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xino-writes · 8 months ago

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Whumptober 2024 Day 20 - "alt prompt: time loop" - ocs? (THYME)

(not rlly whumpy)

[ao3 series link]

Thyme stands in front of his mentor, holding his pocket watch tightly.

“Everytime you travel through time, it has consequences.” She warns him, and he can’t help but shoot back with;

“Okay, And?”

----

He was never one to care for timelines or the true way time stands. He’d always meet people who told him that time is a concept, and he likes that way of thinking. He’s just a ghost standing in the center of the concept of time, after all. Now, his mentor, or as he calls her, an old bat of a woman, isn’t even on the same mindset. The audacity!

He slides his hands into his coat pocket, one of them running over the pocket watch. It’d gone faulty in this time period. Or this pocket of time. He really should’ve paid attention to that lecture about time loops and how to escape them, eh?

Well, it’s fine. He’d met this, frankly, really hot guy in this bit of time. And he wasn’t about to leave without learning all of his ticks, really! Seriously, you give Thyme this gem of a figment of time, and then you expect him to not do a thing about it? Besides, it’s only a week looping over and over!

And the time period feels nice, and cozy, and Thyme just really, really, really likes this place. (He doesn’t care that every time he changes something, it will forever be different here. Why should he? It doesn’t effect him, or his timeline. Not when he’s the one creating it)

He slips into a side-alley, after all, he’s grown familliar with this quaint little town, and it’s quirks. Perhaps he’ll settle here if he ever stops time travelling, but, then again, why should he stop?! Thyme pulls out his pocket watch, and swings it like a yo-yo, humming the tune of whichever song he listened to last.

Oh? Shouting? Interesting. He slips to look through the window of the nearest house, and that’s when he realizes why this town is familliar. Why he’s been stuck here. Good ‘ol paradoxes. He stares in at his younger self, and has to repress a laugh at how.. Weak he was. How much of an idiot kid he’d used to be.

Snapping the watch back into his hand, he shoves it into his pocket. He’s got a far better life now, doesn’t he? Being a time traveller, essentially immortal, so why care about the life that he’d have had if he’d never been one. He unlocks the window he was looking through, and slips inside.

He walks behind the woman he’d been caught by as a child, and slips a wink to his kid-self. Not like that’d change much, y’know? He told so so so many stories as a kid, and seeing his future self fit perfectly into that list of stories. After slipping by, he grabs a loaf of bread off the counter, and walked out the door. His watch had begun to tick again, and hey, a snack was well needed!

Especially now that he can finally leave! Sure, he’d like to flirt with the hot guy some more, or stay a bit longer, but he’s got a time period to return to, and a couple of people to bother! He takes a few bites off the end of the loaf of bread, and then he tosses it into another alleyway for the rats and such.

Once again, he uses his pocket watch like a yo-yo, catching it and flicking it open, randomly spinning the hour hand a few times. He’s got a few time periods in mind, and this time, he’ll let the watch pick between them. His ‘home’ period wasn’t too interesting, but his good pals that are trying to stop him from travelling, for some reason that he never heard them out on, so he’d frankly not like stopping down there for right now.

----

“Thyme, sit your ass down!”

“Mento-”

“Quiet. You need to listen, before I entrust you with any abilities of your own.”

“But-!”

“The consquences are important. And you’re only 16. I can’t do anything until you’re eighteen.”

Thyme crosses his arms and pouts at her, as if he were still a young child. But, as she said, she can’t do much for him unless he listens, and so he finally tunes into her rambling.

----

Dart left, fake right, Jump up, pull out your watch. Thyme’s used to these chases. Against.. ah, what’s their names. Who cares. He’s just gotta get to a time period, one that’ll take them awhile to track him down in. The 2010s, maybe? Or the 2020s. He’s vaccinated. He’ll be okay.

He spins the minute hand this time, and jumps forward just as he’s pulled through time. Andddddd here he is. The middle of who knows where in 2021. Eh, he’ll survive. He got in apartment back in when he’d travelled to then, so maybe it’s still standing? He doesn’t know how the whole.. time travelling stuff messes with that, but he’s got a place to try and get to, while running from ‘time cops’.

He doesn’t know how he ticked off the ‘Time Directory and Safety Agency’ or TDSA, but he’s all for stirring up trouble. And besides, they’re not about to go on a whole chase through time to find him, anyways. They know his usual haunts, and the places he’d stop down in for a break and to relax for however long.

Shaking his head, he sets off in a random direction.

----

“Thyme? Thyme the Time Traveller? Is that some sort of joke?”

“It’s-! It’s not a joke! I just graduated, see!” Thyme holds his pocket watch out towards the college student he’d met during this travel. He’d been asked about his.. odd garb and of course he explained. And then got shot down.

It happens every time, and being newly 18 and all for stirring up trouble, he tried telling everyone he met. Even if it led to unfortunate situations each and every time. Besides, that newly founded Time Agency thing didn’t even bat an eye at him yet! Not. Fun. Not fun at all! Especially when the Founder’s Son is kinda.. No. Nope. Not today Thyme!

