifting Harry’s wrist to his face. The red bracelet there matches Draco’s.

Panic seizes Harry immediately. Had he not been completely immobile, he sure he’d be shuddering. “What the hell is going on?” Harry asks, his voice shaking.

Draco drops his wrist and instead lifts a thick, taped together manila folder covered in dirt. “You’re helping me get the fuck out of here, Potter.” A smile breaks across Draco’s face then, making him look both incredibly beautiful and deranged. “It was as if you breathed life back into me, the day you walked through the doors of St Peter’s. I knew then that I had to hold on just a bit longer because surely it was a sign that my initial hard work wasn’t done in vain. You see this file here? I used to sneak out documents I’d gather from Madison, the Chief Healer, and the nurses proving the abuse. Some of the orderlies will let you do whatever you want if you can…provide the right services…and they would often leave me alone long enough for a smoke. I would hide the files here, Potter. But after Z-Z-iggy—” Draco’s excitable tone falters, a veil of sadness falling so quickly over his face Harry experiences a sense of whiplash. “They killed my friend, Potter. They treated Ziggy well before, even let him play Bowie when things weren’t so bad. They killed him during the experiments…”

“What experiments?” Harry asks, shocked.

Draco’s expression shifts once again to happiness. “I knew you wouldn’t be involved in something so gruesome.” He holds up his scarred arm. “On the Dark Mark and Purebloods who have come from Dark families. They’re trying to figure out how Dark Magic is entwined in a person’s DNA and…I don’t know…undo it.”

Harry’s eyes widens, mind beginning to race. “What?”

If the Healers here were literally using human flesh and blood to somehow recreate or understand the links between DNA and inherent Dark Magic, who knows what kind of torture and body modification they’re causing their subjects.

Draco eyes become manic. “You have to help me. You have to get me out of here in the next five minutes. My outdoor time is only half an hour and the orderly is currently passed out—”

“—Draco,” Harry whispers, interrupting Draco’s spiral. “How many others are there…how many other victims?”

“I don’t know, I swear. I just knew Ziggy personally but there would always be screams, so much screaming, so many voices…” Draco says, closing his eyes and swaying on the spot. He mutters softly, incoherently, to himself for a few moments before he opens his eyes, so grey, intense and bright. Harry is overwhelmed with shock, horror, and above all, disgust. Disgusted that the people he’s been working alongside for a month now, the people who have vowed first to do no harm, have been torturing their patients, vulnerable patients.

“Draco, I want to help you, okay? I will help you. You just have to undo the Petrificus Totalus. We’ll get in the car and just drive. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Draco holds up Harry’s wand, points it at Harry’s face. “If you betray me, Potter, you’ll regret it. We’ll get in that fancy car of yours and you’ll drive until I say stop. If you do anything to prevent me from getting these files to the right people…if you try to get help from the Aurors or let your friends know what’s going on, I’ll off myself. And this bond here, this bond will take you with me. I’m the only one that knows the counter, and once we get to my final destination, I’ll release you. So, don’t you dare fucking try me.”

Harry bites back a gasp.

Despite his very real fear, Harry’s desire to help Draco outweighs it. He nods.

“Okay, whatever you want. I’ll do it.”

Draco’s face, dark with suspicion, slowly starts to slide towards something lighter. He bares his teeth. “I hold onto the wand. You’re not allowed to touch me, period, or else I might get the wrong idea that you’re trying to get your wand back, and I don’t want to have to hurt you, or worse, hurt myself.”

“Yes, okay.”

With a wave of Harry’s wand, Draco undoes the spell. Harry sits up slowly, so as not to alarm Draco, who has quickly scrambled to his feet, the dirty file hugged to his chest, wand still trained on Harry. Harry follows after him, head throbbing and legs unsteady.

Draco casts a healing charm his way before strengthening a Disillusionment Charm around them.

Feeling much steadier, Harry exhales. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I hit you in the first place. I had no other means to incapacitate you.”

“You could have just told me what was going on.”

Draco shrugs. “I had to make sure you were trustworthy. And honestly, I’ve wanted to knock you out for years, so this very much fulfilled a boyhood dream of mine,” Draco says, his lips tugging upward. Harry pauses to look at him. The monster in his chest is awake, thrashing about as affection and desire feeds it.

Harry knows he’s fucked.

They make their way towards Harry’s car after checking on the unconscious orderly. Once settled in, Harry starts the car and drives, past the gates of the asylum and onto the stretch of empty country road. He glances at Draco, not at all shocked to see the tears that are streaming down his battered face.

“Where to?” Harry asks softly.

Draco continues to stare out ahead of him as he answers, “the only safehouse I know. A house on Spinner’s End, Cokeworth.”

Harry draws in a sharp breath.

#drarrymicrofic #Drarry Microfic #trigger warnings #Drarry #drarry fic #Healer!Harry Potter #Patient!Draco Malfoy #unreliable narrator #Dark themes #horror elements #honestly it's not THAT dark #right? #haha #to be continued #thank you for reading

[daisylincs]

To round off my 2021 completion of my incredibly late Trick or Treats, the lovely @the-astro-ambassadors​ won a Treat from me on Treat Day and asked me to spotlight - and this is the particularly lovely part, haha - whatever I wanted. And after considering it for a bit, I decided that what I want to highlight for all you amazing people who follow me and my craziness is none other than my 100 Followers Celebration.

And, ahem, I know that it’s a slightly odd time to do it, given that I currently have... uh... well let’s just say closer to three hundred than one hundred followers (😱😱😱😍😍😍😭 I love you all SO MUCH, oh my goodness!!!!) Anyway, yes, as you can probably tell from the fact that... well the fact that it’s FEBRUARY 2021 and I am finishing a Trick or Treat challenge, I am late for everything. And this celebration, of course, is no different.

Perhaps a good place to start would be to explain what the celebration was all about? Well, luckily, that one’s pretty simple. I put out the gushy posts (and, honestly, I still get that EXACT same feeling whenever I look at my follows page 🥺💜 you are all the BEST, ahhhh!!!) 

... Oh my gosh, I’m just going to keep going off topic here about how much I love you all, aren’t I? Ahem, MAN, I need to focus. So, here’s the idea: every time I’m hit by a wave of love, I’m just going to put three lemons in parentheses, and you guys will know they mean “I ADORE YOU SO MUCH, I am so touched flattered stunned surprised moved and insanely happy by your follows/care, and right back to you’re the best people on the planet.” Cool? Cool 🤣🤣🤗

So, to try this again, third time lucky - I put out the gushy posts about having 100 followers (🍋🍋🍋) and explained how I’d like to give something back to YOU (because, guess what, 🍋🍋🍋!) So I set up three separate series, called Danny Boy & Quake, Sky’s the Limit, and Spider-Dorks, and asked you guys to send in prompts for what you’d like to see. 

Now, each of the above was aimed at a different section of my followers (🍋🍋🍋). Danny Boy & Quake, for example, is for those of you who are of the Dousy persuasion, and, like me, absolutely loved AoS season 7 and wish the show wasn’t over. So for this series, I’m taking Daisy and Sousa, and basically just... exploring where they go from where canon left us! The first fic, for example, picks up right before the One Year Later time-skip, with Sousa and Kora talking about Daisy and their relationships with her while she’s recovering post-final fight in the healing pod. Then we transition on to Daisy and Sousa bonding with Alya, Fitz, Jemma, and so on... teasing each other about ill-advised 50s haircut choices... and even ending up in the bottom of an ocean as a Fitzsimmons parallel once! 

