#pride month drabble challenge

[autumnalwalker]

Pride Month Drabble Challenge: Day 9

Reblog of the challenge rules with links to my posts are here. 

“So, what do you think?”

“If your goal was to go stargazing, a new moon would have been better than a full one.”

“Oh…”

“Or if your goal was to get me out in the wilderness where you can murder me without witnesses, you’ve overlooked the fact that I would definitely be the one walking away alive from that.”

“I…”

“And if you’re trying to get the scenery just right for dramatically revealing you’re a werewolf, you should know I’ve got a gun with silver bullets in my bag.”

“What?”

“But if your goal was to have a romantic anniversary alone together under a picturesque night sky, you nailed it.”

“You’re the worst, you know that?”

“And yet, you put all this together.  Seriously, it’s perfect.  I know you’re not big on the great outdoors, so don’t think I don’t appreciate you going out of your comfort zone for this.”

“Yeah, well, I figured that as long as you were dragging me to the gym and whipping me into something resembling shape, I may as well put the results to good use.  Besides, you’ve gotten me into a lot of firsts; may as well add camping to the list.”

“Oh?  And how are you liking your first time camping?”

“The view is breathtaking.”

“You say while not looking up at the sky.”

“I’m aware.”

“...”

“...”

“Congratulations on another first.”

“What’d I do?”

“Flirted without being an utter nerd.”

“Do you want me to ruin it?  Because I’ll ruin it.”

“Not if I ruin it first.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You fool.  You’ve brought the professional astronomer to an internationally recognized dark sky zone.  You cannot out-nerd me here.  This is my domain.  Now sit your butt down and prepare yourself for the next hour of constellations and space facts before we even begin to return to anything romantic.”

“You just said the full moon wasn’t ideal for stargazing.”

“You underestimate my power.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Wanna bet?”

[papercutsunset]

Gold and Steel

Listen-- PMS has been kicking my ass and I forgot to edit this yesterday. Even now, I'm hunched over because (glitter here) the nausea's back. BUT!! The Bloodsaw brainrot is also back. This would take place right before Tunnels of Terror. (Also, peep the Harrison Bergeron mention. Remember how Bloodsaw died protecting him and then he died of [redacted]?)

WIP: The Monster Lesbian Support Group

Word count: 998

Prompt: Sex (didn't use it much. It's more implied)

Warnings: some homophobia stuff (mentions. it's 1997.)

Sitting on the edge of the bed with her sweater undone, Laura fumbles the chain of her cross. Putting it back around her neck is always an issue of fingers on lobster claws and chewed-down nails aching. She isn’t the one who needs to wash her hands, anyway. 

I would consider doing it for her, but I’m not sure why she wears it. It’s not faith. She told me that months ago, sitting on the hood of my car in a secluded spot by the edge of the lake where nobody could see us.

I know why, I suppose. It’s not a question worth asking. Appearances need to be kept up, right? Laura Mandarin needs to be the pristine, god-fearing former-high-school-cheerleader as much as Caroline Bradshaw needs to be the opposite. They would blame the fry cook at the Dairy Prince for corrupting such a vulnerable girl as Laura Mandarin. Never mind that all this was her idea. I know how the blame game works. It wouldn’t be the first time.

It’s a small thing, the cross. Delicate. Gold. Treasured. She got it when she was twelve, back in Pine Valley. How fitting, compared to the steel up my ears and in my eyebrow. 

I toy with the edge of the curtain, propped up on one elbow by the window. The plaster is crumbling again. It’s a side effect of living in this shitty second-floor-apartment with a shittier landlord in an even shittier town. I fucking hate this place. 

The only question worth asking, while I shrug my bra and shirt back on, is, “Do you need a ride?” 

She takes her hair out of the back of her sweater and lets the blonde waterfall cascade down white polyester. “Don’t you have to get to work?” 

“Don’t answer my question with a question.” 

Laura looks at me over her shoulder, eyes connecting across every plane of existence. “I don’t need a ride.” 

“Alright.”

“But I’d like one.” 

My heart skips a beat. I’m not going to admit it. “I’ll drive you home, then.” 

“Will you help me?” She holds up the cross, dangling from the gold chain, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. 

You could call me hypnotized. It’s a moment of intimacy in the dark of a room in the morning, a moment of intimacy before we go back to acting like nothing ever happened, a moment of hands brushing hair from her neck so I don’t catch it in the clasp. 

She’s the perfect picture of America. Not late-nineties-hip, but pure. Skirt down past her knees when she pulls it back down, sweater neat and tucked in, cross hanging delicately around her collar. It’s like these moments together that make things feel right: her hands in my hair, tangling black snarls around slender fingers, rings cast on the floor, the sheets tousled and left as askew as us. 

I move her hair back into place and lean around her, the snake around Eve’s torso. “You know, I don’t have to get to work for another hour.” 

She giggles when my fingers brush her chin. I melt in turn. But, in the way the routine dictates, she shimmies away. “I have to get home. You know my dad worries.” 

“He still thinks you’re seeing some guy named Bloodsaw.” 

“Yeah, and he isn’t stoked.” Laura stands, smooths out her skirt. When she turns around, she leans down over me with her hands squarely where she had been sitting. “But I am.” 

She plants a quick kiss on my mouth before I turn my legs and get out of bed, stretch myself out, and stare the day in front of me down the barrel. It’s a routine I’m used to. I wash my hands in the kitchen sink. Breakfast is peaches-and-cream oatmeal and toast with cream cheese. She does her makeup in the bathroom; I put on pants before we leave; she only entwines her fingers with mine when we’re alone in the hall or the stairwell. I’ll take what I can get, even if I want more. 

