#thanks for the prompt :)
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Can you pretty please draw John happy?
look at the cows
#anon im sorry. i turned your prompt into disgustang ship art#anywas#tma#tma art#the magnus archives art#???#the magnus archives#THANKS FOR THE PROMPT#DO NOR ARCHIVE#DO MT#DO NOT ARCHIVE#my art
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for the kiss meme: 45. out of anger, any ship you feel like! <3
A little JonGerry
~*~
"What the FUCK is WRONG WITH YOU??"
"A multitude of things," Jon grumbled under his breath, eyes unfocused and staring down at his desk. Despite the fact that he was in his office and Gerry was still storming through the Assistant's bullpen, he knew his inherited Assistant heard him. That perhaps accounted for the ferocity in which Gerry kicked the door shut behind him, glaring furiously down at him.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" he growled, stomping around Jon's desk to loom over him, eyes pinned to his bandage-wrapped hand. "You can't go putting yourself in danger like that. That's what you have fucking Assistants for!"
"I'm not putting any of you at risk," Jon said firmly, without looking up at Gerry. The unexpected emotions from him were making him feel...not uncomfortable, but uncertain and on edge. "I'm not Gertrude. My Assistants matter to me. I'm not..." he swallowed roughly, throat suddenly tight. "I'm not losing anyone else."
"That's not the point, Jon." Gerry's hands landed on the back of his office chair and jerked it around so Jon was facing him. He hunched down over him, so Jon could see his burning eyes, standing out starkly in his pale face. "You, you fucking idiot. You're not Gertrude, and you don't have all of the Archivist abilities yet, and that means you don't know what you're doing out there and you can't defend yourself. They could have killed you, or worse!" He gave Jon's chair a shake. "Do you understand how bad 'worse' can be?"
"I had it under control," Jon snapped mulishly. He had, things had been going perfectly well until the end. Gerry scoffed like he knew it was a lie. "Besides, at this point I think we all know that I am utterly replaceable. You'd be...this place would be just fine without me."
That hurt to admit, but it was true. Gertrude had been killed and he was probably going to die in the Unknowing, and the Institute would simply hire another Head Archivist to fumble through the job. Or they'd promote Gerry like they should have from the start. If anything Gerry should be encouraging his recklessness.
Instead Gerry was staring down at him with his face twisted in emotion. "You're still missing the point, Jon," he snapped, and surged forward, caught him by the chin, and kissed him.
It was not a nice kiss. Jon knew he wasn't meant to enjoy it, much less melt into it and savor it like the first breath of air after drowning for so long. Gerry kissed him furiously, like he meant it, and it was the most anyone had touched him in months, burning handshakes aside, and burned in him just the same. Jon felt alive again, almost human again, and very nearly lunged after Gerry when he pulled back, just the barest inches away from his face.
"We can have another Archivist," Gerry breathed heavily, eyes staring deeply into his. "But I can't have another you."
With that Gerry stood and stormed out, as suddenly as he'd appeared. Jon fell back in his seat, his trembling fingers resting carefully on his suddenly too-sensitive lips.
"Oh."
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First sentence: "As options went, falling wasn't normally his first, but right now, it was somehow the best one."
...possibly not the fandom you had in mind, but I could not resist a significant off-page fall in a fandom common to us both.
As options went, falling wasn't normally his first, but right now, it was somehow the best one. After the first euphoric rush came the familiar plunge of apprehension, and then an unexpectedly sickening crash. He swore with extreme fervor and ingenuity. Damn silly thing it seemed, leaving wheelbarrows standing around under walls rather than in garden sheds where they surely belonged. At least nothing essential seemed to be punctured. He regretted the wheelbarrow less when the report of the gun sounded, but he still hated to think of what Bunter would say.
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Abuse >:) I won't even toggle anon
(CW: Abusive dynamics and abuse (per the prompt) - skip if that's not your thing!)
“Again.”
I flinched instinctively, my stomach dropping when I heard laughter instead of the tell-tale snap of a riding crop and the associated pain. I felt nothing but deadened, faded welts, the chill of the floor against my knees, and a queasiness in the pit of my stomach.
“Oh darling,” Trina cooed. “What’s the matter?”
“N-Nothing,” I stammered lamely. I pulled my wrists against the restraints, the chains clacking against the pipes and the sounds echoing throughout the basement.
