#feel free to send more prompts!!!

[hidingoutbackstage]

Uhh I’m in a creative block so I can’t give you a specific prompt per se, but something Chamberfield 👀 for love and yuri?

Hell yeah peace love and yuri (putting beneath a cut so as not to clog anyone’s dash but yuri should NEVER be hidden <3 so pls read)

Claire was a special kind of homesick. The kind where she was sitting here, in her two bedroom apartment, at the table eating cereal she’d gotten from the grocery store down the street, while wearing cozy pajamas. In all perspectives, she couldn’t be more home. And yet here she was, missing home desperately, because home wasn’t the two wooden chairs where one slightly rocks and the other creaks when sat on, home wasn’t the couch from a a garage sale with a few cigarette burns and various stains, home wasn’t the nightlight in her bedroom that she’d had since she was a child to keep her from waking up terrified and screaming in the dark.

Home was a person, a person who was currently halfway around the world, a person who Claire could feel as she wore said person’s cozy sweatshirt, as she gazed happily at a framed photo of the two of them on the windowsill, as her sloppy handwritten grocery list hung from the fridge with a heart shaped magnet. Despite the lingering feeling of her presence, Rebecca, Claire’s home, was not here, and Claire was getting sick with yearning.

Claire sighed, finally picking up her phone. She told herself she wouldn’t do this today, but to hell with it. She was missing her girlfriend more and more by the day, and she was growing sick of wanting. She flipped open her phone and went into her contacts. To hell with international cell phone charges too.

Of course Becky picked up, because it was Claire who was calling her. Claire half-expected her significant other to lecture her first about being unable to go a day without talking to her, but that never came. She simply answered the phone with a smile apparent in her voice. She called Claire “darling” as she always did, in that sing-song way she was so fond of that made Claire’s heart melt a little bit.

Bashfully, as if they were teenagers, Claire admitted to Becky why she had called. It was probably a given to both women, but Becky “awww”ed like it was the first time she’d heard Claire say the words “I miss you.”

They made idle chit chat. How was Philosophy University? It was good. How was work at home? It was boring. Have you heard from Chris lately? No, have you? No. Watch anything good recently? Not really, you? Not really. Tried out a new recipe for eggs. Oh how was it? I think I added too much oregano. Oh well, maybe next time. Maybe I’ll make it for you. Sounds perfect.

“I really miss you,” Claire blurted out. She dropped her spoon in her mostly-empty bowl of cereal, making a satisfying clang as it fell.

“I really miss you too,” Rebecca said automatically. “I wish I didn’t have to be out here so long, but-”

“Becky, you don’t have to explain anything. It’s work, I get it,” Claire said with a huff. “I just wish work didn’t separate you from me for so long.”

“Well, that’s what these phone calls are for, isn’t it?” She was trying to be gentle, Claire could tell.

“I know, I know,” Claire groaned. “Gd, I’m so clingy. I don’t know how you aren’t sick of me.”

Rebecca just laughed. “Darling, you know I could never get sick of you.” She made a little kiss noise through the phone. “I love you too much.”

They’d been saying those words for years, but sometimes they’d catch Claire off guard and fill her with youthful giddiness. “Yeah, I know.”

“You should distract yourself more when I’m not there.” Ah, Becky. Always a problem-solver. “Go out and do stuff with your other friends.”

Claire snorted. “What other friends? The ones that are as busy as we are?”

“Work friends, then.”

“Is this your polite way of telling me to fuck off and stop calling you, my dear?” Claire teased. Rebecca scoffed.

“I’m trying to help my lovely wife come up with some things to do in her spare time,” Rebecca said monotonously, clearly not even realizing her verbal blunder. Claire did, though, and straightened up to attention.

“Wife?” she blurted out. Rebecca was silent for a minute. “Hun?”

“…Listen,” Rebecca started, and Claire just burst out laughing.

“Oh, hun, you can’t just call me that and expect me to stop missing you!”

“I think of you like that sometimes, okay? We live together, we’ve been dating for a while, I…some of my students have asked if I have a boyfriend, and…”

“Becky, you are so cute,” Claire teased. “It’s fine. That was adorable.”

Rebecca sighed. “Can I hang up now or will you hate me forever? I’m supposed to be meeting with the university director in a few.”

Claire snickered. “Go on, my wife, go do your school things. I’ll just be here thinking about it for the rest of the day.”

Rebecca sputtered, and Claire could picture the woman’s cute blushing face. “I love you. Bye.”

“Bye, my wife!” Claire called giddily as she hung up.

The sharp pang of homesickness in Claire’s heart had faded, replaced by the soft, warm embrace of love.

[creatuesfromthedeep]

Flight Rising Lore Ask Game!

🍓Show off your favorite wet cat (pathetic) dragon and share a fun fact about them!

🍌Show off your favorite couple/throuple/etc and share some information on how they first met, fell in love, etc!