I drive her home to the sound of the scat station on the radio. We mostly listen to it as a joke, a merit patch for living here. It goes by all too quickly, and then we’re at her father’s— and then her hand is gone from my leg, and she’s out on the curb. 

She leans down to look at me through the window, hair falling to frame her face. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I’ll see you at the party later, right?” 

Right. That dumbfuck rich kid tunnel party I explicitly wasn’t invited to. I swallow. “Yeah, sure. I have to work, though, so I might be late.” 

“That’s fine. As long as you’re there.” She assesses my face, reads something I didn’t mean to write there. “I want you there, you know.” 

“I know. I’ll try.” It’s a promise I don’t mean to make. It rests on my tongue, anyway. 

“Good.” Her grin is May sunshine; I wish she would kiss my cheek. “Maybe we can sneak off, if we’re careful.” 

I can’t hold back a soft laugh. “With all your preppy friends around?” 

“Oh, Care. I know you like cheap beer, and there’s going to be plenty. Harrison promised.” 

Harrison, that fucker. Laura captivates me, though. That’s the issue with having a girlfriend you would do anything for. “Fuck. Fine. Okay.” 

Another ray through the clouds, lips wide over perfect white teeth. “Good! I’ll see you there.” 

She takes my hand in hers— gold-painted nails on steel rings through the window of a car I know is going to break down later. The blame game doesn’t work here. This is a moment where she didn’t watch her last boyfriend die; this is a moment where I don’t kill demons because angels told me to. There’s no blood on our hands and faces. It’s just us.

I want so desperately, it hurts. “I’ll see you there.” 

[theoracleofgiana]

Lasy Talks

Day 1: gay, sex (Tw: talk of sex)

"M&M? Like the candy?" Mikeal can't help but laugh at the idea. Micah shakes his head with a sigh. "Rose and Nik say it fits us," Micah says as he shifts on his bed. Mikeal thinks about the nickname. Micah and Mikeal are always together, and it's clever using the first letter of their names. "I'll give them that it's clever," Mikeal says, knocking his head into the wall behind him. 

The two boys think about it for a while, the silence comfortable in their small dorm. The room has a few posters from friends to sparse up the blank white walls. The twin beds are pushed together and are currently taken over by Micah. Mikeal sits at the edge of the bed closest to the wall. To the side of the beds are two desks and a fluffy rug. On the desks sits the two's most precious possession, their computer. A picture of the two when they were younger sits nearby it. 

"How long has it been?" Micah breaks the silence first. "What?" Mikeal answers, confusion lacing his tone. "How long have we known or been dating each other?" Micah says with a roll of his eyes. Mikeal hums and looks at the sprawled-out boy. Micah's messy black hair and gray sweater are practically swallowing him. Mikeal sighs fondly at the sight. "We've known each since we were ten, and we've been dating for six years," Mikeal says as he lies next to the other boy. Micah hums and snuggles into Mikeal's arms. After a few moments of quiet, Micah speaks. "Um, can I ask something?" Micah's voice is soft and full of nerves. "You can ask me anything, sunshine," Mikeal replies, soothingly petting Micah's hair. "Don't most people have sex already?" Micah whispers, burying his face in his hands in embarrassment. 

Mikeal snorts and drops his face to Micah's shoulder. "We're not ready for that, love," He answers with a light kiss. Micah blinks and turns to face Mikeal. "What do you mean?" He demands with a pout. Mikeal simply shrugs and wraps his arms around the other boy. "Hon, it took us forever to share the same bed," Mikeal reminds the other. Micah blushes at the memory and buries his head into Mikeal's chest. "Micah," Mikeal starts softly. "We have our whole lives. I don't want to rush something like that." Micah hums his agreement and lifts his head to give the other a gentle smile. "Okay, I'm glad we're on the same page," Micah giggles. Mikeal gently holds Micah's hand in his, and the two fall into a comfortable silence again. It doesn't take long for them to fall asleep with matching smiles. 

(A/n: Meet M&M! I'm doing the pride month drabble context and the first prompt fits these two. These two are set in the mortal realm. Mikeal is a coder and Micah is an artist. I have an entire game development I made that I haven't written much of. It's nice to show them off and I adore these two wholesome relationships. I hope you enjoyed and have a wholesome day!)

[newwwwusername]

Werewolves Within (2021 Movie) - Finn/Cecily - Pride Month Prompt 15 : Agender

Prompt : Write either a fic under the "Other" category (can be fluff, hurt/comfort, whatever you see fit) in which one or both of the characters in that pairing are agender OR a gen fic in which an agender character (can be a canon or headcanoned character) is coming out to/being comforted by/otherwise talking about gender with their friend(s) Headcanon : Agender!Cecily

"So, mail...person?" Finn asked for clarification as he followed Cecily down the road, away from Flint's cabin. They nodded. "Why not just mailwoman? Wouldn't that be simpler for Trish and all the other-"

"Because gender is a social construct that I don't subscribe to" they repeated their earlier sentiment.

"Right... But-"

"And I don't feel like a woman" they continued. "I feel like a person. Gender just feels... Irrelevant to me"

"Okay" Finn just nodded. They raised an eyebrow.

"Okay?"

"Okay"

Do not repost on other sites! If you want to participate in this month's challenge, there are 30 LGBT-centered prompts that you can find here

[iphyslitterator]

@cecilyv, perhaps accidentally, requested "fluffy kid fic where the kids never get to meet Grandpa Bobby"; I think this qualifies.

810 words, a Roseverse ficlet (set not too long before the drabbles, which you don't have to read first)

Content warning: major character death (but set years later)

It's a challenge to wrangle three kids into the car — well, Rose is an angel, of course, buckled in and holding the flower arrangement as big as her whole torso in her lap while Evan's still trying to coax Benjy out of the desert willow and Tommy's running out of tricks to make Lily stop crying. But they get everyone in the backseat eventually, the toddler enlisted to play with the five-month-old until she's giggling instead of wailing, and they arrive at the grave just as sunset starts to touch the horizon and a cool breeze picks up, the tops of the palm trees swaying overhead.

