#trope mashup

[phdmama]

For the trope mash-up post, may I request Fake Dating and Soulmate AU for Drarry please, if it sparks any fun inspiration?

(P.S. you're wonderful and I will love literally anything you come up with, even if it's not for these prompts, I just got super excited when you posted this 💜)

No, YOU'RE wonderful!!

So this is what came to me - and I can actually see the rest of the story but I have to go adult for a bit, but I am going to come back later and write some more of this! (As per usual, this is pretty much SOOC and unbeta'd, etc etc.)

Draco’s known since the Final Battle. 

He’s pretty sure Potter has no idea, whether it’s that no one’s remembered to tell him about soulmates, or that his mark hasn’t activated yet, but he treats Draco exactly the way he’s treated him since they'd all arrived at University. He’s unfailingly polite, cool and distanced, and deeply disinterested in one Draco Malfoy.

Which isn’t, you know, how you’re supposed to treat your soulmate.

The thumbprint on Draco’s wrist had flared to life when Potter had grabbed his arm to haul him onto the back of the battered broom that carried them both out of the fire. He’d almost fallen off at the way Potter’s magic had rushed over him, through him. Draco had always heard the stories that connecting with your soulmate could be disorienting, but since it happened to him in the midst of mortal terror, Draco’s not sure his experience was typical.

It’s also very rare that one person connects and the other doesn’t, although it does happen. It takes time for the bond to solidify, to grow into a true soulmate connection, and obviously, that’s not happened here. Basically, Potter is a faint echo in Draco’s mind, enough to distract and ache a little, nothing more than that.

All this to say, it’s weird when Potter comes dashing into their suite common room one Saturday afternoon, looking wild-eyed and somewhat disheveled. It’s a rainy day, raw and windy, the kind of day where Draco does not plan to leave the building if he can help it. Potter is damp and windblown, so he clearly had other ideas. Fucking weirdo.

Potter looks around wildly, and lights up when he spots Draco curled up on the couch under his favorite striped blanket.

“Malfoy,” he says eagerly, and Draco blinks up at him in surprise.

Potter’s never sounded happy to see Draco before.

“Yes?” Draco says cautiously. “Can I help you?”

Potter nods vigorously. “You can, yes, absolutely. I need you to pretend to be my soulmate and go to the gala with me tonight.”

“I beg your pardon?” Draco asks, trying to make sense of the words he’s just heard. “You need me to what?”

Potter hangs his coat on the rack by the door, kicks off his grubby trainers and makes his way around the couch to plop down next to Draco.

“I need you to pretend to be my soulmate and go to the gala with me tonight.”

“That’s what I thought you said,” Draco says. “But also, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Potter sighs, lets his head rest on the back of the couch and runs a hand through his unruly hair.

“You know how the press…” his voice trails off and he flushes.

“Follows you around incessantly and makes your life a living hell?” Draco says dryly. “Yes, Potter, I’m aware.”

“Well, someone thought it was a good idea to advertise that I haven’t found my soulmate, and to suggest that anyone who’s unbonded should come to the gala tonight and you know. Shoot their shot or whatever.”

Draco sits bolt upright, outraged. “What the hell? That’s bullshit. That’s not even how it works!”

Potter just sighs again and slumps down even further, eyes closed. “Yeah, I know that, but it’s turned into this whole thing, and every girl in the greater Oxford area, apparently, is now coming to the gala.”

“Can’t you just… not go?” 

Potter shakes his head, looking miserable. “No. The Fund is really important to me. I promised to speak.”

“So your solution is to fake a soulmate bond with a man?” Draco asks and Potter snorts.

“Okay, well, when you put it like that, it does sound stupid. I just thought if I could get them all off my back for a bit… No, you’re right. I’ll just have to get a bodyguard again, I guess.”  

He sounds so utterly miserable that Draco can’t help but feel sorry for him, which is why he finds himself saying, “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

Potter opens his eyes to stare at Draco. “What?”

Draco shrugs. “I’m not doing anything tonight, there’ll be wine at the gala, yeah?”

Potter looks excited but then his face falls. “But what about your soulmate? What if they’re out there looking for you?”

Draco looks away and swallows. “That won’t be a problem.”

Potter’s eyes narrow. “Why not?” He sucks in a breath and whispers, “Malfoy, do you know who your soulmate is?”

Draco just nods and there’s a long silence while Potter clearly puts some picture together in his head. He’s never been stupid, Draco concedes. Since for all intents and purposes, Draco is unbonded, Potter must know there’s something wrong with all of it.

Finally Potter says, “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Draco says and finally turns to look at Potter. “It’ll be fun,” he says carelessly. “What should I wear?”

#my writing #trope mashup #Drarry vignette #fic beginning #I ask that you check in with me before finishing any of my vignettes #THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING

[karalovesallthegirls]

time travel + I didn’t mean to turn you on

hello my love thank you for your request I wrote a bunch solely because I'm in love with you

--

Life is nothing if not consistent for Lena Luthor. She wakes at the same hour every single day, does an hour of stretches and exercise, eats the same egg white omelet. She’s the first to the office and the last to leave. Every moment is structured and accounted for, allowing Lena maximum control and regulation. Just the way she likes it.

