#prompt: snowglobe

[browneyesandhair]

Burn notice week day 4 prompt: snowglobe

Here's Fiona placing one on the shelf after cleaning it.

[sunshine-and-her-ikevil-stuff]

Imagining an AU/fic where MC and Alfons mutually decide to part ways while still yearning and pining for each other. And it would fit very well with the song "Is it Over Now?" by Taylor Swift

[dream-menagerie]

“The Mother” (Snowglobe)

200 Drawing Prompts

[storm-ismyusername]

Twelve Days of Art!! #9 Snowglobe

Promptlist below:

Prompt list by me. If anyone decides to use it I would be delighted if you let me know and tag me @storm-ismyusername!!!

[seaside-writings]

I hope this prompt list brings you inspiration wherever it is needed, and like always if you do use these prompts please tag me so I can see what you’ve made!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays: Celia ❤💚❄⛄🎄

🎁 "I wanna put us in a snow globe; keep this feeling safe and sound,"

🎁 "And I know nothing's perfect, but this moment's pretty close,"

🎁 "How am I supposed to focus while I'm looking at your face?"

🎁 "At least we'd have our snow globe,"

🎁 "Lock it up inside a photo,"

🎁 "It's the way I get distracted when we're trying to play charades,"

🎁 "So that in 20 years from now…"

🎁 "Even if the love is gone, and we've both moved on, and the warm fuzzy feelings all went cold,"

🎁 "If it all just falls away, at least we'll have this holiday,"

🎁 "And the nickname that you call me while you're tucking back my hair,"

🎁 "It's kissing under mistletoe and tasting candy canes,"

🎁 "I'd have the way you open presents without making any tears,"

🎁 "I know the future is uncertain, but I'll take this memory home,"

[georgiaxpaige]

Inktober

Day 20: Frost

[rmmcdermott]

If you would like to follow along go to my website (www.RMMcDermott.com) and sign up for my newsletter to gain access to free downloadable December Prompts social media pictures.

Then tag me in your post, so I can see what you came up with.

[christinaartco]

Deck the Paws 🎄🐱 original digital calligraphy illustration

I'm so grateful for finally joining art challenges this year. Finally decided to rip off the anxiety/self-doubt bandaid and just go for it. I absolutely love them now, and always look forward to sketching out ideas for the next one! This is my submission for one of many cute art challenges this month - #decempurr2023

I recently started to embrace combining my art styles, so I had to add some holiday florals in there too. Hope your holidays are as cozy as the kitties decorating their little tree ^_^

PROCREATE STATS: Total tracked time: 12-16hrs Brushstrokes: 15,935 Wrist Pain: 10/10

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♡ Notes + Shares are always appreciated 💕 ♡ Follow me on Instagram @writtenbychristina ♡ Find all my links here

[yueichihara]

He's wearing them. Again.

This man was wearing the fucking glasses when I went to take his picture.

I can't anymore guys. I love him, BUT- He needs to be stopped.

Just a little(?) something from my prompts list.

cw: umm fluff?, mc/you testing zayne, just mc/you being idiotic instead of talking to him, some kissing. this could be mc or not, choose whatever you prefer.

Read on AO3

Edit, because I forgot to add this here -> word count: 2,112 words

Those damned glasses. You thought as, once again, Zayne showed up at your date with the same black outfit: black shirt, black pants, black sunglasses. The shoes are new, though, you’ll give him that. It was becoming difficult to maintain a straight face every time he adjusted the sunglasses on the rim of his nose. But how could you say anything to him? He looked nice, but it was tiring. You couldn’t understand the reason behind it. You’ve seen him wear other outfits at the hospital, but maybe those were for working? Was he so busy he couldn’t go out shopping for new clothes? 

Today was supposed to be a test: You’d wait for him at the bus stop in the shopping district. You had intentionally chosen a place where people would try to go dressed nicely, going as far as sending him a picture of your outfit last night, thinking maybe he’d try to match. But no, here he was, wearing that shirt. And it wasn’t even the same shirt, because you’d accidentally spilled chocolate on him the last time you met. 

Yes, talking to him about it would be the perfect option, sharing your opinion and talking it out like you usually do. But if his reluctance to wear anything else was because of not having the time to go shopping because of his busy schedule, you’d make both of you feel like shit. And you’d both promised that you’d use this time together to relax and relieve stress, being down about the clothing choices was not in the picture.

So you’d come up with an easy idea: a shopping date. The café you were going to visit this time, chosen by yours truly, was close to a newly opened mall. Tara had visited it the previous weekend and had been insisting you go shopping with her. I’m sorry Tara, you thought to yourself, but the moment you mentioned the amount of men's clothing stores, I couldn’t think of visiting with anyone else besides him. You stole a few glances at him but it only frustrated you further.

As you round up the corner, the mall came into view, and you excitedly talked him into going in, mentioning how much your friend wanted to come here. 

“Come on, Zayne! The café will be open until evening, and it will probably be super crowded at this time.” You said as you tugged him in the direction of the revolving doors, anticipation spreading a genuine smile on your face. He sighs and agrees to go in, his own lips slightly turning up at your excitement. “Oh, but we’ll be inside.” You continue, reaching out to take off his sunglasses and putting them away in a case in your purse. “I’ll hold onto them for you.” 

