#200 words challenge

[hawkinsmafia]

day 11 : morning light

featuring Dmitri Antonov x oc Lilibet Grey, with Murray Bauman & Yuri Ismaylov

summary: an intimate moment isn’t quite as discreet as they thought, and Lilibet might be falling in love once again

rating: mature (fade-to-black sex recap)

wc: 645

cw: semi-public sex, voyeurism without consent, implied piv (unprotected), coffee abomination

an: written for the 200 Words Challenge. Kinda proud of this one considering I put this pairing together just a couple hours before writing this!

Pink light filtered gently into the abandoned church-turned-smuggler’s den as night gave way to dawn, and it was about the only gentle thing she had encountered in this country.

Almost.

Behind her, the Russian man stirred softly and Lilibet froze, waiting for him to drop back to sleep again, and was grateful when his breathing deepened once more. Carefully she rolled over to face him in their little cocoon of layered blankets and wraps. She was hoping that seeing him in the morning light would change things, that the spell would break with the dawn, and last night would go down on the list of mediocre encounters that were probably a mistake.

No such luck. Somehow, sleeping in a survivalist’s bundle on the floor of a frozen church only made Dmitri cuter, if that was even possible, the slack of his expression giving him a youthful innocence. One that had an interesting juxtaposition with Lilibet’s memory of his strong, sure hands sliding into her pants last night in pitch darkness, the chapel filled with the sounds of howling wind and the chainsaw snores of the pilot, at the opposite wall.

With their companions sleeping, or reasonably close enough to sleep, Dmitri had shifted closer to Lilibet, offering quite sincerely to combine their cocoons together and increase the warmth. Murray and Yuri had done it—though it was at least partially so that Yuri couldn’t attempt to escape in the night without waking Murray in the process—and Hopper and Joyce hadn’t quite merged their blankets into one, but had lain as close to each other as they could get otherwise. And watching the man she had loved and the woman she did love reconnect with each other, pulling away from her, made her heart ache in ways she couldn’t articulate. So she accepted Dmitri’s offer, and they wrapped themselves together, and when their bodies had slotted together gratefully in warmth, Lilibet asked if this was okay, and Dmitri responded with a soft, sultry, “This is perfect, little dove,” as if he could sense her loneliness, her heartbreak, and wanted to console her. She wanted to be consoled. When his palms slid beneath her layered clothes and found bare skin, she gave no signs of protest, and when her hands found his zipper and began opening it, he kissed her to silence his groan.

She wanted so badly for it to be a one-time thing, something she could easily let go of and walk away from. But Dmitri, damn him, was even more beautiful in the morning light, and the memory of his gentle lovemaking would replay in her fantasies for a long, long time, she knew.

With exceeding care, she pulled herself out of their cocoon without disturbing Dmitri, made sure her clothes had come to settle in the right places, and silently moved among the crates of smuggled goods. There was a shipment of jars of Nescafé instant coffee granules, and a dozen flats of bottled water, which she combined together to make a horrible bastardization of coffee. Pulling on her fur-lined hat and leather gloves, she tugged open the heavy church door and slipped outside with her bottle of cold, muddy coffee.

“Dobroye utro!”

Squinting against the sharp morning sun, she saw Yuri and Murray were working on the helicopter known as Katinka, and Yuri was waving a socket wrench at Lilibet with a horribly cheerful grin.

“Good morning!” he repeated loudly in English. “I hear somebody have good night last night, no? You make bad choice when choosing Russian lover, but Yuri will not hold against you.”

“Morning, Lil,” Murray said, speaking more quietly but with every bit as much mischief in his grin. “So… that was a fun little show. How was the disgraced former prison guard of a Russian gulag?”

Lilibet groaned, and pulled her hat down over her eyes in embarrassment.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[justa-rat]

Meeting of Minds and Gunpowder. Pt. 2.