And then, one day as she was stretching deep into a downward dog, her new life path came crashing down through her crystal glass coffee table. 

One moment she’s thinking about the meeting she has in an hour and the next she’s flinching away from a spray of glass raining down overhead. She curls in on herself with a yelp, terrified and frozen at the sudden explosion beside her. After the clattering of glass had stopped, she’s left in dead silence. With a deep breath for confidence, she finally works up the nerve to look.

Collapsed over the metal frame of what had been her table lay some woman she had never seen before in her life, knocked out and bleeding all over her Persian rug. 

Lena feels herself clicking into survival mode at the sight of her. She’s always been good at that – surviving. No one can keep a clearer head in a crisis than Lena. The initial fear now replaced with adrenaline and clarity, Lena jumps into action. Years of Pilates and daily weight-lifting aides her as she pulls the bloody woman off the twisted frame, dragging her over to her yoga mat. The woman is out cold.

She’s got glass stuck in all kinds of places, the worst of which seems to be a long, jagged piece stuck in her thigh. Lena knows better than to try and pull that one out, so she instead focuses on tying her sweatshirt around the woman’s thigh to try and stave the bleeding. It looks like it might be in a dangerous spot, possibly close to an artery, and the last thing Lena needs is some home invader dying on her living room floor. The press would have a field day with that.

While working to stabilize the rush of bleeding from her thigh, Lena shouted out, “HOPE, call emergency services.” HOPE, her omnipresent homemade helper, replied back from the speaker located just above. “Yes, Miss Luthor. Police, fire, or EMT?” 

“EMT and pol-” she’s cut off by two hands on her at once: one covering her mouth forcefully and the other pressing a large glass chunk to her throat right at the jugular vein. She freezes. 

Apparently, the unconscious intruder was more conscious than she thought. “Tell her to cancel it,” the woman says with a hoarse, pained voice. Lena watches her with a calculating eye, weighing her option. If she didn’t respond to HOPE in the next few moments, she knew her virtual assistant would call the police automatically. “It’ll take them, what, 5 minutes to get here? Maybe 10 with traffic. You’ll bleed out in seconds and I’ll be long gone before they even get close,” the woman says, “Nobody has to die today, okay? Cancel it.”

Her mind reels for alternatives, but the woman presses the glass harder against her throat, hard enough to cut, and her mind is made up. She nods, and hesitantly the other woman removes her hand from her mouth.  “Cancel request, HOPE,” Lena says, voice surprisingly steady for someone in such a situation. “Request successfully cancelled,” HOPE chirped happily before shutting off.

The other woman sighs, the glass held to Lena’s neck slacking just a bit as she leans backwards. Lena can feel the way it pulls at her skin, how blood starts to trickle. She keeps her hands where they’ve been this entire time – pressing hard around the glass in the woman’s thigh. She’s bleeding a lot, even with the pressure Lena’s applying.  “That was foolish,” Lena says, pulling away from the woman. “The EMT was for you. You’re bleeding too much too quickly, I think you nicked your femoral artery.” The woman laughs, laid back eyes closed like she’s not invading her house and threatening her life. “That’s right, you had medical training. I forgot about that,” the other woman says, pulling herself up into a half-sit and looking down at her injuries with a curious eye. “In my defense, they barely mention that in the history books.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The woman just shakes her head. 

“What day is it?” she asks. Lena is tired of this already. She’s supposed to be showering right now and preparing to leave for work, not negotiating with a half-dead possible hostage-taker. “Tuesday. March 13th.”

“What year?” “Is that a joke?” “Yeah,” the woman smiled, a hint of blood on her teeth. “Humor me.” “2018.”

The smile fades fast, replaced with a sudden alarm. As if the year were somehow worse than the giant piece of glass sticking from her thigh. “That’s way too early,” she says, hints of panic in her voice. “They dropped me way too far back. Crap.”

Her face looks pale and grows paler by the minute. Lena looks down to see the cloth she’d tied around her thigh fully saturated, the puddle beneath her growing. She’s losing too much blood. “Put the glass down and give me your hands,” Lena says, but the woman doesn’t move. Frustrated, Lena grabs her hands with her bloody ones and presses them just above the glass.  “Hold here,” she says, and then gets up to leave. 

Lena races to her bathroom, ignoring the woman’s shout of “Wait! Come back here!” and rifles around until she finds what she’s looking for. She comes back with a field medic kit and lays it on the ground. The other woman watches her wearily, hands still pressed to the wound. “You’re bleeding too fast,” Lena says, “and at this point you’ll be dead before the ambulance can arrive. We have to stop the bleeding.”

The woman doesn’t resist. At this point she might not have the strength to. Lena uses shears to cut up the seam of the the the woman’s pants, up and past the deep gash of the glass shard.  “This is bad,” she says, and the woman doesn’t even look. “It’s too early,” the woman is saying, sounding weak, and Lena pulls supplies from her kit. She ties a tight tourniquet, earning a shocked groan of pain. “This is temporary, it can only be temporary. It should buy you a little time but it’s going to hurt like hell and if it’s on too long you could lose the leg.” “Fine, it’s fine,” the other woman says, almost delirious, and she grabs Lena’s shirt to pull her attention. “Listen to me,” she says, eyes wide and bloodshot, “Your brother is going to destroy the world, and you’re going to help him. But you don’t have to. You don’t have to help him, okay?” She’s practically incoherent. The blood has stopped but it’s still everywhere and Lena is covered in it. “They’re calling me,” the woman continues, shaking her head, “I’ll come back, or they’ll send someone else, but you have to stop him, Lena Luthor. Non Nocere-”

And then she vanishes.