Basically, it’s about Dousy, and the life they might have post-canon - starting their relationship properly, and the adventures they could have, and just... a SHIELD-crazy, but love-rich journey for them both. 

Next up is Sky’s the Limit, my personal favourite, and, as you may have guessed given that I’m, well, me xD, it’s Staticquake. This one is set in a post-season 2 AU where, a) Jemma never got eaten by the Monolith, and b) Lincoln joined SHIELD as Daisy’s first Secret Warrior. Lash is not a thing, and neither is the ATCU, it’s just... the SHIELD family, with some bonus sweet-babies Staticquake, being themselves, and getting to have that “what if it was all the SHIELD characters but with no life-threatening situations, just like them going shopping at Target, having karaoke nights, binge-watching shows together, and being a family in general” AU situation that the cast and fandom are always saying they’d like so much. 

The first ficlet, for example, is about Lincoln consoling Daisy post-her mom’s death and dad’s mind-wiping, and being the first person she tells about her decision to change her name. From there, we go on to Daisy teasing Fitzsimmons after their successful date, that they actually get to go on, fjslkfjdfljd. After that, we transition into full prank war mode with the whole team, and, of course, an alternate Staticquake get-together... oh, it’s going to be SO FUN. 😍

Last but definitely not least is Spider-Dorks, the series I’m writing for the Spideychelle section of my followers (🍋🍋🍋). It, too, is set in an everything-is-canon-up-until-I-say-to-keep-things-happy AU - this one follows everything that canonically happened right up to and through Spider-Man: Homecoming, but cuts off right after that. And instead of Infinity War, we now get... Peter and MJ being oblivious idiots, Ned shaking his head at them both and also shipping them really hard, and, of course, the three of them getting into all kinds of shenanigans together. 

The first ficlet, to give you an idea, is about MJ in her role as AcaDec captain confronting Peter about always missing practice, and basically being like, you can skip it if you want, just know that I’m coming to your place to quiz your ass off when you are home. And because she’s MJ, she also casually drops the bomb of “oh, and I know you’re Spider-Man...” Of course, a firm friendship develops from there, and the next thing you know, MJ and Ned are testing out Peter’s old webshooters, she’s meeting Natasha, and, because of course, Ned’s doing his very best to set up these two oblivious idiots... Oh, yes, I love this one 😝😍

Now, at this point, you may be thinking, well, gosh, look how organised she is, she’s already gotten all the fics written! or something along those lines, but, uh. While I have invested a lot of time in the planning of these series, nothing has actually been written yet, which... is why I’m here today xD. This is going to be one of my biggest projects for 2021 - writing, posting and finishing these three series. Right after I finish my (hey look, also late!!) agentsofchallenges Fluff Bingo, and try to keep up with my birthday fic writing. 

... andddd this turned into a spotlight of, hey look it’s Lily’s 2021 schedule! Oh gosh, sorry, I’m incorrigible 🙈 But the point of this entire thing is, I’m throwing a spotlight on these three series today so that anyone who’s interested can know that I am actively working on them as of this year, and if you keep a watch on my blog (and, hey, I would not complain to the occasional encouraging/yelling ask in my inbox 😝) then yes, you will see these series before the end of the year. Hopefully. Definitely!!! 

Thank you SO much for playing in my Trick or Treat all those months ago, Heather, and late or no, crazy or no, I hope you enjoyed this answer/treat! Who knows - maybe I’ll even see you in one of these series :D 

And to everyone who read this: ALL THE LEMONS TO YOUUUUU, all of them, I genuinely and absolutely adore you. And am also ridiculously excited to share these series with you guys. AHHHHH. You really are the BEST!!! 😍🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

#trick or treat things #100 followers celebration #spotlight #danny boy & quake #sky's the limit #spider-dorks #my series 🥺 #i honestly love these three soooo much #but what I ESPECIALLY love about them is that I get to give something back to *you* guys #because honestly - #every SINGLE time I say 'I love you all' I mean it; from the BOTTOM of my heart #you are all the BEST for following me; for caring what I say; and for making me smile THIS MUCH from day to day 💜💜 #all!! the!! love!!! #🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋 #wip spotlight #🌕🌕🌕 #lily's belated trick or treats

[crqstalite]

in autumn.

OCtober prompt ‘autumn’.  yes! i am four days late as of publishing this 10.4.2020 at one in the morning but i digress. the prompt wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is lol. just a fluff piece about a bit of reflection and one cold elf girlfriend.

ship: marzeyna lavellan/cullen rutherford word count: 2,060

-

Skyhold in autumn.

Creators, it was beautiful. 

Or at least, Marzeyna thought so. Sure, she’d experienced it year after year with Clan Lavellan in the Free Marches, but it made her smile at the fortress they’d moved into earlier this year. The shades of red and orange and the hues of yellow that had slowly taken over the trees as the year wore on, she couldn’t think of any other place that she’d want to be. Other than back in Wycome to assist with rebuilding, sure, but she was happy enough to wander the place on an off day.

Of course, nothing ever just lasted forever did it? She’d also be ripped away from it in favor of visiting Halamshiral -- damned place within the next few weeks to prevent an assassination. Beyond the fact she would be the first of her living Clan to be there in their lifetimes, she would also have to endure nobles.

Plenty of human nobles. With all their fancy dresses, and all their fancy wines and the Games they liked to play with the people who attended the event, and their distaste for elves.

To say the least, she wasn’t particularly excited. 

Evidence of their impending trip being the overly complicated ‘art’ Vivienne had done to her hair earlier this afternoon. She trusted the woman with anything and everything presentation (the dress she’d commissioned from Val Royeaux was nothing short of show-stopping, something Marzeyna would have to get used to the idea of but was still drooling over hours later), but she’s still picking the glitzy pins out of her hair nearly three hours after the afternoon spent bathing in the cooling sun in Vivienne’s loft. Relaxing, sure. She rarely had time to talk about the mundane with anyone.

By the time they got back from Orlais, chances are the snow would start to set in and it’d be Haven all over again. No more crunching leaves under boots or the off-chance she’d see a stray cat lounging on a window sill, just the freezing cold (well, more than usual at least) starting to set in to her bones and making her grateful she could get out of the mountains.

Then again, there’s also the impending doom of Corypheus.

But for now, she could enjoy the cool and crisp air whipping around the battlements, playing with her hair like flames fanned by the wind. She loves it, and there haven’t been enough moments as of late to take solace in what she likes. For the first time in weeks she’s actually sat down in her own desk, and for the first time in other weeks, she’s sat down with Josephine to go through every diplomatic issue she’d missed since she set out for the Arbor Wilds.

(They could not pay her enough to do that again, Inquisitor or not she did not have the attention span or willpower. There are still stacks of reports left for another date in her quarters. Under a paperweight, because she hasn’t gotten enough of the beautiful autumn breeze and has left the windows open. If a few blew away, well, nobody would be any the wiser.)

A door clicks open on her left, and she turns from scenic view of the snowy valley, pushing another rogue curl behind her ear and blowing another out of her face. Marzeyna had come up to the battlements mostly just to walk, but also to pull another diligent person away from his work, as she typically did whenever she was back in Skyhold. She smiles to herself anyway, as annoying as the rest of the world could be, at least she still had Cullen Rutherford by her side.