With a slight bounce on your step, you take him through the corridors, trying not to look too suspicious as you search for the men’s section. Your eyes light up when you get to the second floor, row after row of men’s wear, men’s shoes, men’s perfumes. Without missing a beat, you tug him closer by the hand, and start going down the corridor, checking for the perfect store. A light blue sweater catches your eye and you take it as your sign to go in. “You know, you received a very important acknowledgement last month,” You start saying, the excuse you rehearsed playing perfectly into the situation, “and I couldn’t attend the ceremony because of the surge in wanderers in Changsia and was forced to go there. So I was thinking I could compensate you by giving you a gift.” 

Not waiting for his response, you drag him inside. Zayne looks at you with a puzzled expression, probably remembering the snowglobe you’d brought him as a souvenir, but follows along. “You’ve already done enough for me. Plus, it wasn’t something to be celebrated. It was just a formality.”

You stare at him and allow yourself to really look at him this time, the gaze so intense it makes him look away nervously. “You spend your days saving people, helping them. An award is the least you deserve.” You see his ears turn slightly red. He coughs and scratches his neck in embarrassment. Deciding he’s been scrutinized enough, you look away towards the hangers, going through every possible fit that you thought would look good on him. 

By the time you arrived at the café, you had gone through three clothing stores, stopping only when both your hands were full with shopping bags. Zayne had tried to walk away at one point, but you’d managed to catch him right in time as you pulled on a light pink hoodie you thought would look amazing on him for at home dates. He didn’t fail to blush or stutter every time you complimented him on an outfit, and you may have gone a little too far at one point enjoying his reactions, when he tried a dark blue leather jacket. His gaze had darkened instantly at your amusement, turning to see if people were watching before pulling you into the changing stall. He’d pushed you toward the wall and gently lifted your chin to look up at him, your eyes locking on his mouth as he slowly and teasingly leaned in to claim your lips. It was your turn to come out looking flushed and disheveled, a small satisfied smile playing on your lips. 

You’d settled on a table by the back of the café, the view through the windows was beautiful: a hidden garden in this busy shopping district, light coming in through the trees to cast shadows over the white roses lining the walls. It was breathtaking, the atmosphere inside the place aiding to the feeling of otherworldliness. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you took it all in, turning towards Zayne, you notice him staring at you before he looks outside. You’re about to ask him if something happened when a waitress comes over. You take your time choosing from the vast menu. There were a lot of sweet choices, but also salted foods. After discussing what to eat, you drift into comfortable silence. Feeling his gaze burning into you again, you turn back to him, and this time he doesn’t look away. “You’ve been staring for a while now. What’s the matter?”

“I could ask you the same question. Our hands are full of shopping bags with clothes for me. You didn’t even let me buy you that scarf you were staring at. You’re not usually this motivated unless something is pulling at your strings.” He leans forward, determination shining in his gaze. You know that look, he’s not gonna back out until you speak about it. “So tell me, what is it that’s been bothering you?”

You try to play it cool and keep to your story. “I told you already. I regret not being here for-”

“Don’t say the awards ceremony.” He cuts you off, already sensing what you were trying to do. “You and I both know I couldn’t care less about it, that’s why you only brought me the snowglobe. And don't misunderstand me, I love it. But the ceremony was just business, nothing important.” His gaze on you intensified even more. You felt as if you were a kid in Josephine’s home again, caught red handed after eating the frosting from Caleb’s birthday cake. No place to run, only the truth would get you out of it. 

With a long, heavy sigh, you lean towards Zayne over the table. Not daring to look him in the eye, you look down at your hands spread over the menu. “I- I wanted you to wear something different.” As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel embarrassment wash over you. What was so bad about him wearing the same outfit? It’s not like you were dating so that you could show him off or something. He actually looked good in that outfit, despite the sunglasses. You start fidgeting with your hands as you feel the hot flush creep over your face. You’re about to pull back to give yourself air to breathe, when you see his hands come into your view, tentatively reaching for yours. Slowly approaching, waiting to see if you’ll pull back or let him hold them. When  you don’t retreat, he takes them and tugs them closer to him, giving them a kiss. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand. I thought you liked this outfit, you were the one who recommended it to me.” At his confusion, you lean your forehead on the table in between your arms.

“I know, It’s just… I know you don’t have anything else, but I would love for us to match outfits once in a while. Or at least have pictures of you where I can actually tell what date it is from.” When he doesn’t say anything, you raise your head and look at him. His brows are furrowed and he’s looking at you as if you’d grown a second head. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He tries again.

“What?”

At that moment, the waitress comes over with your drinks and sweets, the smell of coffee bringing life back to you. You decide you want this to be a nice memory, to have this aroma etched into your heart as something positive. So you settle back on your chair and square your shoulders. “Nevermind. We can talk later, but right now… I want us to enjoy this.” You look at him. He wants to say more, but he nods and follows your lead. 

Without much effort you fall into easy chat, talk about your week, share pictures you’ve taken from various things, giggles and smiles making their way back to you. Your heart is full. Once the bill is paid, you decide to call a car to take him home because of all the shopping bags. 

“Come home with me today.” He says, reaching out to hold your hand, rubbing his thumb on the back of it. “Stay the night.” There’s not much to discuss whenever he acts like this, initiating touches and being straightforward with his wishes. It melts your heart away and keeps shadows at bay. You nod as the car arrives, the way back making both of you realise how tired you were. 