May 12th,

Word Count:  920

Part One

Goodnieghbor bloomed before the Ghoul. A mix of robots, ghouls, and smooth-skins. Compared to Diamond City, it was a true mixing pot of all sorts. However, one thing that pulled them all together in similarity - was the no good aura around them. Each and every person was scum, he could tell. Pickpockets, thieves, and scammers the lot of them. Even the spare raider could be spotted slinking in and out of doors in the back alleys. Dried blood splattered on the pavement underfoot, telling stories of mugging and knife fights long passed. A place of true degeneracy. It was about what the world had come too in a nutshell - a steaming pile of shit. As long as he got what he needed, the Ghoul could care less. He adjusted the hat on his head, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and strode deeper into the city. Another wretched bout of coughing wracked his lungs, his head tilting down on instinct as he shoved himself into an alley. He leaned against a wall for a moment, sweat beading down his forehead. He took a wheezing breath, sliding down till he was sitting, resting his aching head in his hands. His body was shaking, not out of any fear - but of need. The world blurred, spinning around and around twistingly. 

"Hey… Guy. You feelin' alright?" A raspy voice sliced through the Ghouls' thoughts.

A man stood before him, he wore a brazen red coat - fashioned in a colonial style. Atop his head sat a tricorn hat, it looked to be old, worn, covered in dirt and old blood. The Ghoul swatted a hand lazily in his direction, voicelessly forfeiting the others assistance - yet the stranger still persisted. 

"C'mon pal, just talk to me. What's the problem? Run 'outta Jet? Psycho? Buffout? Withdrawal can be a bitch, I've been there." His words sounded oddly sincere. This was no doubt going to cost him. It didn't really matter, if this dumbass stranger could get him in the same room as some Rads - he'd be all set from there. 

It was a shame the strangers voice only worsened his aching head. 

"I don't need no damn drugs. Not them kinda drugs, anyway." He growled out through grit teeth, the wave after wave of vertigo driving him near mad. His expression turned to a wince, and the stranger nodded in understanding. Wordlessly, he fumbled throughout the pouch attached to his waist. Inhalers and tablets shifted about as he dug through it, momentarily producing a small vial containing a yellow liquid. 

"Here, friend." He extended his hand, the vial resting in his palm. The Ghoul wasted no time snatching up the precious vial, uncorking it with his teeth - he paused, looking up at the stranger. A fellow ghoul, it seemed. 

"If this is piss, I'll fuckin' shoot your ass." He lifted the vial to the gaping hole in which his nose once rested, sniffing it. It at least didn't smell like piss. The stranger only snorted in response, but said nothing to his comment. The Ghoul lifted the vial to his chapped and broken lips, tilting his head back and slurping up the small amount of liquid greedily. Instant relief washed over him, and a sigh left his body. He relaxed, waiting for the rest of the symptoms to slowly subside. 

"Feel better?" The stranger was leaning against the wall now, one ankle crossed over the other as the full of his weight rested on the building behind him. His arms were crossed, and he was watching the other man keenly. 

"What do you want, exactly?" The Ghoul cut to the chase, he understood how the wasteland worked - nothing was truly for free. "Caps? Want me to kill someone for ya?" His tone was demeaning, taunting even. Guy looked like he was ripped out of a damn history book.  

The stranger simply put his hands up in resignation, bowing his head ever so slightly, "I don't want a damn thing from you, friend, just a fellow forgotten and undermined man looking to help another get back on his feet." A smile appeared on his face, and the Ghoul realized it was worse than anything he could have thought. The man was an idealist. 

Pushing himself away from the wall, the stranger took a few paces towards the Ghoul. He tensed in reaction, hand unconsciously feeling for his gun - but the other made no move to pull out a weapon. Instead, he reached out a hand towards the Ghoul, an offering of peace - and to help the fellow stand. The Ghoul's eyes narrowed, and he denied the help - pushing the other ghoul's hand out of his face, and getting to his feet on his own. They stood eye to eye now, rather than the stranger lording over him in a state of vulnerability. The Ghoul even took slight satisfaction of being taller than the other, tiling his head up ever so slightly. He took a moment to look the stranger up and down, fully taking in the revolutionary war garb he dawned. He made a vague gesture towards his clothing, curiosity overpowering anything else in that moment, "So uh… What's up with the getup… You some kinda… Weird reenactor? Thought thems all died out with the war n'all."  

