Do you experience irritation and sensitivity when searching your favorite tags on AO3? You may be one of millions of people affected by low rates of sex pollen in the Good Omens fandom!
Try these simple strategies to keep symptoms under control:
Increase exposure to sex pollen triggers by joining the Spring Is Here! High Pollen Count event on discord, where all fanworks are welcome and the only rule is "sex pollen!"
Monitor tumblr and AO3 when sex pollen counts are high, such as when posting begins on April 22 through the unofficial end of the season on May 22
When these remedies are not enough, contact local health authorities @adverbian, @malachitegrey, @voluptatiscausa, and @vulvnerable or read the fine print below
Please take care of yourself and those you love by treating your sex pollen deficiency today!
FAQ:
1. What are the rules?
Be chill, tag appropriately.
2. How does this work?
Sign up for a posting date, and when that day comes post a sex pollen fanwork and add it the AO3 collection. Yes, that's really it!
3. Does it have to be pollen?
Not at all my dear! Anything that can be classified as "outside substance compels you to do something" is welcome.
4. Does it have to be explicit?
No my darling honeypie! This is an 18+ only event due to the whole. Sex Pollen. Thing. BUT, you want cuddle pollen? A love potion? Wanna write just the aftermath? That's all good! "Foreign substance changes intimacy levels" is the brief.
5. Does it have to be a fic?
No, lambkins. Art is also very welcome here. You can also do collabs at will! Pair up with a writer/artist! Triple up! Quadruple up!
6. I...need a prompt
Well good news me fine jacksauce we have a prompts doc!
7. Is there a minimum or maximum word count?
No! Go to town! Or just to the corner. Whatever. We're not cops.
8. I still have questions
@ a mod babe!
9. Why are you calling me pet names in the FAQ?
Why don't you like it 🥺
10. I mean it's fine it's just not very professional
If you're looking for professional you're in the wrong server/event sugartits!
Here's the discord link again as a reward for reading to the end! Pollen away!
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omg same anon here that requested the model soobin + designer reader that was so good aoaajddkjjjs&#@*kdj thank you ☆_☆
also i feel like i might have sent a similar ask to the following (maybe tumblr ate it) but if no one yet has straight up asked for taehyun fandancer au then plz taehyun fandancer au. and/or any other txt members in the same au if you want (no pressure to again though it's ok !!!)
I am so late...it's fine it's fine it's fine LMAO anyway idk if anyone is still looking for their drabbles from the summertime fest, but I'm trying to do them now - hope y'all enjoy :)
this is an excerpt from a fic idea I'm trying to flesh out; it might be a little confusing but here's the gist - fan dancer mc is trying to hide soobin, the missing crown prince, from those who want to kill him, and in the meantime taehyun is trying to court them and mc desperately wants to say yes but can't because caring for soobin is first priority (they promised a friend). horrible dilemmas I feel for mc so bad (I want taehyun too </3)
summertime drabble fest: send me an idol from the list (Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, Seventeen) + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!
REQUESTS CLOSED!
~
Title: In the Eyes of the Night
Pairing: Taehyun x gender neutral!reader
Word count: 2.1k
Genre: slight angst, fan dancer!mc and nobility!Taehyun
Warnings: mentions of blood
~
Once backstage you nearly fall onto one of the benches behind the gauzy curtains that frame the dais, dropping your fans and gingerly taking off first your shoes, then the wrappings around your feet. They come away sweaty and smelly, which is only to be expected, but a pained hiss escapes your lips as you peel cloth off the blisters that burst during your time on the stage, leaving stains of yellow and red on the fabric.
Your stomach drops. It's not as if you had expected anything less, not after what happened last night, but seeing the mess of blood and pus in the light somehow makes it all worse.
"Need some help?" Juyeon's deep voice sounds overhead. You meet his concerned smile with a wry grimace of your own. "Don't worry about me," you reply, already grabbing one of the clean towels nearby. "Your performance is next, right? You should go prepare. I'll be fine."
His eyes flicker over to the clock on the wall and a grimace of his own passes over his lips as he registers how little time he has left. "I'll send someone with water," he promises. "Clean your feet properly."