🍊Do you have a specific artist, band, etc, that you listen to when you're working on lore? Share one of their songs!

🍇Share the "villain" or main antagonist of your clan and talk about them! (Note: Doesn't need to be a cackling supervillain, it can also be an annoying trickster, etc!)

🍑Share a tidbit of prose you've written, and give the author's commentary! (The writing can be from a bio, etc)

🍐If you had to narrow down your clan into 2 movie genres, which genres would you pick? (Ex: Action/Adventure, Romance/Comedy, Horror/Drama, etc)

🍎Write an elevator pitch for your clan's lore and share it! Try to keep it to 1-2 paragraphs

🍏Show off a dragon family and talk about them! Do you have siblings, parents & kids, etc? (If you don't have any families in your lore, choose one of the other prompts instead!)

🥭Show off a dragon who's doomed by the narrative and talk about them!

🍍Your clan is mysteriously transported to a deserted island where only one dragon can leave alive... Who's the last one standing, and who dies first?

🍋What's the most dramatic/emotional moment in your lore? Explain it, or write one short paragraph of prose set during that moment

🍉Share the dragon who would be most likely to get banned from a grocery store, and talk about why you picked them

🍈Share your favorite duo of dragons! They must be platonic or familial, no romantic couples!

🍒What's your best tip on making a lore clan?

🥕Share how much you've written for your lore! (This can be measured in bios, pages, wordcount, etc)

🥑Show off your most underrated lore dragon, and talk about them!

🍅Describe your clan's home/lair in two sentences.

🥝If you were to start over on your lore and remake it entirely, what would you change?

[acealistair]

RPG Character Development Questions!

Trying my hand at making one of these, specifically aimed towards D&D characters but it should also work for other TTRPGs and video games like Dragon Age.

Send me any number of emojis for any of my characters! Anyone is welcome to reblog! 😊

~*~*~CHARACTER DESIGN~*~*~

👀: Describe their physical appearance in as much detail as possible. Facial features, colors, height, build, etc. 👄: How do they talk? What's their vocabulary like? What does their voice sound like? Any accent, verbal tics, etc? 👃: Do they smell like anything in particular? Why do they smell like that? 🏷️: What is their full name? Do any of their names have any special meaning? How did you come up with them? 🌳: What physical traits did they inherit from their biological parents? Do they look more like one parent than the other? ♦️: Are there any motifs you associate with them? What do those motifs represent thematically? 🎨: What is their color scheme? Or at least colors you associate them with? 🔮: If they were to feature in the art of a tarot card, which one would it be and why? 💭: What was the original concept for your OC? Has it changed at all since then? 📺: Is your OC inspired at all by characters from other media? Which one(s) and what traits do they have in common? 🛡️: How does their class inform their characterization? How does their personality match or clash with the stereotype for that class? 📖: Describe your ideal character arc for them. How do you envision them changing by the end of the story?

~*~*~SKILLS/HOBBIES~*~*~

📊: What is their best stat? What is their worst/dump stat? How do these affect how you roleplay as them? 🗡️: What type of weapon do they normally use? Is there a particular reason for it? ✨: Are they a magic user? If so, how did they come to learn it (born with it, studied, acquired, etc.)? What does their magic look like when cast? If not, what is their attitude towards magic? 🖌️: What is their go-to hobby? When did they start learning it? Why do they like it? 🔨: Do they have any practical skills they wouldn't consider a hobby? What sorts of skills and how/why did they learn them? 🍳: Are they good at cooking? Do they like to? Why and how did they learn to cook, or, if they didn't, why didn't they? 🎵: Are they any good at singing? What situations do/would they sing in? Would they sing in the shower? 🎻: Do they know how to play an instrument? If so which one(s)? Do they enjoy music in general? 💃: How do they feel about dancing and are they any good at it? Do they prefer solo, partnered, or group dancing? 🚗: In a modern AU, what kind of job would they have, if any? 🎁: If they needed to give a friend a gift, how would they go about choosing one? Would they buy it, make it, or do something else? Would others consider them good at gift-giving? 📚: Do they like to read books? If so, what sorts of books do they prefer to read? If not, why don't they like reading? ✍: What does your character's handwriting look like? Do they write letters often? What other contexts do they usually write in, if any?

~*~*~PERSONALITY~*~*~

🙂: What are three of their personality traits that others would generally consider positive? 🙁: What are three of their personality traits that others would generally consider negative? 😱: Do they have any irrational fears/phobias? How do they cope with them? Has a phobia ever impacted the game you play them in? 😭: How easily do they cry? Do they ever cry in front of other people? When was the last time they cried? 💢: How quick are they to anger? What is a surefire way to piss them off? What do they act like when angry? 😄: How can you tell when they're really happy? What sorts of things make them happy? How often do they smile? 😳: How easily are they embarrassed/flustered? What sorts of things catch them off-guard and make them lose their cool? 🏁: What do they consider to be their main goal in life, the thing that motivates most of their actions? 🤲: Do they have any deep desires that they don't talk about and/or don't even realize they have? Do these desires conflict with their main goal at all? 🗣️: How social are they? Do they speak to strangers because they like to or only when necessary? How differently do they act with strangers vs. friends? 🐾: How do they feel about animals? Do they have/want any pets? Do they have a favorite animal?