The stranger's smile didn't fade, he even let out a laugh, "Ahh, nah. Not really. Outfit just… Spoke to me is all. The name’s John Hancock, I'm the mayor here. I'd like to personally welcome you to my little slice of heaven, Goodneighbor."

[yourdragonsareglowing]

200 Words a Day- Day 1

My dear @eurazba has been giving me such an urge to write the last few weeks while in their own writing challenge, so I figured I'd give it a go. Might not post it everyday, but I did a significant 226 words! So a milestone worth celebrating :)

Edit: Added another 491 well after my bedtime, for a grand total of 717 words!

[renaultphile]

👀👀 Tell us more!!

Why is it that you sit down to write and your brain immediately goes "you have never had a single thought in your entire life"

[stellewriites]

ghost and soap that move in together in between missions to save on money and eventually - inevitably - fall into bed together. but somethings missing

they’re both a little too sharp around the edges, need something sweet to ease their cravings and soften their bites, but no one fits right

until you, that is. so don’t be surprised when they make sure you’re sticking around by any means necessary

[callsignhurricane]

strawberries

This is instalment n. 1 of @creativepromptsforwriting May Writing Challenge mixed with May Prompts.

I chose Matt Murdock x Reader because of Born Again and... He's a menace and I couldn't resist. Please remember that English is my second language and know that nobody else proofread this (like the youths say on AO3 "no beta we die like men").

If you read this, thank you! <3

-

You pick one of the strawberries without much thought, motions conditioned by the action repeated in the last few minutes. They’re almost too ripe, deep red… Much like the sinful lips you try to avoid looking at, but that’s a battle you never win.

The slow and shaky breath you take is followed by a bite more forceful than you intended. You have to use your tongue to take care of the juices that threaten to stain your clothes. You barely succeed. Even though he can’t see, you feel his attention on you now, the question written in the subtle and beautiful lines of his expression.

You don’t move as your mind races, as the cold ceramic in your hands does nothing to help you from the heat around you, inside you. You keep quiet too, just concentrating on the flavour coating every little part of your mouth.

You have a question of your own.

Would his lips taste the same?

You don’t know the answer, but goddamn, wouldn’t you like to find out.

(it’s indeed sweet, tangy and everything in between, but it’s also the metallic note you took from yourself…

The same others try to take from him)

[cirrus-grey]

still wondering if they're trying to retcon things or if this is straight up Not The Same World and they just wanted to explore the idea of a post-eyepocalyptic world so they sent Sam into a world that's just. almost like TMA world but a bit to the left. every week I find more inconsistencies, like this week it was a week-long apocalypse when after s5 Jonny and Alex said they imagine it took a few months. recon or A Sign? who knows? not me (<- is being soooooooo normal about not knowing)

Honestly? I think it would cheapen the ending of TMA if they tried to canonically confirm that multiple different worlds had apocalypses that ended with Fears getting sent out into the multiverse (yes, I know that's exactly the concept I was playing with in my Castaways series, but there's a big difference between doing it in fanfic and trying to make it canon).

The whole point of that final choice - the reason it was such an impossible decision, the reason Jon was adamant about starving the Fears out and not letting them spread - was that there was no way to know what the rest of the multiverse looked like, Fear-wise, for either the characters or the listeners. There was and still remains the possibility that they were Patient Zero, spreading their contagion to countless other worlds in order to save their own. Jon’s argument about stopping the Fears then and there was valid, even if it's not a choice many people would make.

If there are other worlds where other Fears were also released... it all falls apart. Suddenly letting the Fears go is the obvious choice, just adding more ingredients to the multiverse's pre-existing Fear soup and not doing any unique damage of their own. Jon's attempts to starve them out become a foolish self-sacrifice rather than a desperate last try at heroism.

Even more honestly? I don't know how they'd even go about trying to confirm that this is "TMA world but a bit to the left" without like. Bringing a dead character back and saying they've been alive the whole time. The problem with a world with only subtle differences is that they'd probably be too subtle to distinguish between "different world", "retcon", and "whoops we forgot what the original canon was".