As tired as both of them have been as of late, it is still good to see him. Since they’d been decidedly moving further and further out from Skyhold, the more and more he had to deploy soldiers and the like. Another thing that not even Varric could pay her enough to do -- that wasn’t her favorite thing to do and she was not interested in learning.

“Long day?” She asks, leaning against the half wall while he runs a hand through his hair, “Looked like you could use a break.”

“I could, yes. Though--”

“Though nothing. Look how nice of a day it is out, it’s already autumn here.” Marzeyna replies, grinning.

That pulls a smile out of him, “That it is. I’d assume you like the change in weather?”

“Well, it’s no longer sweltering but it’s not freezing just yet either. Like a lull in the storm,” A leaf flutters up from one of the trees in the courtyard, dancing in the wind before disappearing back down the wall, “Relish in this, I’m sure we’ll come back to snow by the time Orlais has had it’s way with us.”

She nearly pouts at the smirk he gives her, mildly offended he’s taking amusement in her dislike of the coming snowfall, “Then the Inquisitor isn’t a fan of the winter months?”

“Just because you have the fluffy mantle and heavy armor doesn’t mean the rest of us can compensate nearly as easily,” She teases, just barely holding herself back from crossing her arms, “It gets so cold at night, there’s no using a fireplace to offset it.”

“Didn’t Josephine requisition more of the down blankets?” Genuine concern, that was sweet the way he asked.

“She did. But it’s also been weeks since I’ve been back in Skyhold. I got used to the warmth in the Wilds and the Plains,” She pulls at her overcoat as if to wrap it tighter around her. It wasn’t like she could drag them around the fortress either, collecting dirt and who knew what else on the tail of it. She really needed to find a proper coat that didn’t hinder her magic if she intended to make it through the winter, “It’s not a fair comparison.”

“Isn’t it?” Her look must be that sour that it’s at least amusing, “Fine then.”

Marzeyna pauses again, letting them bask in the quiet for a bit, admiring the changing colors of the leaves and wind blustering around them. It’s been nothing but fighting Venatori for the last few weeks, that and the undead and whatever giants they can imagine. No more running for now, and she’s not kept to Cassandra, Blackwall and Dorian for company anymore (not that she doesn’t adore them, but...well). It’s good to just sit and acknowledge how much they’ve gotten done, how much things have changed. 

Cullen looks at peace at least, a far improvement from how he’d been just before she left the last time. He notices her smiling directly at him, and visibly flushes.

“I did...miss you,” She offers, pointedly looking up at him. She pulls her hair over her shoulder, standing properly again, “Were things okay while I was gone?”

He knows what she’s referring to -- more withdrawal symptoms, “Not as many, no. A minor improvement, I assure you. You needn’t worry.”

“I will worry regardless, Cullen, I don’t want you in pain,” Another pause, “But...that is good to hear.”

“Most likely only because you pushed to keep me off of it.”

“That was all you, and you know it. I can’t fight that battle for you, but you’re still winning it.” She offers. That much was true, she may have been another opinion in the situation, but he was recovering, little by little.

He sighs, glancing out to the horizon for just a moment, “Yes. I suppose you’re right, and I thank you for the strength to go on.”

“I do what I can,” She steps closer, gauging his reaction, “And yet? No one can quite replace you, as I’m finding. I was wanting to be back sooner than this -- letters are just not the same. Surely you understand?”

“As much as you love to write them.” He responds, surely referring to her inability to write the shorter reports than the others of the Inquisition are capable of. She likes to go on and on and doesn’t even realize it until she’s run out of parchment paper. Usually she only has enough room to squeeze in her own name at the bottom of the page in the loopiest handwriting.

“You read them?” She asks, surprised, and maybe a tad embarassed now -- considering they aren’t always the most academic. She would’ve thought they’d go directly to Leliana, considering just how much sneaking around they’ve done as of late, “I thought you were only getting the shorter ones.”

“The ones you send to me directly?” He smiles to himself, “Yes, I read those as well.”

An arm snakes around her waist, careful, tentative as she goes on, gently leaning into the touch and placing her hands on his chestplate, “You know it’s almost been a year, Cullen. Since all of this started, and now we’re here. Could you have imagined we got all of this done in such a short time?”

“It has been an experience, yes. Demons, Venatori, among other things. I don’t believe my past experiences would’ve prepared me exactly for that.” He responds, only slightly flinching when she leans her head against his chest.

“You’re telling me there wasn’t anything on what to do if demons started falling out the sky in the Templar instruction book?” She’s got such a stupid grin on her face again, but he chuckles anyway at her joke, “I’m surprised, they really didn’t teach you enough to be effective.”

“I don’t believe such a manual exists, but should you wish it, I’ll write one and distribute it to our Templar allies,” And now she’s chuckling herself, as halfway serious as he sounds. 

Oh why does she care for him so? A mage and a Templar, for Creators’ sake.

The humans’ Maker is probably throwing some sort of fit right now, wherever up in the sky He is.

“I’m serious though, Cullen. It seems like just yesterday Cassandra was content to yank me out of the chantry’s dungeon to force me to answer for the Divine’s death,” That was one downside to the mostly...interesting memories, “And here we are, such an international power that we’re being invited to make an appearance at the Winter Palace.”

“Believe me, I am aware,” He muses, “You’re a very capable leader, Lavellan.”

“I didn’t do half of this -- you know the Inquisition would simply fall apart if any of you just walked away,” She rolls her eyes, sighing, “I just close the rifts with the glowing hand, not much else.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “You act as if this isn’t a result of your determination to save the world. It is. I would say you’re doing an admirable job.”

She highly doubts she would get the same flood of affection with anyone else, or that anyone else’s compliment would feel nearly as genuine as his does.

“Thank you, Cullen. We made it to Kingsway, I can’t say anything else about the rest of the year though. That’s decidedly still up in the air.”

Marzeyna feels distinctly...tingly. The good kind, like just before her magic would flare again during a fight, except the fight or flight response doesn’t accompany it. She’s just undeniably happy, and if anything arcane flickers under her fingertips, she doesn’t notice. Her ears are twitching though, probably moreso than usual when he presses a tentative kiss to her forehead.

It was much too pretty a day out, but she was content to rest her for just a moment, letting the world continue on. 

The wind gusts around them again, and she shivers, audibly chilled by the cold and trying to press herself further into his embrace, the fur of his mantle tickling her cheek, “It’s much too cold out here.” Marzeyna barely keeps the whine out of her voice, she wasn’t a child, but she also didn’t feel as if she had to hide the fact she was having no fun dealing with the change in seasons from him either.

“Would you like to go inside then? You...could come and sit for while, there isn’t much work to be done this evening.” He offers.

“I...would like that. As long as you don’t want me reading any reports,” She makes a face, “I would be happy to spend the evening in your presence.”

#marzeyna lavellan #cullen rutherford #cullavellan #oc #original character #dai fanfiction #marzeyna/cullen

[pumpkinnubbin]

Prompt: Natasha is a very famous actor/singer/you pick. One day she gets a stalker (Rumlow). She gets in touch with a private security company to get their best bodyguard. That bodyguard is Maria. Bonus points if they don’t like each other at first, especially because Nat insists on teasing her in various ways, just to spite her.

I was so very tempted to just make this The Bodyguard but I resisted, barely. This ended up longer than I was expecting (it’s not bite sized) and I have a bunch of other prompts and ficlets I should have done first but I spent two hours last night just typing this because apparently this speaks to me. No idea if this is what you had in mind but here you go, squishy 💚 Thanks for the prompt, I really liked it.

