#ask box prompt

[the-badger-mole]

The Volunteer: Part 3

The next time Zuko went to volunteer, he took his own car. When his sister demanded to know why, Zuko made up some excuse about going to the library afterwards to work on his midterm paper. It was enough to keep Azula from asking him for a ride, thankfully. Zuko arrived a few minutes early, hoping to be able to check in with Hakoda before his sister and her friends showed up.

"Don't tell me your friends dropped out," Hakoda said when Zuko walked in alone.

"No, we just came in separate cars," Zuko explained. "They should be here soon." Hakoda nodded and gave him his assignment for the day, then Zuko went to find Due and the rest of the maintenance crew to paint stairs again.

"Hey! Splotchy!" the men greeted him. Zuko smiled slightly and said his hellos. They handed him a paintbrush and set to work.

The men were far more talkative than Zuko, but none of them seemed to hold it against him. He answered questions politely when asked, steering away from anything too personal. The men were content to tell him all about themselves. Two of them had attended the school before it shut down.

"It was a shame, too," said Due. "Spent some of the best years of my life causing a ruckus in this school. Me and Tho here." Due jabbed his thumb in the direction of the short, stocky man holding the base of the ladder Zuko was standing on.

"Oh we wasn't so bad," Tho insisted. "Only caused a little mischief. And mostly to impress the ladies." He looked up at Zuko and wriggled his brows. "Bet you don't have to work nearly as hard and Due and I did."

"Sure," Zuko scoffed. He turned back to his work and scrambled to find a change of topic. He looked at the third man on the team, a younger guy named Kuyan. "You went to this school, too?"

"How old do you think I am?" Kuyan laughed. "I'm only 23. I was a toddler when this school shut down."

"Sorry," Zuko said. "I didn't mean to offend." Kuyan just waved him off.

"Forget about it." Then he sighed and looked around the stairwell with a distant look. "I do have history with this place, though. I lived here for a year with my mom and sisters when I was in high school. She had left my dad and the people here...they were great. They helped my mom find a job so she could afford to move us. They had counselors for me and my sisters. They helped me find scholarships for college. We would've been just another statistic if it wasn't for this place."

"Wow...that's, great," Zuko said awkwardly, uncertain of what else to say to that. "It-it's great your mom was able to find help getting out of..." He gestured stiffly at nothing in particular.

"It is," Kuyan agreed with a chuckle. "Everyone is thriving, too. My sisters and I have volunteered here for years, but this is going to be my last year."

"Why?" Zuko looked down at Kuyan curiously.

"Kuyan just got accepted to law school," Tho laughed, ruffling Kuyan's hair. "We're all real proud of ya, boy!"

"The school I'm going to is ten hours away," Kuyan told Zuko. "My sisters are at schools that are pretty far, too."

"But you'll stop in to see us from time to time," Due said. "We'll make sure we'll have some work for ya, too. Just for old time's sake."

"You'd better," Kuyan laughed. Zuko found himself smiling with the rest of them.

The door opened a few doors down, and Katara leaned into the stairwell. She was grinning, the first time Zuko had seen looking happy since he'd walked into Hama's Haven.

"Hey, guys!" She called up to them. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good!" Due called back. "We might actually get this done by the end of Splotchy's shift."

"Splotchy?" Katara repeated raising her eyebrow.

"He means Zuko," Kuyan told her.

"Oh. Well, just letting you know, Dad ordered pizza for the staff. It's in the community room. Better hurry up. Sokka's here today."

"I don't need telling twice," Tho said, tossing his paint brush into bucket of water. Everyone dunked their brushes and rollers in and trampled down the stairs to the ground floor. Katara held the door open for them, and she watched Zuko in particular with an impossible to read expression.

Ty Lee was in the community room getting pizza with some of the other workers, and was having what seemed to be a lively talk with boy with long hair and an unfortunate mustache. She spotted Zuko and waved him over.

"Hey, Zuko!" she said cheerily. "This is Haru. He's in the kitchen today, too! Haru, this is Zuko, one of my oldest friends." Zuko smirked to himself. Calling him and Ty Lee friends was a bit of a stretch, but he would never dare tell her that.

"Nice to meet you," Zuko said, shaking Haru's hand.

"Same! So, you and Ty are friends? That's great! She's been amazing in the kitchen."

Zuko kept a polite smile on his face and he blinked. Ty?

"Yep," Zuko "Ty here is a master chef. And she's great with desserts. You should try her cheesecake sometime." Ty Lee preened under Zuko's praise.

"I'll have to," Haru agreed enthusiastically. "Very soon." Ty Lee blushed and giggled, turning her focus on Haru in a way that Zuko interpreted as a polite request that he make himself scarce.

"I'm going to go grab some pizza," he said. "Good talk."

Katara was standing by the table where the food was set out, talking with Due. They stopped when Zuko approached, and Due waved him over warmly.

"Come on over, Splotch!" he said. "I was just telling Kata what a great addition to the team you've been. Ah, he's such a good sport this one. Not much of a talker, but every group needs a good listener, too."

"Thanks," Zuko mumbled. He looked at Katara and was surprised to find her smiling at him.

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked.

"No, I was talking with Ty Lee." Zuko gestured over to where Ty Lee and Haru were deep in conversation.

"Oh!" Due chortled. "I think Haru likes her." He waved his hand trying to get Haru's attention, but Katara jabbed him with her elbow.

"Mind your business, Due," she chided him, jokingly. "He's got it."

"I'm just having some fun," Due said. "Oh! Hey, there's Bato! I need to catch him real quick. I'll see you back on the stairs, Splotch." When he was gone, Katara turned back to Zuko and smirked.

"You should grab some lunch before it's gone...Splotch."

"Please don't spread that around school," Zuko groaned.

"No worries," Katara promised. "Your Haven nickname stays at Haven." She paused a moment while Zuko got his pizza. She grabbed a can of soda and offered one to Zuko.

"Thanks."

"So," Katara cleared her throat. "You...made a pretty good impression on the guys."

"I like them," Zuko said, shrugging. "They've been really nice." Katara was watching him again, with that same inscrutable look on her face, as if she were studying him.

"They're usually pretty good judges of character." There was something about the way she said usually that set Zuko on edge. She looked away to open her soda, releasing Zuko from the hold of her unnerving gaze.

"The painting is almost done," Katara observed after a long stretch of silence. "We'll have to find you another job next week, I think. Do you know what else you want to do here?"

"I'll go wherever you need me to," Zuko shrugged. "I'm not picky." He took a bite of pizza. It was good, and Zuko made a note to get the name of the restaurant from one of the boxes. "What do you do around here?"

"Me?" Katara glanced up at Zuko, as if surprised he would ask. "I do a lot of stuff, but I mostly work with the kids. On the weekends we try to keep them entertained with movies and crafts and classes. Once a month we take them on a field trip." She swirled her soda around the can. "The next trip is coming up in a couple of weeks. We could use a few more volunteers, if you're interested. We're going to the planetarium, and then for food afterwards. It'll knock a solid four or five hours off of your sentence." She smirked again, but it felt more like she was sharing an inside joke than laughing at Zuko.

"Um...sure," Zuko agreed nodding. "That sounds alright."

"Great," Katara said. "You can see if Ty Lee would be interested, too." Zuko pretended not to notice how pointedly Katara mentioned Ty Lee and no one else.

"I think she'd like it," Zuko nodded. "She's really into astrology, and she loves kids, so this should be right up her alley."

"That's good news for Haru, then."

Azula and Mai skulked in some time later. Zuko noted, cringing inwardly, how the atmosphere changed when they entered. Ty Lee had stopped laughing with Haru, and was trying to avoid Azula's thunderous scowl. She said something to Haru and scampered across the room to Azula. Mai didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were narrowed in Zuko's direction. It took a moment for him to realize that she was actually glowering at Katara. Zuko glanced back at his companion just in time to see her roll her eyes at the latecomers.

"I have to head out," she told Zuko. "I'll send you the details for the field trip." Katara drained the rest of her soda and tossed the can in the recycling bin on the way out, watching Azula and Mai smugly as she did. After she left, the rest of the staff began filtering out, too. The low cheerful hum of the room quieted as they went.

Haru paused at the door waving good-bye to Ty Lee, who returned it nervously. Haru frowned, clearly confused and hurt, but Ty Lee was looking down at her shoes as she stood next to Azula.

"They just left the pizza out for anyone to put their grubby fingers on?" Mai looked at the table distastefully. Zuko pointed to the stack of napkins next to the plates.

"Most people were using the napkins to grab their slices," he told her. Mai rolled her eyes and took a slice without a napkin or a plate. She bit into the slice and made a face.