I kind of hope they don't confirm which it is. I like seeing people theorize and getting to choose which version they prefer, even if I don't personally vibe with some of the headcanons :)

[mikalilys]

ruegard, ruegard, ruegard

i chant in front of my bathroom mirror

you will become canon

i whisper while i turn off the lights

everyone will make edits and write fanfics

i say as i begin to light candles

[msbigredmachine]

Kiss Me (Roman Reigns) - 200 Words in May Challenge

A/N: Thanks to everyone who tagged me for the challenge! I was honestly not going to participate but peer pressure made me do it!

Inspired by the Ed Sheeran song. Enjoy and pls leave comments!

Word Count: 246 (I tried)

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

She's never been to this part of town before, and they visited often. More fascinating is that the building they enter is actually an old ballroom, and the average age of the couples waltzing on the vast dance floor is approximately twice that of hers and his. Roman’s penchant for finding unexpectedly interesting places hits the mark again.

"When's the last time we danced for the fun of it?" he enquires, guiding her further inside until they blend in. 

"Wish I could remember," Lucia admits, laughing when he twirls her rather competently before curling her back into his arms. As his hands rest on the small of her back, Lucia melts into his strong body, sheltered by his warm embrace as they slowly rotate to Ed Sheeran’s soothing serenade. 

“Thank you. For everything,” she whispers, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ll do anything for you. All you gotta do is ask.”

For a long moment, neither speak, their racing heartbeats doing the talking for them. Then, Lucia blurts out, “What if I wanted a kiss from you?”

Her voice is so small he almost misses the question. Staring into her eyes, the love and need he sees in them, mirroring his own, makes his heart beat faster. 

“Just ask, baby,” he replies softly.

Lucia looks at Roman, really looks at him, and wonders how she has been so blind. Smiling, she lures his face down to hers. “Kiss me.”

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

🏷️: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @mzv11 @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @caramelcleopatraa @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @ajenae @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc @heauxvibez @alyyaanna

[joannasteez]

just a dream

pairing: roman reigns x reader warning: its angst if you tilt your head and squint. smut. so minors dni pls! authors note: i'd been in a bit of a rut but just banged out a part of chapter 5 of TOB and then this was residuals of still being in a writing mood. this is for the month of may 200 word challenge! its a little over 200 but whatever. who cares. tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @kill-the-artiste @thesamoanqueen @empressdede @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @theninthwonder @2-muchsauce

and what becomes of him? becomes of the man amidst a dream. knowing the failures of such a fantasy, the waywardness that threatens to befall him, and drifting anyways. lost in the soft pillowy press of your kiss and that slight of tongue that curls to sweeten his blood. tongue and breath laying over words sounding not so dissimilar to confessions of a seamless adoration. a forever feeling, palms pressing over his hard body. gentle and resolute. a moan in his ear, slipping over warm and delicate like silk. his fingers kneading desperate. ungracious. at every inch and fold and bend. through the wet drip over of arousal and against that sloping plain of skin that holds your pulse. searching for evidence of life that he can just barely find. his belly tight. restless. ready for release. hips deft and skilled. aching. he breathes into your neck. over warm, tender skin. "this is a dream", aware. frightful of the end. your lips over his. throat singing wispy. charming. the moan of an angel. "then it is a good dream", you whisper. withering above him hard. the heat of you tight and unrelenting. wet and working him possessively to finish. 

roman jerks hard amidst such refined pleasure. comes to himself in the darkness of a hotel room. breaths undone and his body damp with sweat. a clinging ache in his chest. the failure and consequence of living in such a fantasy. 

the gentle touch of your body not real at all. your face nameless, and your voice slipping dutifully from his memory. 

just a dream. 

[hawkinsmafia]

day 15 : photographs

featuring Dmitri Antonov x oc Lilibet Grey & oc Georgette Grey

summary: Georgette is struggling with being back in Hawkins, and Dmitri finds out exactly why his stepdaughter hates it here so much

rating: general

wc: 927

cw: mentions of past manipulation and revenge porn of a minor, unfavorable depiction of Tommy H.

an: written for the 200 Words Challenge. I’m having fun exploring this man. :) I think I hc him as a pretty decent cook, and definitely has high dexterity. also I’m in love with the idea that he gets himself a motorcycle in Hawkins. more biker representation pls!