Natasha is one of the most famous dancers in the country. She’s proud of the fact; after all, she’s been doing this for longer than she can even remember. She’s started dancing at four-years old and was later discovered at a local dance school performance. From there, her training intensified so she could keep up with the best of the best and she quickly became one of them. Her grace is almost unmatched and her performances are always flawless. She trains hard to keep it that way. There is never a single misstep or wasted movement. Everything is perfect, down to the expressions on her face and the smile after each performance, when she bows to the applauding audience. She’s small even for dancing standards and every single one of her fellow dancers is taller than her by at least a couple of inches. Natasha likes it that way. She doesn’t need to stand out by height, her red hair does it for her. If not that, her skills lift her above her no less talented peers.

Natasha is used to sold out shows and gifts and letters afterwards. It’s mostly superficial but she loves reading letters from little girls (and boys) who wish they could dance like her. She writes back sometimes, if she can spare enough time. She loves dancing and she loves that she can inspire kids to want to do it too. It makes her happy. Sadly not all gifts and letters are as innocent as that and she has to deal with equal amounts of inappropriate fan mail. She usually just throws those out without reading very much of it. She doesn’t stay to meet people after shows often because she’s usually too tired to want to but she tries to do it at least once a week. She knows there are young people in the masses waiting and she doesn’t want to be an asshole and never show her own appreciation for her fans.

Lately though, she’s noticed the same guy in the crowd every time she steps out to meet anyone and even when she just passes by to go home and get some sleep. He’s always there and sure, normally that would be flattering and sweet, but something about him feels off to Natasha. She starts getting letters by the same person after every show, sometimes even multiples per show and she’s starting to recognize the handwriting. They started nice enough but after weeks of no replies, they were starting to turn both aggressive and obsessive with the fantasies described within. After a month of this, she finally reads a letter that mentions him waiting after each show and she puts the pieces together to figure out it’s that same man who is always watching her. She’s uncomfortable every time she meets people after shows from then on but hides it to the best of her abilities.

Natasha isn’t stupid. This isn’t her first stalker over the years but he is definitely the worst one yet. She knows his name is Brock and she knows he’s ex-military. That alone is reason enough for her to be worried. She goes to the police with a bunch of the letters and tells them about him but they refuse to do anything to help unless he actually does anything. It’s frustrating and dangerous and she tells them that before leaving and finding an alternative solution. Said solution is found with the help of Google and she phones a private security company two hours later from her apartment. Natasha explains the situation to the head of S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury, and he agrees to send his best bodyguard when she tells him that money isn’t an issue.

There’s a knock on the door to her changing room the next day while she’s getting ready for rehearsals and she calls the newcomer in without bothering to pause applying her make up. A woman steps in, dressed in a black suit, her hair fixed in a tight bun. Natasha does pause then and looks at her in the mirror before turning to actually face her. She doesn’t even need to get up to see how much taller this woman is and that makes her lips tick up in a small smile.

“I’m Maria Hill. Fury sent me to be your security detail until further notice.”

Hill is all business and Natasha makes a small noise before she stands up. She was right about the height at least. She nods at her and holds out her hand in greeting.

“I’m Natasha.”

Maria takes the offered hand and shakes it and then has a quick look around. Natasha can safely say that this wasn’t what she’s expected.

“Not who you thought he’d send?” Maria asks when Natasha keeps staring at her.

“No, but I don’t particularly care as long as you can do what he promised.”

Hill is very good at hiding the irritation she feels at those words but Natasha picks up on it anyway. Maria is proud and she’s good at her job and she won’t have anyone questioning that.

“I can. I’ll be with you at all times where he could get to you.”

“Am I going to need to house you? Because all I can offer you is the couch.”

“No, that’s not necessary.”

“Okay then.”

Natasha returns to her chair so she can finish getting ready for her rehearsal. Maria keeps watch by the door, her hands folded in front of her. She follows her when it’s time to go and Maria takes the time to check out the hall and the area surrounding the stage. She doesn’t disturb the rehearsal and waits for Natasha by the door once she’s done.

They don’t speak much after that. Maria is professional and Natasha quickly finds out that she has no interest in small talk so Natasha gives up on trying.

It’s after the show that night when Natasha goes out to meet people that Maria really steps up. She keeps close to Natasha and keeps everyone else a respectable distance away. Natasha subtly points out Brock in the back, who looks confused at the sight of the suit. He leaves earlier than usual and Maria urges Natasha along as well. She drives her home much to Natasha’s disbelief. She can drive herself. Maria argues that her bike isn’t safe enough.

“Can we at least make a pit stop by a bar?”

“Absolutely not.”

“If I had known Fury would send a party pooper, I’d have asked for his second best,” Natasha grumbles and she finds satisfaction in the way Maria’s jaw ticks.

Natasha thinks she’s safe to do as she pleases once home at least but Hill has other ideas. She’s dealt with types like Brock before and there’s every chance he knows where Natasha lives already. She sweeps the entire place twice to be sure and then lets Natasha know that it’s safe. Natasha rolls her eyes at the second time she checks every single room but she is still relieved to hear the all clear. She hasn’t considered that he might have followed her home and the thought sends a shiver down her spine. She grabs a drink for herself and doesn’t bother to offer Maria one too. She’s too professional to drink on the job.

“At least sit down somewhere. You’re making me antsy just looking at you standing there like he’ll break in any second.”

Maria hides her glare but sits down on the couch. She still keeps an eye on the windows and listens for any unusual sounds coming from outside.

“You’re taking this too lightly,” Maria tells her and there’s bite in her words that make Natasha want to growl at her.

“Excuse me? I hired you, didn’t I?”

“And yet you don’t seem to take this serious at all. You shouldn’t go out to meet people when you have a potentially violent stalker waiting for you in the midst of them. You’re giving him plenty of chances to get to you or follow you.”

“I can’t just not go. You scared him off tonight anyway,” Natasha argues.

She downs her vodka in one go and makes a face before putting the glass down. Maria is about to argue the point when Natasha speaks up again, grinning a little this time.

“I bet you could just glare everyone away and they’d never get close to me again.”

Maria huffs and gets up again to check the windows once more. She doesn’t like Natasha very much and the redhead is well aware of it. The feeling is rather mutual at the moment but she does find some entertainment in trying to get a rise out of her.

“I’m going to bed. Do you need to check that again too?”

“No,” Maria says, annoyed, “I’ll be in my car.”

She leaves again while Natasha heads to her bedroom to change to go to sleep. It’s going to be a long time with Hill around.

The next couple of weeks drag on for both of them. Maria is tired of Natasha’s teasing and Natasha hates that there’s no change whatsoever in her situation. Brock is still coming to every show and he’s still waiting with the rest of the crowd afterwards. She still gets letters from him but they get more and more possessive and obsessive and she’s starting to feel sick reading them. Maria eventually takes them away from her to read them herself and then refuses to tell Natasha what they said. She may not like the smaller woman all that much but she hates stalkers and she doesn’t like how it weighs the redhead down. She distracts by taunting and teasing Maria and it takes a while for Maria to catch up to the fact. She finds her crying in her changing room twice and she hears her sobbing in her bedroom once after a particularly detailed letter. It’s still not enough for the police to step in.