“Why it almost seemed…” She ran her fingers gently down the raised welts across my chest. “…like you didn’t like me.”
“That’s not true!” I blurted out. “I love you, Trina, I do, I just-” I hated disappointing her. “…Can we maybe move out of the basement at least? It’s cold and I like your bed better,” I pleaded in a desperate attempt to have boundaries. And yet, that wasn’t what I really wanted. My skin burned, my muscles ached at the position I had been holding for what felt like hours, and I was ready to stop. I never even wanted to start it, at least not tonight.
But starting here could be the first step.
“Baby, you know I can’t do that.” Trina looked concerned. “Last time, well…you know you’re a screamer, right?” She played at shyness, though I knew she had delighted in my screams at the time. “Last time we were playing, the neighbors heard, and that was a whole thing…and you’ve only just barely made up for it.” Her eyes looked like they were shimmering with tears.
The queasiness again. I looked back down. “…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She pet my hair soothingly. “That’s why we’re down here.”
“I—” I swallowed a lump in my throat. Asserting boundaries. No is a complete sentence. My comfort is a priority. “I don’t want to…'play' anymore. Can we be done? A-at least tonight?” Hesitation had crept through into my voice in the last sentence, but that was the most I had said as a challenge to her in what felt like ages, and a part of me was proud.
“You what?” Trina frowned.
I grimaced from the wave of nausea that slammed into my battered body. Alarm bells went off in my brain, as if I’d made a horrible mistake, as if I’d just committed such a grievous wrong that the very core of my being shuddered in disgust.
“I just mean, I mean we’ve been doing this for a while, and aren’t you tired? We could both take a break!” I desperately recanted, anything to get rid of that feeling.
She stood there, frowning at me, my physical discomfort growing exponentially, my body attempting to curl inwards in agony, if only my arms hadn’t been tied to the pipes.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I started mumbling, tears wetting my cheeks. “I won’t do it again.” Shame and humiliation and a rush of chemical pleasure flooded my veins, my body sinking into a sigh of relief, the pleasurable throbbing of my body. Fuck.
“That’s a good girl.” Her face broke out into a wide smile. “I’m so glad you understand. You know, I hate being mad at you. And it’s not right for a relationship to just be one-sided. Fighting is healthy for relationships. I want you to be able to challenge me on things, and then when you’re done and we both come to a solution, I want it to feel good for you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes,” I whimpered, my toes curled and fists balled up trying to bear the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me.
“Aw baby, it’s okay!” Her sickly-sweet voice dug its claws into me, comforted the inner turmoil in my mind. “Just relax, okay? I know you’re so good at doing that for me. Doesn’t it feel better to just, drop it? To relax?”
“Yeeesss…” It came from the back of my throat in one long sigh, like I was relieving my stress and losing a part of myself with every deep breath. It came from the back of my throat like all the other times I’d said yes to her, like all the times I agreed, all the times I relented…
“What’s this?” She swatted at my crotch with the crop lightly, the fabric of my underwear sticking to my skin. “Are you getting turned on by this?” She spat out with a sneer.
…Like all the times I came.
My ears burned. “I—”
“Sweetie, sweetie.” Trina’s voice softened again. “It’s okay, to like the things that you like. No one can judge you here, okay?” She hugged me gently as I leaned my tired body against her legs.
“But, out there…those neighbors,” she whispered, saddened. “Who knows what they’d tell people if they knew what you did? What you were into? What got you so fucking wet?” She ripped the thin, flimsy fabric from me, the coolness of the air on my slick skin a stark contrast to how feverish my head felt. “It’d be bad, right?” I nodded against her absentmindedly.
“Then we can’t tell anyone, right?” She knelt and met me at eye-level, face to face. “We can never tell anyone about your deepest desires? Your shames?”
“No…” I sighed, a part of my soul fading away with my breath.
“It’s better not to tell anyone about what goes on in this household really, people can be so nosy.” She rolled her eyes with a grin.
“Yes…” My body felt heavier than it’d ever been, my eyes threatening to close.
“Good.” For a brief second her eyes softened, a genuine, small smile on her face. Those were the fleeting moments I lived for. I knew she was a good person who just played at being harsh. Because I was asking for it. Because I deserved it. Because she loved me. Right?
Her eyes lit up in rapturous glee. “Well, without further ado.” She jammed the discarded panties into my mouth, her fingers uncomfortably prying my jaw open as I choked on the fabric being stuffed into the back of my throat.