~*~*~BACKSTORY~*~*~

😬: Did they ever make a major decision in their past that they regret? How are they handling it now? 🙏: What are their feelings on religion? If they are religious, what do they practice? How much of an impact does it have on their daily life? 🎓: What was their education like? Do they have any favorite subjects? What is their preferred learning style? 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦: What is their family like? Are there any family members that are particularly influential and/or important to them (whether in a positive or negative sense)? 🛝: Do they have any childhood friends? If so, are they still in touch with them? What is their relationship like now (or why did it end)? 🧸: What was their favorite childhood toy and why? 🚸: Would they consider their childhood to have been a happy one? Why or why not? Does their perception of that differ from yours as their player? 🌹: Are they experienced romantically? How many romantic partners have they had? How has this affected their view of romance? 😡: Do they have any enemies and/or rivals from their past? How serious of a threat are they to your OC?

~*~*~RELATIONSHIPS~*~*~

💘: Do they have a "canon" romantic partner? If so, who is it and what is their relationship like? If not, what kind of person would be the optimal romantic partner for them (the most interesting narratively, not necessarily the healthiest/what they think their preferences are)? 😍: What traits, physical and/or mental, do they find attractive in other people? 💒: How does your character feel about marriage? Have their feelings on marriage ever changed? 🎉: Who are their party members/companions? Describe each of their relationships with your OC (however brief or detailed you want). 💍: Among their current companions, are there any that are narrative foils to your OC? How so? 🍼: How do they feel about children in general? Do kids get along with them? Do they have/want kids of their own (now or down the line)? 🤝: How do they express platonic affection? When does an acquaintance become a friend for them? 🥰: Who do they currently consider to be their best friend and why? Has their best friend changed over time? 🫂: How are they with casual physical touch? Do they have different boundaries based on how well they know a person? Is there a specific reason behind their comfort level?

[wolfjackle-creates]

I don't know if your taking requests at the moment, but can I just put this idea in your head? Spectra takes over Arkham Asylum. She sneaks past Danny somehow and sets up shop. Batfam ends up going to Amity Park as it's the only other location that she's recorded to have worked at, and they can't access the data from their computers for some reason. >:3

I'm probably not gonna be adding more fics to my WIP list if I can help it (curse my poor impulse control), but I'm absolutely up for talking prompts and brainstorming how I'd handle them!

I'd probably start the fic long before anyone goes to Amity. ^.^

Spectra is a psychiatrist in Arkham. The guards love her because all the patients/inmates come out of her sessions docile and cowed. In the entire history of the asylum, the patients have never been so well behaved.

Then Harley gets dragged before her. Even she is not immune to Spectra's power. But Harley has enough psychiatric training to know something is up. That the things Spectra is spewing are total BS. That her words alone shouldn't have the affect they are.

She sends words to Pamela Isley. Letting her know to lay low and avoid capture at all costs while this woman is still at Arkham. That something bad is going on. Maybe she even asks for help. Pamela then contacts Jason and/or Dick.

Jason/Dick contacts Tim or Barbara to look up information on the mysterious psychiatrist. Only...they can't find anything. It's like she doesn't exist. Even the records detailing her hiring are odd. (She overshadowed a few people to forge some of the paperwork, but missed a few steps.)

All they can find for sure is an obituary from decades ago and a short 2-3 week stint at a high school in Illinois.

Dual plot lines: Poison Ivy trying to break Harley out of Arkham while 2-3 of the bats go to Amity to find information on Spectra.

@stealingyourbones have you seen any other prompts/fics with Spectra at Arkham?

[euripidestrousers]

Microfic idea: how about one of them gets drunk and the other one has to put them to bed? 😁

Lemme just pick myself up off the floor - one of my favourite writers in this fandom gave me a prompt!!

And it's a good one too. Writing this little snippet was so much fun, thank you!

****

“I don't need an escort.”

“Of course not.”

“I was just having a good bloody time. If Lily didn't want to go to bed then-”

“Then you would have stayed up all night drinking with James, yes, I'm aware”, Remus smiles to himself as he adjusts his grip on Sirius’ arm slung over his shoulders. He forgets how heavy he is. Sirius always holds himself with such lofty grace that it's easy to forget he's rather solid - something Remus is frequently reacquainted with when Sirius rolls on top of him during the night. But watching Sirius and James singing cheerfully (and terribly) at each other as they danced around the fire tonight, made it easy to believe that Sirius weighed less than a feather.