"Thanks, Juyeon. I'll be fine," you reassure him, even as the stinging pain threatens to bring tears to your eyes. "It's just a few blisters."
Juyeon disappears into the gauzy curtains, and you take the moment alone to stretch your feet onto the bench. Stars above, your legs ache something awful. Normally you would just attribute this to the endless cycle of performance and practice, but all that running around yesterday took everything out of you. The adrenaline of the chase, the fear that you would be caught, captured - or even worse, that the prince you were hiding would be seen -
Not for the first time, you curse your friend in the shadows for saddling you with the responsibility of a missing prince. How do you hide a prince in your own tiny room? How do you keep him out of sight but still get him food, get him water, get him the basic things he needs to survive? She didn't tell you anything when she dumped him on you, didn't tell you anything except that he was the prince who the royal family had declared missing and that you needed to hide him or else people would kill him.
You're not an assassin. You're nothing special, not like she is. You can't use a knife. You can't wield a sword. You're just a fan dancer and nothing else and the responsibility of a prince is going to kill you, if it doesn't kill him first.
Ugh. You rest a hand on your heart, forcing deep breaths. "Everything is fine," you mutter to yourself, as though saying it aloud will make it true. It is true, in a way. Your prince wasn't seen last night, for all the danger you were in. He wasn't captured. He wasn't killed. You were able to distract those who would hunt him, even if your bare feet and legs took more cuts than you were used to on the sharp stones outside. Even if it took all of your remaining energy not to collapse in a heap of silk and fans onstage.
Gahyeon comes running over with a small basin of cold water. You thank her, brush her away when she offers to help, and begin cleaning up the mess of blood on your stinking feet. As soon as it's all cleared away and you've wrapped the open sores in clean bandages, you force yourself to stand and limp to your room. With every step, pain hisses up your legs, but you make it there in the end.
You tap the door slightly, knocking once, twice, three times in a pattern to announce your presence. When a few knocks sound in return, you slide it open and step inside, closing it quickly behind you.
Soobin sits in the corner of the room, looking small and hunched over for all his height. His eyes are dull, despondent. "Hello," he mumbles.
All of your previous curses about the responsibility of a prince melt away, replaced by pity in the face of the crown prince's misery. "Hello, Your Highness," you murmur respectfully. "Are you well?"
"I'm fine," he replies quickly, which is how you know he isn't. "Are your feet alright?"
"Just a few cuts and blisters." You smile a little, trudging over to the small mirror set on one of the walls. "I'll survive."
"...I'm so sorry."
"There is no need to be," you respond firmly, turning around from touching up your makeup. "You are my prince and I swore an oath to our friend in the shadows to keep you safe. If I have to bear some pain in my feet for it, no matter. I'm a dancer, anyway." You smile at him. "I'm used to it."
He doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't try to apologize again, so you count that as a win. "You said someone helped you last night," he says, changing the subject.
Your eyebrows furrow. "Yes," you reply lowly, unwanted memories rushing back of shadows and snarls and blades flashing in the moonlight - and above all, one familiar voice shouting for you to run as his sword slashed down, starlight shimmering on the metal.
Your heart skips a beat. Taehyun Kang. In the moment, when you couldn't breathe and couldn't think, you couldn't believe it was him. But you've replayed those seconds over and over in your mind, and there's no question anymore. Taehyun of the family Kang, one of the middle nobility who frequents your performances and has been trying to court your interest for almost two months...
He saved you. And you can't even thank him, because he didn't see your face, and you can't reveal that that was you.
"Did you see who they were?" Soobin asks.
You wipe your fingers on a towel by the mirror, eyes carefully downcast. "No," you reply, and truth be told, you're not sure why you lie. Maybe because you want to keep this moment to yourself. Maybe because deep down, you aren't sure it was really him.
Maybe because you don't want to acknowledge how hard this makes everything, knowing that you owe Taehyun your life when all he professes to want is your love - and you can't even give him that, however you might want to, for fear that your duty to a missing prince will come to light and all your shadow friend's carefully-laid plans will be ruined.
"I must go now," you say, turning back around. A pair of soft slippers waits by your door and you slip them over your bandaged feet, wincing. You cast the missing prince a soft smile. "I'll be back later, with some food and water."
Soobin nods. He looks exhausted. "Thank you."