“Remember, no screaming.”
---
(a short story for sleepingirl, a wicked pervert)
#short prompt#writing#hypnosis#abuse k1nk#abuse k!nk#abuse mention#don't know which to use RIP#this is where I find out that people keep censoring this kink in tags#which makes it hell for people to actually filter it out#this one wound up long for reasons#but do not expect the rest to be so long!!#also anon is not a requirement!#thanks for the prompt#posted this once before but never on my tumblr#so it’s a good time to share now
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"Thank god you’re back, I need to rant.”
Let's have some ROTTMNT ranting! 🐢
EDIT:
I have revised and turned this into a proper one-shot. Give it a read over on ao3 here
🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢
"Thank God you are back. I need to rant. Stop screaming, it's me- OUCH! That was my head!"
"Donnie!" April screeches and quickly closes her bedroom door behind her. They are lucky her parents are still downstairs parking the car. For good measure she throws the last of her school books at his head as well, but this time the turtle is prepared and dodges the dictionary. She briefly considers throwing her backpack too, but in the end she'll be the one who'll have to tidy up again so she simply lets it slide from her shoulders instead. "I swear to the big turtle in the sky Donnie, one of these days I'll dropkick you right back into Witch Town. Stop lurking in my room in the dark. I'll die of a heart attack if you keep that up."
The turtle scoffs (he actually says the word Scoff, the big nerd) and crosses his arms. "How can you still be surprised? Didn't Papa teach you all of his secret ninja techniques?"
April rolls her eyes and ignores the decidedly jealous undertone in his voice. Her brother in all but blood (and kinda also that after Mikey heard about blood pacts and wouldn't leave them alone until everyone got a little nick in their thumbs to press against each other) is sitting on the edge of her bed, the long legs crossed over each other. She can't help but notice his foot whipping up and down and his hand repeatedly thumping against the mattress.
Before he can notice her watching and force himself to stop, April lets herself fall backwards onto the bed right next to him. She can feel him bounce up and down a little. April crosses her arms behind her head and stares at the ceiling. She has long since learned that he opens up better and faster if people aren't looking at him. If he can act like he is unobserved, trapped in a bubble of pretend privacy where he can just throw his words into the void, to either be heard or forgotten.
April never forgets.
"So, you need to rant."
"Surprised you heard that part amidst all your screaming."
"Doh-nnie!"
"Alright, alright. Geeze." He fiddles with something he's snatched from her bedside table. Looks like her alarm clock which means she'll probably be awoken by another awful techno song in the morning. She really gotta figure out how he keeps reprogramming that thing. "It's Mikey."
Okay. That is a surprise.
Usually when he is this worked up, it's about his 'annoying twin' or about 'overprotective Raph' or sometimes even about his 'totally-don't-crave-his-parental-attention Dad'.
Never Mikey.
She dares to glance at him. He doesn't notice, too wrapped up in pressing the buttons on her clock. "Mikey?"
His sigh is like a mini explosion. The clock gets put back on the table with a loud bang and he jumps to his feet to pace her room from one end to the other.
"He won't shut up about the spaceship and what happened. Pestering me about talking about it. Like something is wrong. Nothing is wrong! Why would anything be wrong? I was a spaceship! How cool is that? Super cool, that's how cool! A spaceship, Apes! A fucking spaceship!"
April sits up, abandons all pretense of the bubble, stares right at the heaving back that is facing her. The back that is covered with his most advanced battle shell. Big and clunky and heavy. It's thicker than all his other shells, usually reserved for the hardest and most brutal fights, designed to withstand everything and let nothing through.
He's been wearing it constantly ever since the Krang attacked. Even in the lair.
Yeah. 'Super cool', her ass.
Before she can get up to go to him, Don comes back to the bed. He falls face down onto it so his back is exposed, as exposed as it can be with the literal tank covering it, and something warm spreads through April at the show of trust.
"I was a spaceship." he mumbles into her duvet.
April hums and touches his shoulder, right above his battle shell. She can feel him shudder a little at the contact, but he doesn't squirm away or makes these clicking sounds in the back of his throat he makes when he is uncomfortable. So she keeps her hand right where it is, rubbing little circles into his skin, her thumb slipping a tiny bit into a gap between his skin and the metal. Her fingernail barely scrapes his soft shell underneath and he goes very still.