“Too right”, Sirius growls, leaning heavily on Remus and ignoring the strained grunt that escapes, “We've earned it haven't we?”

Remus gets an unwelcome flash of a battlefield, the bridge where the Order had a standoff against Death Eaters meaning to sink the bridge and all the muggles on it before the Order had swept them away. It cost them a few of their own that day. Loss has become a constant companion, lying in bed between them every morning. 

Sirius had insisted James’ birthday be celebrated a week later. The hard line of his clenched jaw and hollow eyes had betrayed a motive other than celebration - a night to live again, defiantly, openly in the face of all the odds. A resistance worthy of Sirius Black and James Potter. And live they did tonight. 

“Yes, I think we've earned it a few times over”, Remus replies softly. 

Sirius grunts and Remus can feel him slipping into the dark, the melancholy which he succumbs to so easily without James’ brash voice and quick laughter. Remus used to feel a tinge of envy - he could share this man's bed but his soul is already shared between him and James. But Remus understands it now, has long come to terms with it. Who couldn't love James Potter with all their heart?

He pulls himself out of his musings, forcing some lightness into his tone, “What did you put in the fire? That smoke set me off laughing like I haven't done since Prongs walked into that tree antlers first.”

Sirius brightens a little, swaying rather than dragging his feet. “A little something for the nerves, my dear.” Sirius suddenly grins boastfully, “Haven't heard you sing since sixth year-”

“And not again for another few years I think”, Remus chuckles, pulling Sirius closer as he stumbles, both to steady him and to leech some of his endless warmth. It's supposed to be Spring but it's unusually cold, a chill blowing in from the coast and biting at the tips of his ears. Remus barely resists slipping a hand under Sirius’ shirt where he knows there's an endless source of heat. 

They've reached the front steps of their little town house and Remus concentrates on steadying himself to guide Sirius up the steps. 

Sirius is blissfully unaware of Remus’ struggles, his breath hot in Remus’ ear as he mumbles, “Moony, always such a gentleman. Insisting on walking me home-”

“We live together-”

“Gonna put me to bed?” Sirius grins lecherously, the effect ruined a little by the slurring, “Tuck me in? Big, bad, scary wolf you are.” He snorts rudely and Remus would be offended, except the fact that Sirius finds his lycanthropy being a source of irony rather than fear has become reassuring.

Remus shakes his head, about to tell him that he'd bet money on Sirius passing out as soon as his head hits the pillow, but then Sirius throws his head back and starts belting out a warbled but recognisable song, “Ooh, love, ooh, lover boy. What're you doing tonight? Hey, boy-”

“Shh, Sirius-”

“Set my alarm, turn on my charm-”

“Turn it back off-”

“That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy”, Sirius throws his arm out as he makes a meal of the last word and Remus loses his balance, falling against Sirius and pinning him to the front door. Sirius’ laughter is warm against his cheek, his body burning beneath Remus’ hands, and he can't help but laugh with him, full of light and love. He feels it. The reason Sirius insisted on tonight being a night of laughter and celebration. He feels the spark of life thrumming in his veins, a renewed vigour for being alive. 

They stumble through the front door and Remus stops Sirius from swaying towards the shelf full of liquor - “Come on, have a nightcap”, “Bed. Now, Padfoot” - and successfully guides him towards the bedroom. Sirius is still humming the tune to the Queen song as he collapses onto the bed, leaving Remus to pull off his boots. 

When he starts unbuttoning Sirius’ belt, Sirius grins up at the ceiling, singing softly, “Say the word and your wish is my command-”

“I should be so lucky”, Remus mutters fondly, “Come on. Pants off.”

“Fancy a-”

“You are about to fall asleep”, Remus chides even as he admires the hard lines of Sirius’ shoulders and chest as he pulls off his jacket and shirt.

Sirius flops back on the bed in just his underwear and a content smile on his handsome face. Remus undresses himself to the peaceful tune Sirius hums, then crawls into bed next to him, nudging him to move over. 

“There's a hangover potion on your bedside”, Remus murmurs, closing his eyes. 

The bed dips and then he's squashed under a burning, heavy weight pinning him to the bed. He smiles, wrapping his arms around the dead weight, brushing black wavy locks off his face. 

“R'gonna win.”

“Hmm?” Remus hums in question, already thinking about what to make for breakfast in the morning. He pulls himself back to the present to listen to Sirius’ drunk mumbling.

“We're gonna win”, Sirius mumbles in the quiet, where the only other noise is the pipes groaning behind the walls, “This war.”

Remus hesitates, his heartbeat thudding in his ears and liquor swirling in his stomach.

“Of course we are”, he finally agrees softly with more conviction than he feels.

“You paused”, Sirius grunts, “Don't do that.”

Remus swallows, eyes wide and staring at the shadows on the ceiling. 