It’s another week later that something happens. They’re at Natasha’s place eating dinner when the window shatters loudly and a brick just barely misses Natasha. Maria is quick to rush over to her and cover her. She ushers her under the table while she goes to the window to check if whoever threw that is still around. It’s too dark to see but she hears movement and is able to make out a retreating shadow. She can’t follow but she’s satisfied enough that they’re running away so she comes to get Natasha. She checks that the woman is fine and then, very gently, tells her to go to her bedroom and stay there while she cleans up and sweeps the area. Natasha does as told. She’s trembling and shaky. She sits on her bed with the blinds closed and her door locked and waits until her heartbeat calms down again. This is the first time something like that happens to her. None of her previous stalkers got violent and even just threatening police involvment had them running away. This is very much different.

Maria knocks on the door when she’s back ten minutes later. Natasha feels like she’s waited for hours. She opens the door and doesn’t even think before throwing herself at Maria and hugging herself close to the taller woman. There’s one thing she can’t deny about Hill and it’s that she makes her feel safe. Maria is surprised but she wraps an arm around her shoulders and holds her close for a minute.

“You’re okay, Natasha. I called Fury, we’re bringing another person in to help keep an eye on things. If he tries anything again, we’ll get him.”

Natasha nods against her and her shock is finally wearing off, leaving only a feeling of dread in its place. Natasha is terrified. She grips Maria’s shirt tighter and pushes her face further against her to hide how close to tears she is. She doesn’t want to cry. Crying isn’t helping her. When Maria lifts her free hand to the back of her head though, it breaks what little resolve she has left and a sob leaves her body.

“I got you…” Maria says quietly.

Natasha cries against her for a few minutes, her body shaking, until she’s too exhausted to even keep her eyes open. She sags against Maria and loosens her grip on her again. Maria sighs and shifts to pick her up. Natasha is too tired to argue. She’s even too tired to blush. Maria carries her back to her bed and gently lets her down on it. Natasha immediately drops onto her side on the mattress and blinks the remainder of her tears away. She looks up when Maria crouches down next to the bed to look at her.

“I got you.”

Natasha nods. She believes that. She falls asleep like that and Maria goes to clean everything up.

By morning, there’s a second car parked in front of Natasha’s place and a young woman named Sharon introduces herself as Maria’s backup. Natasha nods, shakes her hand, and thanks her for coming. Neither her nor Hill mention Natasha’s breakdown the previous night or how Hill carried her to bed. They go on as usual with their daily routine while Sharon remains at Natasha’s place all day. If anyone suspicious approaches, she’ll stop them.

Nothing happens for another three days. It’s early evening, still just bright enough to really see, when Sharon notices a man walking towards Natasha’s place. He’s crossong the lawn and Sharon quickly radios Maria before she gets out of her car to intervene. Maria makes Natasha hide in her bathroom and then goes to follow Sharon’s example. Brock is halfway through breaking the lock on Natasha’s front door when Sharon gets to him. He doesn’t even try an excuse before lashing out and attacking the blonde. Sharon ducks his blows and she’s ready to taser him when he pulls out a gun and she freezes. He’s unstable enough to pull the trigger on her and she knows Maria will get there any second.

“Stop keeping her all to yourselves! I love her. Why can’t you let us be happy together?!”

The sound of the door opening distracts him and Sharon moves quickly. She takes a step aside and then hits his arm down to make him drop the gun. Maria catches on quickly and tasers him before he can do anything else. Sharon secures the gun while Maria cuffs him with some zipties and then they call the police.

Maria leaves Sharon to keep an eye on Brock while she checks up on Natasha. She’s locked away in her bathroom but opens the door for Maria.

“We got him. Police is on the way.”

Natasha lets out a breath of relief and instinctively hugs Maria, grateful.

“Sharon did most of the work.”

“I’ll hug her too.”

Maria laughs to that. She heads back down to wait with Sharon just in case Brock wakes up too early and tries anything else stupid.

It takes a while before the police finally arrive. Maria recognizes the officer in charge and they exchange greetings before she gets to the point and explains what’s happened.

“I’m sorry they didn’t want to do anything sooner,” Steve says, “I know this guy. It’s not the first time this happens with him. If I’d known, I’d have stepped in sooner.”

“Just get him outta here, Rogers.”

He nods and looks up when Natasha steps outside. He apologizes again to her and promises he’ll see to him personally. Natasha can’t do anything but nod and believe him. Steve hauls Brock inside the car with the help of his colleague and then they take their witness testimonies before driving off again.

Natasha does hug Sharon in thanks and then the blonde is also off to report back to Fury. Their job is done now that Brock is in police custody. Maria stays and Natasha looks up at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I’d like to stick around a little longer just in case he wasn’t alone, or the only one.”

Natasha smiles. Truth be told, she’d really like some company tonight. It’s been stressful and she’s pretty anxious now so Maria’s words make her feel a little better.

“I’d like that, honestly. I…”

She doesn’t want to be alone but she doesn’t say it. Maria nods anyway and guides her back inside. Her lock will need replacing and Maria makes a mental note to get that done before she officially finishes this job.

Natasha makes them both dinner later and they eat on the couch, far away from any and all windows.

“Thank you. I don’t think I’ve said it at all this whole time but thanks.”

“Just doing my job,” Maria says.

Natasha thinks back to when she’s carried her and doesn’t think that’s quite true. She’s grown to like Maria quite a bit and she’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual. Her teasing no longer gets a rise out of her but it makes Maria laugh now and she’s sad to have that gone after tonight. She doesn’t want it gone. She’s gotten used to having her around all the time.

“You should get some sleep.”

Natasha is quiet for a few moments. She’s sure she’ll sleep fine now that Brock has been dealt with but she’s considering anyway.

“Would you stay with me?”

Maria looks at her in mild surprise and says nothing. It’s terribly unprofessional to even take saying yes into consideration but she does it anyway because she hates seeing Natasha upset. She’s watched so many of her performances now and Natasha is always proud and strong. She likes seeing her like that. She wants to keep seeing her like that.

“Okay.”

Natasha smiles and mumbles a thanks, then goes to clean the dishes. She finds Maria an old sleeping shirt of hers that is several sizes too big anyway and then changes, giving Maria enough time to do the same. Natasha isn’t prepared for the sight that greets her when she comes back out of the bathroom. The shirt is still a little long on Maria but fits her quite well, her hair is down and a mess from being in a bun all day, and the yawn she catches is cuter than it has any right to be. She covers her own answering yawn and crawls under the blanket. She rolls on her side once Maria has settled, just barely not touching. Maria is on her back, her hands resting on her middle.

“Maria?”

“Hm?”

“This is maybe not the best time to ask this but… would you like to have dinner with me some time?”

Maria rolls onto her side with a grin that makes Natasha’s heart stop.

“Are you asking me out? ‘Cause we just had dinner together.”

“I am.”

Her grin turns into a soft smile and she reaches out hesitantly to push a stray strand of hair out of Natasha’s face.

“I’d like that, yes.”

Natasha blushes at the touch of her fingers against her cheek and curls up on herself a little more to hide it. Maria chuckles anyway.

“Okay.”

Maria drops her hand again and rests it in the space between them. She stays awake until Natasha’s breathing evens out in a sure sign that she’s fast asleep. She shuffles a little closer and wraps her arm around Natasha before she gets any sleep herself. This is a job well done indeed. At least something good comes out of this whole ordeal. Maria can live with that.