"Must have been scary." she whispers.
"It was cool." he insists. His voice breaks a little and after what feels like an eternity he adds quietly on a soft breath "And scary."
She can't even imagine what it must have felt like. Getting swallowed by technology created by beings whose only goal was to destroy. Who only ever operated on hate and disdain and a complete lack of empathy.
Donnie's tech has always felt warm to her. Alive and vibrant and fun. Holding one of his gizmos in her hands, April can feel the love he put into it like a physical thing.
Did the spaceship feel like the Krang as well? Did it feel like being buried under hate and darkness and a hunger for suffering?
Sometimes she thinks that Raph wasn't the only one getting possessed by the Krang. What Don experienced was a lot more subtle, a lot more insidious, but for a moment he'd been one with something that was completely alien to him and his mindset.
He wasn't just a spaceship. He was a spaceship designed to destroy.
Donnie, who creates, who programmed an AI so life-like that it went through puberty.
A creator, forced to become one with a weapon of destruction.
April lowers her head and keeps rubbing circles into his shoulders and neck and her fingernails keep scraping his soft shell. With every contact, he seems to grow less tense, his shoulders relaxing, his breathing evening out.
"It's alright", she murmurs. "It's gonna be alright."
#rottmnt#tmnt 2018#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt fanfiction#rottmnt fic#rottmnt angst#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt donatello#Rottmnt donnie Angst#rottmnt april#platonic soulmates#That's them I don't make the rules#Thanks for the prompt#I made it angst like I do#Ooops
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"what is wrong with you?" + any ship you'd like!
Ness basic bitch era is back, let's goooo~
"What is wrong with you?"
"Me?" Chuuya snaps, ripping his hand from Dazai's grip. "What about you, asshole?"
"Chuuya--"
"I try to be honest with you. I try to have an actual fuckin conversation, and you're just an asshole who wants to tease me about it rather than confront it."
Dazai doesn't say anything. Chuuya is angry, but his shoulders are hunched in hurt. His eyes won't meet Dazai's and his muscles are coiled, a scared animal two seconds from bolting.
"Just forget it. I'm done with your shit."
"No, Chuuya!"
Mercifully, Chuuya does stop, but he doesn't look back at them. "If the next words out of your mouth are a joke, I swear to god, they will not find your body."
"Tempting," Dazai says, but quickly continues when Chuuya takes another step forward, "I'm not good at this."
"Neither am I, dipshit."
Sighing, Dazai limps forward, putting themself in front of Chuuya and grabbing both of his gloved hands. Even with the distance, their skin crawls, just a bit. An awful day Chuuya has chosen for this.
"Chuuya, I--" Dazai scrunches up their lips, twists them around, chewing on their words. "I asked what is wrong with you because of the way I am, especially to you. But if you're serious--"
"Of course I am. I don't say shit for no reason like you do."
"If you're serious then I....I also--" Dazai lets out a noise of frustration. With one hand, Dazai cups Chuuya's cheek, trying to savor the feeling instead of flinching away from it. With the other, they intertwine their fingers together. "I promise I'll say it someday," Dazai says quietly. "Will you accept this for now?"
#skk and poor communication?#Dazai being unable to say feelings out loud??#actions speaker louder than words skk????#never i would never write that#i tried to write your boys Ela#but this prompt was so skk to me#(the original idea was more angsty too but)#anyway#here ya are!#thanks for the prompt#Ela<3#ness writes
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your blood-stained hands are the one i want to treasure in this lifetime (random line for u to write something over)
Flickering lights, melting candles that will die down soon crumpled papers, thrown everywhere in the room with traces of blood, ink and paint of a life time sinking in the desk every day at 5 and pouring out own self on the white sheets be it by tears of eye or tear of skin
Waterline washed, drained and dried stains painted face, blue and violet with a reddish blush while the hands stained red from all the anguish and rage that fits in yet falls of the palm the fist that cuts itself trying to hold onto the story the misery the pain the helplessness
I was there once, stuck like she is there now Her blood stained hands are the one I wish to hold open, wipe the dust, dip them in care and fill them with love Make sure to take the steel away and draw stars on the scars
To treasure it the right way this time.
#tw gore#tw suggestive#tw self harm#kind of a poem to myself#sorry anon#if you didnt like it#thanks for the prompt#i loved it<33#zeuge writes
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Hiiiiiiii! For the 5 word sentence game:
"Fine, I'll go with you."