Rose remembers coming last year, but Benjy doesn't, and he looks around curiously, holding Evan's hand. Evan sits on the ground and pulls Benjy into his lap as Rose somberly places the flowers in front of the headstone and sits next to him. Lily looks fretful again; Tommy paces, bouncing her gently in his arms, moving to where he can watch the kids' (and Evan's) faces.

"What are… what are we doing?" Benjy asks brightly.

Before Evan can answer, Rose says, "This is Grandpa Bobby," and Tommy blinks. Evan catches his eye, just as surprised; so she didn't get Grandpa from him either. "He's dead like Baba and Mama. May I have the pictures?" Evan fishes out his phone, taps a few times, and hands it to her. Tommy knows the first photo in the album: the two of them at Evan's shield ceremony, Evan beaming, Bobby with his hand on Evan's shoulder, smiling at him with pride.

Rose angles the phone so Benjy can see it. "He ran Papa's fire station before you were born," Rose explains, and she starts swiping through the photos, telling surprisingly well-remembered bits of stories she got from Evan and at least one from Tommy, while Benjy listens raptly and Evan discreetly wipes at his eyes. Soon Benjy gets squirmy again, and Rose hands the phone back.

Evan clears his throat and looks straight at the headstone. "Hi, Bobby," he says. "You remember Rose and Benjy. We—"

"Hi!" Benjy shouts.

Evan breaks into a grin and looks down at him. "Oh, do you want to say something?"

Benjy hums. "Say what?"

"Anything. You could tell him something you did this week."

Benjy stands up with gusto, then immediately turns shy and buries his face in Evan's shoulder. Evan ruffles his hair.

"Why don't you tell him what you found yesterday?"

Benjy twists around so he can eye the headstone sidelong, clinging to Evan's shirt. "I found a rock," he whispers.

"Yeah? What did it look like?"

Benjy perks up a bit. "It had stripes," he says.

"Yeah, it was really cool," Evan agrees. "Then what did you do with it?"

Benjy, revived by the ecstasy of his geological adventure, straightens up and faces forward. "I, I threw it…," he begins, then starts laughing at the memory. "I threw it in the river!" he gets out. "And, and it made a splash!" He plops back down in Evan's lap, satisfied, and Evan gives him a squeeze.

"We're doing really good, Bobby," Evan says, clear-eyed and smiling again, that calm strength in his voice that Tommy's watched blossom as Evan's become a leader, a husband, a father. "Just wish you were here to see it."

Evan looks at Rose. "Do you want to say anything?" She presses her lips together and shakes her head, leaning into his side. Evan puts his arm around her, holding both kids close.

It's quiet for a while. Benjy wriggles out of Evan's lap and starts running around the nearby graves; Tommy keeps an eye on him. Once Lily settles, Tommy kneels beside the headstone. "That's Lily," Evan introduces softly. She reaches for the flowers, and Tommy tips her forward to clutch a white petal in her tiny fist.

Evan tilts his head in invitation. Tommy opens his mouth, then closes it. Silence feels right.

He thinks about Bobby, what he meant to Evan, to both of them, everything he set in motion that led to this family he never got to meet. He takes in Evan's face, Rose's, Lily's with her sleepy yawns. And then he doesn't think at all — just feels the world around him, the breeze, the gathering dusk, the steady sound of breathing. It might be what people mean by prayer.

When he's ready, he nods at Evan, and they all pick themselves up. Tommy transfers Lily to Evan's arms and goes to collect Benjy, who's tired himself out by now and easily lets Tommy tow him back. Tommy kisses Evan's birthmark when he reaches him.

"Do you want a minute alone?" Tommy murmurs.

Evan shakes his head, one arm cradling their sleeping baby, his other hand resting on Rose's shoulder. "No," he says, smiling softly. "I got what I need."

[readychilledwine]

Daddy!Azriel x Pregnant!Reader Drabble

Summary - after being placed on house arrest toward the end of your pregnancy, you have lost some control on your husband, Azriel's, baby spending habits.

Warnings - mentions of pregnancy

Word count - a teeny tiny 800. Hence the choice to call it a drabble without a title 💙

Being pregnant was not easy.

You were constantly sore, tired, and had begun eating yourself and Azriel out of house and home, but you two would not change this miracle, this absolute blessing, for a single reason.

Madja had put you on house arrest this past month, asking Azriel to ensure you weren't lifting, weren't straining yourself, and were sleeping plenty. You were told by Rhysand and Feyre that your emissary duties could resume after your leave.

Despite Nesta's sacrifice, carrying a child with wings when you were wingless was still challenging. You ran out of room for the little one quickly, and being so much smaller than the average Illyrian female did not help either. The discomfort was the biggest issue, but Madja did not want to risk it. The plus side was constantly being home, relaxing, and your mate making meals, feeding you like the queen he believed you were.

The downside? Azriel had no self-control when it came to buying things for the life you two created, and you were no longer there to stop him from buying the mutual cravings you two seemed to have, countless baby supplies, and of course, the baby's first set of Illyrian Leathers. In the form of a onesie. How that even worked, you didn't ask, he was too thrilled as he held it up for you to question him.

From stuffies, to onesies, to excessive blankets from different courts, Azriel had begun purchasing everything in anticipation of his first baby's birth. All while you sat at home. Just silently watching him carry in bag after bag.