One minute, Lena is wrapped around a delirious, halfway bled-out home invader, and the next she’s alone in her living room surrounded by glass and blood.

- She’s much more prepared the next time the stranger comes. To her credit, she’s had a few years by then to obsess and analyze and research. She’s watched the security footage of that day so many times and in such excruciating detail that she could tell you how many pieces of glass were shattered, how many gasps the intruder let out in pain. She could recite the entire five-minute experience from start to finish with perfect accuracy. Yet she could never explain it.

She can infer the basic gist of it, of course: at some point, time travel becomes a possibility, and the best possible use of that unbelievable advancement is to come back and stop her, because something she does – or rather, something she helps Lex do – is so catastrophically horrible it’s world ending.

She’s tried to find this woman, though of course if she’s a time traveler she may not even exist yet. There’s no way to know. Lena’s spent months studying the footage she has of her, noting the militaristic jumpsuit she wore, the strange patches for organizations that don’t seem to exist adorning the sleeve. She’s made note of the scars she can see – the long one that dances down her face, the smaller ones made visible when her pant leg was cut. The woman had clearly endured hell in life, and that hell had led her to Lena’s penthouse. She felt a sick nervousness just thinking about how they might link.

All of that to say, Lena is much more prepared when the woman returned, at least on an intellectual level. She’s not so prepared for the woman to show up as she’s sitting post-shower on her bed in nothing but a silk robe.

One minute she’s sitting alone, the next a woman is crashing on top of her. Their heads bonk together hard at the force of it, Lena reeling back against her pillow with a groan. At least she’s a softer landing than glass and metal.

“Ah crap,” the woman says, and there’s an instant spark of excitement in Lena at just the sound of her voice. She’d listened to that tape so many times it’s burned into her psyche but hearing it now in person after so long – absolutely thrilling. 

“Thank you for not breaking any furniture this time,” Lena says, and her voice is a bit breathy from the rush of it. The other woman pulls up from where she’d collapsed against her and seems to finally realize where she is and just how little Lena actually has on. She practically flings herself off of her and on to the floor with a shout.

“Oh wow,” the woman says, mouth agape and face beet red. “I- I’m so sorry, there’s no way to know what you’ll be doing when I get here and I just, I didn’t realize you weren’t done getting dressed or… that wasn’t… I’ll just-”

“Wait in the hallway?” Lena asks, amused. This version of the stranger is such a funny leap from the way she was all those years before, yet exactly the same. It’s like she hadn’t aged much at all. “I was finishing my bedtime routine and I sleep naked. This is as dressed as I’ll be the rest of the night.”

Somehow, the woman’s face gets even redder. It reminds Lena of the blood from that day, how dark and covering it had been on her. That takes a bit of wind out of her sails.

“How’s the leg?” she asks, sitting back. She can feel her robe fall open slightly but left it be. It's amusing to see how nervously the other woman’s eyes dart around looking everywhere but her.

“Still sore,” the woman finally says, pulling herself up to sit on the end of Lena’s bed. She glances at her and then looks away. “It’s only been a few weeks for me, so it’s not close to healed yet, but I didn’t lose the leg or my life, thanks to you.” “Glad to hear it.” “Are you?”

“Mmhm. If you’d died that day, I wouldn’t have this chance now to ask you what the hell is going on.” The woman is watching her in a strange sort of way, and it seems to take her a moment to clear her throat and mind.

“Right, yes, that makes sense. I just-” she rubs her eyes, laughing in an embarrassed sort of way. “I’m sorry, you’re just a little distracting.” Her eyes stray along the line of Lena’s robe before jerking away. She stands up and moves away, hands ringing nervously. Lena notices the slight limp to her walk. “Crap, I’m sorry. Okay, focus, Kara, focus,” she coaches herself, and Lena latches on to that morsel of information with a fierce excitement. “Yes, Kara,” she drawls, and the woman’s eyes cut sharply to her. “Focus. Tell me who you are and what I can do to help.” Kara gulps noticeably at her tone, shifting on her legs, before saying, “I’m from the future. 40 years in the future, to be exact, and I was sent back in time to stop you and your brother from destroying the world.” Lena nods along. It’s not so unbelievable, the idea that Lex could destroy the world. That he could use her desperate yearning for connection to make her a willing accomplish. “Non Nocere,” she says, and the woman jolts in surprise. “What? That’s – have you already invented it?” “No, but you said that last time we met.”

Kara visibly deflates, sinking into a sigh as she leaned back against the wall.

“Thank Rao, okay. Yes. It shouldn’t exist yet, not for another year.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the tool your brother uses to destroy the world. You build it for him.”

Kara looks heartbroken as she says it, and Lena feels just the same hearing it. All she’s ever wanted to do is be a force for good despite her family, despite the life they’d set up for her, but here is this scarred, scared stranger come back to tell her how horribly she fails. How she destroys everything.

