#OG Writing Post

[peakyscillian]

Hello! Can I slide in and request number 2 with Cillian for your prompt list thing. Please and thank you 😊🩵

Hey Scarlett!! Of course you can 😘

Obvious

Once again just fluff!

'Giggling about how their friends haven’t found out about them yet even though they’re being so obvious.'

Obvious

She followed him back into the pub, fingers tangled together as they headed back to the table full of their oblivious friends.

Cillian turned to her with a smirk after a few minutes of rejoining the conversation, she flicked a look across the table before she swiped her thumb across the dark red lipstick mark at the corner of his mouth.

The same shade she had painted on her lips.

No one at the table had even noticed that going for a smoke had ended up with them being all over each other on the deserted street.

It had been weeks, they'd been so glaringly obvious since the morning she'd woke up in his bed with a blinding headache and a satisfying ache between her legs.

Maybe it was the fact all their friends were used to their flirty behaviour, the way Cillian always held her hand when they were leaving the pub, how she always ended up staying the night at his.

Hours later in the taxi home, she's giggling into the warm skin of his neck as he laughs about how obvious they'd been all evening.

-

Send me a prompt from this list & get a little blurb!

-

Taglist

@cillmequick @runnning-outof-time @look-at-the-soul @heidimoreton @gypsy-girl-08 @creativepawsworld @zablife @cillixn @forgottenpeakywriter @thomasshelbee @shelbydelrey @missymurphy1985 @janelongxox @queenshelby @lyarr24 @ysmmsy @woofgocows @allie131313 @cloudofdisney @elenavampire21 @datewithgianni @magicalpieex @midnightswithdearkatytspb @midnightmagpiemama @being-worthy @radioheadgirl @vhscillian @camilleholland89 @cilliansangel @uchihacumdump @inkandpen22 @anotherhitandrun @alreadybroken-ts @already-broken144 @flyingjosephine-blog @moral-terpitude @duckybird101 @stevie75 @blyanyan @flippittygibbitts @lostgirl219 @stars-of-scorpio @winchestergirl22 @moral-turpitudes @otterly-fey @gotohellandbackforyou @tinyminxie

[clown-owo]

not pictured: Acht flashback to growing up hearing DJ Octavio say vaguely gay shit about the captain of the Squidbeak Splatoon

[randomgooberness]

Whole-heartedly BEGGING writers to unlearn everything schools taught you about how long a paragraph is. If theres a new subject, INCLUDING ACTIONS, theres a new paragraph. A paragraph can be a single word too btw stop making things unreadable

EDIT: hey if youre here at the source of this post please read my webcomic, @killcount ! I post twice a week and I’ve been working on it for almost 5 years. Please check it out- as I want it to be my lifes work and I want to get away from my awful job and do my real passion for a living. Thank you

[krazieka2]

I've played the Fire Emblem Husbando Dating Simulator Games

[glupshittostan]

this is actually how blind betrayal went down

[turrondeluxe]

i gave up not even halfway there but something something Taller Kenshi

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Get Souped!

[lazarusemma]

Nov 6 - Cas is

Nov 11 - He’s

Nov 18 - Sam says Mia says journaling helps. Sure.

Nov 19 - Should’ve been me.

Nov 20 - Sam, if you’re reading this thing, I’ll kick your ass.

Nov 21 - Spaghetti for dinner. Cas still dead. Journaling still stupid.

Nov 24 - I should’ve said

Nov 25 - Should’ve told him.

Nov 26, Thanksgiving - Not a whole lot of thanks around here. Thanks for dying in front of me, man. Thanks for saying all that. Thanks for disappearing again before I

Nov 30 - C not back.

Dec 5 - 1 month. C gone. J quiet. S annoying.

Dec 6 - Least Sam’s alive.

Dec 8 - [drawing of Castiel, half sketched]

Dec 10 - Not much of a friggin’ artist huh.

Dec 26 - No miracle.

Dec 31 - Gonna be another year without 

2021

Jan 1, New Year’s - Midnight alone. You should be here. You should

Jan 2 - I should’ve

Jan 5 - 2 months

Feb 5 - 3 months since I should’ve fucking kissed you.

Feb 28 - If this was a leap year man I bet you’d be back tomorrow you always did shit like that surprised the hell out of me.

Mar 1 - So it goes.

Mar 2 - S thought the library here had Vonnegut. Didn’t.

Mar 5 - 4 months Went to get a library card in town.

Mar 11 - “And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.”

Mar 30 - Sam might have a hunt for us. Don’t know if

Mar 31 - Turned it down. Passed it to Jody’s crew.