Please? ☺️☺️🥰🥰
Hiiiiiiiiiii,
since I've written myself into a corner on my wip I distracted myself with your prompt and here's the result. It's mushy because of course it is 😂
Hope you enjoy :))))
“Hey babe,” TK yells from the bedroom where he’s getting ready after a quick shower.
“Yeah?”
“I've got that tattoo appointment in a bit. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me? I know you’ve got that lunch date with your sisters, but the appointment shouldn't take long and I thought I could come with you to lunch after, if that’s okay? Or would they mind me crashing your lunch?”
Carlos looks up from the magazine he’s reading when TK steps out into the living room. He gives his husband a once over, appreciating the snug jeans making TK's ass look fantastic.
“Are you finally gonna tell me what you’re getting?”
“No, I told you it’s a surprise. But if you go with me you'll know what it is sooner.” TK has walked over to him by now and is leaning down to give him a quick peck on the lips.
"Fine, I'll go with you."
TK stops halfway on his way back up, searching Carlos' face. “Wait, really?”
“Sure.”
“That was easier than I thought it would be. I thought I had to entice you some more.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Carlos.
Carlos ignores that statement, but replies, “The girls will love to see you by the way. Sometimes I'm convinced they love you more than me.”
“What’s not to love?” TK replies, a smug grin taking over his face. Carlos loves that face a whole lot. He gets up from his position on the couch and gets right up in TK’s face, whispering, “Indeed,” before crashing their lips together and kissing the smugness off of TK in a passionate kiss.
When they part TK is left breathless, and Carlos turns to put on his shoes, acting like their kiss didn't phase him in the slightest. An obvious lie of course.
“Chop, chop,” Carlos throws TK’s way, “I thought we could walk, but that means we’re gonna have to leave now.”
“You’re evil,” TK hisses, adjusting himself in his pants, before putting his own shoes on. It’s Carlos' turn to be smug now.
A little while later, when TK is sitting in the tattoo chair and the tattoo artist is drawing a ring of two intertwined lines on TK’s ring finger, Carlos loses all his smugness and turns into mush instead. If he sheds a tear or three, or maybe even five, that’s no ones business but their own.
He doesn’t really think about it when he blurts out, “Maybe it’s time for my first tattoo,” and ultimately get’s the same tattoo as TK.
Send me Five Word Sentences and I'll write you a little something while I wilt away at home
#thanks for the prompt#five word sentences#prompt fill#tarlos fic#911 ls fic#911 lone star fic#me? writing? what a concept
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Chenford + Lucy wanting to take things slow
"You know, suggesting that we adopt your protégé does not exactly fall in line with 'taking things slow'," he points out.
Lucy shakes her head, not being able to help the constant smile on her face. Is this what being in love feels like? Smiling like an idiot all the time? She feels like she has swallowed a hot mess of balloons.
"This is different," she argues, nudging him softly on his arm. "Tamara deserves to have parents. And she likes you." She takes a sip from her wine, holding steady eye contact with him.
They are at her apartment again, sitting on her couch in a candlelit, wine-soaked atmosphere. It's impossible not to flash back to that first time he was here, the first time they ever kissed. She feels like everything that happened since then was right in its moment, their romance has been the stuff of movies. And she worries that if they rush any part of it, it might lose some of its perfection. But that doesn't stop her from dreaming about their future together now and then.
It is, of course, all teasing for now. She knows that she and Tim can't officially adopt Tamara, unless they—well, unless they are married. And that's indeed the cross-opposite of pacing their relationship. But perhaps it is the fact that Lucy never had a sense of belonging with her family, perhaps it is the fact that she knows how deeply Tim wishes he was a dad by now, even though he doesn't show it, something about the idea of Tamara being officially their daughter fills her heart with joy.
And then there are other reasons she can't seem to be able to pace herself, despite being the one to set the boundaries in the first place. Currently one of those reasons is his slightly undone shirt revealing a few inches of his bare chest, paired up with his day's stubble. She looks up into his eyes and realizes she's been staring. He chuckles with amusement.
She nudges him with her shoulder. "Don't get cocky."
"Just a little bit," he teases.
"Well," she slowly puts down her wine glass and gets on her feet, "I can't help that you're a very handsome boy," she says, before she leans down to kiss him.