“Okay,” Lena says. “So how do we stop it?”

And that, at least, earns her a smile.

#i also wrote a lot because as previously discussed through text like twenty minutes ago i forgot to take my medicine today #and my brain has hyper fixated on this story rather than the notes and work I should be doing during my break #:D #mine #trope mashup #supercorp #I was tempted to go the time travelers wife route since we just hate-watched it but honestly my favorite time traveler concept #will always be terminator #so its more of that #anyway!!!!!!!!!! love ya

[mybrainismelted]

trope mashup! 2 aaand ... hmmm ... oh! 13! 🤗💚

ok, clearly you are TRYING to break my brain with this one Nosho! #2, prison, and #13, Mermaid AU. Here goes! The first time they met, it was in Juvie. Mickey was 16, and had been here a couple of times before. Ian was 14, and this was his first time in. They were cellmates, but they didn't really talk much. The redhead was weird, constantly trading other kids for their shower time. He must have showered at least 6 times every day, and who the hell does that? Ian was gone one day, out before Mickey, but the only reason he really noticed is because his new cellmate was loud and annoying as hell. He actually found himself kinda missing the kid.

They saw each other a couple more times on the inside before Mickey turned 18, but never as cellmates again. Still, they found themselves spending time together. There was something about that kid that Mickey could never put his finger on. Something different, but familiar. Mickey was 21 when he was sent to do some big boy time. Stupid mistake trusting his brother to keep watch - he'd pay for that when Mickey was out. He was surprised to find Ian already there when he arrived though. Relieved to have a cellmate he could trust though. Ian seemed different now. He was thin, and had an air of desperation that Mickey had never seen. He didn't really know how to help, and didn't want to ask what was wrong, but he remembered.... on the second day, when he asked if Ian wanted his shower slot, the redhead had actually started crying before throwing himself at Mickey, arms wrapping around him and shaking. "Hey, s'ok Red. Just go, I'll be here when you get back, a'ight?" Mickey was left confused, but not really surprised by how much he had enjoyed the feeling of his friend pressed against him. When he got back, Ian looked... better. Not like himself, but a bit more healthy. Over the next year, they grew closer, emotionally and physically, spending most evenings wrapped up together in a way Mickey had never imagined he could allow himself. He still had to shower sometimes himself, but whenever he could he would let the redhead have his turn, and even bullied some of the other newbies into giving Ian their slots a couple of times a week. They made plans in the quiet of the night, plans to find each other when they got out, plans to start a new life, but there was always something, some big secret that Ian was holding back, and Mickey didn't really want to say it out loud anyway. It was spring when Ian left that time, but he promised that he would be at the docks every day until Mickey got out, waiting for him at dusk. It was summer when Mickey was released. He didn't go home, didn't go anywhere near the southside, in fact. He spent his day hanging around the docks, hoping, wishing, but never 100% sure.... until dusk arrived, and a figure appeared at the end of the docks, beckoning to him. He gasped in relief as he walked, whispering "I knew you'd come. I knew." He walked slowly, knowing that the big secret, the thing they had never spoken of, was about to be revealed. He sat down, looking down a the face of the man he loved, who was floating serenely in the water. "Can I see?" he asked quietly, eyes locked on Ian's. Ian smiled, and braced his hands on the dock, giving one great heave of his body to pull himself up, lying somewhat ungracefully beside him, with his gorgeous, green and blue shimmering tail fully on display in the last bits of light.

#ask #trope mashup #nosho

[oflights]

60 & 86 for the trope mashup, pairing of your choice, pretty please?!?

gah hi friend!! i'm sorry this took me forever!! my brain went in like 50 different directions for this one.

60 is Poorly Timed Confession and 86 is I Didn't Mean to Turn You On and tbh these are perfect.

okay so the main place my brain went to for drarry was a massage?? draco who is very mutually tactile and affectionate with his friends and is constantly giving new friend harry little snuggles and back rubs and sometimes just casually massages his head and neck while he's talking to other people and harry does not know how to cope because he has absolutely never had a friend like that, or tbh even a lover who does that sort of thing for no reason--like, sometimes harry looks around to make sure there's no stray reporter or camera around because he can't figure out why else draco would bother. i'm sure you know where this goes; draco giving harry one of his mindless massages when they're at someone's house party, harry a little tipsy and warm and content who just sinks into it. all of this adds up to him getting way too turned on for being public and also blurting out exactly how into draco he is. draco, who did not know the effect all of that touching was having on harry until now and is staring at him like a stunned bunny in front of their friends.

send me tropes to mash up!

#asks #phdmama #drarry #trope mashup #ask meme #draco:...but i touch all my friends like this #harry: oh 😐 #draco:...but i REALLY like touching you? #harry: oh! 😊

[hellbubu]

27 and 41 for the ask gametos? Kakasasu of course!

Thanks for the ask 💖💖💖💖💖

ao3

FANFICTION TROPE MASH-UP

“I’m not even that si-”

Sasuke sneezed mid-sentence only to cough wetly right after, making Kakashi grimace.

“Right, you’re obviously not sick. At all.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes and threw himself onto his bed.