Apr 1, April Fool’s - Real funny C. Joke's over. Come back already.

Apr 9 - There’s things I can’t say things I’ve never been good at saying but you gotta know

Apr 29 - He didn’t know he didn’t know he didn’t know he didn’t

May 5 - You died not knowing, you asshole. 6 months and you’re not back so I can’t tell you.

May 6 - You missed Star Wars day, you know.

May 7 - Didn’t even Han you. Well I didn't know did I.

May 8 - Did I?

May 9 - Maybe I

May 26 - “How nice — to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.”

June 5 - 7

July 5 - 8

Aug 5 - 9

Aug 6 - What if you don’t

Aug 10 - You missed my birthday. S’s too. J’s.

Aug 11 - If you can hear me

Aug 12 - What would he even

Sept 5 - Nearly crashed the car today. S had to drive. Banged up my head leaning on the window in the backseat like a kid. 10

Sept 6 - Researching.

Sept 7 - Ain’t fair you missed a whole year. Gonna have a lot of catch up to play when

Sept 8 - …when we get you back.

Sept 18 - Been 12 years. You believe that, Cas? Since I came back. Since you brought me back. Guess I hoped today would be the magic bullet to getting you back. Like you’d tip your head at me and say Hello Dean. And I’d tell you how I raised you from perdition. Whatever. Just a day I guess. Universe doesn’t care it’s our anniversary

Sept 19 - Still gonna say it though. When it works.

Oct 5 - 11. It’s gonna work

Oct 31, Halloween - Never got to put you in a dumb matching costume. Next year though.

Nov 4 - Can’t sleep. Sam says time is powerful magic or some shit like that. Says an anniversary can have echoes. So we’re trying it tomorrow. God, this better work. Cas, you hear me? We’re coming for you. I’ve been praying all year and I’m hearing nothing back. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Gonna get this stuck mouth of mine to make good. It’s just the words, even on paper, they don’t—Tomorrow though, tomorrow I’m telling you everything. Promise.

Nov 5 - Today.

Nov 6 - !!! 🙂🙂🙂🙂

^ heh. check out this dork

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2 memes because i think they're funny

[starlightvld]

Up in Smoke

(Also on AO3)

The first time Ghost rips the cigarette from Soap's mouth, drops it on the ground, and stomps on it as he passes by, Soap is too stunned to say anything for a full ten seconds. They've only been working together consistently for a couple of missions, and even as his superior officer, the audacity of the action floors him.

By the time his brain restarts, Ghost is long gone.

--

The second time Ghost steals Soap's cigarette, he bursts out in a string of Scottish curses and tackles Ghost from behind before the wanker can drop it on the ground. An impromptu sparring match ensues, fists and curses flying. 

Afterward, he doesn't feel much like a cigarette anymore — not with the split lip, anyway. Besides, the buzzing under his skin that usually drives him to smoke is just... gone.

Price catches wind of the incident, of course, and calls them into his office a few hours later. By that time Soap has calmed down enough to be... maybe not okay with it, but at least able to see the humor. 

"What's this about you muppets scuffling by the smoking area?"

"Just a little sparring to blow off steam," Soap says.

"Ghost?"

"Nothin' to worry about, Captain."

"No? I've got one soldier who looks like he just got back from a bar fight, and the other..." He squints at Ghost. "He get a hit in on you, too?"

"Yeah," Ghost replies in that deadpan tone of his. "Coupla black eyes."

It's a joke. 

Ghost is telling a joke. And it's objectively not funny. It's not. But Soap bursts into hysterical laughter all the same. 

The corners of Ghost's blacked-out eyes crinkle. 

Price rubs his temples before dropping his hand on his desk. Soap presses his lips together to contain his laughter.

"Sparring happens in the gym. I'm sure you know the place. It's where we have things like mats and gloves. I catch you two bare-knuckle fighting again, and you will regret it."

And it's enough to sober Soap up. He avoids Ghost as he ducks away to catch dinner.

--

The third time... well, no. He supposes that's really the fourth time. 

Because the actual third time, Soap had come back from a shit mission where everything went wrong. Intel was faulty, exfil was delayed, and people under his command died. It didn't happen as often in SAS as it had in the regulars — the soldiers here were well-trained and hard to kill — but that made it all the worse. 

When Ghost tried to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, Soap growled. 

"Back the fuck up, Lt. Or Price is gonna be disappointed in both of us."

Ghost paused, and their eyes met. Slowly, Ghost lowered his hand. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck no."

"Thank God."

Soap didn't have it in him to even huff a laugh. He took a long drag and blew the smoke away from Ghost as a peace offering.