Back at his house, he asks you to follow him to the bedroom. He leaves the bags on his bed and makes his way towards his closet, as he motions for you to do the same. You’re turning away from the bed when you notice him spreading the closet doors apart. Your mouth hangs open at the interior: jackets, jeans, casual wear, smart wear, sports wear. A large amount of clothes in various colours, most of which you’ve chosen today. “This- I-” You fumble with your words as you stare at him, arms crossed, satisfied smile on his lips, and back to the closet. You walk over to him and playfully punch him in the chest. “I thought you had no other clothes but work related ones.” 

He slightly tilts his head as he looks at you and chuckles at your accusation. “My salary allows me to be generous when it comes to clothing. Now, about what I’m wearing right now.” He looks down at himself, brow furrowing a little. “I thought you liked it, you  were the one who chose it after all. And I wanted to make you happy.” The last sentence comes out almost whispered, and you notice the sudden proximity. He cups your face, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. You don’t recall who started the kiss, maybe you both leaned in, or maybe you were starving for something sweeter than the cake you ate today at the café. Your breaths mingle, and you taste strawberry shortcake on his tongue. You stay like that for a while not wanting to separate, but not wanting to go further yet. 

You’re forced to pull away to catch your breath, pressing your forehead to his chin. “I really wanted to see you match my outfits, you know?” Or maybe now you could choose for him.

He laughs, pulling you tighter. You feel the sound reverberate on his chest. “How about you take these off and we can choose something for me to wear next time?” 

A slow smile threatens to split your face in half and you bite your lip looking up at him. “Sure.” You tiptoe to continue where you left off, before pulling away, leaving him puzzled. “But the glasses stay with me until further notice.”

[fordlee]

Soostan Month Prompt 6: Fortune

A young Soos Ramirez stood in the back of a supply closet, clutching the magic eight-ball he'd found close to his chest. The big staff shirt hung off him like a dress, but Soos didn't care. It was one of his most prized possessions. It showed everyone that he worked for Mr. Mystery himself. The man taught him everything he knew. He didn't even fire Soos when he got confused or forgot something or broke something by accident.

He'd only worked at The Mystery Shack for a few months, but he'd already outlasted most of the folks that signed up to work there. His Abuelita told him that showed he was reliable. A valuable asset to his boss. Someone who could be depended on. And that was really important to Soos, especially if he had any hopes of marrying Mr. Pines when he grew up.

It had to be fate that he'd found the fortune teller at work that day.

“Will me and Mr. Pines fall in love and get married?”

Then, he shook it with all his might, eyes screwed shut with effort before he quickly popped them back open, holding the back of the ball up close and waiting with bated breath for his fortune to appear. The blue die bobbed into view in the middle of an inky black sea.

REPLY HAZY, TRY AGAIN.

Soos stuck out his lip. Maybe he hadn't concentrated hard enough? 

He screwed his eyes shut, trying to think as hard as he could about him growing up and getting married to Mr. Pines one day. Hopefully. He needed to know.

Opening his eyes back up, he stared back down at the blue triangle, mocking him, and took a deep breath.

“Please, I gotta know, are me and Mr. Pines gonna fall in love?”

He shook with everything he had, so hard that his arms started to ache. He couldn't bring himself to look at first, hoping with all his heart that it'd answer with an affirmative. He peered one eye open.

BETTER NOT TELL YOU NOW.

Oh, come on! What better time than now? Maybe he was wording it wrong?

“Will–”

“Soos! What in the heck is takin’ so long?”

The door slammed open and Soos all but leapt into the air, letting out a sudden cry. An imposing, shadowy figure stood suddenly in the middle of the doorway, eclipsing the light shining from outside the hallway.

Mr. Mystery.

Startled, the eight-ball fell from his hands. He stepped forward, arms rocketing out to catch it, only for his foot to make contact and send it skittering across the floor. The ball slowed its roll until it gently bumped against the man’s shoes.

Soos watched in silence as the man’s eyes darted down, tilting his head as he took in the sight before him. Recognition lit up in his eyes and he chuckled softly. Mr. Pines let out a soft grunt of effort as he bent down and scooped the eight ball into one hand, lifting it up to inspect.

“So that's where it went,” Mr. Pines stepped further into the closet, allowing Soos to see him better. “Whaddaya still doin’ in here, kid?”

Soos averted his eyes, seeming to find focusing on his hands to be far more interesting. “I'm sorry, Mr. Pines, I didn't mean to. I mean, I– I was looking for what you told me to get, but then I found that, and then I forgot what you wanted me to find, so I started playing with that instead ‘cause I wanted to know my future and–”

“The snowglobes, Soos,” he said sternly. ”I wanted you to bring some out front. And just bring the whole box out, don't just take a bunch in your arms. You remember what happened last time.”

Soos nodded. He did. It was so embarrassing. He could still see all the snowglobes go crashing to the floor as glass and glittery water and mini-Mystery Shacks went everywhere. He was sure Mr. Mystery would be angry at him. Fire him, even. But, he was more worried than anything, sitting Soos down and making sure he didn't have any cuts anywhere. Just the memory of it made Soos’ stomach fill up with butterflies.

“Here,” Mr. Pines spoke up again, bringing Soos back to the present. He served the ball underhand and it sailed over to hit Soos softly in the chest and fall into his open palms. “Trying to tell your future, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” he trailed his eyes over the figure eight staring up at him. “I wanna make sure what I want to happen comes true.”