"It's cold," she complained. It had been nearly an hour since word had gone around about the pizza, but Zuko knew better than to point that out. He just shrugged instead.

"What were you talking to Katara about?" Mai asked.

"Nothing," Zuko replied a bit too quickly. "She was letting me know that the painting project is almost over, and she wanted to know if I had any preferences for what I'd be assigned to next."

"Sure," Azula snorted. "I bet she cares so much what you want. People like her- like her dad- just love feeling more powerful than people who better than they are." A lot of responses ran through Zuko's head at that, but he settled on tossing his plate and empty soda can.

"I've got to get back," he said. "My break's over."

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

#atla #zutara #ask box prompt #volunteer work au #part 3 #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

[allsassnoclass]

congrats on reaching your milestone!!! for a fic prompt, what about "things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear" with muke (maybe vigilante/reporter muke if you're up for it? 👀) -megs 💙

@igarbagecannoteven alrighty, here we go! sequel to this prompt!

muke (vigilante/reporter verse): things you said that I wasn't meant to hear

When Luke wakes up, he can’t form any coherent thoughts.  Everything processes in overwhelming, too-big sensations: the throbbing in his temples, the press of something soft and giving underneath him, the sharp taste of bile in the back of his throat, the low tones of a voice speaking.  All of it vies for attention in a chaotic jumble that makes each sensation worse.  He frowns, but that emphasizes the pain in his temples.  He tries to keep his face smooth and relaxed, breathing slowly through his nose until the sensation passes.

The voice is familiar enough that he isn’t alarmed.  He can’t process any words, but he recognizes something in the tone or cadence that puts him at ease.  Whatever he’s laying on isn’t as comfortable as a bed, but it’s still soft and plush, and there’s something soft and heavy draped over him.

A blanket.  Someone has tucked him in, perhaps the person speaking?

“...a favor,” the voice is saying.  Luke can’t place where he’s heard it before in the pause that follows.

“He owes me after last time,” the voice says.  “We need to take these guys down, I don’t care how.”

There’s an edge to it that sounds wrong.  The hairs on Luke’s arms stand on end, and he frowns and sends another ripple of pain through his head and down his spinal cord before he remembers not to.  His fingers twitch involuntarily, everything feeling brittle enough to snap.

“...can’t do that,” the voice is saying when Luke’s head stops feeling like it’s stabbing itself.  “No, Calum!  This isn’t up for debate!”

Calum?  Luke doesn’t think he knows any Calums.  It’s not an overly common name, but it–like the voice–feels familiar in a way.

Luke loses a few words trying to muddle through who the voice is talking to.

“...kill him is because he’s just a harmless reporter.  He does fluff pieces and doesn’t actually know anything.  No one looks at Luke Hemmings and thinks he has enough information to be worth taking down.”

Luke feels like his lungs are being stabbed along with his head, and he can’t help the pained noise that escapes him.

The voice says something else, and then there’s a gentle pressure on Luke’s arm.  He tries to pull away, but he’s trapped under the blanket and against the back of the couch.

“Luke, it’s okay,” the voice says, pitched a little lower.  “You’re safe.  You’re in your apartment.  No one is going to hurt you.”

Luke tries to move, sending another wave of pain traveling from his temples down his neck.  He clenches his fists, not realizing that he’s making more noise until it gets cut off by a wave of nausea rolling up his throat.

“Oh fuck,” the voice says as Luke heaves, tipped to the side with the help of the hand rubbing easy but excruciating circles on his back.  “We’ll–I’ll clean that up.  Don’t worry about it.  Here, drink this.”

“I just threw up,” Luke says, words coming out garbled and throat burning.  Every part of his upper body hurts, either aching or burning or stabbing, and the last thing he wants to do is vomit again because some idiot is trying to make him drink something.

“I know, I know,” the voice says.  “But it has the antidote to the neurotoxin you were exposed to.  I gave you a nasal spray, but it’s better ingested orally.”

None of this makes sense, but a gloved hand slides behind his neck before he can protest, tipping his head up.  He opens his mouth and swallows the liquid poured in under the voice’s gentle coaxing.  It tastes gross, but it’s cool and soothing.  He doesn’t immediately vomit it up, which is a good sign.

“There,” the voice says.  He sounds really familiar.  Luke can barely remember his own name right now, and he definitely has no clue how he ended up exposed to a fucking neurotoxin, but why can’t he place this voice?  It’s not one of his brothers, Ryan, or Sammy, which exhausts his list of close friends, but which friendly acquaintance could it be?

Luke gets flashes of a bright, glittering chandelier and a dark suit.  He chases the memory, finding the twist of a smile and an anchor tattooed on someone’s thumb, but nothing else.

“I’m going to clean this up, okay?” the voice says.  “You just rest.  It’ll take a bit for the antidote to really work, but the fact that you woke up is good.  Try to wiggle your fingers a bit.  I’ll be right back.”

Luke makes a questioning noise, but a creak tells him that the voice is moving away.  He takes a deep breath and waits for everything to stop hurting quite so much.

Luke doesn’t attempt to open his eyes until the stabbing dulls to a throbbing.  He doesn’t know how long it takes, but eventually everything levels out and he can move his fingers without feeling like they’re burning or the blanket covering him is actually full of needles.  He cracks his eyes open a sliver and the light doesn’t burn, so he blinks a few times and lets his eyes adjust before he opens them fully.

He’s in his apartment, on the couch in the living room with his favorite blanket covering him.  The overhead light is off, but the side lamp is on, casting everything in a gentle golden glow.  It’s dark outside, but he doesn’t have a clock in the living room and can’t see the one on the microwave from here to determine the time.

Where is his phone?

“Hey, how are you feeling?” the voice asks.  Luke turns his head and sees–

The vigilante.

He doesn’t know who he expected.  Of course that was the vigilante’s voice he heard earlier.  Of course he has some sort of antidote to some sort of neurotoxin that Luke was somehow exposed to.  Who else would be able to get into his apartment to take care of him?

But for a second, Luke had thought…

No.  He’s confused.  It must be a side effect of whatever is making his head hurt.

“Luke?” the vigilante asks.  Luke thinks his brow might be furrowed in concern, but he can’t tell with the hood and the mask.  “Are you okay?  Here, have some water.”

He helps Luke sit up and tips a cup against his lips.  The water feels better than the antidote did, and the vigilante supports his back and steadies his hands, helping him lay propped up against the armrest afterwards.  It’s the closest they’ve been since they last saw each other on Luke’s balcony, a night that Luke can’t think about without feeling angry and embarrassed.

He clears his throat.

“What happened?” he asks, glad that his voice doesn’t scrape.  The vigilante frowns.

“How much do you remember?” he asks.  Luke tries to peel back the pain shrouding his memories like a cloak, but nothing about it makes sense.

“I think I remember having dinner?” he offers.  He was watching the news during it, covering the disruption over in England.  The vigilante’s jaw clenches.

“You went snooping around Hardingson Tech.”

Luke fixes him with a flat look.

“I’m a journalist.  You told me to look into it.”

“And then I told you not to sneak around!” the vigilante yells.  Luke winces and the vigilante takes a shuddering breath, pushing back on his heels to stand and pace around the room.  “You’re lucky I was monitoring that area.  If I hadn’t–”

“You told me about it,” Luke accuses.  “You were the one who asked for information, and I wasn’t going to sit here with my thumb up my ass waiting for you to stop by again!  They’re up to something, and–”

“You could have died!”

“How was I supposed to know that a fucking tech company was going to poison me with a weird neurotoxin?” Luke yells, then winces and presses a hand against his forehead.  “Maybe if you had told me–”

Luke closes his mouth with a click, the words he overheard earlier ringing in his ears.

He’s just a harmless reporter.  He does fluff pieces and doesn’t actually know anything.

“I know you think I’m an idiot, but the reason I don’t know things is because you won’t tell me.”

The vigilante huffs.

“Maybe if you didn’t throw yourself into things that don’t concern you–”

“You don’t get to decide what information I can and can’t have!” Luke says.  The vigilante reaches for him, but Luke slices his hand through the air, stopping him in his tracks.  “I’m a fucking adult, and despite what you think, I’m good at what I do.  I’m going to investigate if there’s something worth investigating.  You don’t get to ask for my help and then get mad when I follow through.”

“I told you it was dangerous!” the vigilante says.  Luke would roll his eyes if he didn’t think it would be excruciating.

“Either I’m good enough to work with you and you treat me like an equal, or you can stop asking me for favors and kissing me on my fucking balcony.  You can’t have it both ways.”