With a final smile, you slip out of the room and step lightly down the halls, forcing yourself not to limp the entire way.
. . .
Back in the crowded main hall, Jinyoung waves you over the second you step in his direction. "Can you take the section in the corner?" he asks, gesturing to an area close to the stage.
For the second damn time that evening, your heart skips a beat. Because before you even look over, you know who will be in that section. At least who will be taking one of the tables there.
Taehyun.
"Of course," you say anyway, because while Taehyun's stare may be unrelenting, he's never disrespectful - in fact, it's cute when his friends tease him for his never-ending stare and his cheeks tint with more blush than you can attribute to the alcohol. And you can't lie - you like seeing him. You like being around him. He makes you feel comfortable in a way few other men have, and even if he's been clear with his intentions, he's never forced you to make an answer to him, only greeted you with kindness and care.
Gods above, your heart aches to finally say yes to one of his offers - to buy you a drink, to take you for a meal, to walk with you on the shoreline under the night sky. How could you not, when those sparkling eyes shine at you with all the grace and care in the world? But you can't sacrifice your duty to a missing prince for even a few nights spent in Taehyun's arms - it's too dangerous, with your friend in the shadows gone. Until she returns, and who knows when that will be, you must stay put.
A wry smile curls your lips. Stars, it would be so much easier if he were less easy to fall for.
Someone hands you a tray of drinks, and you begin to make your way through the chaos. The first group that waves you over isn’t his. It’s a rowdy group of sailors who laugh a little too much and talk a little too loudly, but they’re harmless as they thank you for the several glasses of alcohol that you pour out on their table. The second group isn’t his either, nor the third, nor the fourth. Slowly, you wade through the chaos, flashing a pretty smile at everyone who deigns to meet your eye, filling orders as fast as you can until you find yourself near the stage.
The music is louder here, and it slowly thrums its way through your body, settling your heart. Beomgyu is dancing now and you allow your eyes to meet his once, an encouraging smile on your lips just before you turn to serve the table to your right. Then you turn to the left.
Taehyun's small group is a friendly sight to your eyes. Your smile grows a little as you pour out their usual drinks, laughing and bantering as they thank you. By the time you've reached Taehyun, who is on the other side of the table, you feel somewhat better.
"Good evening, my lord." You smile softly, taking in the empty glass before him. "Would you like your usual?"
"No, Y/N, I'll be fine for tonight." His voice, soft-spoken as always and so different from the commanding shout that rang through the air last night, fusing you with the energy and adrenaline to run. And all of a sudden you're back in that moment, under the dark sky, cornered, feet bleeding, breath sharp and fast with panic...
"Y/N?"
You force yourself to breathe. To come back to earth. You dig your foot into one of the floorboards and the pain that flares from one of the blisters forces you to focus. "I apologize," you say quietly, ignoring the strange look that Taehyun is giving you now. He can't know. He won't know -
"You're limping."
His words pierce through the fog of your thoughts, hitting your ears with a startling precision.
You’re limping.
You straighten immediately, ignoring how the pain in your feet flares when you do. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re limping,” he repeats, and one glance at him is all you need to know that you didn’t convince him at all. The dark eyes that stare at you with so much intensity fall down to the floor where your feet stand, hidden beneath your robes. When he looks back up, only gentle concern floats in his magnetic irises. “Are you all right?”
Something in his voice almost makes you tell the truth, that no, you aren’t quite fine, you probably shouldn’t have danced today but you had no choice when the only other option was to explain where all the sores in your feet came from - and for a moment, you almost feel tears well up in your eyes. What is it with him, this noble with eyes as intense as his voice can be gentle, this son of a lord who has never once taken his eyes from you but always manages to stare with a respectful distance, never once making you feel like something less than human?
Why is he so perfect, and why is it that for all he wants you, you can't have him?
But training kicks in, the easy, bland smile lifting the corners of your lips as your exchange begins to catch the attention of the rest of his friends. Just in time, really, though there is still a little ache in your chest when you nod. “I’m fine,” you say. “Thank you for your concern, my lord, but I assure you I’m all right.” You turn away from their table, then, making sure not to limp on your way.
No matter how much it kills your feet to do so.
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