Kakashi walked over to Sasuke’s side and ignored his glare as he opened the curtains. He turned to look at Sasuke when he heard him hiss only to see him cover his face with his pillow.

“I didn’t know my student was a vampire.”

“Not your student anymore.” Sasuke immediately tensed, knowing damn well he’s hurt Kakashi, knowing damn well he had fucked up his, already rocky, relationship with Kakashi. His hand almost instinctively shot out to grab Kakashi’s sleeve.” ’m sorry.”

Sasuke looked up at Kakashi with wide dark eyes and Kakashi immediately stopped mid-step. He turned to look at Sasuke, while he normally tried to hide his emotions under a blank face, at the moment, Kakashi would only describe his expression as open. He could easily see the regret shining in those black eyes and his lower lip was slightly trembling.

“Does my cutest student want a goodnight kiss?” Kakashi teased as he leaned down because it was easier to do that than to examine the way Sasuke looked at him and how he felt about the other man. Just as Kakashi was about to press his masked lips on Sasuke’s cheek, Sasuke shifted slightly, causing Kakashi to press his lips against Sasuke’s.

Kakashi immediately pulled away to see a blushing and wide-eyed Sasuke. He crossed the room to the doorway in three steps and looked back at Sasuke, who opened his mouth to say something.

“Sleep, you clearly need it. Try to argue with me and I’ll ask Naruto to keep you company.”

Even though he closed the door behind himself, Kakashi would feel Sasuke’s glare through the door.

#nithaf #ask response #kakasasu #naruto #trope mashup #mj's writing

[superpixie42]

TROPE MASHUP!!!

It’s not you, it’s my enemies!+florist AU

InuKag

😎

I'm gonna be honest @mrfeenysmustache I have no idea what this prompt means buuuuut too late now here it is!

--

Inuyasha liked to think of himself as smarter than the average dog, but he just couldn't wrap his head around Kagome Higurashi. Surely no normal college student needed as many flowers as she did. Every three days she was in the little shop where he worked and she bought anything and everything. Bouquets, hanging baskets, single roses, funeral arrangements, daisies; if they sold it she'd bought it.

But she never spoke to him. Not one word. If it wasn't for the fact they had Econ 102 together every Tuesday and Thursday morning he wouldn't have any idea who she was.

But this time - as he watched her watching him as she shopped through the display of orchids - he was going to find out exactly what the hell she was on about. 

He stormed across the store, noting that while her eyes got wider with each step he stook, she never moved or gave any sign she was afraid.

He started right in. “Alright, what the fuck are you on about? You’re in here all the time, staring at me, but then acting like you don’t know me from Adam while we’re in class. What is your crisis!? Is there something about me?”

She blinked a few times, then let out a defeated sigh. “It's not you - it..it's my enemies.”

That..didn't actually make the situation make any more sense. He was about to tell her this with some extra spicy swear words sprinkled in for fun when her hand slapped over his mouth.

“We can't talk here but,” her eyes looked around nervously before she jerked her head quickly and silently towards the door. She removed her hand from his face then shoved in into her jacket pocket. Taking several quick steps to the door, she quickly looked around the empty street before stepping out onto the sidewalk. She looked back through the glass and motined for him to follow.

This was definitely weirder than anything he roleplayed in his head when he thought about confronting her. But as he turned the stores sign to CLOSED he figured now was his only chance at unraveling the mystery that was Kagome Higurashi.

#writing exercise #trope mashup #better late than never

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Arbitrary Soulmates

Rated: Not Rated

Word Count: 8034

Summary:

Mickey Milkovich gets pulled over by a cop because his car fits the description of a stolen vehicle, not that he knows that he hasn't met his soulmate yet and can't see colors. He gets arrested for an old warrant and gets assigned a public defender, the person who ruined his chances of getting out of the ghetto Ian Gallagher.

Ian Gallagher is a lawyer at a firm with his brother, he had won a full ride scholarship to law school, beating one other student from the southside up for it. He gets assigned to a pro bono case and the first time he speaks to his client the client is pissed at him for reasons unknown.

Then they begin to unravel their pasts that were entwined before they even met.

For Day Seventeen of @its-a-queer-thing 's first ever Gallavich Tropes Event My tropes were Lawyer AU, Soulmate (seeing colors) and Rivals.

Click HERE to read on Ao3!

#gallavich trope event #trope mashup #gallavich trope mashup #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #lawyer au #soulmate seeing colors au #rivals to lovers

[riderunlove]

curses + texting/letter fic

I'm going to do this for Juke, I hope that's okay.

Everyone is alive (ghosts what ghosts) but they still wind up meeting Caleb. The whole band refuses to work for him/sign a contract with him so he curses them- specifically Julie and Luke. They can't play music or write together any more. They can barely be around each other without terrible pain or some kind of weird injury striking.

Instead they communicate through their friends, and via texts and letters, all the while trying to find a way to break the curse.

#trope mashup #answered #was this inspired by nancy drew? maaaaaybe

[karalovesallthegirls]

Forgotten first meeting + flirting under fire AUs

But ALSO just wanted to drop some support and say do what you (and your creative brain) needs! While I love your fic, I am tots happy to wait. What you’ve written already is a gift

 -Lena is a spy, though she’d have a few choice words for anyone who dared call her that to her face.