Luke regrets the words the second that he says them, headache flaring.  He knows that it’s pathetic, but the occasional visit from the vigilante is something that can make his whole week sometimes.  Yeah, he’s being super annoying and bitchy right now, but Luke doesn’t actually want him to leave forever.  He just doesn’t want to be treated like an idiot anymore.

“Luke, come on,” the vigilante sighs, shoulders slumping.

“I don’t even know your name,” Luke says, sounding much smaller than he means to.  “I just call you the vigilante in my head.  You swoop in, ask me for help, and then leave without giving me the courtesy of knowing anything.  Do you know how shitty that feels?”

The vigilante turns, bringing a hand up towards his head and then stopping it, patting his hood awkwardly instead.  It’s a move that Luke has seen him do a few times over the weeks.  He must usually run his hands through his hair when he’s stressed.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me,” the vigilante says eventually.  “Knowing things would make you dangerous, which makes you a threat.”

Luke purses his lips and looks at his ceiling.

“I’m already a threat.  I was getting into trouble long before you met me.  Don’t flatter yourself.”

He hears the vigilante sigh, but he doesn’t try to continue the conversation.  Luke doesn’t know if he’s mad or grateful for that.  He can’t take much more talking in circles, but it’d be nice if the vigilante made a fucking effort to treat him like a capable person with his own thoughts.  He’s not asking to be put on speed dial, just to be included.  Is it too much to want to be part of the team, rather than someone used and discarded every other week?

“Where’s my phone?” Luke asks flatly once the silence has truly become awkward.  He hears the vigilante shift, the body armor that he wears creaking slightly with the movement.

“In the kitchen in rice,” the vigilante says.  “It got wet.”

“Of course it did,” Luke grumbles.  Fuck his life.

“I’ll check on it.  Do you want something to eat?”

Luke lazily tips his head to face him, giving the vigilante the best glare he can with his headache.

“I can take care of myself.”

“You got poisoned today, but fuck me for trying to be nice,” the vigilante grumbles.  “I’m going to get a snack.  If your phone turns on and you call someone else to stay with you, I’ll fuck off.”

“I can take care of myself!” Luke repeats to the vigilante’s retreating back.

“Can’t hear you!” the vigilante calls.  “Snacks, Luke!”

Luke freezes.

“Snacks, Luke!” the vigilante says, but they’re in a spacious ballroom, Luke’s suit just slightly too tight around his shoulders.  The room is full of soft orchestral music and gentle chatter, but Luke spends most of the night listening to one person, hanging on every bad joke about the finger sandwiches and every tidbit of insider information on the city’s elite.  A high-pitched laugh echoes in his ears.

“Calum’s been my best friend since we were kids,” the vigilante says.  “He’s been helping me figure out how to navigate everything.  We both just want to do good, you know?”

Calum Hood.  Someone who has the money to fund a vigilante operation and all of the connections that growing up in a prominent and influential family allows him.  He wouldn’t be able to fight crime himself after the injury that ended his soccer career, but he could easily be involved.  And if he had a friend who wanted to dress up and climb around at night…

Last time, on the balcony, the vigilante asked about the gala.  He seemed really curious about whether Luke had met anyone interesting there.

Luke had even thought that the vigilante had green eyes that looked similar, just muted in the different light.

Holy shit.  Luke is an idiot.  It’s been staring him in the face this whole time.  Holy–

“Luke?  I hope you like pretzels, because that’s all I found in your cupboard.”

Luke blinks and looks up, past the hand offering him a bowl, and into the eyes of Michael Clifford.

#my writing #muke #ask box prompt #vigilante-reporter au #this prompt is a month and a half old but here she is! #getting stuff done #it took me a long time (a year and half) to figure out what i wanted to do with this one but here we are

[durotoswrites]

Winter Holiday Prompts part 2! Cliff x Claire Couple's First Christmas (for you) and Holly x Hector Baby's First Christmas (for me). 🎄

Thank you for the prompts!

I just finished writing the Cliff x Claire prompt and it turned into a full-blown fic. You can read it here:

Or read the full text after the cut! I'll be working on the Holly x Hector one and keep y'all updated! Thank you again for the prompts - they've been helping with keeping me creative!

Winter Themed Prompts - Asks are open!

Cliff remembered it vividly as a child. From what his sister, Ivy, had claimed, she would pretend to sleep at least an hour before he awakened on those chilly winter mornings, granting him a “sporting chance”, as she would call it. Cliff still wondered in what world the odds had ever been even between the two of them; his younger sister had an aptitude for snatching up the victory in any sort of competition when he was involved. Besides, on that particular morning of the year, minutes always felt like hours. It was likely she hadn’t been up nearly as early as she claimed. Either way, their matching deep blue eyes would snap open, the excitement in the air palpable as they exchanged challenging grins.

The race had begun.

Ivy would always manage to get out of bed first – she slept on the end and unceremoniously threw the heap of blankets and furs over her brother’s head, pushing off of him to spring up off of the floor for good measure. She was first every year, and it was because she took extra lengths to ensure it. Griping under his breath, a young Cliff would attempt to untangle himself from their bed dressings, trying his best to keep from waking his parents right beside them. In his younger days, caution had been thrown to the wind, and his parents would give the siblings a minor scolding at their rambunctious behavior so early in the morning. Ivy couldn’t care less, leaving the responsibility to her older brother.

Why their mother and father looked so tired was beyond the children. Who could possibly want to sleep in on a morning like this?

Ivy was usually rattling one of the wrapped boxes beside the tree – or rather, what they referred to as a “tree”. The sizable branch of a spruce was stabilized and decorated with home popped corn and berry garland, pine cone ornaments, and other various crafts the children had made. Not much more would fit in their small house, and with a hearth burning low at night, a large flammable tree wasn’t a wise addition to their home. But the tree, or lack thereof, wasn’t what they were focused on. There were packages of different sizes wrapped in parchment paper and old newspapers that had captured their attention. Typically a couple for the each of them, the joint gifts they had chipped in on to provide for their parents, along with the gifts they had made for one another all in one heap that attracted curious eyes.

“Do we really have to wait for Ma and Papa to wake up?” Ivy would always whisper in a voice that felt louder than speaking volume to Cliff.

He’d always nod in reply, despite the itch to tear into the gifts as well. Such was the burden of being the more responsible of the two, and attempting to be a good role model for his sister.

“Well, what if I open the one from you? That wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?” Ivy would ask a little louder this time. Whether she was actually attempting to waken their parents so they could begin on the festivities remained a mystery to Cliff, but it was typically after she begged for this a few times that both of their parents stirred in bed.

“It’s far too early, kiddos,” their father would groan, attempting to pull the covers over his head. “Sun’s not even up yet. Allow your old man to sleep in just this once.”

But his wife’s lips were already on his temple and she’d ruffle his hair with a soft giggle. Cliff liked that laugh – it was one of the few times she was the less uptight of the pair.

“Kids will be kids, Flint. It is Christmas, after all. Don’t you remember being excited when you were young?”

“I was born old,” he retorted, sitting up with a groan. Despite his misgivings, the corners of his mouth were tilted upward.

“You’re not allowed to say that, because that would make me old, too,” Katrina laughed, leaning in for a kiss.

The siblings looked at one another and rolled their eyes. As far as they were concerned, their parents were, and always had been, as old as dirt. Anything beyond the fabled double digits felt like a lifetime away to them.

“Can I open Cliff’s gift now?” Ivy asked, more impatiently this time, directing her question to their parents.

“Go for it,” Flint replied with a yawn.

Katrina pulled herself out of bed, stretching as she walked over to meet them. “Now, hold on for a moment and let us watch, too. Have just a little more patience, Ivy. Your father is getting up and will be right over. You can wait for him, can’t you?”

The girl pouted in reply, and Cliff was certain that his face didn’t look much different. After all, both children regularly gifted each other things they both enjoyed so they both technically doubled their gifts. His stomach twisted in anticipation as she tore a small corner of the package in her impatience…

“No peeking!” Cliff scolded, and his sister scowled at him. “Don’t ruin the surprise!”

The stirring in the soft bed caused Cliff’s thoughts to jolt back to reality. As he opened his eyes, he was met with a pair with closed ones in the dim light of the early dawn. A smile tugged at his lips. It had really only felt like days before when he would be screaming at himself to make a break for the presents and claim first place for once. The blankets were warm, and so was his wife’s sleeping form next to him. She was facing him, her tousled blonde hair sticking out in every direction – she had clearly been tossing and turning through the night. Whether from excitement or an unknown worry, he was unsure, but allowing her to rest felt like the kind decision.