Today was a cold winter lazy day. Azriel had asked a favor of Eris, ensuring the hearths in your home burned a little brighter and warmer this year, and the Autumn High Lord was more than happy to ensure you were always warm due to the close friendship you three had formed. You snuggled further into the couch with your hot chocolate, tossing the plush blanket Kallias had sent for you over your legs, and sighed in joy. You had been thinking about this hot chocolate for hours and were practically salivating over the mountain of marshmallows you placed on top had toasted to perfection. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and Azriel gently knocking the snow off his boots before entering. 

While his shadows greeted you immediately with soft caresses on your swollen belly, Azriel had not even noticed you were there. His cheeks lightly flushed from the cool winter air, his hair ruffled from the wind. 

He was looking down at a large bag in his hands, peeping in it every often before walking to the kitchen and setting it down.

Azriel was smiling to himself, an occasional almost giggle falling from his mouth.  

"Az, what's so funny, baby?" 

Azriel looked at you wide-eyed in getting caught and threw the bag behind his back. "NOTHING!" He said loudly. "Nothing, nothing at all." He corrected, deepening his voice. "Just got our baby bat a present."

You giggled at his admiration, love, and pride he already felt toward your child. He loved them more than anything already. "Well, show me! Please!" 

His cheeks flushed, and he quickly shook his head. "You wouldn't understand. It's something we get to bond over, not you." 

You felt your lip tremble, and his eyes went wide. "I don't mean it like that, my love. I just mean it's something I-" his eyes softened when the first tear fell. "Angel, don't cry." Azriel walked to you with the bag, placing it on the coffee table and then taking your hot chocolate. He paused as he studied the mug. "Did you want some hot chocolate with your marshmallows, y/n?"

You broke a small smile, tears still falling. His scarred hands gently brushed the tears away. "Y/n, please do not cry. It's a special baby daddy gift. That's all."

You knew you were being ridiculous, but hormones were winning. "But-"

Azriel silenced you with a kiss, one of his hands going to your stomach. "I can't wait until you're here and mommy stops crying all the time." He held his hand there, waiting. "Angel, there's no reason to cry."

You nodded, sniffling. "I just want to know what you got them."

Azriel sighed, "You cannot laugh." He was hesitant to remove his hand, but grabbed the bag still. 

Azriel opened it, pulling out a few knitted sets of something that had your brow raised. "Are those?"

"Wing warmers." Azriel confirmed. A soft smile had come back to his face, his dimples showing. "My wings get cold in the winter, and so do Cassian and Rhysand's, so I had these made for them to ensure their little wings would never get cold. I also got Rhys, Cassian, Nyx, and I a matching set for Solstice."

You nodded slowly. Trying not to laugh. "I see." He took in your tight lipped express, the way your eyes were shining, the way your lip twitched. 

"You're laughing." He rolled his eyes and shook his head, a small smile still on his face. "They get really cold, y/n."

"I'm not laughing," you said quickly, hands touching the soft knitted covers, fingers circling the little buttons. "I just didn't realize this was an issue."

Azriel made an insulted face. "It is an issue!" His tone was playful and sarcastic. "Don't you want our baby bat to have the best things? Warm wings are the best things! My little star will not have cold wings. Not on my watch." 

His forehead found yourself as you two fell into laughter. His hand back on your belly. "They match the booties and little hats we had made. The same seamstress made them."

"I noticed. I love her work," you whispered softly to him, hands coming to his face. "You're going to be the best daddy, Azriel. We don't deserve you."

He smiled as a soft kick finally landed on his hand. "No, angel, I don't deserve you." He pushed you back gently, adjusting you so he was laid between your legs on the couch, his head resting near where that last kick was.

"Just keep growing, little one. You gotta grow grow grow." His thumb made small circles on your tummy as he continued to talk to your baby. "Daddy loves you and mommy so much. Even if she doesn't understand cold wings. Which you will never have."

[beecauseevan]

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December 2024

Today, a year later, Eddie can't recall the emergency that followed that bell. All he remembers is the ride in the engine, seconds stretching into a small eternity, his entire world narrowing down to the heavy warmth of Buck's thigh pressed up against his own.

He still can't decide if he should call it bad timing, that bell, or a saving grace. Marisol was there, and Buck was probably still dating Natalia. Eddie can't be sure what would have happened if the bell hadn't stopped them, but he has a strong feeling that it would have been a mistake.

Are some mistakes worth making?

Sitting by Buck's hospital bed, eyes tracing the dark shadows Buck's lashes cast on his pale cheeks, Eddie settles on bad timing. Horrible timing, really. 

That's been their theme for years, he thinks, maybe for as long as they've known each other. There have been so many moments of what if, moments that could have changed everything, if they had only let them. 

When Buck introduced him to Carla, showed him that there was truth in that promise to always have Eddie's back, and Eddie looked at him in his still-new kitchen and watched a colleague with a charming smile turn into a true friend before his eyes. 

When Eddie put his hand on Buck's shoulder, Buck's face still marred from tsunami debris, and gave him his son, his heart.

When Buck smirked at him from across a darkened kitchen, challenging him, while Chris sat oblivious on Buck's couch, playing a game Buck had gotten him for Christmas.

When Eddie looked him in the eye, in a hospital room in this very building, and told him he wasn't expendable. 

When Buck broke down Eddie's door and all his defenses. 

When Eddie's desperate hands broke Buck's ribs to get to his too-still heart.

In Buck's kitchen, six months ago, it was a date and this doesn't change a thing between us. In Eddie's living room, a few weeks ago, two beers and only one pair of pants between them.  

So many moments, so many chances—not wasted, not entirely, because they got them where they are today, but still, in a way, lost.

Abby and Shannon, Ali and grief and heartbreak, the fight club, Ana and Taylor, Natalia and Marisol, Tommy, and—nothing. Nothing, except Eddie's own stupidity, or pride, or fear. He should have said something, that night Buck sought him out, when they sat on Eddie's couch and watched Risky Business instead of talking. He should have said something, but he couldn't, not then, not so soon after he made that first tentative step towards letting himself be free. 