-She prefers to think of herself as an actor that prefers performing in life more so than on camera or a stage. Every word she says and place she goes are all carefully, methodically orchestrated to her advantage. Well, to her family’s advantage if she’s being honest, though she rarely is. 

-The Luthor empire operates in the shadows, unnamed but ever-present. It feeds on lies, secrets, and blackmail, and Lena loves digging up all three. No one can find what people are desperate to hide quite like Lena can.

-So when Lex learns about a possible new player on the market, it’s Lena he sends to infiltrate the inner circle and find their weaknesses. They can’t touch anyone significant, not at first, but they learn that this supposed rival organization has donated a significant amount of money to a political campaign. The politician is a nobody, but somebody important seems to like her. That’s a starting point.

-this leads her to a political fundraising event for this nobody up-and-comer named Kara Danvers, who smiles pretty and talks even prettier. She’s a charmer, coming across as friendly and familiar with everyone she speaks to, and as Lena watches her through the night talk and laugh with an easy kindness, she just knows this’ll be an easy mark. 

-She waits in line to talk to her. The line is long and unmoving, as every conversation with Kara Danvers is treated like the most important conversation, resulting in a line that lasts far longer than it should. She’s friendly to a fault with each person who waits to meet her, which would annoy her if it weren’t giving her the perfect chance to just observe.  

-She’s attractive. Annoyingly so, to a degree that makes Lena mad. It’s annoying and distracting, watching this person talk and laugh. Watching the way her shirt fits tight enough to show definition. There’s something about her that just radiates safety and comfort, familiar in a way she can’t quite place. It’s annoying as hell. 

-It takes well over an hour for her to finally reach her. She tries to shake off her annoyance at that and instead focus on the mission: form a connection, make an impression. Seduce her. -Kara shakes the hand of the person before her with great care, cupping their hand with her free one and smiling bright. She’s still watching them depart when Lena steps forward with her sultriest smile and outstretched hand.

-“Hello-“ Kara greets, turning towards her and taking her hand. And then she freezes.

-It’s a long, painful moment standing there, Lena’s hand trapped in Kara’s unmoving one. Kara’s smile falls into a caricature of itself, forced and unpleasant, and what joyous light Lena has witnessed dancing across her eyes all evening vanishes. Her expression now is cold and subdued.  -“Hi,” Lena says, and her voice wavers like an amateur, like she hasn’t been doing this for the last decade of her life, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” What the hell is going on?

-Kara pulls her hand back and holds it limply at her side. Her eyes dart around, a desperation present Lena can’t quite comprehend. -“Right,” Kara says, tone flat. “Thank you for your support.”  -and then she steps aside and moves to the next person in line. 

-she just disregards Lena, like she hadn’t waited in line for an hour to talk to her, like she wasn’t wearing a tight-fitting dress that made it damn near impossible not to look. It makes her mad, and for a moment she forgets her purpose.

-“Excuse me?” she grabs Kara’s arm to pull her back towards her only to find her unmovable, her muscled arm tense in Lena’s grip. “I’ve paid a great deal of money to be here, I’d appreciate a conversation.”

-Kara’s eyes are so cold, face hard. She’s almost unrecognizable compared to the woman she’s watched all evening.

-“I can’t imagine what there is for us to talk about,” Kara says, and Lena sees red.

-“Listen here,” she starts, finger pointing with fury, when the door bursts open and a bunch of heavily armed mobster-types come rushing in.

-chaos ensues, running and screaming, Kara ducks out of a side door and Lena’s close behind. 

-Lena’s like why the hell are people trying to kill you? And Kara’s dodgy. Banter banter, Kara’s more than meets the eye, Lena finds herself flirting with her without even meaning to – there’s just something about her energy, and honestly it’s hard not to be a little horny when the adrenaline’s pumping and shots are ringing out over head. 

-“What are you trying to do?” Kara says, cold even as she tugs Lena close against her to avoid being seen. Lena tries not to let it affect her. 

-“Just trying to get to know my future congresswoman.” Kara laughs, shakes her head. -“Enough with the games. What’s really going on, Lena?”

-And that… that makes her heart drop a little. She called her Lena. Anxious little bumps dance up her arms at the intensity in Kara’s eyes. -“I never told you my name,” she says, pulling back. Kara looks at her like she’s speaking in tongues. -“Is this a joke? I don’t-” and then Kara freezes, eyes wide, and her voice shakes with anger. “You don’t remember me, do you?” Kara’s voice is angry and hurt, and Lena would really appreciate it if whatever heart-to-heart she’s attempting to have with her could possibly wait until after they’d escaped the gunfire. Kara, damn her, presses on. “You don’t remember Cabo?”

She racks her brain for a clue, for any semblance.

It’s hard to remember places she’s been. Every day she wakes up in a new city with a new role, a new identity.  Cabo is one of her favorite vacation spots, and two years ago she knows she took a month-long trip there after a particularly bad mission. She remembers days spent on the beach, nights spent dancing. A beautiful smile and laugh from a stranger, tall and tan and full of a sweet kindness Lena hadn’t known what to do with. Nights of sweat and passion and empty words whispered into her ear about the future. She remembers getting a call for her next job and leaving in the middle of the night with ease, shedding that self for a new one. 