He took a moment to trace his gaze over the soft features of her face. Claire’s expression often looked more relaxed in winter months when she wasn’t juggling as many farm chores on top of her other obligations. Her bangs were disheveled, revealing her brows resting in a relaxed position. Her eyelashes fluttered against her soft cheeks; the extra rest in the winter had allowed the bags and dark circles under her eyes to vanish. Her lips were set in a slight smile, rosy with warmth. Cliff longed to lean forward and give them a kiss, but knowing how tired she had been lately, to wake her felt cruel.

His stomach and heart felt a flutter that reminded him vaguely of his childhood excitement on the morning of Christmas, but it was different this year. It had been the first Christmas that he woke up next to someone’s side since he left his family’s house as a teenager. There was also a large difference in the type of excitement. Being curious about opening an enticing pile of presents and opening one’s eyes to the sight of their sleeping spouse were two entirely different matters. Cliff and Claire’s marriage had been near the end of the previous summer, and with each new holiday, the couple learned new things about the other’s family traditions and customs they decided to partake in together. As he looked down at her sweet face, his heart swelled at all the new adventures and possibilities that lay before them.

She leaned into him and bunted his chest with her forehead, giving it a nuzzle as she settled back in. Cliff held his breath as he pulled her closer, brushing his lips against her forehead. These little moments of quiet intimacy and reflection were precious and healing for him. It felt like he had only just been a child himself, and now he was holding his partner in his arms, mulling over the more recent wishes in his heart – his desire to become a father in the future.

It hadn’t felt that long ago that he had been the newest resident to Mineral Town, struggling to find his way in life, and unable to see much value in himself at all. It hadn’t been an easy process to see that he did indeed have much to offer, and it was a continual one that he battled with. The idea of producing a child would have terrified him in the past – after all, he figured that someone with as shaky of an outlook as his wouldn’t willingly want to invest in something so long-term. But as Cliff blossomed and grew under the watchful eyes of his loved ones in Mineral Town, he found that the place he had seen as the latest in his series of stops had become a dear and permanent home. And after this realization, he also learned that there was a particular young woman that he couldn’t imagine ever parting from.

A long-term commitment – a permanent one. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more: the fact that his affections were returned or that he wasn’t scared of pledging his heart to hers. He smiled at the memories of their blossoming love – hugs that lingered, special smiles reserved for one another. Cliff had always held some sort of affection for Claire in his heart, whether as a dear friend or as a romantic interest. As a young married couple, he knew they still had plenty of time to think things over when it came to having a child, but arriving at the realization that he had such hope for the future, he wanted nothing more than to hold his love closer.

He wondered if she could hear his thoughts. “Merry Christmas, Cliff…” Although muffled, Claire’s sleepy voice was content and honeyed.

He indulged himself, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Merry Christmas, Claire.”

A weak chuckle. “How are you so alert?” she squeaked, cutting herself off with a yawn.

“Just getting nostalgic and thinking of childhood holidays.”

She smiled. “This was always my favorite time of year. Were you the type of kid to wake up right at the crack of dawn?” She nuzzled her head back into him, listening to the soothing beating of his heart.

“You know it,” he replied, stroking her hair. “We’d wake Ma and Papa against their will.”

Claire relished in the warm rumble of laughter rising up in his chest. “Ah, we’d all do the same thing! Mum and Dad said that we weren’t allowed to wake them before 8:00 am on Christmas. And I’m not a mum yet, so let’s sleep in some more.”

His breath hitched. “Yet?”

She looked up at him innocently, but her flushed cheeks betrayed her. “Well, we talked about it before we got married. I haven’t forgotten, you know, and I’d still love to have a child with you someday if your feelings are still the same.”

He squeezed her tighter. “My feelings haven’t changed. There’s no one else I’d want to raise a child with, but I’m content with it just being the two of us for a little longer.” He paused. “There’s… not anything you were wanting to announce to me, was there? I-I... didn’t ruin the moment?”

She could feel his heart pounding against her cheek and pulled herself up to meet his gaze. “Not at all, Love. I don’t have any other announcements other than how tickled I am to spend our first Christmas together.” She kissed him playfully on the nose.

“Our first Christmas married to one another. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?” He rested his forehead against hers. Her relaxed body was cozy against his, and Cliff’s eyelids started feeling heavy.

“Very nice,” she murmured, “and I have the perfect idea for a new tradition.”

“Oh?”

She snuggled into him, closing her eyes. “Yeah. Let’s get a little more sleep.”

His smile was doting as he placed a languid kiss on her forehead. He was already feeling the content post-excitement buzz he associated with childhood Christmases, and a nap sounded lovely.

She was sleepier than he thought. Her breathing was already slow and deep.

He was sleepier than he thought. His eyes fell shut as his breaths matched hers.

The sun slowly rose on the horizon, revealing two sleepy lovers huddled under the covers, sharing their first new Christmas tradition together – the first of many to come.

#ask box prompt #writing prompt #ask box replies #harvest moon #story of seasons #harvest moon cliff #harvest moon claire #story of season cliff #story of seasons claire #cliff x claire #claire x cliff #beck-a-leck #thank you for the ask #more to come

[sailorshadzter]

Since I apparently love getting hurt 😭 could you write one about Sansa thinking back to their goodbye at the docks with this song: Repeat Until Death - Novo Amor Lyrics: “I had it, almost Don't go, you're half of me now But I'm hardly stood proud I said it, almost Oh, I've been low But dammit, I bet it don't show It was heaven a moment ago Oh, I had it almost We had it almost Oh, I can't seem to let myself leave you But I can't breathe anymore” Thank you! ☺️

WHEW. i really wish tumblr dated these (or do i? lets be real, i dont lol)

i vowed to tackle my inbox, so tackle it i shall.

as always, thanks for the prompt & sorry for the ridiculously long (so long who knows if you even remember sending me this!) wait.

enjoy <3

It’s been a year now and yet; the pain hurts just the same. 

She sinks onto her bed, her only solace after the long day, the only place that she can once again just be Sansa Stark. In every other moment, she is the Queen in the North, and though she is fiercely proud to be the queen of the people she loves, it has brought a sense of loneliness, a sense of unwavering sorrow that she simply cannot always bare. And in moments like this one, after an especially tiring day, she feels it more than she might on any other day.  

And this particular day... Was the one when they said goodbye. 

Even now she can still yet recall the feel of his arms around her, tightening their grip, holding onto her as if she was the one thing anchoring him to the ground. Still yet, he had let her go and when he’d walked away, she’d not bothered to stop him. It was her one regret, her only regret. She closes her eyes, imagining herself back to that day, that moment, wishing with all of her heart that she might have called out to him, that she might have told him the truth of what she felt for him. That she might have done anything at all. But instead, she had merely watched him go, boarding that ship that would take him North, without her, without anyone at all.  

In the weeks that had first passed, she’d wrote him dozens of letters, none of which were ever sent, but now kept locked inside of a trunk. In those letters she had wrote down everything she’d never been brave enough to say aloud and now she could only wish she were brave enough to tie one to a raven. They had been so close back then, so close to having everything they had always wanted, so close to finding a true piece of happiness within each other. Jon had been one half of her and she knows that she was one half of him- even now, she knows this to be true. From the first time their eyes had met in the courtyard of Castle Black, she had known, there had been no doubt at all in her mind that they were meant to be together in one way or another.  

They had been so close and yet, they let it slip away.  

Blinking, she becomes aware of the tears streaking her cheeks, a testament to the pain within her heart. She’s hung onto it all this time, for one entire year it’s all she’s known, it’s all she’s felt. It leaves her breathless, the pain, the agony of it all, and she can’t help but to wonder if Jon feels the same. She hopes he doesn’t, she hopes he’s moved on, despite what that would feel like to know. As long as he was happy, she supposes, that was what mattered in the end.  

And so, she wipes her eyes and she stands up, for there was nothing left to do but keep going. Jon would not be hers, and yet, he would always be hers, for she knows she can never let him go. No matter the distance between them, she knows she will always love him, she will always hold onto the piece of him he left behind in her heart. The pain would always remind her of what she knows she should have fought for.  

The pain would always remind her of what should have been. 

#jonsa #jon x sansa #actuallyjonsa #ask box prompt #writing prompt #angsty prompt #my writing #i wrote this

[comfortjunkie]

What about a micro story with 32. dust motes?

Omg interaction hihi anon!!

I just kind of ended up writing the first thing that came to mind so sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting but it was super fun, even if I had to look up what dust motes were first because I'm silly and called them something different ^^"

Warnings for - Implications of kidnapping/being kept in a dark room, not graphic at all tho

"What's that?" Whumpee asked.

Caretaker glanced over at Whumpee, confused. Whumpee was watching the warm beam of light that filtered through the window intently, their awe-filled gaze dancing between the small specks or dust swimming in the sunny shaft.