The moment their lips lock, his hands rise to her waist. His breath accelerates and she's quickly drawn into him, opening her mouth to let his taste in. Just a kiss, she tells herself. But the next moment she's sitting on his lap, his hands traveling all up her back and into her hair, her mind completely blank about how far she intends to go with him tonight. Certainly far.
But then the door opens. Speak of the devil.
They both draw apart and turn to face Tamara, who's frozen in shock.
The girl lifts her hand before they can utter a word. "I know, practice," she says, looking embarrassed, before she retreats to her room. After a second, she pops her head out her door. "Could you please practice in your room, though? Cause, I mean, my eyes.."
She disappears again and they both chuckle quietly.
"I guess we just traumatized our future daughter," Tim comments.
Lucy's laugh increases. "Shut up," she chokes. But her heart is glowing in her chest. Perhaps they need to pace this up after all.
#thanks for the prompt#sorry that this is small#this is something that just popped up in my head from seeing the new promo#which i am pretty sure tamara is going to interrupt lol so she was in my mind#the rookie#chenford#chenford fanfic#replies
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If you are looking for TMA prompts, I think Gerry Keay should have some cats
!!!!, you're so right. ive given mr keay three whole cats.
#THANKS FOR THE PROMPT#this was interesting practice#DRAWING PPL IS HARD (cries in furry)#do not archive#gerry keay#tma art#tma#the magnus archives fanart#the magnus archives#my art
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https://www.tumblr.com/askgametime/705278627650125824/101-romanticmildly-spicy-prompts-for-brief-fic
57 - Morning After and Michael/Gerry? Maybe?
A little inintended sequel to this
Gerry woke to the sun in his eyes, which was hardly unusual. What was unusual was the very obvious presence of someone next to him in the unfamiliar bed.
"Morning," Michael said pleasantly when Gerry flipped over to stare at him in shocked surprise. He was sitting up against his pillows, wrapped in a colorful blanket, a book in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. Gerry, on the other hand, could feel his eyeliner was smeared and stinging his eyes, and his hair was a mess, and he was quickly coming to the realization that he didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do now, after sleeping with Michael the night before. Was he supposed to say thank you for the lay? Try to entice Michael into another go Should he get up and leave before Michael tried to kick him out?
"Umm..." Gerry stuttered, heart pounding. Michael's smile softened into that look he got sometimes. Not pity, but understanding. Like he knew, somehow, and somehow didn't push him away.
Instead he set aside the book and mug, sliding over gracefully to straddle Gerry's legs. The blanket slipped off one shoulder as it did, revealing a bare shoulder, the hard lines of his shoulder and collarbone nearly breaking Gerry's brain a bit. Michael smiled down at him, perfectly at ease the way he always seemed. That easy confidence had soothed Gerry the night before, and it was doing so again now.
"Your hair is lovely like this," Michael teased lightly, one of his hands coming up to stroke through the tangled mess. Everything about him was warm and familiar and it made Gerry want to fall to pieces for him. "I'd quite like to keep you here for the rest of the day, if you don't mind."
"Please," Gerry gasped out, managing to stop himself from falling into outright begging. Please keep me forever, please don't turn me away, please don't make me go back to that awful bookstore-
The smile on Michael's face was as blinding as the sun and twice as beautiful. "Good," he chirped happily, darting in to press kisses all over Gerry's face. "A lovely day in bed with my lovely Gerry." He said it with such certainty. Gerry didn't know how he did it, but Michael could read him like a damn book, and knew just what to say or do, and how to say or do what was needed to assure him.
Gerry opened his arms, and Michael collapsed forwards, leaning into him and sliding his arms around him and settling in with a happy little sigh. Gerry smiled to himself, hitching his arms around Michael in return.
Apparently that's what he was supposed to do. Good to know.
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Midge styling Lenny’s hair
He let out a contented sigh as her fingers scraped lightly against his scalp, working the product through his curls, taming them into place.
"Told you this would help you feel better," she smiled.
He nodded, remaining quiet.
The withdrawals had done a number on him, but he was finally starting to feel like he might come out the other side. Midge had been there through it all, keeping him hydrated, keeping him sane.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"Of course." She leaned over to peck his cheek affectionately, wiping her hands on a towel. " "Now then. Think you're up for some soup?"
"Soup actually sounds good," he acquiesced.
"Look at you," she praised, acknowledging the progress.