#blackhill #Prompt #my fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #teslatwin #asks #replies #DID I DO IT

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Advent Drabble “Escape” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt has another request for Blaine ... one that may change the scope of their whole relationship thus far. (1758 words)

Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts gradual/star, and home/gift. There are others in there, too. Part 3 of the fic “Doula”.

Read on AO3.

“G-go on vacation with me?”

“Hmm?” Blaine isn’t certain he heard Kurt speak. He’d been concentrating so hard on massaging Kurt’s legs - gradually inching his way from his left calf to his thigh, focusing on where his hands touched, with what amount of pressure … reflecting on how that skin felt against his lips minutes ago … that the words didn’t quite make sense.

“Go on vacation with me,” Kurt repeats. “Oh … unless your schedule is packed or something. I don’t know how busy you are, being a doula.”

“Being a doula doesn’t really take up too much of my time. It’s more of a side gig than a career,” Blaine explains, grabbing his bottle of massage lotion so he can start on Kurt’s right leg. “I’m still kind of finding myself. Luckily, I’m one of those fortunate few who doesn’t have to work, so it gives me plenty of time to explore.”

“Why is that?” Kurt asks, and bites his tongue immediately after. Shoot! He’d been so relaxed, he only asked to make small talk. He didn’t intend on being so thoughtless.

“I haven’t blown through my inheritance yet. Luck-y me.”

“Oh, Blaine …” Kurt looks back over his shoulder at Blaine, rubbing oil on his hands and returning to his massage. He remembers when Blaine’s parents died. They’d passed within a month of one another – his mom going first, then his dad when he realized he couldn’t live without her. On the one month anniversary of his wife’s death, he simply died in his sleep.

An undiagnosed cardiomyopathy.

In layman’s terms, a broken heart.

Kurt had received word when he was on tour in Europe. He tried to get away, but he couldn’t fly back to be there for Blaine. So he sent a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers to the funeral instead. It hadn’t dawned on Kurt to feel too guilty at the time since Blaine was engaged.

When Kurt’s father died the following year, Blaine was single again.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says. “I …”

“Kurt, considering your life right now, I’m not going to blame you if you don’t remember every little detail of mine.”

Kurt wants to object. He wants Blaine to know that he does remember, because Blaine’s life is important to him. Regardless of how he’s acted over the past decade, it’s always been important.

“I became a death doula because of them,” Blaine continues. “Because of what I went through after they died. There was so much I didn’t know about losing someone close to me until my mother passed away. My father wanted to take care of my mother himself, but everyone he talked to told him he couldn’t. But it wasn’t true. Watching how the funeral home handled it, how they talked to my father, what they tried to sell him on …” Kurt feels Blaine sigh, feels it seep into his skin. “It was disheartening, knowing that there are people in the world out to make a buck any way they can, and that funeral homes are no different. Having someone he loved more than life pass away, coming to them at his most vulnerable, those things didn’t protect my dad. So, I took over. Did some research, and had everything handled at home the way my dad wanted. The only thing we paid for was a burial plot in a green cemetery. I refused to turn my mother over to a stranger who was going to charge me thousands of dollars for a giant, non-biodegradable box we were going to stick into the ground. My parents didn’t want that.”

“That must have been so difficult,” Kurt says, remembering how he handled his father’s funeral.

He didn’t.

He wrote someone else a blank check and they did everything for him. No stress, no mess, and Kurt was grateful. It gave him the time he needed to focus on simply grieving the loss of his father. He didn’t feel particularly swindled or pressured by the funeral home he hired. Then again, the directors of the funeral homes in Lima had all been friends of his father. They could have bent over backwards for Kurt because he was Burt Hummel’s son.

But if that hadn’t been the case, if Kurt wasn’t wealthy or famous, would the experience have been the same?

“Dealing with the funeral industry was such an eye-opening experience. I knew there had to be other people who felt the same way I did, and I wanted to help spread awareness. But I didn’t want to become a mortician or anything like that. That’s when I decided that the best thing I could do would be to become a death doula. I took a course and now here I am. But I offer it as a service, only ask for what I need to cover expenses. Outside of my song writing, it gives my life purpose.”

“That makes sense,” Kurt says with a small smile. “It suits you.”

“Does it?” Blaine scrunches his nose. He thought it did. His brother and many of his friends seem to think it’s morbid. Cool, but morbid. He’s happy that Kurt approves, that it’s not a turn off for him. But it sounds strange to hear Kurt say it.

“A-ha. You’ve always been compassionate and nurturing. I often thought that if you didn’t become a musician, you might end up being a teacher.”

“Yeah, well, the only school I ever taught at burned down, so right away, that’s not a good sign.”

Kurt stifles a chuckle. He’d forgotten all about that. Back when it happened, it seemed like the end of the world – Dalton Academy, the place where he and Blaine first met, dying by fire. Years later, he’d mark it as a metaphor for their relationship. A foreshadowing even. But now, it’s simply a moment. One that they’d shared. A part of their history together.

And it felt good to remember it.

It would be nice to make a few new moments with Blaine.

“You know, Blaine, one good thing about being a star is that I have more money than I can spend in a lifetime. Especially my lifetime. And if I’m going to go, then I intend on using as much of it as I can to make sure that every minute is as memorable as possible. But it would be nice to have someone to share it with. And I know that we haven’t been an ‘us’ in a long time. We … we don’t even have to be an ‘us’. We can just be two good friends, traveling around the world together.”

Blaine slides forward, curling up beside Kurt. “I … I don’t know. That sounds … I don’t know how I would ever pay you back.”

Kurt smirks. “Blaine, that is the weirdest thing you could have said to me.”

“I … I know. I just … I don’t know what to say.”

“Blaine …” Kurt reaches up and runs slightly trembling fingers through his hair “… do you know how many friends I have?”

Images of Kurt with his entourage flash through Blaine’s head – the handsome men he’s been connected with over the years, even if those rumors have never been confirmed. At least they got to exist in the same space as Kurt while Blaine watched from his sofa. So many times he wished he could be one of them, not necessarily as a love interest.

He just missed Kurt so damned much.

“If I had to venture a guess, I’d say a lot.”

“A year ago, you’d be right. But the second everyone found out I had cancer, they all disappeared. And not one by one. En masse. People don’t know how to handle cancer. They want to hide from it, like they’re going to catch it. They don’t know what to say to you when you have it so they bury you early and move on with their lives. I don’t hold grudges against any of them. I really don’t. I remember what it was like when my mom had cancer, what she went through. Watching her go through that was excruciating. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. So if it’s better for them to distance themselves from me, then it’s better for me, too. I don’t want anyone resenting me. But I’m not at a point in my life where I want to make new friends … and I don’t think I can handle being alone.”

Blaine nods. It’s a thoughtful nod, but he remains quiet, and Kurt’s heart sinks into his roiling stomach. He doesn’t know what he thought Blaine would say after that. He had hoped he’d say yes, but that’s a lot for Kurt to expect. Maybe this is too much. After all, what does Kurt really have to offer? If his oncologist is right, he has 5 years maybe.

5 years isn’t a future. It’s a sick and twisted joke.

“I know I’m asking a lot. I know I keep saying that, and then I ask for more. I know that this would mean the world to me, but that you’re going to have to bear the burden of our memories when I’m gone. I’m sorry. I really am. The last thing I want is to hurt you. But our relationship, even with its flaws and imperfections, was the best of my entire life. In high school, you being with me was such a gift. It changed everything for me! My entire life! I’ve spent so much of the past ten years wondering how things would have been different if you and I stayed together. And I’m being selfish, asking you to play that out with me. I know what you must be thinking …”

“No,” Blaine says, “I don’t think you do.”