"What's what?"

"The little... thingies—" Whumpee reached out to touch the little specks, staring amazed as they rippled and curled rapidly in the air.

"Oh, those." Caretaker shrugged, "They're just kind of... dust, I guess?"

"Do they only live in the light?"

"Wh— Oh- Uh, not really?" They tried to explain, "They're everywhere, but they're so small that you can only see them when they're reflecting the light."

"Ahhh..!" Whumpee smiled - a warm, genuine smile that Caretaker hadn't seen them do before. Though it only lasted a few seconds before they remembered something. Whumpee paused, shoulders tensing and eyes becoming distant,

"That explains why I haven't seen them before."

#Writing #Drabble #Ask Box prompt #Arrow writes #Sorry this took forever I got distracted by YouTube videos about horses #This read more keeps moving on it's own #Why is it doing that

[unboundprompts]

I don't know if you've done this before but what are some good ways to describe speech?

Ways to Describe Speech

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

His voice was deep like the rumbling of the earth.

She had the voice of a singer, smooth and rich like chocolate.

Their voice reminded him of spring rain.

He often paused in his speaking, like a car radio that had lost signal.

She had a lilt to her voice that made it seem like she was asking a question.

Their voice was monotonous, threatening to put her to sleep with every word.

He couldn't put her voice into words. It was... otherworldly.

Her voice was brittle, as if she were on the verge of tears.

Their voice was authoritative. Their words carried like a loud command.

His voice, unapologetic and unwavering, made her shrink back.

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Their words were cold with anger.

Other Words to Use to Describe Voice:

Firm

Formal

Frank

Hesitant

Humorous

Passionate

Playful

Professional

Respectful

Serious

Sympathetic

Smug

Superior

Croaky

Dry

Forceful

Grating

Hateful

Insincere

Nasally

Snarky

Tuneless

Wavering

Breaking

Coarse

Flat

Hoarse

High Pitched

Husky

Mellow

Raspy

Rough

Scratchy

Strong

Trembling

Boisterous

Booming

Screeching

Faint

Feeble

Frail

Penetrating

Piercing

Quiet

Raised

Shrill

Soft

Weak

Whisper

Captivating

Deep

Feathery

Hypnotic

Lilting

Mesmerizing

Rich

Smoky

Soothing

Breathy

Delicate

Warbling

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #prompt list #ask box prompts #how to describe speech #how to describe voice #how to write #writing help #writing inspiration #writing tip #writing ideas

[judasrpc]

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What's the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word 'friend'?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What's a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What's their favorite [insert anything] that they've never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What's something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they're alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they've been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don't like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

#rp memes #rp prompts #rp meme #roleplay prompts #ask box meme #askbox meme #inbox meme #character help #character development #rpc #rph #judasrpc

[oceansprompts]

RP MUSE VALENTINE’S APPLICATION.

your name:

Romantic or platonic?:

A night in or dinner out or an activity?:

Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?:

What's your perfect date?:

Would you cook for me?:

Would you let me cook for you?:

Can we make-out?:

Make out in private or in public?:

Do you like to cuddle?:

Blankets or no blankets for cuddling?:

Couch or bed?:

What are at least 3 hobbies of yours?:

Tell me something about you no else knows:

Why do you want to be my valentine?:

What makes you a good Valentine?:

#roleplay memes #rp sentence meme #sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #roleplay #roleplay starters #ask box #ask box prompts

[calliesmemes]

ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED QUOTES FROM TUMBLR TEXTPOSTS, X (formerly known as twitter) POSTS, TIKTOK, MEMES, AND OTHER SOURCES AROUND THE INTERNET

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   Currently considering becoming a bother and a nuisance, maybe even a menace or a rascal. ”

“   Hungry? Eat the government. ”

“   Yes, I wanna fuck after every argument. ”

“   Silence, you uneducated peanut! ”

“  They should invent a being alive that isn’t so difficult. ”

“   Women have to think I’m hot or none of this matters. ”

“   Due to personal reasons I will be named an enemy of the state. ”

“   Being overdressed is a myth made up by people who didn’t want you to have fun and be sexy. ”

“   What even are daddy issues? Just traumatize your father back. ”

“   I LOVE complaining! You can’t take that away from me! ”

“   I went to the silly goose convention and they all knew you. ”

“   I’m simultaneously ‘I’m tired of this grandpa’ and ‘that’s too damn bad!’ ”

“   The word ew coming out of a pretty girl’s mouth holds so much power … I think that it can tear apart nations. ”

“   Someone made fun of my shoes and the whole time I just thought of ways to push them out the window. ”

“   If you’re short, simply get taller. ”

“   I better think twice? Buddy I don’t even think once. ”

“   My off putting looks, awkward demeanor, and strange behavior have captivated you. ”

“   There’s something deeply, fundamentally wrong with you. Can we kiss? ”

“   You are a fool. When you walk, clown music plays. ”

“   I mean yeah he’s evil and all but what if I were his favorite? ”

“   I really do hate thinking. ”

“   In my defense, I simply do not vibe with the law. ”

“   I’ve done nothing wrong. Except all the atrocities. Besides that, I’m innocent. ”

“   Sorry I couldn’t hear you over my internal monologue. ”

“   Of course you have white hair and trauma. ”

“   So apparently the bad vibes I’ve been feeling are actually ‘severe psychological distress’. ”

“   Stop calling me a bad person just because I’m orchestrating your downfall! ”

“   The more lip gloss I collect the longer I live. ”

“   Sorry that I am obsessed with you in the unhealthiest way possible. As if it's my fault ”

“   The multiple failed assassination attempts against me have helped build both character and self esteem. ”

“   I could be your loser boyfriend. Do you ever think about that? ”

“   Accidentally went and got myself killed yesterday, but god wont let me die so I’m back ”

“   What do you mean napping isn't a good coping mechanism? What do you mean my problems are still here? ”

“   Academic validation is required for my sanity. ”

“   RIP to everyone killed by the gods for hubris but I’m different and better. Maybe even better than the gods. ”

“   Researching the stages of grief to see if I can get them finished in ten minutes tops. ”

“   My parents were like I’m gonna make a child that is so beyond help. ”

“   It’s not easy to admit when you’re wrong, and that’s why I won’t do it. ”

“   Why can’t this family ever have a funky good time? ”

“   How do I show people that I’m more than my unethical career choice? ”

“   I fucked my way into this mess, and I’ll fuck my way out. ”

“   You look so biteable today. ”

“   Why am I suffering? I have so many correct opinions and takes. ”

“   I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST THAT I CANNOT GO BACK TO! anyways ”

“   Challenging authority, angering gods. The family business. ”

“   Third base is me telling you about my father. ”

“   Hey girl. Plagued by terrifying visions? ”

“   Got caught giving a fuck. Embarrassing. ”

“   I didn’t ‘miss’ the red flags; I saw them and thought that they looked sexy. ”

“   Do my dark circles and deteriorating health make me look hot? ”

“   I get my news from the only reliable source, cryptic symbolism in my dreams. ”

“   Another day of being a bisexual disaster. ”

“   I’m going to let myself be a little unhinged today, as a treat. ”

“   Some of you act like murder is such a big deal. ”

“   You wanna hunt me for sport so bad that it makes you look stupid. ”

“   You’re not a girlboss unless you’ve killed someone. ”

“   It’s so weird how no one ever has correct opinions about things except for me. ”

“   Hello, my love — I mean, my rival ”

“   No one is calling me baby and it’s outrageous I can’t believe it. ”

“   No talking stage. Mutual obsession and you see god in my eyes or nothing. ”

“   I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOOKUP CULTURE DIE IN MY ARMS ”

“   Yes baby your emotional walls are high and impenetrable can we kiss now? ”

“   Affection is disgusting. Drown me in it. ”

“   I am gatekeeping my respect from you. ”

“   Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions. ”

“   I am equal parts fuck around and find out and please don’t yell at me I’ll cry. ”

“   Short legs, big butt. I’m a corgi. ”

“   Fuck being the bigger person; I’m going to start biting people. ”

“   Well that wasn’t very slay of you! ”

“   May I please get a crumb of affection? ”

“   I crave power! Please don’t yell, though; I’m sensitive. ”

“   You call it a near death experience; I call it a vibe check from God. ”

“   Here are some scissors. Now cut it out. ”

“   Might commit a little tomfoolery, maybe even some shenanigans. ”

“   All these flavors, and you choose to be salty. ”

“   How can I live, laugh, love in these conditions? ”

“   What if I said ‘to be honest’ but then lied? ”

“   I'm financially at a stage where I understand why people do fraud. ”