He heard heard the steady footfalls of the older man's approach before Mr. Pines leaned down, wrapping a large arm around his shoulder. Soos leaned in. Mr. Pines smelled of cologne and leather and kinda like smoke. And Soos knew cigarettes were bad for you, but for some reason, he sorta liked how Mr. Mystery smelt like them. 

“Listen, kid, you want some advice?”

A small gasp escaped the boy as he looked up and nodded furiously. Any chance for him to absorb the wise words of Mr. Mystery was not one to be taken lightly.

Mr. Mystery set his big hand down on the eight ball in Soos’ hands. If the boy thought about it hard enough, it was almost like they were holding hands. He stared into his mentor’s face, hanging onto every word.

“Ya can't just sit around wondering if things are gonna happen to ya. Any schmuck can sit around on their behind, hoping that what they want is gonna happen. But ya got make your own luck. If you see the life ya wanna live, ya gotta take it. You get what I'm trying to say?”

Soos nodded like a bobblehead on the dashboard of a particularly terrible driver. Oh, he read Mr. Pines loud and clear.

Mr. Pines gave him a soft smile, one Soos was proud to say he'd only seen on his face when he looked at Soos. Then, they parted and Mr. Mystery was walking back into the hall. Before he disappeared from view, the man shot him one last glance.

“Remember, Soos. The snowglobes. I better see you out there restocking when I'm done with this next tour.”

“Aye, aye, captain!”

And with that, Soos was alone again.

He looked down at the magic eight-ball once again. With renewed vigor, he flipped it over to face the fortune, still reading the same as before. But he knew better now, he had to make his own destiny.

“One day, Mr. Pines and me will be in love. And it'll be so awesome.”

He didn't even need to close his eyes before his future was revealed. He already knew the outcome, of course. And his smile only brightened as he read his fortune. 

IT IS CERTAIN.

[f1version]

ONCE UPON A DECEMBER ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ CS55

pairing: prince!Carlos Sainz Jr. x princess!reader ( she/her )

summary: Once upon a December, be loved by Carlos was something your heart used to know.

warnings/info: royalty au — not in the present, angst, fluff, non explicit character death (you don’t see it happen), fighting, revenge, reader is 20 and Carlos is 22. also lewis and lando are extras in this, charles is mentioned.

word count: 1.2k

note: literally how did we get here. this was supposed to be holiday-themed, but i guess is just winter-themed, kind of. In my defense, the story starts on the 25th and mainly happens in December. I couldn't resist, this song just transported me to another reality.

i was deeply inspired by the song: once upon a december by christy altomare. i listened it for as long as it took me to write this. enjoy!!!

snowglobe, a holiday special

You stood by the window, red dress covering the high heels on your feet. Almost eight minutes had passed since you asked to be left alone in your chamber. You are anxious; a small part of you is afraid of the royals in the ballroom, which is why the golden band on your finger is twirled over and over again. It's calming. Fourteen days ago, there was a red diamond surrounded by white. Fourteen days since those lovely days in early December, warm brown eyes shimmering as your world watched you walk down the aisle.

You smile. Loving Carlos is past, present, and future now, wrapped in his arms for an eternity. 

“Mi amor,” a deep voice reverberates around the room; it’s not foreign, yet you give a small jump out of your feet, caught off guard. You turn around, and Carlos is standing before you in a black suit, adorned with medals and a sash wrapped around his figure. He gifts you that blinding smile of his as tender fingers reach your hand, prompting you to twirl for him. “You look beautiful." There’s a pause. “I don’t believe there are enough words to let you know.”

“Thank you, mi vida,” you smile. “So do you.”

Hands travel to your waist, holding you close. His fingertips slide down the red fabric, roaming your corset as he leans down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. “Are you ready?” He asks, “It’s almost time to greet our guests.”

“I am ready,” you answer, looking down, verifying your theory that Carlos doesn't have shoes on. “Though you don’t seem so ready, Carlitos.”

“Pequeños detalles, mi amor,” Small details, my love, he teases, and you laugh, “It’s snowing, did you see?” He changes topics, holding your waist firm as he turns you around, avoiding any small incidents. “White Christmas for us.”

You had barely noticed, too focused on remembering. The gardens, kingdom, and beyond are covered by a thin layer of snow, the sun glimmering over them. “It’s beautiful”

“It is,” he mutters, walking forward so his chest is pressed against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Almost as beautiful as you, mi princesa,” he plants two kisses down your neck. “Soon to be Queen."

You giggle, never been happier. Having Carlos by your side, giving you all the love one could wish for—the love that you deserve—is calming, so for the first time in months, you allow yourself to think about turning 21 early next year, the crown falling over your head as the rightful ruler of this land, Carlos by your side as Prince. It isn’t as nerve-wracking as it used to be.

You turn around, lips looking for his and falling in perfect rhythm. “I love you.” 

“I love you more.” 

You’re home building in the eyes of the others when there's a knock on the door, and as permission is given, Ms. Danielle appears. “Excuse me, Your Majesties, it’s time for your entrance."

“Oh god, Carlos, please go put on your shoes!" you exclaim, pushing him slightly. Carlos laughs, sneaking a small kiss on your lips before running away. “Thank you, Danielle."