“Go to sleep”, he murmurs. 

It's a long time before he feels Sirius’ sleep twitches, signalling him falling into a deep sleep, and it's longer still before sleep creeps into the edges of Remus’ vision, held at bay by doubt and fear and the sense that if he closes his eyes, what he has will slip between his fingers.

[caramelpenguin]

“Simon… I really think we should talk about it.”

(Maybe you want to write a certain sequel with this? 👀)

part 2 to wille having a hard time...

"Simon...I really think we should talk about it," Wille murmurs, stabbing his pasta with his fork instead of eating it. He briefly glances at Simon, opposite him on the table with ketchup decorating his dinner (and if it was any other day, Wille would've made fun of him for it, as usual).

"Hmm?" Simon looks up, swallowing his mouthful. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," he says quickly. Then he clears his throat, mustering up the dreads of courage in the depths of his stomach. "Actually, I said that we should talk. About this morning."

"I've told you. It's okay. Nothing to worry about."

"I just don't want things to be awkward-"

"Really, we can just move-"

"And, like, I genuinely don't want to ruin-"

"Okay, alright." Simon exclaims, placing his cutlery down with a small clatter and staring straight into Wille's auburn eyes. "You want to talk? Let's talk about you coming into my room, into my bed, more nights than not, hm? Are you having that much trouble sleeping?"

[daily-kagami]

Day #74: Creation and Destruction

[starflungwaddledee]

[rattkachuk]

i'm sorry. you reblogged the sensory prompts and as i read each of them i got different ideas for mattdrai and most of them were somehow angsty. if you can, 63 with them? pls and thank you <3

ohhh i was on the verge of sleep but then this ask was too tempting to ignore 💖 it is a little angsty, i couldn't help it. but!!! here's a blurb set in a hypothetical oilers/cats scf !!

63. Indigo skies just before dawn

-

Usually, when they were able to share a bed, Matthew slept with his limbs thrown over Leon. An arm across his middle, a leg slotted between his thighs and the other around his hips. All askew and taking up room. Leon always rolled his eyes, but if he was honest, he loved waking in the middle of the night and curling in closer, like it was Matthew’s very arms keeping him safe and together. His own personal weighted blanket.

When he woke up this time, there was a noticeable absence of touch. Leon frowns into the dark, stretching his hand across smooth sheets to find Matthew’s side long cold. A glance at his phone tells him it’s 5AM.

He doesn’t want to get out of bed, knows the air outside his blankets will be cold and unforgiving. The concern wins out, though.

Able to scrounge a hoodie from the floor, he trudges out into the hallway. The bathroom light is on (Matthew always insisted on keeping it on at night), but everything else is dark and quiet.

“Matthew?” Leon says quietly when he finds his familiar shape in the living room, curled up with his knees to his chest on the couch closest to the window. The Edmonton city lights are twinkling stardust in his eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Yah. Sorry, I uh…just couldn’t sleep. Lots going on up here,” Matthew waves to his own head, then holds out his hand to Leon once he’s close enough.

Leon takes it, squeezes gently before sitting down beside him. He taps at Matthew’s calves til he lets his legs lay across his lap—the weight he missed waking to moments earlier.

Matthew sighs, looking back out the window. If Leon sees a shine to them, a flash of wet beneath his eyelids, he wouldn’t bring attention to it. Their emotions are so often guarded, so protected and caged, navigating this pocket of vulnerability with Matthew was something Leon was still getting used to. It gnawed a little worry right into the centre of his ribs, though.

The light in the sky is just starting to shift, deep blue and purple shadows casting onto Matthew’s face. Right here in the dark, just them, it’s easy to imagine there’s nothing greater awaiting them when the sun rises. No huge arena with great expectations, no glory of something they’d both been chasing their whole lives (only to know one of them won’t get there, and it will be the others fault). They were now intertwined in a way that Leon wasn’t sure he liked.

In fact, it made him nauseous to think about.

His life goal was right in front of him, and the only thing standing in his way was breaking the heart of the person he loved the most.

“We’ll get through this, right?” Leon asks, nose screwing up as he looks anywhere else in the room, anywhere but at Matthew beside him. If he does, he's not sure what might spill out.

Matthew’s breath is shaky, and that’s it. Leon prepares himself, braces for impact. The big crash and the limb being ripped away from his body. Instead, “Leo. Of course we will. It’s gonna suck, but we will.”

Leon clears his throat, trying to rid himself of the big lump that was forming there, “Okay. Okay. Good.”

“We have to. Cause I can’t-” Matthew trails off, brushes some of Leon’s sleep mussed hair away from his forehead, “We. Just. You know.”

I can’t imagine life without you. I love you, Leon’s brain supplies. He just nods. Rests his chin in Matthew’s palm and savours the indigo light that blankets them both, “Yah. I know.”