To his surprise, Ghost didn't leave. He spun around and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They stood there together, utterly silent, as Soap let the heat and sting in his lungs soothe the beast inside that wanted to rip the world apart.

When he was done, though, he was surprised to find he didn't want another. Usually after shit missions, he'd stand there and smoke half a pack before his hands would stop shaking.

He finally met Ghost's eyes. The man quirked a barely visible brow.

"S'pose we should take it to the mats this time?"

Ghost pushed off the building and started walking. Soap followed like a lost child looking for a way home. 

--

The fourth time is in Chicago. His hands are shaking not from losing soldiers but from almost losing his own life. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he stands outside the bar, the biting wind turning his fingers and probably his lips blue. He lifts it to his mouth, inhaling deep—

And then it's gone.

The whine that bubbles up from his gut and bursts from his throat is nothing short of humiliating. But God. God. He needs it.

"Not now. Please, Ghost."

"Why?"

Ghost hasn't thrown the cigarette down. Yet. He cocks his head to the side and gives Soap a long look. Soap can only tremble from the cold and a need that goes deeper than a simple hit of nicotine.

"I just... I need it."

The cigarette drops to the ground, but Soap doesn't have time to lament the loss before that same hand is curling around Soap's neck and pulling him into a fucking massive chest. The other arm comes around Soap's shoulders and...

Ghost just stands there, holding him. And Soap can't help melting into the warmth and solidity of the man who saved his life just hours ago. He dares to curl in deeper. To raise his hands and clutch at Ghost's jacket. To let a few, silent tears escape his tight control.

Finally, his muscles relax. Ghost must feel it, because he turns and leads Soap back toward the bar.

"Why do ye even care?" Soap mumbles from his spot tucked into Ghost's side.

"Because those things'll kill ya."

Soap supposes the "I like you alive" is implied at this point.

--

Soap loses count after Chicago. He gets stretches of days when Ghost is on a solo op or out with one of the other operators when he can smoke in peace. So he does.

At first.

He's been hooked since he was a rebellious teen trying to make his mark on the world. He's tried to quit multiple times, but it never seems to stick. The first bad mission or adrenaline-filled near miss and he's back at whatever smoking spot he can find, puffing away.

He finds himself trying to cut back, though, even when Ghost is away.

Any time Ghost is on base, all bets are off. In addition to darting by and making a grab for it or sneaking up behind him and flicking it out of his hands, Ghost has gotten more creative. Sometimes Soap will pull out a cigarette only to find he's "lost" his lighter. Sometimes the cigarettes themselves go missing — he clutches his chest and mourns all that wasted money whenever a whole pack disappears. 

He supposes it's all just going up in smoke anyway, though.

He should be angry. But in truth, it's almost a relief to hand over the reins to Ghost. To let the man help him by annoying the shit out of him until he wants to give up on it entirely.

Which is definitely the point. Ghost has made that perfectly clear.

So, whenever he gets the urge to calm his racing thoughts or overactive mind with a cigarette, he finds Ghost and annoys him instead. They talk, or spar, or simply sit in silence together, doing their own thing. Ghost doesn't often touch him — their moment in Chicago is still the closest Soap's ever gotten to the elusive Ghost — but he also doesn't push Soap away when he slumps into Ghost's side after a hard day or leans over his back when he's sitting at the table in the 141's common area on base.

The urge doesn't go away, of course. And sometimes, when things get really bad, Ghost will just sit or stand with him like he did the third time. Still, he finds himself smoking less and hanging out with Ghost more.

--

The last time Ghost steals a cigarette from Soap, he simply stands beside Soap and holds out his hand. Soap immediately knows something has gone terribly wrong. Still, he's too invested in the game now to not hand the cigarette over.

He nearly keels over when Ghost pulls up his mask and takes a long, hard drag. Soap watches in fascination as his cheeks hollow, his neck muscles strain, his lips curve around the paper. It's erotic in a way he really shouldn't be thinking about in regards to his emotionally unavailable superior officer, but the knowledge hasn't stopped him yet. Since that day in Chicago — probably before if he's honest — he's only ever wanted to be closer.

Ghost coughs a little and hands the cigarette back.

"Fuck. Just as disgusting as I remember."

"Ye used to smoke, then?"

"Before I joined up, yeah. Hated it, though."

"The smell? Or—"

"Everything. The taste, the smell, the heat..." Ghost trails off, his hand rubbing over his bicep in a strangely specific way. He shakes his head and looks back at Soap. "Not your problem, Johnny. Forget about it."