-She looks into Kara’s eyes shimmering with anger and faintly remembers those same eyes filled with pitiful puppy love.

- “Oh shit,” she says, and Kara laughs cruelly. -“Yeah. Oh shit.”

-Things only get more complicated from there.

#mine #my brain feels like a machine that has not been properly maintained and this was me oiling them cogs a bit #trope mashup #also thank you for the kind words I appreciate that

[quail-in-red]

trope mashup, what a joy! 16 and 61?

Prison AU + Love Confession!

A patronus is basically a love confession, right??

Trope mashups!

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry fanart #trope mashups #Harry doing his best SpongeBob face

[mybrainismelted]

Kat 🤗😁 for the trope mash-up, how about 10 + 25?

Hi Evie! So 10 - Werewolf, and 25 - Body Swap/Body Sharing

Mickey had dreaded his 15th birthday for as long as he could remember. That was the day he would find out if he had inherited his father's curse. So far only Joey and Colin had turned, and they were actually happy about it, loving the thrill of the transformation, and the viciousness of the hunt. Neither of them seemed concerned that they were going to go the way of their father, having to be locked in the basement during the full moon so he wouldn't rampage. But Mickey knew better. If they didn't learn to control their wolf half soon, they would need to add more locked rooms in that basement. The night before his birthday, he slipped out of the house, knowing that soon his family would be looking for him, determined to follow in the path of their ancestors and make him sit through some weird ritual while they all watched, waiting to see if he would turn. Fuck that. He had learned a long time ago how to mask his trail to keep them from following him, and tonight he pulled every trick he knew. He did not want to be found, to be seen, to have anyone else know what was about to happen. They would know soon enough. He needed to find this out alone.

He broke into a house where he knew the owners were away for a few days, making himself comfortable, enjoying the clean space, the quiet, and the hot water to have as long of a shower as he wanted. He even managed to take a nap while he waited for midnight to arrive. He woke up in a cold sweat, body trembling, his skin feeling too tight, and shit. He knew what this meant. He didn't want this. He fought it with everything he had, tossing and turning, scratching at his skin, hoping that maybe if he could fight it off this one time, it would be over, and it wouldn't be real. "for fucks sake, would you stop fighting, this doesn't feel good for me either you know" came a disembodied voice in his head "you think I asked to be paired with a Milkovich of all people? But it doesn't have to be what you think" Mickey sprang to his feet, frantically searching for the source of the voice. He spun in circles, panicked that someone had found him, someone knew who he was, and what was happening. "relax. It's just me. Please, just stop fighting for a minute so I can show you, and then we can talk"

He didn't really understand why, but something about this voice was comforting, soothing, and familiar. Almost against his will, he finally did relax, letting his arms fall to his sides, and bowing his head. He felt a shivering, rippling sensation run through his body, and when it stopped, he felt his body moving without his control - like he was suddenly a passenger inside his own head. "what the fuck?" he tried to yell, but no sound came out. "ok, stop yelling, please" a voice said, the same voice that had been in his head a minute ago. And then he felt his eyes open, and he was standing in front of a mirror.... but what looked back at him was not a wolf, and not a hybrid, but another boy. Skinny, freckle-faced, and red-headed. "My name is Ian" he said out loud as Mickey watched in stunned silence from inside his own head. Or... Ian's head? What the hell was going on? "I can explain everything"

#asks #trope mashup #evie

[oflights]

I had to roll a dice for the mash-up because I literally couldn’t choose, but it worked out - 14 and 56 (Bodyguard AU+awful first meeting).

asjldkajdl god. let's see how much more awful i can make their first meeting (after hogwarts, cheating again)

draco somehow gets into the magical bodyguard business (he's really good at defensive spells or something, idk) and usually takes on like, foreign royal kids just visiting or mostly chill (if dangerous) businessmen who really need him to make sure their portkeys aren't rigged or something. then he gets a client who is 1. mysterious 2. very important 3. has a penchant for attracting danger and 4. as he discovers the first day on the job, harry potter. and he meets harry as he's running into a burning building to save someone's pet fish. draco has absolutely no idea how he's meant to protect someone that reckless (and now he's holding a water glass with a fish in it while harry sweeps the building for pet snails)

send me tropes to mash up!

#asks #raenestee #drarry #trope mashup #ask meme #draco: how am i supposed to guard potter's body when he doesn't have a brain

[theminecraftbee]

Vintagebeef and time loop?

The second-most annoying thing, he thinks, is that his crops just won't grow.

He's wanted to retire for a while now. Head out and live on a farm. Get some rest. Not have to worry about gunfire and business fronts and drugs and appearances and being in charge. He'd known he wouldn't be able to escape fully. Beef always knew he was on a timer, no matter how he tried to bury the hatchet and bury his past behind you. It always catches up.

He had a big name. He had a big life. He can't just retire from being head of Big Salmon, even if his loyal Skizzleman is the only person he told where he was going. One day, someone will catch up with him, and perhaps if he's lucky they'll turn his tractor into a car bomb. If he's unlucky, it'll be personal.