One blink of a memory takes you down the stairs, the dim glow of the ballroom wraps around people you know and soon will. You and Carlos have parted ways to create small talk with said people; he's across the room, laughing at one of the awful jokes the Prince of Monaco loves to tell. Around you, there’s a group of kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, lines of royal blood enchanted by your presence, questions and anecdotes, laughter, and gossip taking your attention.

A firm grip on your arm turns you around, and now Sir Lewis Hamilton, Head of Army, is in your line of vision. You smile, except unsettling eyes meet yours, and suddenly, if you remember well, laughter fades into screams. People you know, will know, and could’ve known run frightened. You are under attack, and soldiers start defending. Carlos is screaming, giving them orders. He's helping people get to safety, but nobody is giving it to him. 

You want to run towards him, but you are ushered away. You can’t see him any longer; the hands keeping you safe are not the same as they used to be. And you try to leave the safe room, knowing you are trained to fight for it, but they don't let you. They don't let you fall by his side.

Memories fade, jump, and dance. You’re in a meeting room, tension is building up as seconds prance through time. Sir Lewis is defending a point. You feel anger strangling your body. “You must have kept him safe!”

“They took him way before we could reach him, Your Majesty,” he argues.

“How?” You scream. “Do we not have enough people? Where were those who swore to protect his head?”

“They were defending, protecting, or dead before we noticed,” he defends. “Carlos was focused on protecting the people too.”

“I do not care.” You feel lightheaded, fury arrogating your body. “He must have been moved to the saferoom with me.”

“You are more valuable than he was."

“He was soon to be your prince!”

“And you are our future queen,” he shouts back.

Silence falls over the room, and you've never hated your future title so much. You feel eager for it, yes, but not for the right reasons.

“I wish for you to look me in the eye and repeat all of it, Lewis,” you say. He stands still, dropping his tense shoulders, and doesn't say anything. You walk closer, eyes buried in his, searching for malice—there’s none; they’re grieving. “Know your place, Lewis.”

He nods. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”

“I want you to find him,” You demand, not breaking eye contact, “No matter what you must do or how much time passes, I want the man who killed Carlos gone.”

There’s a sudden hunger in his eyes as he nods, leaving the place. You turn around, but you’re no longer in the meeting room. Scaping the sea of memories, you face your reality.

You stand by the window, red dress covering the high heels on your feet, patiently waiting for the right person to enter the room. There’s no anxiety in it; there’s anticipation—the golden band twirling around your finger over and over again.

It’s a beautiful snow day. Fourteen years ago, you were standing right here, mid-December, with a pair of brown eyes loving you, caressing you, and not having enough words to describe you. That type of love is barely a memory, buried six feet below his statue in the gardens he so dearly loved.

There’s a knock on the door. “Your Majesty?"

“Yes, Lando?"

“Sir Lewis is back; no severe injuries,” the boy announces. You hum, already knowing his next announcement: “He’s dead.”

You smile, looking down at your ring. “Thank you, Lando. Get back to your duties now.”

And as the curly-haired leaves, you wonder if this is what revenge feels like. Cold loneliness with a sense of fulfillment. There’s a crown heavy on your head with a target on it, but you are not bothered enough to care about it. Long ago, you could have held mercy over the man terrorizing kingdoms around you, fought until his defeat, but now feelings as such are things your heart used to know.

Your faint memories of Carlos lie in rest, avenged on a white December morning.

taglist — @smartstupyd @ziarah @nouvellevqgue @iloveyou3000morgan @carsgovroomm . . . add yourself here

[black-salt-cage]

Day 4 of #heartnosehalloween! ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.🎃 Prompt: Pumpkins and jack-o'-lanterns ☽ - ✰ - ☾ ☽ - ✰ - ☾ ☽ - ✰ - ☾

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

[assortedvillainvault]

I've had a little request/prompt in my head for you for ages, bc it relates specifically to your characterization of Blitzwing. You have established that your version is constantly plagued by processor-splitting headaches. How do you think he'd react to the realization that his headache is GONE when he's around his S/O?

Midnight I've rotated this ask in my head like a snowglobe for weeks - thank you for being one of the biggest fans of Blitzwing on this blog, genuinely love your prompts for the guy.

I didn't even realise I'd put headaches in every headcannon but I went back and reread my stuff and. Yeah - chronic headache is now a Thing. Due to the severity of the triplechanger process it felt a bit 'handwavy-poweroflove-sumthin'-sumthin' to render them GONE, but Better? Better I can do. Hope You Enjoy!

Tw: descriptions of migraines/pain, allusions to maladaptive coping with said pain, kidnapping but like. In the Megamind way.

Blitzwing x Reader: 'Headaches'

Ever since the triple changer surgery, Blitzwing has a had a constant, splitting pain in his helm that pain blockers and all manner of defrags won’t touch. (And no it’s not his alters, ha ha funny joke fragging die-)

He’s not sure if it’s somenting physical, and he doesn’t trust Blackarachnia’s surgery technique one iota, but the deed is done. The pain never fades. Sometimes it lances through him so sharply that it forces his audio and visual feed to cut, rendering him blind and deaf at the worst moments.

And on other days it races down his spinal strut and through his wings to the point that even gentle breezes feel like sandpaper, his touch sensors scrambled and sore.