Freedom is scary enough when you achieve it step by step. You can't get there all at once. That would be like being sucked into the vacuum of space; all that pressure leaves too quickly, and your insides expand and expand until they rupture. 

He took too long. And now Buck almost died and Eddie is moving, even though he doesn't want to leave LA.  

Horrible timing, indeed.

Okayyy I cheated with this one... but there is only one bed in Buck's hospital room! For the only-one-bed-purists out there, though, I have a fake dating fic coming out on Christmas Day where they are sharing one bed for real, so if that piques your interest, feel free to hit me up on ao3 <3

Written for the @911countdowntochristmas - this was supposed to be 24 drabbles but the Buddie NDE speculation going around pre 8x08 inspired me and now it’s a 24-mini-chaptered fic instead. And definitely more hurt/comfort than fluff. Oops.

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[k--havok]

Day Two: Life

| Day One |

Another small (tho longer) piece, this one focused on growing up and into sexuality. Some minor liberties were taken, but again, this is based on my own life and relating to my bisexuality.

Day Two: Life

I once watched a movie that defined the answer to life, the universe, and everything to be the answer 42. 

I wished the answer for my own life to be that easy. If I were to give a number to my own life, universe, and everything, I suppose the answer would be 12. 

Not because 12 is my favorite number. Of course not. 12 was the age I thought my life could change forever. 

At that tender age, while sitting in my class, my stomach started to hurt. But it was not the rumblings of hunger before lunch. Nor was it from nausea or possibly catching a stomach bug. 

This pain throbbed deeper in the pit of my gut. A twisting wrenching knot of pain. 

I asked to go to the nurse. And as I stood up, embarrassment crawled into every vein of my body. Had I somehow peed myself? At the age of 12? 

The news that I had started my period brought a grin to my face. I danced with happiness, grabbing my large belly as I did so. 

My mother, always the pragmatist, told me I was utterly insane. Why would I be happy about my period? About starting puberty? 

Blood. Acne. Growth pains. Stretch marks. Truths that I did not know at the time. At that moment, I thought my life would change for the better forever. 

Puberty made you grow. It made you grow boobs. It gave you a definable waist. A nice, plump butt. Puberty made you hot. 

With puberty, I would shed my fat. My awkwardness. My shyness. I would finally emerge from a chrysalis of trauma and hatred. 

I would have boyfriends. I would get to kiss boys and hold their hands and have them proclaim their love to me. 

That would be my new life. A lie told to me through the media. 

I did not kiss a boy until I was 16. 

I hated kissing that boy.

[companionwolf]

pride month drabble challenge fill #1

prompts: 15. Transmasc + 9. Moonlight + 7. "Do you ever get afraid?" (prompts)

fandom: XCOM 2 (gen verse)

TWs/CWs: none

---

They're standing on the flight deck with Central, the cold moonlight turning them both silver black blue. Beside them, their XO stares out over the railing toward the distant glittering night shine of a city center.

His breath fogs in the air, and the Commander wishes they had those stupid sweaters still. They itched but they were warm, and the wind that rushes over the deck is frigid enough that they'd be willing to wear the damn thing again.

The Commander studies Central's face. He looks like they've always wished, no longer the clean and proper young man he was, more rugged and just--

Their stomach twists.

Masculine. Almost stereotypically so. He has it so effortlessly. They never will-- they don't know the state of gender affirming health care now and frankly? They'd rather not; it'd make them cry more than everything already does.

But they look at Central and they're envious. They look at him and they want to wear his skin. They look at him and mourn what they can't be.

Their capture did nothing to help. They guess it's nice that they didn't age, but... that's time they've lost. They'll never get it back. Time they could have--

Could have what? No time for transitioning when the world's on fire, they think bitterly.

Central looks over at them.

"You're looking awfully pensive," he says. "Something eating you, Commander?"

"Do you ever get afraid?" they ask.

Their central officer's mouth drops a bit in a frown. "Not sure I'm following," he says. "Of the aliens? The war? The Chosen? What's next? You're gonna need to be--"

"Of -- of not getting --"

Their voice trails off. What does their dysphoria matter, in this time? So meaningless admist the horrors. They shove their hands in their pockets and look at their feet.

Central's eyes are on them. "Ohhh," he says as they try not to meet his gaze. "Ohh, you think you don't deserve to talk about whatever it is, I see."

He scoffs. "Well, I think you do," he says, looking back out at the city center. "Even if it seems small to you, it still means something. You should get to talk about it."

"Thanks, Central," they say.

"So what is it?"

They take a long breath of the crisp cold air, feel it burn in their chest. "I'm not who I'm supposed to be," they say, hesitantly. "And I probably won't ever get to be."

Central's looking at them again.

Their stomach churns under his soft gaze. "Stop," they say. "Stop, you're pitying me."

"I am not," he retorts. "I still don't even really get it but maybe I don't have to. This is a trans thing, right?"

They nod.

"I won't ever know what that's like," Central continues. "I won't claim that I would or will, but..." He pauses. "I don't know, if I can help somehow, I'd like to."

The Commander shifts weight from foot to foot, is still avoiding eye contact. "I don't know what you could even do," they say. "I mean, besides what you do already, with pronouns and..."

"Yeah, but that's just being a decent human," Central says.

"Maybe that's all I can really ask, all you can really do," the Commander says. "Not like you can just manifest a surgeon or HRT or whatever."

"If I could I would," he says. "I could... someone has to be helping folks in the resistance transition. I'll look around."

The Commander smiles a little, shuffles a little closer to Central.