“   Yes I may be evil and morally corrupt, but I’m also incredibly beautiful and I think that makes up for it honestly. ”

“   Debates are stupid. Why would I want to sit down and argue with someone blatantly dumber than me? ”

“   I forget but I do NOT forgive.. I'm just walking around hating bitches can't remember why ”

“   Ding dong your opinion is wrong! ”

“   I’m coming for your kneecaps. ”

“   You dropped your nose you fucking clown. ”

“   Are you a fire alarm? ‘Cause you are really fucking loud and annoying. ”

“   Call me an escalator, because I let people down. ”

“   I love me a good lesbian scandal! ”

“   If you can’t run away from your problems, you’re not running fast enough. ”

“   Everything I want to do is illegal. ”

“   Don’t make me hit your ankle with my Barbie scooter! ”

“   I tell gay jokes because I am a gay joke. ”

“   Fuck! I dropped my mental stability! ”

#askbox meme #askbox prompt #rp ask meme #ask box #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #* sentence meme

[civetside]

i was watching top 13 real crypid sightings on youtube with a friend at like 1AM last night and she said this to me and i drew it

#tlt #tlt shitposting #griddlehark #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #the locked tomb #sorry i havent made a comic in a while too ill be honest i just kinda ran out of ideas #feel free to send ideas and prompts 2 my ask box tombies love you kiss kiss #hits the griddy and goes crazy

[the-badger-mole]

The Volunteer: Part 2

The first day of volunteering at Hama's Haven went as well as could be expected. Zuko spent his four hour shift painting the stair wells of the building. There were only three floors, but they'd only painted about two and a half landings. The men that Zuko worked with were happy with the progress, though. They were friendly enough, despite his clear inexperience. They gave Zuko the nickname Splotch because of how messy his painting skills were.

"Good thing we have drop cloth down," said the man named Due. He gave Zuko a good natured slap on the back and offered him a can of beer.

"Um...no thanks," Zuko declined politely. "I'm underaged. And it's kind of the reason I'm here in the first place." Due and the other men laughed heartily at him, and Zuko was given another round of back slaps to seal their newfound camaraderie. They would finish the paint job, they told him, the following day. Then the next week, when he returned, they would take on the second set of stairs in the middle of the building.

"See ya, Splotch!" they called after Zuko as he went to go find Azula and the others.

It was a bit later than he realized. Without a doubt, Azula and her friends would be at the front desk or the car already, and furious with him for making them stay in that building. Zuko hurried down the stairs and through the hall towards the front desk. It was only his quick reflexes that kept him from crashing into Katara and her brother as he rounded the last corner.

"Sorry," Zuko mumbled.

"Hey! I know you," Sokka said. "You're that jerk from my physics class! The one who ruined spring break by reminding Mr. Piando that he didn't give the assignment. You volunteer here now?"

"He's with the group the judge sent over," Katara told her brother.

"What?" Sokka laughed. "Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes? What did you do to get sentenced to community service? Let me guess, public mopery? Brooding with intent to skulk? Did you scowl at the wrong cop?"

"They're in for arson," Katara supplied, eyeing Zuko with disapproval.

"That's none of your business," Zuko growled at her.

"Get out!" Sokka gaped at him. "Arson? Seriously?"

"You are literally the only one who doesn't know that." Katara rolled her eyes at her brother. Sokk, still unfazed, just shook his head and let out a low whistle.

"Dude...when you rebel, you go hard, huh?"

"It wasn't like that!" Zuko insisted. "Look, I've got to go." He took off down the hall towards the front desk.

"Alright," Sokka called after him. "But you stay out of trouble. No more arson around!" Zuko could hear him laughing at his own joke.

Idiot, Zuko thought rolling his eyes to himself. He stopped at the front desk to make sure Hakoda got his hours logged.

"You sister and friends are waiting for you outside," he told Zuko. There was a tightness in Hakoda's face that made it clear that it would be a good idea for them not to linger. Zuko thanked Hakoda quietly and hurried out.

As he anticipated, Azula was in an even fouler mood than she was when they got there. She was standing outside of the car with Mai and Ty Lee ranting about her day. Mai, who had been assigned to work with her also looked unhappy, but she at least seethed silently.

"I should sue this place!" Azula was saying as Zuko approached. "I'm covered in whatever was rotting in those bins. My shirt is ruined, and that useless, smug knuckle dragger just laughed at me! My dad with tear this place to the ground. When he is done, there won't be anyplace for the rats infesting this place to hide!" Zuko was taken aback by is sister's vitriol.

"Let's get home," Zuko said, glancing around the parking lot. Fortunately, no one was in the immediate area to hear his sister's tirade. She looked at him and scowled.

"What took you so long?" she demanded. "We've been waiting for you to leave this disgusting place for ages!"

"It's only been a few minutes, Azula," Ty Lee interjected timidly. Azula rounded on her with a sneer.

"I'm sure you wouldn't mind staying, would you?" Azula spat at her friend. "Made a lot of good friends in the kitchen? Why don't you ask if there's a spare room. I'm sure they'd be happy to let you stay." Ty Lee shrank back, biting her lips against the tears that were about to fall. Azula just rolled her eyes and huffed in disgust. She turned and got into the car, taking the front seat this time.

"Zuko's going to be cramped in the backseat," Mai said.

"He can deal with it for twenty minutes," Azula snapped. "Shut up and get us out of here." Zuko slid into the backseat without a word. Azula moved the seat up a few inches so that Zuko at least had room to get in, but that was it. Azula continued ranting the entire drive, coming up with some particularly creative and vicious names for Hakoda, the staff and the residents of Hama's Haven. Her brother and friends just let her go. Mai interjected occasionally with some snide remarks of her own, but she didn't have the energy for all out rage like her friend. Zuko did his best to tune them both out, and he politely ignored Ty Lee's subtly wiping away stray tears next to him. Not for the first time, Zuko wondered why the sensitive, bubbly girl was friends with Azula and Mai of all people, but he'd stopped searching for an answer to that years ago.

True to her word, Azula went into her father's home office and demanded that he get her out of her community service sentence. Zuko could hear her while he fixed himself a snack in the kitchen. Interestingly, he noted, she didn't mention a thing about getting him or her friends out of the mandated service. Not that it bothered Zuko. He'd already decided he didn't mind the work.

Ozai did end up calling the judge to demand that something be done for his daughter. Zuko heard it the next day. He'd forgotten to shut the door to his office completely, so Zuko was able to hear Ozai alternately threatening and cajoling Judge Jeong-Jeong to release Azula from her punishment. He offered bribes. He swore to get Jeong-Jeong removed from his bench and disbarred from practicing law anywhere. He offered to donate a ridiculous sum of money to the shelter, if Hakoda was removed from his position. Jeong-Jeong said little through the near hour-long call until the very end.

"Mr. Kaji," he began ponderously. "Firstly, I feel the need to remind you that bribing a judge is a federal offence, and this call is being recorded. Secondly, my ruling stands. It is only the generous intercession of your brother that kept your children and their friends from spending the next 8 to 13 months in a juvenile detention center. I feel I have been more than fair with my judgement, but if Azula would rather serve out her sentence in juvenile detention, I would be happy to arrange that."

Ozai swore and started to speak, but Jeong-Jeong cut him off.

"As for having Hakoda terminated," he continued. "He has been serving at that shelter since it opened, and he has never had a single complaint about how he runs it in all that time. I have no say in what happens there, but I sincerely doubt the board that oversees the operation of Hama's Haven would be willing to let him go on the say so of one disgruntled, mandated volunteer and her overly indulgent father. This is Azula's only option if she doesn't want to go to the juvenile detention center. If she refuses to honor her service hours, or if Hakoda dismisses her, that's exactly where she will end up. Am I clear, Mr. Kaji?"

"I'll find a way around this," Ozai promised.

"You are certainly welcome to try," Jeong-Jeong sounded amused. "I'm sure the additional scrutiny from the government won't affect you...much."

Ozai swore at the judge again, but again Jeong-Jeong cut him off.

"If there is nothing else, Mr. Kaji," he said. "I have better things to do than babysit your tantrum." The call ended abruptly, leaving Ozai to rage in his office to no one. Zuko took his book and crept towards the back stairs. It was better if he wasn't in his father's line of sight while he was in this mood.

He made it to his bedroom just as Ozai came out of his office and stormed up the main staircase. He shut his light out and stayed silent. Ozai, though, went straight to Azula's room. Zuko heard her door fly open and hit the door with a thud.

"What's your problem?" Azula snapped.

"You're going back to that pit and serving your hours," Ozai told her. "I don't want to hear another word out of you about it."

"But, Dad!" Azula protested.