Returning to Hawkins had had an effect on Georgette, Lilibet could see it the very same day they arrived. Her daughter was reverting back to the version of herself that hadn’t yet been to California, hadn’t made friends at Lenora High or had sleepovers at her house on Lonzo Way. The Georgette who didn’t fit in and didn’t have much to say. Even securing an early summer job at Main Street Vinyl hadn’t lifted her mood. Some of it, perhaps, could have been attributed to shyness around their new roommate, but Dmitri couldn’t be the source of all her malaise. Lilibet had seen with her own eyes that the two of them got along well enough; even Georgette’s aloof tuxedo cat, Count Ulfric Arpeggio, seemed to grudgingly accept Dmitri’s presence.

So while Dmitri was busy in the kitchen, prepping vegetables for dinner—he had insisted on taking care of meals for the family, wanting to pull his fair share of the weight even while he hadn’t yet found employment in Hawkins—Lilibet approached Georgette. Plopping down next to her on their new sofa, Lilibet cut right to the chase.

“Alright, so are you ready to tell me what’s going on yet?”

Georgette looked at her mother, brow furrowing. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why you’re retreating into your shell again,” Lilibet supplied. “As soon as we crossed the Hawkins town line, you started wilting. What’s happening?”

“Oh.” Georgette looked away, swallowing awkwardly. “You remember what happened.” She paused before adding, quietly, “With Tommy?”

An idle fury clawed Lilibet’s insides at the mention of the boy’s name, but she kept her face impassive. “Yes.”

“Yeah. Bet you’re not the only one.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Lilibet reached out and touched her daughter’s knee, rubbing it soothingly.

“It was just really nice being two thousand miles away from anyone who’d ever even heard of Tommy Hagan and had ever seen my boobs.”

The way her daughter’s head hung in shame made Lilibet’s heart hurt, and she wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. “It’s been two years, baby. I’m sure most people have forgotten it entirely, and the rest… well, fuck them. They don’t have photographic memories, and if all they have to do with their spare time is try to recall the details of those photos, that says a hell of a lot more about their pathetic selves than it does about you.”

“But we never got all the copies back,” Georgette said, her voice cracking as she spoke into her mother’s shoulder, “and they have to be out there somewhere. What if being back in Hawkins makes someone remember they have one in their desk drawer and it starts getting passed around again?”

That fury was still coiling in Lilibet’s chest, and she spoke in a tone that was carefully measured but still licked of flame. “If it resurfaces, then we’ll prosecute. You were sixteen years old, which makes it a felony to even have a copy in the first place. And this time we won’t have to trade that charge away as a bargaining chip to keep Jonathan out of jail.” She pulled away from Georgette, her hands holding Georgette’s shoulders, and met her daughter’s eyes head-on. “If anyone is still holding on to that photo, if they have one shred of intelligence in their skull, they’ll keep it to themselves.”

From behind them came the sound of a throat being cleared, and they looked over the back of the sofa to find Dmitri standing in the doorway, his chef knife in hand, bright orange flecks of carrot clinging to the blade.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, speaking very politely, “but I seem to have forgotten the onions.” His gaze settled on Georgette with a gentle smile. “Would you maybe have a few minutes to run out and purchase a bag for me?”

“Can I take your motorcycle?” she asked hopefully, but her mother cut in before Dmitri could respond.

“Absolutely not, but you can take my car.”

Georgette groaned, but pulled herself up off the couch and headed for the front door.

“And please don’t change the radio station presets!”

“I won’t,” she sighed with all the apathy of a beleaguered teenager, and closed the door behind her.

Dmitri waited a few more seconds before he spoke again. “Am I permitted to ask what that discussion was about?”

“You were eavesdropping?” Lilibet teased.

“I dropped no eaves, I was merely close enough to hear you. I cannot turn off my ears at will.”