On better days it’s a low, pulsing, grinding ache at the tip of his neck and behind his optics, and at the seams of his faces. One that can be covered up by other, newer pains, or by switching faces so fast he gets dizzy.

Coping mechanisms are coping mechanisms, if you call him out then congratulations for sacrificing yourself to the Decepticon cause for target practice.

Upon meeting you (aka – scooping you off the street for a hostage meatshield and subsequently being told to keep you for a bit), his headache pulsed so badly that his balance teetered and he nearly crushed you in his fist. Great. One more thing to fragging deal with.

Your specific hostage situation didn’t take long, only a few days due to Prowl and his cyberninja sneaky ways, but you left a genuinely lovely impression on Blitzwing in the meantime. Not too screechy, no unnecessary fluids, a sense of slightly unhinged humour?? 10/10 would kidnap again!

So he does.

Little and often, in snatches and starts. And it isn’t immediately obvious to either party, but there’s a...lightness, creeping in. Like sounds are clearer, and his head has room for more stuff. He shrugs it off and thinks nothing of it, distracted and humming along as you chat about anything and everything - kicking your feet inside his cockpit.

Apparently a quirk of both biology and technology, is that the mind will translate emotional and mental hurt into physical hurt. Ease the former...and the physical will begin to follow.

Huh.

It still takes him several months to recognise that with you and you alone, he loosens up and calms down enough that the pain is lower than it has been in years.

Never gone, but better. And that’s more than he’d ever expected.

[ikeromantic]

Snowglobe

Ikemen Advent prompt featuring Mitsuhide! approx. 500 words.

Mitsuhide ached. Every muscle, every bone, felt weary. He bypassed the main gate to Azuchi castle and came in one of the secret entrances he used when he did not want to be seen. His intention was to report directly to Nobunaga and then retire to his mansion to rest. But his stealthy travel through the castle stopped when he heard music and laughter.

He turned from his path, following the joyful sounds. A short walk led him to a window overlooking the Azuchi palace gardens. There, he spotted his fellow warlords, vassals, and the chatelaine. 

She was throwing snowballs at Nobunaga from behind a low wall of snow. Hideyoshi was attempting a flanking maneuver but Ieyasu held the side. Mitsunari crouched nearby, rolling an arsenal of differently sized snowballs for strategic attacks.

More snow continued to fall, floating gently through the evening sky and landing on the playful group. The scene reminded Mitsuhide of something the chatelaine had told him about. A decorative thing, with carved or cast figures enclosed in glass, filled with water and tiny glittering flecks that would fall over and around them. A snowglobe.

He thought it was a foolish thing when she’d described it. A wonder, yes, but a waste of effort as well. But now the thought made him melancholy. He stood here, in the walkway. Inside the castle, but outside the scene. Beyond the warm circle of friendship and love. 

One of the trees had been decorated with ribbon, ropes of porcelain beads, and small, shiny baubles. It shook as one of Nobunaga’s missiles splatted against the evergreen branches. 

The chatelaine shot up, eyes wide as several decorations fell into the snow. “Oh no! Look what you-”

Her shout was cut off by a second snowball. It hit her in the forehead and burst on impact, coating her in a dusting of cold snow. Hideyoshi was at her side in an instant.

“Are you alright,” he asked, his hands atop her shoulders, inspecting her. 

Ieyasu shouted. “What were you thinking? You aimed at her face!” 

Nobunaga had the grace to look abashed, though still triumphant. “I didn’t know the fireball would stand up just then.”

Even Hideyoshi did not buy that answer, but he was too busy cooing over the chatelaine to disagree. She was looking up at him with trust and adoration, reassuring him that she was fine, that it was fine. 

Mitsuhide felt his heart twist in his chest, a tight, hot, needle-sharp jab of jealousy. She never turned such a look on him. Never leaned into his touch. And that was good, he told himself. Good for her. For him. 

Let them live in their snowglobe, sheltered from the darkness on the outside. Sheltered from men like him. He turned to go, but glanced back. Just once more, just to see her smile. It was one look too many. The chatelaine saw him there, in the window. Her smile widened. Her lips began to shape his name.

Mitsuhide tore himself from the view and slipped into the shadowed hall.

@candied-boys @queengiuliettafirstlady

[thorkidorki]

❄️⚡🐍2024 Thorki Secret Santa Masterlist 🐍⚡❄️ alphabetically ordered.

a conspiracy of love by MoonGoddex, for darklittlestory

Loki doesn't ruin Yule, but he gets blamed for it anyway. Thor takes him to Midgard for a few days of peace.

Be my Lover by nerosgruft for Lost_Sanctuary

Jane was searching for the tall, blond, gorgeous Prince, but when she finally caught a glimpse of him, he was busy otherwise.

Borrowed Traditions by Mawg for dea_ex_machina

Loki and Thor bring back some Midgardian decorations, and share a private moment in the throne room. Done for dea_ex_machina for the prompt: Yule in Asgard. For the 2024 Thorki Secret Santa!

Driving home for Christmas by Julicorn (Jewelbug) for TheUsagi1995

Loki comes home for Christmas, for the first time since he moved out. There's a reason why he has kept his distance, and it's very much about his older brother.