"Not another word!" Ozai barked. Azula went silent. A moment later, Zuko heard the door slam shut and his father stomped down the stairs. Then he left the house, slamming the front door even harder than Azula's door. Zuko waited until he heard his father's car peeling out of the driveway to make his way carefully to Azula's room. He knocked at her door lightly, then poked his head in. Azula stood in the middle of the floor, absolutely seething with rage. Her dark glower got darker when she saw her brother.

"What do you want?" she hissed.

"Just checking to see if you're okay," Zuko said. He was. It was rare to see Ozai's anger aimed at Azula.

"Peachy," Azula snorted. "I just found out that Dad's connections are useless. Now I'm stuck either cleaning up after people i wouldn't let touch my rags or spending a year in jail."

"It's not that bad," Zuko said, shrugging. "Some of the people are pretty cool, once you get to know them." Azula shot her brother a disgusted look.

"I should've known you'd be fine there," she said. "What are you doing in my room, anyway? Get out!" She stormed across the room and slammed the door in Zuko's face. He just barely managed to keep his hand from being crushed. With one last scowl at Azula's door, Zuko decided he'd had enough of the house for a while. He took his car and drove off in the opposite direction of his father.

The next week of school was annoying. As Katara had implied, word of their sentencing had spread throughout the school. People stared and whispered as Zuko passed through the halls. Well, more than usual. It was annoying, but people were too intimidated by Zuko to say anything to his face, so he could ignore most of it. At lunch, Zuko headed towards his usual spot in the far corner of the cafeteria, but he was stopped half way by Sokka appearing at his side.

"Yo!" he greeted Zuko. "Come sit with us today. I'll introduce you to the rest of the Haven Crew."

"What?" Zuko's nose wrinkled in confusion. Sokka had already started walking, though. Zuko followed awkwardly to a table where Katara sat with three other people. Zuko recognized Suki, who was in the same martial arts club as him, but the other two- a boy with a tight fitting beanie and a girl Zuko was startled to realize was blind- he had no idea who they were. They looked like freshmen.

"Katara you know," Sokka said, pointing to his sister. "This is Toph and Aang. The babies of the group. And this beautiful, terrifying girl is Suki, my girlfriend of two years."

"We've met," Suki told Sokka. She smiled politely at Zuko. "Nice to see you again, Zuko."

"So," Toph drawled, leaning towards Zuko. "You're the guy who blew up a building."

"What?" Zuko sputtered. "I didn't blow anything up!"

"Whatever you say, Sparky," Toph grinned at him. "Hey! I'm not mad at you. There's a few building's I'd like to blow up. Starting with this one."

"Toph, don't say stuff like that!" Aang glanced around nervously, looking for a monitor or a lurking teacher.

"Nah, it was just arson," Sokka told his friends, grinning. "I didn't know he had it in him, though. Sit, down, Zuko. You can't eat standing up." Zuko eyed the open seat between Sokka and Aang hesitantly.

"Would you just sit down already?" Katara snapped irritably. "The seat isn't dirty." Zuko scowled at her, but sat down.

"Zuko and his accomplices are going to be working off their debt to society at the Haven," Sokka explained. "We'll be seeing a lot of him. Dad says they've got nine months of work to finish."

"Um...you all volunteer at the shelter?" Zuko asked.

"Yeah, we're all there at least a few times a month," Suki told him. "I do tutoring once a week."

"I help out in the garden." Aang grinned cheefully.

"Pottery and crap," Toph said.

"Crafts," Katara said. "You do pottery and crafts." Toph snorted at that.

"We made comb sheaths last month," she said. "I think crap is spot on."

"Toph," Katara let out a long suffering sigh and shook her head.

"So, Sparky," Toph turned back to Zuko with a smirk. "Why don't you tell us how you landed on the chain gang?"

"Toph!" Suki chided. "You can't just lead with that."

"Why not?" Toph demanded. "It's the most interesting thing to happen in this school all year!"

"Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it," Aang suggested, looking at Zuko nervously. Katara rolled her eyes, which bugged Zuko most of all for some reason.

"There isn't that much to tell," he said. "We got drunk at warehouse and my sister dropped a candle, or something into a box of tea leaves. The fire department put the fire out before there was a ton of damage." The finer details, Zuko decided, didn't matter.

"And that's why you always use a flashlight when you're drinking," Sokka said sagely.

"Or you could just not drink underage," Katara scoffed.

"Too easy." Sokka waved his sister off. And with that the topic moved onto something else. It was jarring. Zuko wasn't sure what he was expecting. An interrogation. Derision. Some sort of prank to humiliate him for daring to think they actually wanted him to sit with them. But the conversation turned to what they all had done over the weekend. Zuko had little to add there, and no one pressed. It was a pleasant lunch, all things considered. Sokka invited him to sit with them again the next day and the one after that. By the end of the week, Zuko joined them on his own, if a bit hesitantly. They welcomed him. Or rather, they didn't tell him to get lost. Zuko decided to count it as an open invitation.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

#atla #zutara #ask box prompt #volunteer work au #part 2 #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

[allsassnoclass]

hello, Hazel!

how about "let's go out for a cheap dinner" ft. mashton for the prompts?<3

hi ana! thanks for requesting!

mashton: "Let's go out for a cheap dinner"

Michael covers his face with his hands and groans, as loud as he can. It echoes slightly in the empty theater, or maybe he just thinks it does because his hands are creating an echo chamber, but either way it's equally as satisfying as it isn't.

"Mood," Luke says. Michael turns his head to look at him, sitting in the second row of the audience with his feet propped up on the chair in front of him, Sierra nodding sagely beside him. It looks like an uncomfortable position for someone of his size, but laying on his back on the hard, disgusting wooden stage isn't as comfortable for Michael as it could be, so he's not going to say anything.

"They should've done Beauty and the Beast," Calum repeats for the fiftieth time since they all began working on this production nearly two months ago.

"Or Shrek. Or Spongebob. Or Sound of Music. Or literally any other family-friendly musical besides fucking Mary Poppins," Michael agrees, just like he has every other time.

When he applied for the job to direct Mary Poppins at a community theater this summer, it had seemed like a good idea. Being partially-funded through Community Education, he was told that they would have full access to the theater, scene shop, and costume shop at the high school, as well as some additional rehearsal spaces there. The board of directors seemed really excited to dive into a family show after producing some more mature musicals in the previous years, and he got to hire the production staff, meaning he could ensure that he works with his friends this summer. He knew that Mary Poppins is a difficult show from basically every standpoint: the music is complex, the dance numbers are big, there's an inconvenient amount of settings, and Mary Poppins does magic at about 12 different points in the script, including flying across the stage. Still, Michael had been optimistic.

Michael had been a fucking idiot.

This has been, to put it plainly, the most frustrating directing experience Michael has ever had. The theater was a new build from five years ago, but apparently the blueprints have since been lost and no one at the school knows the measurements of the space. He keeps trying to negotiate with different flight companies so they can rent equipment, hire a trainer, and have Mary actually fly across the stage, but most of them are appalled at the quick turnaround and all of them need some sort of measurement of the space, not to mention that Michael has to wait for permission from Community Education before he can solidify a deal. Every time he thinks they have it, the school finds some sort of issue that takes him three days to smooth over, at which point they find another one, then later another one.

Administration doesn't seem to understand anything about urgency, because the production staff didn't get their contracts until a month after rehearsals began, so now everyone is scrambling to get things done, and they still don't know what the set will look like because they don't know if Mary will be flying or if they have to find some other way to imply that she is.

That doesn't even scratch the surface. The stage has dried gum on it but the custodians won't let them mop, let alone paint the stage so it actually looks nice and fresh instead of ugly and chipped. They don't have keys to the catwalk. They only just got keys to the booth tonight, and Matt and Roy spent all rehearsal up there trying to figure out how the sound and lights are set up, because it doesn't follow logic. The electrics aren't weighted, which could kill someone, but the weight station is a floor above and the door is padlocked. Michael has already requested a key, but he requested a key to the catwalk two months ago and still doesn't have it.

There's no dressing rooms, no backstage space, and no hallway behind the stage to cross from one side to the other unseen. Michael figures all of those are problems for tech week, but tech week is very quickly approaching, which is why Michael is currently laying on the stage having a mental breakdown two hours after rehearsal ended.

His phone buzzes. He checks it, exhaling when he sees who is texting him.

"Can someone let Ashton in?" he requests.

Someone, probably Roy, heaves a sigh and gets up. Michael stares up at the electrics and wonders if he can sue the school if one of the lights falls and lands on him.

"Well, this is pitiful," Ashton says a few moments later. Michael holds up his middle finger. Ashton probably looks lovely, even for this late at night, and looking at him will probably make Michael feel incrementally better, but he's decided to let himself wallow and therefore refuses to so much as glance at him.