She slid her hand into his as they made their way towards the kitchen.
"I'm proud of you, you know. I know this hasn't been easy."
He nodded tiredly. "Thank you."
After a moment, a smirk crossed his face. "So you've done my hair. When do I get to do yours?" he teased.
Midge let out a laugh. "When you've passed beautician school."
"Always good to have a back up career," he chuckled.
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❤️. Only one bed. And/Or. going to sleep on different sides of the bed, waking up entangled.
+sciles
Stiles throws down his single bag, watches Scott effortlessly bring the rest of their luggage into the room.
"Why am I carrying all of your shit again?"
"With great power comes great responsibility, Scotty." Stiles dodges the suitcase Scott lobs in his direction. It lands on the bed, falling open, clothes and comics spilling out of it.
It's then that Stiles notes the problem.
There is only one bed in the room.
He glances at Scott, who is still too preoccupied with settling the rest of their belongings into the corner to have noticed.
"Uh, so, I hate to be the bearer of bad news."
Scott finishes setting the last bag down. "You love to be the bearer of bad news, spit out." He turns to face Stiles.
Stiles gestures at the single bed.
Scott blushes to the tips of his ears.
Stiles realizes his own face is warm. "Wait... did you do that on purpose?"
Ficlet Requests
#teen wolf#scott mccall#stiles stilinski#sciles#we all know the answer to stiles' question#thanks for the prompt
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I’d love to see your take on Bruno explaining to the kids that he’s perfectly content without a partner and kids of his own, maybe because they’re (lovingly) pestering him about it or trying to set him up.
(I sent this prompt to sokkas recently as well, but what can I say I’m greedy and curious to see two of my fave writers’ takes on the same prompt. As a treat.)
-gvr :D
Well @sokkas-first-fangirl already did an amazing job, I hope mine will keep up
****
"Tonito. We need to talk."
Antonio ducks his head. He knows that tone of voice from his Mama. She uses that one when he's done something he shouldn't have done. The 'you are not in trouble but you kinda are' tone. Cami taught him how to recognize it and what to do to get back out of trouble.
He immediately presses his hands together, makes his eyes go big and round and purses his lips. Exactly like Camilo has taught him.
"I love you, I'm sorry and I will never do it again."
Tio Bruno stares down at him with a puzzled look on his face. For a second Antonio is scared that Cami's trick isn't working, but then Bruno's shoulders, which had been up to his ears with tension, loosen up and his lips pull into a reluctant smile.
"Do you even know what it is you will never do again?"
Antonio opens his mouth and pauses. "No."
Tio Bruno finally laughs and Antonio's heart feels a little lighter. Something about his uncle being cross with him is even worse than when it is his Mama. Maybe because it's so difficult to make Bruno angry in the first place. He must have done something truly bad.
Antonio fidgets with the edges of his vest and only stops when he feels a large, calloused hand gently card through his hair.
"I'm not angry, Tonito." His uncle instinctively knows exactly what to say to make him feel better. Bruno always claims that he is not good with other people, but Antonio secretly thinks that other people are just not good with Tio Bruno. "I really just want to talk."
"Okay?"
Bruno sits down on the ground and gestures to Antonio to join him. He probably didn't expect the little boy to plop down on his lap, but doesn't push him off either. "You told me Senora Lorna wanted to speak to me. That she needed help with something."
"Yes."
"But apparently, Senora Lorna didn't need help. She thought it was a…" He clears his throat. "She thought we would be going on a date."
"Did it work?" Antonio asks excitedly. "I read about it in a book. I sent you two on a cute visit."
"Meet cute." Bruno corrects absent-mindedly. "And no, Tonito. We didn't go on a date."
"But I thought you like her."
"I do. As a friend." Bruno sighs and he is really serious all of a sudden. "Tonito, Senora Lorna was really embarrassed. And also a bit sad. It was not nice to lie to her like that."
Antonio can feel himself tearing up. "I didn't mean to make her sad! I just wanted to help."
Bruno pulls him closer. "I know. And she knows that too, don't worry. Just please don't do something like this again, okay?"
"Okay." Antonio sniffles some more. He feels really bad, but he just wanted to make his uncle happy. "I just wanted to help you", he repeats.
Bruno sighs again. Antonio can't see his face because he is still pressed against his chest, but it sounds kinda sad. "I know, amigo."
The little boy pushes away so he can look up at his uncle. "Who do you like?"