With a sigh, Lilibet shifted on the couch, rising onto her knees on the cushions and turning toward the back of the couch to face Dmitri. “There was a boy Georgette had feelings for in high school, his name was Tommy Hagan. And Tommy decided to pretend he had feelings for her as well, as a joke. And apparently he was very convincing, because it went on for weeks, with Georgette thinking they were in love, and eventually she gave him a… let’s say, a very private photo of herself. By the next morning, he’d had hundreds of copies made and taped up all over the school for everyone to see.”

As Lilibet spoke, Dmitri’s expression hardened, his mouth a tight line, his eyes icy. He looked toward the front door again, then back to Lilibet.

“May I ask two more questions, my dove?”

She nodded, and the chef knife twirled in Dmitri’s grasp.

“Where is this Tommy Hagan now, and how dead would you like him to be?”

dividers by @saradika-graphics // photos suggested by @comfortably-obsessed-fangirl ♡

[justa-rat]

Pretty as Porcelain

May 13th,

Word Count:  571

I always hated my grandma's antique porcelain dolls. She had them poised up on the shelves of her guest bedroom, the same bedroom I was stuck in whenever I visited. The room itself was actually kinda comforting looking back on it. The twin bed was tucked snuggly in the far corner of the room, on the opposite side of the door. There was a large window on the far wall, centered in the middle and streaming in bounds of natural light. The bed had the most comfortable quilted blanket I had ever snuggled up into, and the pillows were always so soft. There were old looking bookshelves stuffed with tons of my favorites growing up. Next to the door sat the dresser, and to your right upon entering would be the closet. I had fond memories of playing with my cousins in that room, and some less pleasant ones from whenever we'd bicker and fight over who got what toy. It would have been perfect, if it wasn't for that shelf of stupid dolls. 

They'd be directly on your left as you walked in, on the same wall as the door. They perfectly lined up with the bed. One was a little maid, equipped with a feather duster stuck to her hand. She had curly brown hair and brown eyes, and wore the traditional dress and hair cap usually associated with the word 'maid'.  She sat on the far left. The second was a nurse, she in contrast, had short painted blonde hair, presumably tucked over the nurse hat she wore. It had one of those big red crosses on it. She had a tidy little nurse dress on, and the brightest color of blue eyes. She sat in the middle. The last and final doll had straight black hair. Her eyes were green, and she was dressed as a teacher. She wore a skirt and blouse, and had little wire glasses fashioned on. She held a book under her left arm, and she sat on the far right. They were old, old dolls. The hair - or what was left of it - had mostly fallen out. They had the eyelids too, the ones that shut when you laid them flat. I remember, because whenever I'd get too creeped out - I'd always reach up and lay them down so they couldn't stare at me so intently. 

Whenever my cousins were also staying over, it wasn't so bad. I could just pull the comforter over my head, and take comfort in my cousin snoozing in the sleeping bag on the floor. Other times it would be the other way around, we were told to take turns - especially if it was a long visit. My grandparents had a small house, so we didn't have enough beds for everyone. My parents would usually take the couch and the loveseat, and they'd give us the guest bedroom. 

It got weird whenever it was just me visiting, though. 

It started really small, Like sometimes I would wake up to find them all sitting upright - even though I was certain I had laid them down the night before. I'd tell my parents about it at breakfast, but they just told me I must have forgotten. I think they thought it was funny, how scared I was over a few dolls. These ones were different though, when you looked at them it felt like they were looking back. 

[theazkabandreamer]

200: Reckless

Lily was pacing across the living room.

“Of all the reckless, stupid things!” she stormed.

“Harry takes after me in some ways,” James said with a chuckle.

“Flying a car to Hogwarts. Flying a car to Hogwarts?! What on earth were they thinking?”

James adjusted his glasses before answering his wife.

“They weren’t thinking properly,” he said.

Lily stopped pacing to glare at her husband.

“Harry’s in enough danger already,” she said. “He almost died going after the Stone. He came so close to us back in June, we could almost touch him.”

“And he will come close to us again, but he needs to make mistakes in order to grow,” James said.