So in a lot of ways, really, the fact he keeps on waking up in the morning is a gift. It may be the same morning over and over again, sure, but he collects the eggs from his chickens, and he pats his dog, and he feeds his pigs, and he feels the sun shine on his face in a place that smells nothing like asphalt and fumes.

If his tomatoes would grow, it'd be nearly perfect, getting to wake up again and again in the sun like this. It's better than a man like him deserves, really. And it may be Wednesday, and Wednesday, and no tomorrows, but he didn't have himself much of a tomorrow anyway, and collecting the eggs from the chickens is nearly as good as harvesting the crops.

Quiet, and peaceful.

Or it should be. But see: the crops not growing are the second-most annoying thing.

The first most annoying is--

"HALLO! I have decided that this time, I am announcing I am here to assassinate you, ah? That way, you won't see it coming and manage to escape."

Beef groans and puts his head in his hands. A red dot appears on his temple.

"Don't try to run. You have a lovely home, of course, and I don't want to put holes in it. You've repaired those holes real fast, I have to say. You're a real hole expert. No, wait, that sounds terrible in English. Ah well, I'll just say it again."

It's him again.

"...hello? VintageBeef? I have been hired to kill you by your rivals? You aren't even moving. See, this is how you always get me. You do not move and I think I have killed you, then I come back in the morning and it is fixed! Very strange, very strange."

He hasn't realized it's a time loop. Somehow. Beef's tried to tell him. It's a little hard when he's busy being as annoying as possible, and ruining what would otherwise be the best chance for Beef to retire he's got.

"Well, okay, I guess I'll just pull the trigger. This is boring. You're boring, except for the part where you won't die. Hey, wait, maybe you can introduce me to your chickens instead? So next time I can bring you a totally safe chicken."

"Go away," Beef says.

"But I'm being paid so much money to kill you!" the famed assassin codenamed Iskall85 says. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"No!"

"But I've tried to do this so many ways!"

"Have you considered there's a reason it's not working?"

Iskall considers for a moment. "Naaaaah," he says, and Beef's instincts flare all at once. He dives to the ground as Iskall takes the shot. "Awww, no fair. I thought you were not moving."

"What do you want from me," Beef says.

"I mean, I feel like I've been pretty clear," Iskall says, and Beef doesn't say that he's not even asking Iskall at this point. He's asking the universe. He's asking this Wednesday. He's asking why this has happened to him.

The universe, of course, does not respond, and Beef ducks behind cover for yet another day of his peaceful time loop retirement being completely ruined.

#answered #fakezircon #ask game #a bee fic #hermitfic #hermitcraft #vintagebeef #iskall85 #i am just writing these as my brain takes me btw. anyway take this bizzare trope mashup of an au #like can you IMAGINE it would be fantastic right

[superpixie42]

TROPE MASHUP

Stranded on a desert island+ poorly timed confession

MirSan?

Oooh ya know @mrfeenysmustache I don't think I've ever actually written MirSan before? Let's see how this goes:

--

Sango tore at the lowhanging tree limbs with more force than was likely necessary. How did these things always happen to her? Her life was straight out of a bad sitcom and the writers clearly hated her as a character. It had started out innocently enough. A nice little boat ride out into the lake. A lovely view, calm waters, her boyfriend Miroku showing just one more of his unlikely skills at being an expert rower and navigator.

In hindsight she could understand why he had chosen that moment to turn and ask her to marry him.

And her panicking and flipping the boat probably wasn't exactly the romantic moment he was expecting, but honestly after all these years together he should really know better than to spring this kind of thing on her. Hopefully the ring hadn't been too expensive - even though they were close enough to swim to the shore of one of the small islands the oar and the ring were definitely gone forever. Maybe her ruined proposal would be good for tourism. Fifty years from now some scuba diver or fisherman would find it and start a rumor that the island had pirate treasure or some other nonsense.

She finished collecting the small branches and made her way back to the beach where Miroku was sitting, staring blankly out into the sunset. From behind it was hard to tell if he was pissed or depressed - honestly she wasn't sure which option she prefered. She added the foliage to the small stack they planned to burn to signal their distress then walked towards the water. She ditched her shoes and sat down beside him, digging her toes into the warm sand.

"A simple no would have been fine ya know," said Miroku, breaking their long silence.

"A simple proposal would have been fine, too," she quipped back. "I don't need - or want - these kinds of grand gestures Miroku, you know that. Or I thought you did."

She let out a short huff through her nose then finally looked at her boyfriend. It was instantly clear to her just how upset he was. He really thought she was saying no? Sure she'd been caught off guard in the actual moment, but they'd talked about getting married before and she'd never given him any reason to think she didn't want this. His moment had been properly ruined, though, and she needed to make it right.

"Come on," she said, "we need to get started on our signal."

She stood and grabbed one of her sticks, but instead of starting a fire, she carried it back towards the shore and began to carve giant letters into the sand.

"What are you doing?" asked Miroku. "It'll be dark soon, nobody will see that."

"Somebody will," she said coyly, finishing the last letter and stepping out of the way. She watched as Miroku finally smiled for the first time in hours looking at the YES she'd written in the sand.

#writing exercises #mirsan #trope mashup