Growing pains by dea_ex_machina for nerosgruft

After Asgard's destruction, the refugees on the Statesman find themselves on the brink of starvation. Fortunately, their new king happens to be a fertility god. But where saving his people from extinction by the hands of an ancient demon fell right into Thor's line of expertise, he now has to face the harsh reality of his complete incompetence at growing things - and on a spaceship at that. Luckily, he has a very resourceful brother back at his side...

Illusions of Love by Drachenkinder for Tellurion

After his vision by the Scarlet Witch, Thor goes looking for answers. At least that is what he tells Eric Selvig when they reach the well of worlds. In truth he's seeking his dead brother Loki to bring him back. For there was too much broken and left unsaid between them.

Snowglobes by viruxlent for Storybelle

Soft domestic Christmas Thorki

Spirals by darklittlestory for Drachenkinder

Thor despairs of ever getting his wish: Someone confident enough to to really test his limits. To put him on his knees, on his back. No one has met the challenge.

Then he meets Loki.

Starcrossed by Storybelle for viruxlent

Thor knows perfectly well what he is - Asgardian, warrior, in love. And yes, maybe fool too, if he tries to be all of those things in symphony.

Teasing Works for Them by Lost_Sanctuary for Sigynthefaithful

Loki returns home after some traveling around Midgard. Thor is happy to have him home.

the bonds that remain by lavenderandlace for Jewelbug

Thor, with all that has happened between them, had been by his side in the end, hadn’t he?

What a fool.

A lovely wonderful fool.

Wedding Jitters by Drachenkinder for Tellurion

Loki has way too much time on his hands before his wedding. Bad memories and worries and decisions. Surely a drink to calm his nerves can't hurt.

When Things Align by Sigynthefaithful for Mawg

What happened after Loki came back from the limbo where he had a most depressing talk with Old Loki and Kid Loki and decided they were talking mostly bullshit. Thor appears unexpectedly, doing unexpected things. Said things align :D

Wherever You Go, That's Where I'll Follow by ThorBlossom for thorarms

Loki is a werewolf hidden among vampires. He is shunned by all, except Thor, his overly devoted nephew, who likes him far too much.

Whispers of the Winter Crown by TheUsagi1995 for MoonGoddex

At long last, the furious tremors eased, leaving Loki drenched in sweat and barely conscious. He slid off Thor’s now softening length and was then spewed against him, a puppet with his strings cut. A God who had been worshiped. A Man who had been… Redeemed. Hollowed out by too many horrors, too much death, and refilled by a love he had so fiercely denied, cradled by hands which adorned his neck like jewels. Not to hurt—never to hurt. For a fraction of a second, everything stilled and faded, the Aesir glamour bleeding away, revealing the enchanting beauty of the icy blue of the frost giants. Thor blinked, uttered stunned to silence, struck by awe so deep it reached his core and set him aflame.

-------------------

Or: Everyone is saved and during their first Christmas together, Thor convinces Loki to venture in the deep forests of Norway with him in search of a Kingly gift for Tony Stark and his flashy party for Christmas. Things do not go as planned when they encounter a dangerous plant that unleashes a thick pollen.

Winter Sunrise by thorarms for lavenderandlace

Stuck inside a taven during a blizzard, Thor and Loki opt to share a bed.

Yuletide at the End of the Universe by Tellurion for ThorBlossom

At the encouragement of his Party variant, Thor comes to find his brother on his throne, to wish him a very Happy Yule.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @gumnut-logic

From @gumnut-logic to all of Thunderfam.

Author's note: I didn't know if I could write this year, so I didn't enter any prompts to avoid disappointing anyone. However, I did manage to write nearly 4000 words of something with a prompt from my Hubby. So please, everyone enjoy this for what it is, and I hope you have/had a wonderful festive time.

-o-o-o-

Scott was used to working in loud environments but this was ridiculous.

There were people yelling orders and running back and forth, hammering, power tools screeching, and worst of all, singing.

So much singing. He was glad Virgil wasn’t down here. The cacophony hurt.

“I’m sorry, sir, what did you say?”

“Commander Tracy, from one secret organisation to another, we need help.”

Scott blinked.

The old man frowned. “I said we need help!”

“I know that. That’s why we’re here.” He drew in a breath. “Is there anywhere quieter we can talk?”

Watery blue eyes stared at him a moment before turning and waving for Scott and Gordon to follow.

It had been an interesting half an hour since John reported this situation. They had received a call from Molloy Deep, basically a deep hole in the Arctic Ocean. This would have been a Tuesday call out as there were deep sea habitats all over Earth’s oceans (and unfortunately of varying funding and consequently quality - a bug bear of Gordon’s and the source of many a post-rescue rant on the part of the aquanaut).

However, there were no recorded deep sea habitats in or near Molloy Deep, mainly because it was so deep and because, well, Arctic Ocean, anyone?

But John was able to locate…something…at the requested geographical spot and as they were a rescue organisation, the rest was worked out en route.

Thunderbirds One, Two and Four sped across the planet until they reached the spot between Greenland and Iceland.

As per John’s report, there was something down there.

Scott had elected to go down with Gordon, something about this had him on edge and he couldn’t define why.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with all the times Gordon had gone down this deep and not come back in one piece.

No, not at all.

He earned himself a frown from both Virgil and Gordon, and Alan had to transfer over to One, but he went anyway, Commander’s prerogative.

And there definitely did turn out to be something in Molloy Deep.