"You're right," they say. "There has to be somebody, something." They hesitate. "I just...sometimes I feel like I'm alone, and that it'll never happen, and that I have to settle. That's what I mean."

"You shouldn't ever have to settle," Central says. "Not on something like this-- when it's about yourself and your life and..." He struggles a second. "You should get to be happy."

The Commander wants to reach for his hand. They don't. Instead they say, "You should too."

He looks away, back toward the cityscape and its neon lights. "I've got mine," he says. "Your turn now, Commander."

The Commander closes the distance between them, leans on him. "What if we both got ours? Got to be happy?" they say. "What about that, Central?"

Central stiffens under their weight, and then relaxes a bit. "I'd like that," he says, his voice quiet, slow. The Commander can feel his body rising and falling with each breath under their ear.

"Me too," they say. "Me too."

[autumnalwalker]

Pride Month Drabble Challenge: Day 30, Belong

Reblog of the challenge rules with links to my posts is here.

“I love you.”

“Obviously.”

“Seriously.  It’s occurred to me that I don’t say it much, and I should.”

“But you do.  A dozen times a day in a hundred different ways.  Every time you bring me coffee on a late night without my needing to ask even though you hate the smell.  Every time you ask a question when I’m on a rant about orbital mechanics instead of trying to change the topic.  Every time you make a callback in-joke that would be utterly incomprehensible to anyone else or laugh at one of mine.  Every time you accidentally lose track of what you were doing because you got caught up in watching me take care of the plants.  Every time you say I make you feel safe.”

“I… Oh… Wow…  I don’t know what to say to that.  Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.  That said, I love you too.”

“Obviously.  You just said it twice.”

“Caught that, huh?”

“Of course.  I know you.  Just like you know me.”

“Better than anyone?”

“Better than anyone.”

[papercutsunset]

10: Corona's Always Right

The premise of this one is that Winona Whatever (Darkened States) gets so weird about asexuality. I was going to change Corona's name but was convinced not to.

Word count: 1000

It’s a weird feeling: hands up her shirt and down below the equator, the pillow uncomfortable against her back— and it’s a bad one. 

“Stop. Stop, stop.” She puts a hand between the two of them and tries to sit up. “Stop.”

Corona sighs, less anger and more this shit again. She climbs off and sits on the edge of the bed.

Corona’s cool enough. She doesn’t mind that Winona’s a criminal werewolf constantly trying to do trade with people all over. Corona Spizzo is a goddamn saint in comparison— the patron saint of fencing stolen goods and making kickass pizza. 

Winona fixes her belt and makes sure everything is buttoned and zipped up— like it should be. It’s one of those moments where she just wants to rest her head in her hands and feel nothing. The LEDs blinking back at her from the wall are the only light in the room that doesn’t come from the street. 

“So.” Corona doesn’t bother putting her shirt back on. She just stares at the wall in front of her, in the same direction. “I think it warrants talking about. How long have we been seeing each other?” 

She does the math in her head. Two days after Randall bit her and made her fend off the infection on her own; the same day they stuck her on a motorcycle and told her to drive. “Two months?” 

“Right. And, in that time, how many times have we tried this?” 

“This? What do you mean?” 

“This, Winona.” She gestures between the two of them, bare chest to clothed. “To go further than just kissing?”

“Well, I— I don’t know, Corona.” 

“You don’t know what? The answer is at least six, by the way.” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Let me put this a different way. Your first girlfriend— Her name was Lily, right?” 

“Is Lily, but yes.” 

“Right. Did she never try to have sex with you?” 

“I mean— We never went through with it. It was just… a possibility.” One she circumvented hid from by claiming extra hours at work or babysitting, or by coming up with other distractions. Winona’s shoulders tense again under the loose fabric of someone else’s black t-shirt. “I never… I never wanted to.” 

Understanding flashes across golden-brown eyes. “Give it to me straight, Wy. Are you asexual?” 

“I don’t know what the hell that means and I refuse to learn.” 

“Because you’re scared of it?” 

“Stop that.” Winona bristles again. “Stop reading me like that.” 

Corona’s smirk re-flavors the entire room. “Stop reading you accurately? Fat chance.” 

“You barely know me.” 

“I know you well enough, apparently.” 

Something inside Winona freezes. 

“It’s nothing to be scared of. It just means you don’t feel sexual attraction.” Corona shrugs, nonchalant. “Or you do, in small amounts, in rare occurrences. My brother— he’s asexual.”

“Fuck.” It comes out a whisper. She stands a little too quickly, knocks her knee against Corona’s dresser, and tries not to let on that it hurts like hell. 

“Are you okay?” Corona’s voice comes out high-pitched with concern. 

“Yeah, it’s good. It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.” A lie, to be sure. “I’ll think about it. I have to get back and check on my siblings. Edna’s great, but she’s— Old. She’s so old. I have to go.” 

Winona grabs her jacket from the ground and takes off running. 

There are only ever two options: stay and fight, or get the hell away. If she doesn’t have to think about it while Corona yells that it’s fine and nothing to be ashamed of from the window, then she doesn’t have to think about it while she pauses in an alleyway to put on her boots, and she doesn’t have to think about it when she forces the helmet down over her head and gets on the bike. 

It’s a long drive around Lake Superior and back to Quincy. The road is always empty at this time of night. When did the sun set and douse her in dark-purple and the starlight tentacle glow? It’s all that’s left in those desolate places on the edges of Judgment and the Devil’s Domain: grayed-out streetlamps on old backroads. 

She scratched the white-out off of the pages in her health textbook last year. She knows what she’s supposed to feel. It rests under her skin like a spasm: Corona was right, and that’s more embarrassing than anything. Almost seventeen years of living, and she hasn’t had a word for that hole in her chest until now. 