Lily sat down beside her husband.

“It’s a good thing we’re dead,” she said. “Because I would be sending him a howler just about now.”

James chuckled.

“I think Molly’s got that covered,” he said. “Harry’s got a dangerous year ahead of him. But he’ll come out stronger and he’ll be closer to defeating him.”

James and Lily shared a look and Lily’s brilliant green eyes shone brightly.

“That prophecy was the death of us,” she said. “I only hope it won’t be the death of Harry.”

[tyfinn]

David Takes Charge

#1 @a-noble-dragon @schittscreekdrabblechallenge

Prompt: Blood (CW: Brief mention of blood from a minor injury)

Fic below the cut

David had just finished the Valentine's Day window display when he heard the crash from the backroom. He learned years ago not to go running every time he heard a noise because nine times out of ten Patrick had everything under control. 

Today was the one time in ten. 

“Uh, David? Can you come here?” David stifled a gasp when he saw Patrick leaning against one of the shelves, blood dripping from a wide gash in his arm. Even though every fiber of his being wanted to scream, Patrick’s face told him he needed to take charge of the situation and not overreact. He saw a T-shirt on the chair.

“You can tell me what happened later. We need to wrap this around your arm. Do you think you can raise it above your head?” Patrick nodded. 

“I don’t feel well, David.”

“I know, honey. We need to leave, like now.”

“I’m gonna have a scar,” Patrick whined after they were settled in for the night. 

“Probably. But, hey, scars are sexy!”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” David kissed his drowsy husband and carefully checked him for any additional injuries. When he was satisfied Patrick was okay, he finally let himself relax. 

[jstarr86]

Saw others doing it so said f it and tried it’s terrible and suck somehow made 200 though maybe a couple over and also got inspired for something I’m working on so yeah and whoever wants to do the challenge have at it kinda fun hard to stay under 200 but fun

“What! What do you want!” I yelled tossing my hands up

“I want you to stop fucking running!” He yelled back angrily dark eyes ablaze. Any other circumstance he’d look hot but not right now. “Stop running and let me love you!”

“Who said I wanted love!”

“Than what’s all this been!”

“I ugh just shut up!”

“No and stop turning your back on me!”

“Tama stop.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“You wanna know why because eventually your gonna see I’m not worth it and your gonna leave just like everyone else I’m just gonna get hurt again.”

“Stop treating me like that asshole! When the fuck do I stop having to pay for his mistakes!”

“Look just leave.”

“No!”

“Your so fucking infuriating!”

“Like you aren’t! I’m still paying for shit your ex did!”

“What do you want me to say!”

“Stop running and admit it!”

“Fine I love you! fucking asshole!”

“What?” He said walking closer my back hitting the wall “say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smashed his lips to mine lifting me in his arms “took your stubborn ass long enough.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh baby I’m about to.”

[callsignhurricane]

golden hour

This is instalment n. 3 of @creativepromptsforwriting May Writing Challenge mixed with May Prompts.

I chose Matt Murdock x Reader because of Born Again and... He's a menace and I couldn't resist. Please remember that English is my second language and know that nobody else proofread this (like the youths say on AO3 "no beta we die like men").

If you read this, thank you! <3

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The first hour after traumatic injuries is crucial.

The second you finish his call, your instincts take over. It doesn’t matter the unholy time, you start pulling strings, knowing whatever happened to him must be kept secret. Afterwards, you give him specifics on where to go and who to talk to… And state you’re going to be there. He protests. You declare he doesn’t have a choice.

As promised, you get there before him, but the only thing you get to say before he loses his senses to the anesthesia is that you’re going to be by his side when he wakes up.

You lose track of time… You only realize it’s morning when gold and red win over the night’s black. You look at him, still sleeping despite the light, and doubt if he’s real or not. Without thought, you reach for one of his wrists to feel his pulse. It’s weak, but stable. You sigh, relieved.

He finally wakes up… And the way he murmurs your name will haunt you forever. In another impulse, the fingers of your other hand run through his hair… And your heart rattles in its cage when he finally leans in your touch.