[cuubism]

hello friends. despite my 9 million existing dreamling wips i'm feeling the need to branch out a bit for the sake of my mental variety. what pairing other than dreamling should i write a little something for? could be romantic or platonic

other way of phrasing i guess: any pairings you really want to see more fics for in the fandom?

[mahikamihan]

dream bagel

nomnomnomnomnom

[ruvviks]

"The outer reaches of space remain unexplored by humankind to this day, but its greed is relentless. We grasp and yearn and hunger for knowledge— answers to questions we cry out into the endless void expecting to understand, expecting the stars to respond. The stars will not, but one day something else will— and we will not like what it has to say." — Rome Solomon, Beyond the Exosphere (1965)

taglist (opt in/out): @shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart, @vvanessaives, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman, @celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister, @killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree

[camels-pen]

If you’re still taking writing prompts how about zoro being overprotective of usopp and trying and failing to be subtle about it lol. Love your writing btw it’s always so good💕

:D I'm glad you like my writing! And thanks for the prompt!

warning: choking

—

“You’re gonna choke.”

“Shut up, I’ve got this,” Usopp said. At least, that’s what it sounded like muffled by the 20-odd octopus weiners shoved in his mouth. Zoro was sitting beside him, chin resting in his palm and eating his breakfast at a much more leisurely pace. He was also sitting a reasonable distance away to avoid getting hit with any stray weiners that might slip out. On Usopp’s other side, Robin was doing the same.

Usopp followed up with something about beating Luffy and Zoro lazily dragged his gaze across the table. Their captain was also stuffing his mouth, but with whole pancakes rather than weiners. He was also glaring at Usopp between stuffing more food in his large rubbery cheeks.

Zoro rolled his eye. “You’re both gonna choke.”

Usopp smacked his shoulder and made a noise of disagreement. Zoro took a sip of his coffee and went back to his breakfast. 

A moment later, Usopp slapped him again.

“Yeah yeah, I get it, you’re the Great Usopp and you’ve never lost a food stuffing contest.” His lips quirked as a thought occurred to him. “Or should I call you God Usopp now?” Usopp made a noise of disagreement and slapped him again. Zoro laughed.

He watched Usopp carefully add another weiner, his hand as steady as ever, out of the corner of his eye before taking another sip. Usopp made a noise of success. Next to Luffy, Franky laughed at something or other—maybe Usopp himself with how ridiculous he looked—and slapped the table. The little picnic table shook and Usopp made a noise like he was being strangled. 

With his free hand, Zoro gave him a good slap on the back—maybe too good with the way Usopp nearly faceplanted into the table, but it got the job done. Usopp turned to hunch over the side and made some truly pitiable sounds as he spit out his food. 

As soon as Usopp’s coughing had started to subside, he said, “Don’t say it.”

Zoro smirked. “Say what?”

Usopp swatted his side before bending over again. He was practically lying on the bench, his head pressed against Robin’s thigh and forearms hanging over the seat. Robin gave him two pats on his hair before saying something vaguely morbid. Usopp shivered just as Franky laughed again.

Zoro picked up his mug again. Usopp looked comfy down there. He wanted to lay down and nap with him. Unfortuantely, the seat was far too small and Robin wouldn’t tolerate two people on her leg, so he settled for rubbing circles in Usopp’s calf.

A tiger mink, one of the ones that had brought their breakfast, was passing behind them. She had an empty tray in one hand. Zoro watched with a curious eye before stiffening at her other hand reaching for Usopp. 

In one swift movement, he was dangling the mink by her shirt collar and glaring into her startled eyes. The tray fell with a clatter.

“Don’t touch him.”

The surrounding chatter from his crew—and, he supposed, the other minks—died down. He could feel stares at the back of his head. Something—someone familiar tugged at the hem of his shirt.

He glared at the mink until she nodded frantically, then dropped her. She landed gracefully on her feet, though she immediately stumbled when backing away. Huh, he supposed those old sayings about cats had some merit.

“Zoro,” came a tired, irritated voice. There was a slap to the back of his head and he hissed out of reflex. The hand returned, running through his hair lightly and he had to fight back a content sigh. Then his head was jerked down into a bow.

“Amazing,” Brook said quietly. “You’d think he wouldn’t fall for that by now.”

Zoro made a mental note to kill Brook later.

“I am very deeply sorry for this idiot,” Usopp started, the routine speech making Zoro grind his teeth. He half paid attention as Usopp said the same shtick as usual, a distant feeling of something wet on his hand.

“Ah,” he said, staring at the little white splinters in his hand. He forgot about the coffee.

“Don’t interrupt—Zoro.” Somehow Usopp’s voice was more irritated. He turned back to the tiger mink—who was rather calm for someone Zoro had just threatened—and wrapped up the apology speech before excusing himself to look at Zoro’s hand. 