“I do!” Kurt insists, tears filling his eyes. “Because I know what I’d be thinking! Who the hell does he think he is? and Does he think he can get whatever he wants because he’s dying? and This was supposed to be one favor! I wasn’t looking to get back together with the jerk who ditched me for Broadw---“

Blaine quiets Kurt with a kiss. It’s not deep, not demanding, but it’s enough to get Kurt’s attention. Kurt sniffles as he kisses Blaine back, sure that this is Blaine’s way of saying goodbye.

“I was just thinking,” Blaine says, putting a hand on Kurt’s cheek, tracing the trail of his tears with his thumb, “when did you want to start?”

#klaine advent 2018 #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

[4pondsinabox]

Summer 2018 TV Binge Ranking

I use the term “Binge” lightly, since I’m not used to watching a lot of tv at once. Anyways, starting out this summer I realized the number of my active fandoms had significantly decreased, which I needed to fix asap. Luckily, not only did I have more time than usual to watch some television, but I also had access to a Netflix account for once, so I went right to work. The following shows were picked from various gifsets, edits, fanarts etc. on Tumblr and Instagram, so for those of you I follow who post occasional stuff that don’t pertain to the main fandom I follow you for, you probably had some influence on my list. Because of this, I figured it might be useful for anyone else looking for a new show to watch to have some kind of ranking, though I realize different people have different tastes. You will notice though that none of these shows are long-running, so it’ll be pretty easy to jump right on board any of them. These are ranked purely on my enjoyment of them and how much I looked forward to seeing the next episode, NOT the actual overall quality. 

1. Legends of Tomorrow

“You’ve got to be joking” Nope. No I am not. Ok, the first season is really rough. Like, extremely rough. But the show finds its footing by season 2 and becomes essentially the American version of Doctor Who (aka my favorite show of all time). Time travel? Check. Sentient Time Ship? Check. A good blend of hilarity and touching moments? Check. Badass bisexual queen (who was trained to kill people)? Check. The list goes on. It’s extremely enjoyable, particularly when you need a good laugh, I really looked forward to every episode post-series 1. I would almost recommend skipping the first season altogether but there are a few important backstories for the characters that might make some later moments confusing. You don’t really need to have watched other Arrowverse shows to understand what’s going on and, aside from 2 crossover specials, there’s hardly a connection at all. Legends is also pretty diverse, although it would be nice to add a few more women to balance out the man-heavy team. Otherwise, their “dysfunctional family” dynamic is, quite frankly, hilarious and the overflow of pop-culture references (there’s a whole episode where they have to convince George Lucas to return to the movie industry because of his films’ influence on history) made my geek heart so happy. My biggest critique is the show’s use of the “only white boys are nerds” trope because, while I love these two particular characters, I would really love to find another show where the women aren’t always “sensible and non-geeky.”

2. Black Lightning

I don’t think I can put into words how wonderfully heartwarming this show is. I have seen one too many shows with dysfunctional families, so watching the Pierces grow and work through their issues in a healthy way was just … so important to me. Literally all of them are beautiful, flawed but well rounded characters that I would fight for. Also, Lynn and Jefferson? Freaking adorable and couples goals (Also ironically the names of my aunt and uncle). Anissa was born to be a superhero. She never had a moment of calling like most do because she was already an activist and her reaction to her powers is extremely believable. So is Jennifer’s. She’s 16 and wants nothing more than an average life. I completely relate to their sibling relationship (I, too, frequently borrow my sister’s stuff). It’s a bit darker than Legends but that doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of light moments to go around. Needless to say, this is another wonderfully diverse show. Aside from focusing on a healthy, black family, the fact that Anissa’s a lesbian isn’t made out to be a big deal. The underlying commentary on black incarceration and other racism issues is very poignant and eye-opening, as someone who’s not a part of that community. I don’t feel like I can say much on the actual superhero aspects of it, since I generally don’t watch DC or Marvel stuff (previous mentioned show aside) because the amount of fighting overwhelms the plot and characters for me, but I thought this show had a good balance of superhero-y moments  and touching character moments. It really did feel like a break through in television.

3. Sense 8

Late to the party, I know, but I knew I’d get here eventually. First off, if you opened a dictionary to find the word “diversity,” this show should be underneath it. Every time I think they couldn’t find another way to integrate another identity into it, they proved me wrong. I particularly loved that they trick the audience into thinking they’re setting up yet another love triangle, then are like “Psyche, threesome.” They know modern audiences too well. The characters are fantastic, I have a particular soft spot for Lito Rodriguez. The concept is unique and the camera work is another level (as someone who’s thinking about heading into the film industry, I appreciated that). What threw me off was how graphic the show was. I tend to keep away from television that has copious amounts of sex and blood, largely out of discomfort, so if that stuff triggers you in any way it would be good to steer away from this particular show. I grew accustomed to it as I kept watching but early on I had to take significant breaks between each episode. Luckily, the characters and storyline was interesting enough to keep me coming back. 

5. Dark Angel

Not from Netflix and technically a two part miniseries instead of a full tv show, but I had to include it. Wow. Just wow. I enjoyed Joanne in Downton Abbey but boy I was not prepared for the stellar performance she gave off as Mary Ann Cotton, Britain’s first female serial killer. This is about as dark as television gets, there was hardly a happy moment in the whole thing and yet I was compelled to keep watching. This is quite the accomplishment for any show or film that doesn’t have at least some humor added in to balance it out. The show depicted the difficulty of Victorian women extremely well, and almost made Mary a sympathetic character. Almost. What I admired about this telling was the writing’s ability to do this without glorifying what she did. You can understand her actions without condoning them. Considering how many people Mary was suspected of killing though, there wasn’t as much death as I expected from a serial killer story. Not that I’m complaining. Probably not one I’ll re-watch anytime soon, but I’m definitely glad to have seen it.

5. A Series of Unfortunate Events

Boy, where do I start. This is the one show I started watching without prompting from social media, simply because I had read the first few books when I was younger. Watching this reminded me why I never picked up the other books in the series. It’s not technically a bad show, I did mostly enjoy the first season, it just became so dark and depressing by the second season, even with the bright and comic-y look to the show. I actually think that was a smart decision on the creators part, to include the over-the-top scenery and clothes, because I can’t imagine how much more depressing it would have been if they’d gone with dark tones. The Lemony Snicket dialogue is also amusing, and I appreciate this show for giving Tumblr more dialogue to play around with. On the downside, I wanted to punch literally every adult onscreen. Shows are a bit difficult to watch when you have that kind of reaction to them. At this point, I can’t say if I’ll watch the third season when it comes out or not, as I do generally like to stick with happier shows.

That concludes my summer show review, I tried not to go super in-depth and spoiler-y I hope these thoughts were helpful or, at the very least, an interesting read.

#legends of tomorrow #black lightning #sense8 #asoue #show review #doctor who #arrowverse #netflix #ouat #dark angel #i actually did a thing #and posted it #yes I'm proud ok

[lalainajanes]

kink list prompt: 39. klaus & caroline don't know how to react after engaging in some unsatisfactory sex.