"Come on, what was your win of the day?" Ashton asks. He started asking this after the second week, when Michael came home and told him that every day with this production feels like getting one win, then fifteen losses. The win is usually that the actors have learned something new. The losses are typically everything else.

"We got access to the booth," Matt offers. "Nothing in there is set up, but we have access, so Roy and I can actually start our jobs."

Michael gives a thumbs up.

"Hey, that's great! Is there anything else that you need to solve here tonight, or can I take your fearless leader home?"

Michael holds up his middle finger again. There's a beat of silence, then Calum's voice, holding all of the authority he needs as a stage manager.

"There's nothing else we can do tonight. Let's all go home."

Michael listens to everyone gather their things and put the theater back to some semblance of order. Something blocks the lights overhead, and Michael squints until the silhouette solidifies into Ashton, looking down at him. He really looks good, even when Michael is looking at him from the most unfortunate angle. He's wearing a bandana to keep his curls contained, something which he started doing again this summer, and his shirt is sleeveless, giving Michael a fantastic view of his arms. Michael really likes those arms.

Ashton holds out a hand. Michael drags a sigh up from the depths of his soul and takes it.

"What do you want to eat?" Ashton asks as he's hauling him up and Michael is doing his best imitation of a rag doll.

"We have no food at home. I do not want peanut butter and jelly."

"Let's go out for a cheap dinner," Ashton suggests. Michael rolls his eyes and slumps against him.

"I do not want McDonald's for the third time this week, and there's no where else near us open this late."

"I was researching and found a 24/7 diner about half an hour away. That'll give you enough time to vent and relax, and you'll probably get to sleep just as early as you would if we went home and you watched Netflix."

Michael considers, enjoying the feeling of Ashton's arm around him, supporting his weight. Ashton is always a fantastic combination of solid and soft, which makes him the perfect person to hug.

"I have a playlist ready," Ashton says. "No Mary Poppins on it at all."

"Twist my arm, why don't you," Michael concedes. Ashton ushers him off the stage to gather his backpack, script, and numerous writing utensils that have escaped their case. Calum has already stolen his keys to lock up, and by the time he turns out the lights and the group heads to the parking lot, Michael is feeling marginally more like a functional person.

"Come on, in you go," Ashton says after they call goodbyes to the rest of the staff, holding Michael's door open for him. The show must be taking a noticeable toll on him tonight if Ashton is babying him this much, but Michael is pretty lazy and isn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth right now.

Michael doesn't know what he'd do without Ashton, honestly. Between juggling his day job, rehearsals, production meetings, and all of the administrative bullshit that has unexpectedly come with this show, Michael barely finds time to exist, let alone eat and sleep and drink water. Ashton is the one who ensures that those needs are met, picking him up from production meetings once he deems that they've gone on long enough if Michael doesn't call before then, making meals that will be good reheated when he has time and scoping out places for them to get food when everything else is closed. He offers a patient ear when Michael needs to rant and practical solutions when he can, and Michael is man enough to admit that he would have fallen apart by now without the knowledge that there is someone who is in his corner and who will still love him if the production goes to shit.

"Hey," he says once Ashton starts the engine, his phone already hooked up to the car and an acoustic pop punk song beginning to play over the speakers. "I love you."

Ashton smiles at him, reaching out and tucking a lock of Michael's hair back, letting his fingers trail down Michael's cheek after. Michael closes his eyes, savoring the sensation.

"I love you, too," Ashton says warmly. "Now let's get some food in you. You can tell me all about the school's latest bullshit on the way there."

Michael sighs and presses back against his seat, looking out the window at the dark. quiet town around them. He starts talking, and Ashton listens attentively the entire time, even when Michael can tell from his clenched jaw and furrowed brow that he's angry on his behalf. Once Michael has gotten it all out of his system, he lets Ashton distract him with talk about his own day over a plate of pancakes and some bacon.

With Ashton's ankle hooked around his under the table, it's the most relaxed Michael has felt all day.

"Thank you," Michael says before they pay the bill. He means it for more than just the food, Ashton understands. He always does.

"I love you," Ashton says in reply, like it's an explanation.

Michael takes the last bite of his pancakes from the tiny diner that Ashton found to ensure that Michael eats well, and knows with certainty that he can make it through anything with Ashton by his side.

#my writing #mashton #ask box prompt #YES i was projecting. yes these were all real issues with our production i choreographed/assistant directed #however i think that the fact that i wrote at all is a big big big win!!!! #this is the 4th thing i've posted this year. at all. since january. #but we're vibing now!!!! #also i didn't think of this until i finished this version but i totally could've made this about vampires for you ana #like. ''let's go out for a cheap dinner'' that's vampire flirting for let's go kill some people #but no matter! what's done is done! #i already wrote a vampire thing this year so it's fine #chameleonsoul #ana

[halvedslab]

For the mwarch request could you possibly do 21 with Scar and Grian?👉👈Maybe Scar is talking about Star Wars too much???

21. A kiss to shut them up

"Don't put me on hold again..........!!!!!!!!"

#scarian #hermitshipping #hermitcraft s10 #goodtimeswithscar #grian #TY for the request!! I know you said star wars but I wasn't really sure how to represent that so I went with permit office shenanigans #ask box #mwarch: kiss prompts #my sketches

[lovesphases]

sub!jj cumming hands free from praise :((

p!link | when i saw this ask i immediately thought of this video

cw: sub!jj x dom!reader, oral (fem receiving), slight mommy kink

you didn't often take control during sex, but when you did, jj loved it.

your hips grind against jj's mouth, a mixture of spit and your arousal dripping down his chin.

"fuck just like that. that feels so good. you're doing such a good job for me baby." moans and whimpers come from the boy beneath you. He's desperately bucking his hips up in the hair, desperate for friction.

"taste s'good" he's groaning against your pussy, as if eating you out was giving him just as much pleasure as it was giving you.

you snake your hand through his hair, lightly yanking, placing him in a better position to ride his face. your hips begin to burn as you near your climax.

"m'gonna cum" you let out a loud cry, your legs shaking as you clench your thighs around his head. he drinks every last bit of your release, licking you completely clean before you climb off of him.

"you're such a good boy. did so well for me." he doesn't meet your gaze, instead he's looking down at his boxers, now completely sticky.

"awe baby, did you cum from eating mommy out?"

"mhm, you just taste so good i couldn't help it" his face is red with embarrassment.

"its okay, let me clean you up, yeah?" he nods his head as you places kisses down his stomach before licking up the mess he made.

"i think my baby deserves a reward for being so good. don't you?

#⋆.˚ asks ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ #jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank prompt #jj #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank x reader #rudy #rudy pankow smut #rudy pankow #box

[clownsuu]

THESE BITCHES LOOK FRUITY AS HELL🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧

Ha melon bug

Been having a craving to draw them as a lil beverage 😔💔🥄🥄

#Also I take back what I said about them bein water #They got a lil spice to em they get sparkling water JXHDHDH #A delicious snack to have in the summer ✨🥄🥄 #They definitely have a paper straw too- #BUT YOOO THEMBS INTERACTING??? #A cute lil surprise in my ask box! Glad I didn’t accidentally miss it- (I keep missing stuff AUGAHUAGAHAH) #What crimes against humanity would lovelie do next-? (The answer may shock u)— #Next drawing prompt- Lovelie becomes a literal canvas (real) (not clickbait) #WAWAWAWWA- #THEY ARE SO PREDDY THOO (would lovelie admit that? Maybe if it’s with a jab-)

[unboundprompts]

ways to describe eyebags/visible tiredness?

Ways to Show that Someone is Tired/Exhausted

dark circles under eyes

red eyes

difficulty concentrating

fatigue

lack of energy

dizziness

irritability

headache

blurry vision

accidentally falling asleep

Prompts for Showing Exhaustion

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

She looked-- for lack of a better word-- awful. Dark circles stained the skin under her eyes and her face drooped. She blinked slowly at their approach, forcing a smile onto her face.

"You look like death," he said, face scrunched in concern. "Thanks," they replied, "I feel like death."

Their eyebags were dark and sunken in, making them appear more dead than alive.

She stumbled, closing her eyes for just a moment too long before brushing her hair out of her face.

His eyes were bloodshot.

"You look dehydrated," their friend had commented. "Probably," they responded simply, "add that to my list of problems."

She watched his eyes flutter closed before he jolted back awake. A desperate attempt to stop himself from falling asleep.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

#writing prompts #dialogue prompt #creative writing #writeblr #story prompt #ask box prompts #how to show exhaustion #how to write