What would the Devil say, as up on their high horse as they are? Be who you are without fear, right? Keep on dreaming? Well, she dreams of the open road and the security of never admitting anything.

Corona steps in front of her before the dream comes true. Barefoot and unbuttoned on the streets of an old-fashioned town, she puts her hands on her hips. “Winona. You’re not running from this.” 

“Like hell I’m not.” 

“You’re not. You don’t run from things, asshole.” 

“I run from things all the time.” 

“I’ve seen you fight three guys at once. I‘ve never seen you run.” 

She chews her lip. “I can’t punch what’s wrong with me.” 

Corona reaches forward, lifts the fucked-up vizor of the fucked-up helmet on the fucked-up girl, and looks her in the eye. “Nothing is wrong with you, except your weird tendency toward self-sacrifice.” 

“It’s not weird. It’s cool.” 

“It’s cool until it gets you killed in an alley by three guys.” 

“They’ll never catch me. I’m too fast. Now— Can I go?” 

“You can say it, you know. You can admit it.” 

“I’ll admit nothing.” If there were a wall, she would hit her head against it. It’ll come to her eventually, right? Acceptance? She accepted she was a lesbian forever ago; she made her peace with the lycanthropy. This, too, will slide into the folder. She groans, “Fine. Fuck. Fine. You’re right.” 

Her smirk re-flavors the entire street. “I always am.” 

[theoracleofgiana]

Tara's Heart

Day 3: Homoromantic, healing

Tara has always fallen for weird girls. The girls who believed they were horses, the girls who were obsessed with vampires and werewolves, and the girls who listened to heavy rock. Tara had crushes on them all. So the moment Fifi Primrose waltzed into class dressed like a witch, Tara begged for her heart to stay still. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans. Fifi decided Tara would be an excellent friend, and Tara could feel herself fall with every weird statement from Fifi's mouth. It scared her so much. 

When asking a horse girl out, she was greeted with an ew. The vampire and werewolf girls preferred Edward and Jacob to her. The rock and roll girls called her too plain. Tara understood that her taste was weird. She understood that she wouldn't be a strange girl's type. They wouldn't like her with her stringy brown hair and pasty white skin. They wouldn't want Tara when her wardrobe is full of plain tees and oversized flannel shirts. So, Tara stays quiet about her crush to save her heart. 

Fifi is the one to ask her out. Tara had just stood there, shocked at what came out of the other girl's mouth. Tara was convinced she'd misheard or gotten it wrong somehow. There was no way this eccentric witch wanted dull Tara. Fifi shrugged off her concerns and dragged Tara to their date. After that, Fifi called Tara girlfriend, and Tara called Fifi hers. Everything was sweet and new. It was terrifying and healing. 

Tara could feel herself getting lost in the feeling of happiness. Every once in a while, Tara could also feel her insecurities pop up. Every time without fail, Fifi tells Tara how much she adores her. She lists what makes Tara special and unique. Tara always shugs or laughs them off. Fifi doesn't relent, however. Fifi is determined to make her girlfriend feel loved and special. Tara does what she can for Fifi as well. She showers Fifi with gifts and love. She listens to Fifi's theories and troubles. Tara looks at Fifi and everything they do together with warmth. Fifi holds her close with promises of healing one another. Together, Tara can feel herself healing every day. The thought always warms her to the core.  

(A/n: Day three of drabbles! Written a bit differently than my usual stuff. More wholesomeness, this time with Tara and Fifi. Also, Tara a hundred percent thinks Fifi is just pretending to be a witch. Fifi is an actual witch and doesn't know why Tara doesn't believe her. It's sweet and also silly. I hope you enjoyed and have a witchy day!)

[merlinmicrofic]

Hello friends!

I apologize for the delay, and would like to invite you all to belatedly celebrate one year of Merlin Micro Fic with me! By now the AO3 Collection boast over 170 fills, with the ones only posted to Tumblr probably meaning we've cracked the 200-fills-mark. I'm so grateful and in awe of the enthusiasm for this on-going event, from those who show up every months, to those who step by every once in a while! <3

Unfortunately, life has really taken a busy turn for me these last couple of months. As already considered a while ago, it's really not feasible for me to keep making a Masterlist every month if I want to keep this event going, as it were.

I will continue tagging fills with the rounds, though, so in theory at least all fills for a round can always be found that way. And of course, the prompting structure will remain; it is now just a little easier to sneak in a late fill here and there.

On the note of late fills: the anniversary prompt round will be an amnesty one, for all 36 prompts of the last year! You can find the list below - feel free to combine, to submit second fills for prompts you'd already filled, or to fill ones you didn't get around to before!

This round will run for 6 weeks, until the end of February. For one, it gives everyone a little additional time, for the other, it'll finally fix the way rounds run from middle to middle of the months! :D

As always:

For info on how this works, please check this post.

Please remember - when posting to tumblr, please name ship/characters/gen relationship, the prompt(s) you're filling, the wordcount and, if needed, rating + warnings (so, for example: "Fill for @merlinmicrofic prompt 'Feast', Leon/Merlin, Explicit, Graphic Violence") at the top of your post!

Prompts can be interpreted loosely, although if you pick the dialogue prompt, the line should make an appearance!

Remember, your fic has to be 500 words or shorter! For an additional challenge, make it an exact drabble (100 words to the point!) When you post to tumblr, we'll check wordcounts with wordcount.com

Places/ways you can post: only to tumblr, to our AO3 collection, or to both. Whichever way you choose, do make sure to make a tumblr post of some kind and tag this blog directly, so that we can reblog it, and log it for the masterlist!

Reminder that prompts can be submitted through the ask box (see here for more info), and one of the monthly prompts will be picked from those by random choice!

If you have any more questions that aren't answered by the posts linked in our pinned post, please don't hesitate to reach out.