Bruno smirks and bops his nose. "I like you, you little troublemaker."
Antonio giggles and squirms away. "No! Not like that. Who do you like like. Like Mama likes Papa."
"No one."
"No one?" Antonio shouts. He thought everyone like liked someone. Even Isabela like likes that girl from the village even though she is always denying it and throwing cacti at Mirabel when her sister teases her about it. Mama told him he doesn't like like anyone yet cause he's still too young. "Are you still too young for that?"
Bruno blinks a few times. He looks like he really needs to think about it. "That's a new one." he mutters under his breath. "I have never liked someone like your parents like each other. Pretty sure I never will."
"But why?"
Bruno shrugs. "There are many different kinds of people on this earth, buddy. Some want something like what your parents have, or something like Isa and her mystery girl. They want to get married and have a lot of children. And some don't want any of that at all. Like me."
"But aren't you lonely?"
Bruno smiles softly and rests his head atop Antonio's. "Oh no. How could I ever be lonely with all of you around? I have everything I will ever need, Tonito. Don't worry about your old tio."
Antonio kind of gets it. And if Tio Bruno says he's okay and happy, then Antonio will believe him.
And anyway, this way he can have his Tio all to himself. That's so much better than a new Tia.
"I'll draw a picture for Senora Lorna. As an apology."
"That's a great idea!"
"Will you help me?"
Cami has said that you can also use the big eyes and pouty lips for situations like this. It seems to be working, because Bruno laughs and ruffles his hair.
"Of course!"
#encanto#encanto bruno#encanto bruno madrigal#encanto antonio#encanto fanfic#encanto fanfiction#bruno madrigal#antonio madrigal#Aroace Bruno mardigal#Asexual Bruno madrigal#Arosexual Bruno madrigal#encanto prompts#Thanks for the prompt#It's was lots of fun#Aroace Bruno my beloved#Aro ace Bruno madrigal
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If you still take prompts... Louis and Harry gardening, and they hear a kitten crying, track it down, and maybe keep it? 🙏❣️
Harry stepped back from trimming the tree branches, taking a moment to wipe the sweat off his forehead before he turned towards the rest of the garden. From where he was stood in the corner, he had an amazing view of the trees and the birds in the sky but, more importantly, he had an unobstructed view of his gorgeous husband.
The man in question was mowing their lawn, sweat glistening on his biceps as he pushed their lawnmower along. Harry shamelessly ogled his husband, taking in his toned back and sun-kissed skin. The sound of a motor cutting out brought Harry back to reality as Louis stretched his back out before turning to face Harry.
"Enjoying the view?" Louis smirked, leaning on the lawnmower slightly and causing Harry to blush.
"Am I not allowed to appreciate my husband?" He asked as he began walking over to Louis.
Mew
Harry paused in his tracks, looking round the garden.
"Hazza? You alright, love?" Louis asked, standing up straight and looking at Harry concerned.
"Did you hear that, Lou?" Harry asked, crouching down to peer into the nearest bush.
"Hear what?"
Mew
"Okay, I heard it that time." Louis answered, abandoning his place near the lawn mower and joining Harry near the bush. They both crab walked their way round the bush in opposite directions, peering through the leaves until Harry let out a gasp.
Crouching near their fence was a tiny black and white kitten, it's green eyes peering up at Harry. Louis quietly joined Harry near the fence as Harry slowly reached for the kitty, scooping them up into his arms.
The kitten let out one more 'mew' before snuggling in close to Harry's t-shirt and purring contently.
"Can we keep her, Lou?" Harry asked, gazing at the cat with love in his eyes.
"Of course we can, love."
-☆-
send prompts?
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"eat your lunch and you wouldn't be hungry" + Rhodestead ☺️
thanks for the prompt!
Will walked up to his boyfriend and sat down in his lap.
“What’s wrong baby?” Connor asked while wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist.
“I feel shaky,” replied Will, while holding up his hand to show the tremor that had made itself known in the past 15 minutes.
Sighing, Connor pushed his partner up and rose to his feet.
“That’s why you should eat your lunch, instead of saying you're not hungry and downing your third ice coffee of the day. You know how much coffee suppresses appetite”
Rolling his eyes, Will replied, “well I wasn’t hungry then. But now I am”
Pulling out his lunchbox, Connor groaned, “eat your lunch and you won’t be hungry”
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