By the end of it, the tiger mink looked bewildered by whatever Usopp had made up about him and grabbed their tray before leaving. Their crewmates went back to their breakfast, talking as if nothing had happened. Usopp tugged Zoro back down to his seat and Zoro kept his eye averted. 

Usopp sighed, digging around in his bag. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“It’s not that bad,” he said.

“I’m not talking about your hand.”

Zoro didn’t say anything for a long moment. Usopp pulled out a pair of tweezers and held his hand gently. The other minks and pirates started talking again, although quieter than their crewmates. Zoro stubbornly waited until Usopp pulled the last splinter. 

“...I’m not overprotective,” he eventually grumbled. “I’m keeping an eye out.”

“Uh huh.” He frowned harder. “Aww c’mon don’t pout.” His frowned eased and loosened as Usopp leaned forward to peck him on the lips. “I appreciate you looking out for me, okay? Just please learn to lighten up.”

His frown returned. “You shouldn’t be so trusting.”

Usopp huffed. “You should be more trusting.”

He narrowed his eye. “Whiskey Peak.”

Usopp threw his head back with a groan. “That was one time! And the others fell for it too!”

“Uh huh,” Zoro said, mimicking Usopp’s voice.

Usopp swatted him with a mumbled, “Shut up.” His brows were furrowed, a harsh frown on his face as he stared intently at the small cuts on Zoro’s hand.

Zoro slid his fingers into Usopp’s, intertwining their hands. He tugged them up to his lips and pressed a kiss to Usopp’s wrist, to his pulse point. His gaze stayed on Usopp, steady and imploring.

Usopp sighed, the sound resigned. Fond. “I know,” he said softly, a smile curling his lips. “I love you too.”

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

(in case tumblr ate it) jance, 17 🥰

yes it seems it did😔 here's what i was going to reply to you haha

tysm for your request jo 💜💜💜 i really enjoyed writing it!

also posted to ao3 here

He may not have known him for very long, but Jan has never seen Nace this nervous before. Yes, he had been shy when they first met (though Jan was shyer), yes he had been on edge before his first gig with them, yes he’d been quiet in the studio while they were recording Carpe Diem. Now, though, he isn’t tense and reticent, as he usually is when he’s anxious. No; he’s pacing up and down in the heavy silence of the RTV’s dressing room wringing his hands, jumping every time any of the others say or do anything, fiddling with the hem of his jacket, smoothing down his hair obsessively. These are nervous tics Jan has never seen from him before and it’s making him restless too. Watching Nace, he is filled with the urge to go over and wrap him in a crushing hug, as though he can leech away all his stress and anticipation with one touch.

Jan is used to taking comfort in Nace’s presence. He knows too that Nace takes comfort in him. They’ve been slowly exploring the something between them for the past few months, unable to hold back despite the knowledge that entering a relationship with a bandmate can get messy. He doesn’t want to rush things, doesn’t want to rock the boat, to overstep a boundary and cause an explosion. But he can’t sit here and watch Nace get more and more wound up with nerves just as they’re meant to go on stage.

Before he’s quite decided what the plan is, Jan suddenly finds himself standing. The other four all turn to face him and he almost shrinks under the combined weight of their attention, but he’s desperate for a moment alone with Nace, so he steels himself and gestures vaguely at Bojan, Kris, and Jure.

“You three, out,” he says abruptly, not quite able to make eye contact with any of them. He expects some kind of resistance, perhaps from Bojan, but they all obey him without a word, and he watches them leave in his peripheral vision from where he’s looking at the floor. There are a few brief moments after the door swings closed behind Kris in which neither Jan nor Nace say anything, and then Jan turns around. 

Nace looks somehow even more nervous now it’s just the two of them; he’s holding onto the back of the chair next to him as though he might fall over without its support. At the sight of him, Jan no longer has any qualms about what is needed and he crosses the floor without a word to gather Nace into his arms. Nace relaxes into him immediately, holding him tightly back, tipping his head down so his forehead is resting on Jan’s shoulder. They stand like this for several minutes, impossibly close and yet not close enough. Jan hopes that Nace is as calmed and reassured by the contact, by Jan’s warmth and familiar smell, as Jan is by him. He only loosens his grip when Nace stops shaking and steps back far enough that they can see each other’s faces, though he keeps his arms slung around Nace’s neck so he can’t pull too far away.

“Want to talk about it?”

Nace opens his mouth to answer but can’t find the words. Jan doesn’t interrupt, just gives Nace time to formulate what he’s trying to say. It takes a few long minutes, but eventually Nace is able to articulate himself. “It’s the first project I’ve worked on with you guys,” he says slowly, eyes downcast. “What if the fans don’t like my influence on your sound? What if they don’t think I fit your image?”