Soap's hand is darting out, fingers curling into Ghost's jacket, before he's properly thought through the action. Ghost pauses before turning back. They stare in silence for a moment until—

Soap stubs out the half-burned cigarette and drops the butt in the trash. He licks his lips. Glances up at Ghost. The mask is still sitting on his nose, and Soap stares at his lips for longer than he should before pulling the pack out of his pocket and throwing it in the trash, too.

"Cannae have ye thinking I stink, can I?"

"Too late."

But Ghost's throat bobs with a hard swallow. Soap wets his lips, takes a step closer, and uncurls his fingers to slide his hand up Ghost's chest until his fingertips are resting on Ghost's shirt collar.

"I dinnae think it is."

Ghost turns and walks away. Soap closes his eyes and drops his hand, internally cursing his impulsive behavior. The scuffing of boots walking away from him is like nails on a chalk board.

Until they stop, and a gruff voice calls out, "You comin'?"

A slow smile slides across Soap's mouth. "No' yet."

A huff — exasperation? laughter? a bit of both? — before, "Better get movin' then."

And Soap has never been more glad to follow an order.

[gentil-minou]

Wei Wuxian licks his lips and leans forward slightly, walking his fingers across the countertop aimlessly toward Lan Zhan. “You know, Lan Zhan,” he drawls, “A-Yuan says we’re both in the book.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan responds, tracking the path of his fingers intently, “I am apparently Hanguang-jun, the moral upstanding hero.”

“And I’m the devious Yiling Loazu, who led you astray,” he smirks, peering at Lan Zhan through his lashes.

Lan Zhan meets his stare, head-on, lit from within like molten sunshine. “No,” he corrects, “not astray, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian tilts his head, waiting for him to continue. His fingers stop their dancing, resting just inches away from Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan shifts his own hand, bringing them even closer, their fingertips almost brushing.  

“The Yiling Loazu did not lead Hanguang-jun astray,” he says, eyes piercing as they flicker between Wei Wuxian’s. “They were partners, and…”

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian breathes, “the decent romance?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t answer, watching him closely. The pupils of his eyes have grown so large there’s only the tiniest ring of gold around the edge. He can see himself reflected in the black. He thinks he likes the version of himself that lives in Lan Zhan’s eyes.

They’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the other to take a step forward, bracing for a fall.

It should be terrifying, this sudden drop into something completely new, something entirely unknown yet so familiar. But Wei Wuxian is filled with conviction that no matter what, Lan Zhan will catch him.

It's as electrifying as it is calming, this certainty that here, with Lan Zhan, he is safe.

Wei Wuxian tilts his head to the side in a way he knows sets the unmarked skin of his neck on display. “I’m sure it was more than just decent, with a handsome hero like Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Zhan quirks an eyebrow, his gaze resting on the curve of Wei Wuxian’s neck, just as he’d hoped. "Handsome?"

“Well,” Wei Wuxian responds, tapping his index finger so it brushes against Lan Zhan’s fingertips. His skin is soft and perfect, just like the rest of him. “He isn’t wrong. You’re very handsome, Lan Zhan.”

“Really, Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan says, voice quiet and deep.

“Yep, definitely worthy of being compared to the beautiful Second Jade of Lan.”

“Is that so?” Lan Zhan shifts closer, the smell of him filling up Wei Wuxian. He smells so familiar, like something he knows intimately. Sandalwood, Wei Wuxian realizes, with sudden clarity.

Lan Zhan continues, “I would love to hear more about your opinion on my beauty and prestige, Wei Ying.”

“You don’t know anything about me, Lan Zhan. Why would you care what I think?”

Lan Zhan tilts his head, only just. “Do I need to? To want to know how your brain works?”

I commissioned this lovely artwork by the wonderful @lotuslate of a scene from my fic, once upon a time, 很久很久以前 where the entire cultivation world is cursed to live in the modern world without their memories and abilities, but of course wangxian find a way to fall in love all over again.

[loriache]

Privilege of the Living: Yakisoba

Gen, Senshi & Falin Touden, Marcille Donato & Falin Touden (pre-farcille), Falin Touden & Laios Touden, 2.9K Senshi meets a Falin Touden who survived the dragon, and they eat mushroom yakisoba.

Senshi always felt nervous on the top level, even though it had been quite a few years since it had joined up with the dungeon proper. He tried to reach for the serenity that he’d found within his decades-old routines, but away from his usual haunts, it was harder.

There were even more people than the last time he’d been up here. Senshi probably hadn’t seen as many people since Izganda, when he’d been a bairn. He was satisfied to have reached a fulfilling adulthood after his troubled and ill-fitting youth, but in these sorts of situations, he had no choice but to admit that he could probably get by in proper civilisation even worse now than he’d done back then.