Most importantly, have fun! <3

And now, for the prompts:

Awake

"Your Turn"

Masquerade

Hunger/Hungry

"Then Go"

Throne

Vulnerable/Vulnerability

"Trust Me"

Tower

Tradition

"I'll be there."

Enough

Crowd

"It's You."

Rooftop

Pride

"Be Careful"

Underwater

Desperate Measures

"You Wouldn't"

Home

Sunlight

"Tell me."

Shipwreck

Nightfall

"I Promised"

Starting Over

Harvest

"Almost."

Library

Silhouette

"And the truth?"

Frozen

Feast

"Try Again."

New Year

[atruewarrior]

Drabble challenge 2024 | Day 2: Pepper character: kageyama tobio

It's cute that Kageyama tries, really.

He always does to make up for time apart, for his months-long travels to other countries and continents. But you should've known better than to let him cook for you tonight.

The table is beautifully set, and his grin as he settles across from you speaks of his pride.

He's practically vibrating in his seat when you bring the forkful of gnocchi to your mouth.

Somehow the cough you choke makes him beam wider.

"So?"

"Splendid." You take a sip of water. "A dash of pepper is all it needs."

"Sure, be right back!”

[stitch-away]

𐙚 masterlist 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

certified dieter lover | javier peña angst connoisseur

since i'm going to actually post stuff here, bc i'm too lazy to make an alt, i may as well make a masterlist/pinned post. i am but a simple man that writes gay shit sometimes when i'm not swamped w uni work :3

i mainly write pedro pascal characters and game!joel miller but that might change who knows. i am currently studying spanish so that may be present but i am by no means proficient, critique is desired. i write just about anything and can write about triggering subjects so heed the tags and warnings please <3

stuff posted here + darker stuff i don't want on here -> ao3

if u ever have javier peña angst u want written, send me an ask!! (i have no limits but if i don't wanna write something i just won't lol)

ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ ♡ amo a todos los que leerán estos

javier peña🧸ྀི

"but i meant to" series (ongoing)

colombia is not the only ghost that haunts javier. a non-chronological series (i'll order them in the masterlist) of pure javier angst. it's one sided stavier, mainly focusing on javier. heavy TW for this one, read the tags!!

joel miller🧸ྀི

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 feral joel miller series ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 (ongoing)

you find a man, alone, far beyond the walls of the boston qz. you think he might be infected but quickly you realise this man is feral; or, joel has spent the last 20 years living in the wilderness in untouched isolation, until you find him.

♡︎ mating season - MDNI DDDNE gn reader oneshot (part 2 coming eventually <3)

♡︎ mating season drabble - MDNI DDDNE

oberyn martell🧸ྀི

♡︎ be a good boy - MDNI male reader oneshot for mushgloomz's ppcusmutchallange <3

frankie morales🧸ྀི

♡︎ a fitting punishment - MDNI male reader oneshot for mushgloomz's ppcusmutchallenge <3

dio morrissey🧸ྀི

♡︎ open wounds - MDNI TW solo dio

marcus moreno🧸ྀི

♡︎ outlook good - MDNI male reader oneshot for clubsoft's hyetto? writing challenge <3

pedrito pairings🧸ྀི

♡︎ tboy shots (gone gay) - MDNI trans dio morrissey x trans eddie from buffy (part 2 coming in june)

♡︎ chupa mi verga- not his - MDNI javier peña x m reader x joel miller

oneshot series🧸ྀི

pride month series (coming june)

kinktober (coming october)

romance prompt series (coming november)

silly posts

♡︎ pedritos as silly shirts i found on pinterest <3

♡︎ ranking of veteran pedritos

˙✧˖°ʕ•ﻌ•ʔᡣ𐭩⋆｡˚ ദ്ദിᵔ.˛.ᵔ₎

[perotovar]

fic masterlist

-> series

frankie morales/oc!river price

— into the beat of the night (ongoing)

summary: frankie morales thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

javier peña/joel miller

— baby, i'm-a want you - a miniseries (ongoing)

summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where javier and joel are gay porn stars~

shane morrissey/tim rockford

— bloody kisses - a loose fit series (ongoing)

summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

marcus pike/oc!vincent monet

— ain't it sweet - a loose fit series (ongoing)

summary: it's been two years since marcus moved to dc for work. he's spent a lot of time reflecting and more importantly, being single. he's not in a hurry to settle down just yet, but a handsome art history professor might make that a little difficult.

-> oneshots/drabbles

pero tovar

— ásjá - a winter solstice story (oneshot)

summary: pero picks up a contract that leads him "somewhere up north", but what he finds instead is unlike anything he imagined for himself. or, what would happen if pero encountered the vikings during their winter celebration?

joel miller

— given to fly - a joel/tess drabble

summary: joel has a chance to reflect a little about tess while at bill and frank's.

if you'd like a tutorial or you have any questions, my dm's/askbox are always open!

javi gutierrez

— rebirth - a pride month oneshot

summary: javi has been wanting to let his partner know something for a long time. in fact, this is something that javi has thought about for their entire life, and they're comfortable enough to finally say it.

jack daniels/marcus pike

— before a mirror - a drabble

summary: jack's a little lonely, so he takes a walk to a museum to see his favorite painting.

dieter bravo/din djarin

— this protector - a oneshot

summary: dieter and his bodyguard, din, get the wrong hotel room. i wonder what happens...

joel miller/m!oc

— limits - oneshot

summary: so like, imagine a world where bulls evolved to be bi-pedal and can mate with humans, but it's not a common practice. don't think too hard about it, just imagine you're a new farm hand/stable boy and caught the attention of one of those bulls, okay?

jack daniels/trans man!reader

— cold - oneshot

summary: jack is a big baby while he's sick, so that means you have to be the one to take care of him.