Jan leans in and bumps his forehead reassuringly against Nace’s. “Fuck the fans,” he says lowly, and it startles a laugh out of Nace. The sound makes something twist in Jan’s stomach. He loves hearing Nace laugh, loves the way he has so much joy to share and isn’t afraid of expressing it. “I mean it,” he repeats. “We like the way you create with us, we love this song. If our current fans don’t like it or don’t like you, then fuck them; we’ll make plenty of new fans through Eurovision.” 

Neither of them are as ambitious as Bojan and Kris are regarding fame or global exposure, but they all decided to go on this journey knowing that was the plan. Jan’s always been in it for the music; the unparalleled joy of creating music, those magical moments on stage when he becomes the music. But he can’t let Nace be afraid of their Eurovision journey before it’s even started.

Nace is still anxious and Jan can tell. He wants to address the other question Nace had posed, to reassure him, but now it’s his turn to be tongue tied and nervous. He wants to tell Nace how attractive he is, how his smile makes Jan’s heart skip a beat, that he wants to map Nace’s skin with his tongue and teeth, that he’s desperate to learn how to take him apart with just a few touches. But they’re taking it slow, trying not to rush into things, even though Jan knows his traitorous heart isn’t listening to reason.

So he does the only thing he can to ensure his tongue won’t betray his feelings; he steps back into Nace’s personal space and kisses him fiercely.

No matter how many times they kiss, Jan knows he will never tire of it. His entire universe at this moment is the heat of Nace’s mouth, the taste of him, the way he’s threading his fingers through Jan’s hair and sliding a hand down his back to pull him closer. Nace is pliant under Jan’s hands and tongue, willing to cede all control and let Jan do what he wants to him, and what Jan wants is to take him apart, to make him forget all traces of his nervousness for their upcoming performance. But they’re in their shared dressing room, where their bandmates or frankly anyone else could walk in, and as desperately as he wants to let go of all his inhibitions, he knows that would be far too reckless, and so, reluctantly, he pulls away. They’re both panting and a little unsteady on their feet, and Jan opens his eyes to take in Nace’s flushed cheeks and kiss-bruised lips. Willpower alone stops him from leaning back in to finish what they’ve started, and he can see clearly in Nace’s face the same desire.

“Was that a good enough distraction?” Jan asks, his voice unexpectedly husky.

“It wasn’t bad,” Nace admits breathlessly, and Jan can hear the smile in his voice. After a few long moments, Nace releases his tight grip on Jan’s shirt and steps back far enough that they can see themselves in the mirror. All Jan can think is that they’re lucky they haven’t gone to hair and make-up yet; they’re both so dishevelled that it’s obvious what they’ve been up to even without any telltale traces of smudged foundation. Nace reaches up to smooth down Jan’s hair again, and Jan leans instinctively into his touch. “I think we’ve got a different problem now,” Nace says wryly, and Jan is inclined to agree. Bojan, Kris, and Jure will surely be back any moment now and they’ll be sent off to hair and make-up; they can only hope their racing hearts will have time to slow before they’re called on stage.

[fumifooms]

Marchil March 2024!

A ship week event for the Dungeon Meshi pairing Marcille x Chilchuck! It will run from Monday the 18th to Sunday the 24th, in about a week.

The themes for the days are:

Explosion / healing

Fairytale / role swap au

Fashion / modern au

Hair / race or species swap au

Teasing / genderbend au

Gifts / date

Free prompt / food

You’re welcome and encouraged to put a twist on the prompts, pick either of them on any given day or mesh them both into the same piece, stick to them as much or as little as you want. For example, the race swap prompt mainly refers to elves, half-foots, etc, but you could just as well use it to draw them as cats if you’d like! There are essentially no rules, this isn’t inktober and there’s no pressure, feel also free to make things for it in advance rather than day to day. This is a ship week, but feel free to depict them in a platonic or queerplatonic way rather than romantic as well! This week is to celebrate them as a duo, and every work is welcomed: fanart, writing, edits, anything. Join the festivities!

Tag your posts for it "marchil march 2024"!

I’ll be hosting it on the @feedmarchil blog, I intend to reblog every piece made for the week there. Ty to Pupucachi for heavily inspiring the first ad card!

[djsadbean]

#19 for the ask game!!

how do they silently express love because they are so cute I cannot do this I am GOING TO COMBUST

19. How do they silently/subtly express their love for each other?

adam flies like 5 cities over to buy new teas for steven every month so he feels very cozy :D steven thinks hes just getting them at the store lol (yes adam has sleeves this time! its october rn in my mind for them!! u know how fionna's world existed in simon's head? theyre in MY head)

i strongly hc adam has night time anxiety and needs nice smoothing stimulation to go to sleep (not projecting, why would i need asmr to sleep? oh btw i added my asmr recs playlist in my pinned post :3) anyway, steven whispers his lecture notes for the next day and combs adams hair and down his back and arms like a massage but its mostly just combing motions. i think adam would have an eye mask but i wanted to draw his eepy lil face :3