+ andI have a prompt for you: Klaus and Caroline getting drunk at a bar and goinghome to have clumsy, drunken sex ;)

This one will be posted in parts (today and on Sunday) because I wanted to get something up before work. It’s a SUPER belated gift for the delightful @howeverlongs based on her fave trope gifsets. This is friends with benefits which I don’t think I’ve ever actually done!

You’re The Nicest Thing (Part One)

Caroline (11:28 AM):SEND HELP. I’M GOING TO SLAUGHTER THEFRESHMEN.

Klaus (11:31 AM):All of them? Surely there’s at least apassable paper or two.

Caroline (11:32 AM):I’m on the tenth. They’re all TERRIBLE.SOULSUCKINGLY TERRIBLE.

Klaus (11:33 AM):Soulsuckingly is not a word.

Caroline (11:34 AM):Neither was elbow before Ol’ Bill wasstaring at the bendy bit of his arm and thought hmmmmm while writing King Lear.

Klaus (11:36 AM):I’m screenshotting this text. The nexttime you call me egotistical I’m going to remind you of the time you directlycompared yourself to William Shakespeare.

Caroline (11:37 AM): You can’t remind me of anything if I’m inprison. Do you have lunch plans?

Klaus (11:38 AM):Meeting with an author at one. She likesmy portfolio but has some questions.

Caroline (11:39 AM):Klaus! THAT’S AMAZING.

Caroline (11:39 AM):Everything in me is DYING to send you astring of emojis but I’ll refrain since you hate fun and happiness.

Klaus (11:40 AM):No, just emojis.

Klaus (11:41 AM):And thank you, sweetheart. I’ll stop bywith coffee when I’m done. Try not to murder anyone before then.

Caroline (11:42 AM):You’re a lifesaver!

Caroline’s a veteran T.A. having accepted her first positionher senior year of college. Every year she tells herself not to be surprised bythe inept bullshitting the freshmen tried to sneak into their first paper butthe badly constructed arguments and ludicrous examples still manage to have hertearing out her hair.

Honestly, how hard was it to just read the freaking book?Some of them clearly hadn’t even bothered to do much more than skim Wikipedia.

She took a great deal of pleasure in scrawling semi-sarcasticobservations in red pen alongside the slashes and grammar corrections. It was apublic service, really. Caroline was graduating this year and her harshnesswould save another T.A. some aggravation. Assuming, of course, that any of theparticularly egregious offenders could manage to actually learn.

Experience had taught her that certain brands of dumb wereimpenetrable.

There’s a tap at the door, one she recognizes as Klaus’ andshe gratefully hops out of her seat to let him in. She grins at him when sheswings the door open, “My hero!” she croons, once she sees the red cup in hishands.

Klaus hands it over with an indulgent smile, “Yes, I heroicallybraved the crowds at Starbucks for fake pumpkin rubbish masquerading ascoffee.”

She eyes him severely over the rim of the cup, “It’sdelicious and only available for a limited time and I love it.”

“I know.”

“Seriously, Klaus, thanks.” He really was a kick ass friendconsidering he was a weirdo who didn’t even likeStarbucks.

He glances towards her desk, the neat stacks of paper. “Anylight at the end of the tunnel?”

“A very faintly flickering one. Do you want to come in?” Shetips her head towards the ratty couch that sits under the window. “My officemates are actually pretty cool this year.”

“You were likely due for a relatively normal set.”

“I really was.” She steps back so Klaus can come in, then walksacross the room and flops down on the couch with a sigh. “So, do you have good news? Maybe that you’re about to start an exciting new project?”

“I don’t know about excitingbut it pays better than the last few.” He shrugs off his jacket and helpshimself to her guest chair and she’s going to need a little more excitementfrom him.

“Woo hoo!” Caroline cheers, lifting her free arm in an exaggeratedfist pump. “So I might only have to bring oneextra sweater when I come over to this winter?”

“You never actually bringextra sweaters. You just invite yourself into my bedroom and raid my closet.”

Caroline looks away, studying her cup more intently that sheneeds to. It was just like Klaus to spoon feed her a great joke that shecouldn’t utter. All because of that one time Klaus had been doing the invitingand things had gone terribly awry. In the past she wouldn’t have hesitated,would have let her voice turn throaty and tease him about how an invitation intohis bedroom should really include something more exciting an offer of layersfor warmth. Klaus would have responded with something equally flirty. They’dhave gone back and forth, neither willing to back down, until Caroline’s earsfelt hot and it took a ton of effort not to look at his lips.

He’s been her friend since the second semester of her firstyear in college, one of the most consistent. They’ve always had buckets ofsexual tension and, being a practical sort of girl, Caroline had always figuredit would, at some point, lead to more. Unfortunately, her racy fantasies aboutKlaus - of his hands and his mouth and his voice in her ear uttering tempting,toe curling promises – had been a total bust.

She really hopedthey got to the point where they could laugh about the worst sex of theirlives. Soon, if possible.  

She glances up to find him studying her, resists the urge tofidget and possibly make things awkward if he realizes her mind had flittedback to the sex that shall not be named. It had taken them half of the summerto get back to normal and Caroline had missed him terribly in the weeks wherethey hadn’t quite known how to be in the same room. She takes a sip of herdrink to cover the extended pause, “That’s just because you’re a good host.Unwilling to let your guests freeze to death even if you’re chintzy with thethermostat.”

“Unwilling to let someguests freeze to death.”

“It’s an honor to be included on the short list of peopleyou don’t actively want to die, Klaus. Truly.”

He smirks, rolling her chair closer to the couch, “Then you’llbe happy to know you’re near the top.”

Caroline lays her hand over her heart, sinks back into the cushionslike a swooning maiden in an old movie. It was another opening and she decidesto push a bit past the boundaries she’d been enforcing.  “Such charm! With sweet talk like that I haveno idea why you’re still single.”

“Really? I have apretty good idea.”

Huh. Not what she’d expected. Klaus had a healthy ego, wasfully aware of his own appeal and she’d seen him use it to great effect overthe years. A flash of his dimples, some careful space invading, many a womangot giggly and wide eyed, hanging on to his every word and not-so-subtlytugging at their necklines to bare a little more cleavage. She’s about to makea crack asking if he’s been watching self-improvement infomercials whilesketching again (Klaus tended towards late night productivity) when her phone’salarm begins trilling as it buzzes against her desk. A quick glance at theclock above the door tells her she’s got a class to get to.

Klaus has spent years teasing her about her rigidlyorganized schedule so he’s well aware of the alarms meaning. He tips his head towardsher phone, “Your ten minute warning?”

“Yeah. Sorry to have to dash out on you after you deliveredme the greatest of coffee based beverages.”

“It’s not a problem. My student days only ended last year. Whereare you headed?”

“Just down the hall,” Caroline tells him, standing andstraightening her skirt. “It’s my kid lit seminar so it’ll at least be fun. Doyou want to meet up at the bar later? I want to hear all about your project.”

“Sure. Seven or so?”

That gave her enough time to knock out a couple more papers.The alcohol would be a welcome balm to her soul. “I’ll even buy the first roundsince we’re celebrating.”

She’d have to remember to cap it off at three drinks. DrunkCaroline tended to say things she shouldn’t andwas a shameless snuggler. It had been the celebratory booze, and her wanderinghands, that had led to disaster last time.

Never let it be said that Caroline Forbes didn’t learn fromher epic fails.

#Anonymous #klaroline #klarolineauweek #klaroline drabbles #ytnt