Keep Reading

[mikaikaika]

Tubbo was giving Forever a pep talk cause Forever was freaking out and the chat was just going "well Tubbo would know about presidential duties wouldn't he"

[marcskywalker]

Wait I just thought of it.

Imagine au where after merlin confesses to his magic, at the end he was somehow able to save Arthur. They make it back to Camelot but there is some awkwardness between the two, like they've forgotten how to act around eo.

After years of hiding, Merlin is hesitant to show Arthur his magic, to make himself vulnerable to his King in that way. And Arthur takes longer to believe merlin's stories, there are more questions and double takes than there used to be.

Merlin tries to return the sigil one day, thinking that he doesn't deserve to have it since he doesn't have Arthur's full and unwavering trust any more (his words not the king's).

Arthur presses it back into his palms, "It's a gift, Merlin. You keep those."

obviously inspired by:

[moon1ee]

there is something to be said about jimmy’s death. something to be said about a curse looming over his head that they keep mentioning, as if repetition will dull the pain, will cause the bleeding wound to scab over and form calluses. something to be said about bdubs throwing himself forward, shouting “KILL ME”, something about joel trying to sacrifice himself. the love was there. so was the fear. the canary sings a warning. then comes the bloodshed.

grian watches joel out of the corner of his eye, taking slow steps over the ramshackle bridge that looks over the server. joel sprints ahead, careless, movements strange and distorted, body tensed, fingers curling. the setting sun flashes red back into his eyes. a bloodied reflection. he is being reckless. he is going crazy. grian remembers last life, remembers passing through and hearing joel’s ear-spitting screaming, remembers cracking open a laugh as bloodlust that should not exist under stained green thrums through him. HOW ARE YOU DOING, JOEL, he called, and there is a snarl in response. “going a bit mad, going a bit MENTAL.”

joel was, in a word. dedicated. the best of them. the worst of them. grian remembers a pack of wolves, remembers fingers curling into pale fur, remembers agonized cries as the dogs fell.

he cannot ignore the similarities. run, rabbit, run.

he makes plans, he plots. he feels the time tick down. sends down explosives. one takes out four. he laughs, ear-splitting, thinks, i’m learning.

four. five. six. seven. he loses count. he doesn't stop.

joel’s teeth keep flashing.

grian sneaks down, around, ducks his head, whispers allyship to bigb and pearl, feels eyes humming around them.

he will not stop planning. he needs allies, in a place like this, after he loses his.

joel, he says, just kill me. the man glances at him, once, does not respond.

into battle they go. smoke rises in his lungs. scar, grinning, scar, falling, scar, protesting not to kill his beloved animal.

grian sees a creeper sneak up behind him, almost hisses a warning, stops himself. waits. watches. scar turns his head, jumps back, laughing. he has learned, too.

joel’s time is running out. grian runs after him.

joel is being reckless. he goes after scar. JOEL JUST KILL ME, grian shouts. "NO, NOT YOU," joel screams. "I'LL KILL HIM INSTEAD."

grian remembers a hand that stayed ever dedicated to the coming winter.

DO IT, and joel splits him, and then someone else, and then dies, the absolute fucking idiot, and they are. back where they started. or maybe right where they will end.

joel looks rabid in the moonlight. grian makes plans for when he is gone.

joel, just take one of my lives. just do it. "no," joel says, turning around, eyes searching frantically for something, for butter yellow canary wings that do not fill the space any longer, hands reaching to claw around grian's wrists, nails stinging, drawing blood. "you have to win," he says, pleads, begs, "for us. you have to."

grian says nothing.

joel is being reckless. he runs ahead. “scar-“ grian swallows down the name, frantic at the flash of red rushing off without him. JOEL.

lightning, singing his back. he turns. silent. shocked. remembers a hand’s agonized scream. remembers an attempt at revenge that ended him.

the bad boys were never that army of dogs in renchanting, were never loyal enough for it. too brittle, too untrusting, even jimmy. especially jimmy.

there is a tombstone. grian does not grieve. his sorrow is short-lived. he has a new alliance now, new loyalties. ones that may be smarter. it is for the best.

tick tick tick.

his wrists still ache.

edit: cross-posted on ao3!

[miliamin1]

I'm still thinking about that damn crypt date

Wednesday only said yes cause solitude was hurting her after Enid left

the location? Enid's idea

movie? about a cheery blonde

Thornhill? aware that Wednesday was missing Enid

how am i not supposed to have a take away that their manipulation plan had clause "misplace and exploit her feelings for Enid"