The usual midnight zone darkness was gradually broken by spots of light on the cliff they were following down. Closer inspection revealed creatures hovering in the water column like Christmas ornaments.

Gordon was going nuts about new species discovery and the percentage of life that was unknown in the deep, etcetera, etcetera, but they had a mission. He could come back next time he had leave.

In any case, they quickly became less individually important as they navigated deeper, a golden glow emanated from below them, the glowing ornaments increasing in number until the midnight landscape was lit…well…like a Christmas tree.

The glow became a huge dome glittering in the water, surrounded by unique sealife that now had Gordon throwing a full-on fit.

But ultimately, they located an airlock and backed Four into a secure connection, and the pair of them embarked into a very strange world.

A world where it was gently snowing.

It was obvious that the area they entered was some kind of docking space. Several factory-like buildings were crowded about and it wasn’t long before they were grabbed by a young worker and hurried in the direction of a portly old man sporting a white beard and moustache.

He would have been totally cliche and straight out of a children’s story if it wasn’t for the Motörhead T-Shirt, jeans and sneakers.

But considering they were several miles underwater in a giant snowglobe, the list of unbelievables was already maxed out.

The old man led them out of the factory building and into the snow.

“I’m sorry about the cold. The environmentals aren’t happy at the moment.”

The man sighed, turned and stalked through the snow to a house…which might as well been made of gingerbread. Hell, Scott walked past a red and white striped candy cane a foot thick and, taller than him, sticking out of the snow beside the path.

“Scott-“

“Gordon.”

“Do you think-?”

“Focus on the mission.”

“But-“

They reached the house and were ushered into a warm living room complete with an open fire and…yes, a Christmas tree… in July.

“Have a seat, gentlemen.”

Scott hesitated. “We were called in for an emergency.”

The stocky man turned to frown at him, his bushy white eyebrows colliding with his nose - not unlike what Virgil’s did on a fairly regular basis.

“Yes, this is an emergency, but we have time. Just enough.” And as if to prove the point, he walked across the room to the mantlepiece, opened the face of the ornate clock sitting up there and pushed its long hand back by a good fifteen minutes. He closed it and turned back to Scott. “See? We have time.”

It was Scott’s turn to frown. Gordon nudged him and pointed to his diving watch on his wrist.

It matched the time on the mantlepiece.

What the-?

The old man gestured them both to the sofa. “C’mon, you have questions, I have answers, sit down so we can get to the meat of the problem.”

Of course Gordon moved first, practically bouncing across the room to take a seat. Scott moved a touch slower, eyeing everything, assessing and questioning.

“Sit down, Commander. I don’t bite.”

Scott had no choice but to obey.

The fire crackled and bounced as the old man sat in a large sofa chair opposite them He scratched his beard a moment as if pondering where to start.

“As the Commander of International Rescue, you are aware of the need for secrecy when working for the good of all?”

Those blue eyes held his own. “Yes, sir.”

“We both need that secrecy, Commander Tracy. So I am hoping we have the confidence of you and your organisation.”

“Of course.”

He paused a moment. “I have no doubt that you have your suspicions as to mine and my organisation’s identity.” Beside Scott, Gordon was fit to burst. “But I will ask for no extraneous questions.”

Gordon froze. “But-?”

Those cool eyes turned to pin the aquanaut. “Do you like coal, Mr Gordon?”

His fish brother gulped. “No, sir.”

“Neither do I. It is one of the reasons why I need your help.” His attention turned back to Scott. “The ice is disappearing and with it, its protection. We have to move, to find a new base of operations. I have a place in mind, but I need to get there.”

“How many are needing rescue?”

“Four million, five thousand and three.” A soft blink. “And myself and my wife.”

Scott’s jaw dropped.

“It’s a lot, I know, but from what I’ve seen of Thunderbird Two, it should be able to do the job.”

“Four million…sir…that would take years!”

“We will make time.”

“Sir!”

“We have less than six months.”

“Not possible.”

Those watery blue eyes stared into his soul. “Do you have dreams, Commander?”

Scott’s lips hardened. “I thought we weren’t asking extraneous questions.”

“Hmm, I guess it could be seen that way from your point of view, however, dreams do lead to possibilities, do they not? And I need to move our base of operations as soon as possible to these coordinates.” He reached down to a table beside his chair and handed a piece of neatly folded paper to Scott.

Opening it, he found a set of coordinates written in perfect copperplate cursive.

Cursive or not, the location was clear.

“You want International Rescue to help you move to Antarctica?”

The old man shrugged. “It’s land, it’s a geographical pole, and it’s basically empty. Though note it is East Antarctica - I fear West Antarctica will befall the same fate as the Arctic.” He looked up at the ceiling and glanced around the room. “I will miss this place.”

“Sir…” Scott sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Nikolas.”

Beside him, Gordon twitched.

“Nikolas, I want to help you, but moving four million people is just not possible, much less in six months.”

“Five months and fourteen days.”

Scott sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The logistics - Thunderbird Four can only carry a maximum of ten people at a time, maybe fifteen at a stretch. You are over five kilometres below the surface. Thunderbird Two can carry many more, yes, but getting them up there…four million…”

“Commander, the four million are the easy part. If I were you, I would be more concerned about the reindeer.” With that he pushed himself to his feet. “Come along, time is a-wasting.” He turned his back and walked out the door.

-o-o-o-

More to come @gumnut-logic in the next few days :D