With a large sigh and just as large of a stretch, Thyme shoves the watch into his pocket and fixes his hair, walking out of the establishment he found himself in. A part of him wondered the consequence for this travel. They’re different every time, and hey, it’ll be a-okay!

And then he’s stopped by a man with a familliar face, and black jacket.

“Please. /Please/ stop travelling before it’s too late. The consequences don’t stop. They add up. /Please/”

Thyme looks his future self in the eyes, and then pushes him to the side. He’s got a life of travelling ahead of him. His future self can, and should, deal with the regret alone.

#time loop #ocs #thyme syn

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silver-stargazing · 2 years ago

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[Image ID: The 29 Day Song Challenge Prompt list for Epilepsy Awareness month. 16 of the prompts have been crossed off. /end ID]

29 Day Song Challenge

Day 16: A song that you go to after you've had a seizure

Flowers Never Bend with a Rainfall by Simon & Garfunkel

My mind dances and leaps in confusion I don't know what is real I can't touch what I feel And I hide behind the shield of my illusion

youtube

[Video description: music video for Flowers Never Bend in a Rainfall by Simon & Garfunkel. The video's sole image is the album cover for the duo's album Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme, which feature the two singers against a black background and flowers in the foreground. / end video description]

I always have some very serious unreality experiences in the aftermath of a seizure and this song has been kind of nice in helping with helping me acknowledge and address that.

#actually epileptic #epilepsy #epilepsy awareness month #stargazer rambles #29 days song challenge #music #video #simon and garfunkel #Youtube

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arecaceae175 · 1 year ago

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1. How many works do you have on A03?

2. What's your total A03 word count? 228,530 :D

3. What fandoms do you write for?

On my AO3 account I only have Legend of Zelda fics: BOTW, TOTK, LU, Bonus Links, and Skyward Sword. I also have written for How to Train Your Dragon, The Walking Dead, Supernatural, and Arrow, bbut currently I'm only doing LoZ

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Only the Wild Ones - my first LU fic! Wild meets the chain fic where they meet him multiple times in his childhood

Authenticity - Autistic Wild and his interactions with the chain

Delirium - Wild angst fic from Sky POV based on art by kikker-oma

Whumptober 2022 - short prompt fills

In Defense of Honor - 8 times Sky defends the chain + 1 time they all defend him

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I love responding to comments

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

My TOTK fics. Link is very sad and it doesn't get better. Hypothetically there will be a third installment after I beat the game where it does get better but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmmmm. I have quite a few fics there are pure fluff so I don't think I an choose just one XD

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I got one transphobic comment on Authenticity when I wrote about Wild being nonbinary. Other than that I have never gotten hate <3

9. Do you write smut?

No. Well... I have one thing in my WIPs that will never see the light of day probably but for the most part no.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not really. I'm not opposed to it, but it hasn't happened yet

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Currently is GrooseZeLink. When I was younger it was Hiccup and Astrid from HTTYD

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Temple Escape

16. What are your writing strengths?

I write character interactions very well :D

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I don't edit lol

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Sure! I love seeing this in fics

19. First fandom you wrote for?

How to Train Your Dragon. I have an account on another website where I have 4 HTTYD fics posted. They were very important to me

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I CAN'T CHOOSE! Authenticity, IDOH, and Sentiment is always my answer lol

No pressure tags @majorproblems77 @the-sleepydetective @wildsage00 @ikaishere @somer-writes @legend-of-thyme and anyone else who wants to play!

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @the-real-azalea-scroggs! Had to wait until I was of my phone because doing these is a nightmare on mobile lmao

1. How many works do you have on A03?

18 as of a few days ago!

2. What's your total A03 word count?

60,763! Which is. Only a fraction of the word count in my Docs folder. Be prepared.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I mainly write for The Legend of Zelda; specifically Linked Universe! In fact, that's all that's posted on my Ao3 currently, since my fall into that fandom began with me uploading there! Pre-Ao3 I wrote for Black Cat (Anime/Manga), Megaman NT Warrior, various Pokémon things, Assassin's Creed, Yugioh, Final Fantasy XIV and Octopath Traveler! Some of these I still write privately, but I haven't gotten around to re-posting any.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Whistling on Deaf Ears - My longest fic on Ao3, focusing on Wild and Twilight's friendship and how good intentions can lead to disaster.

Iconoclasm - Warriors deals with the room full of portraits in Cia's palace. The Chain also deals with it, but with a bit more fire.

Deserving - Twilight finally tells Rusl that he was the wolf in the village during TP, but that also means dealing with some heavier topics. Colin half overhears them and forms his own conclusions.

Something Greater - The start of the "Hyrule can see magical auras" series! In this one we deal with Legend and his many rings.

Ocean Magic - Mermaid Legend and Zora Time have a race and then fight one of the Big Octos from WW! Fun times.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Every single one!! I love comments, they give me an excuse to ramble about my fic more!! I am always down to ramble about every single insignificant detail of any line and/or section. If you ever want more background info about one of my fics, look to the comments! So please, I adore comments, I treat them like treasures, not responding to them would be a CRIME.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

There's no contest; Inevitable, my (so far) only MCD fic.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmm, that's hard to quantify. I usually try to end fics on a hopeful note regardless. I'd say possibly either Deserving, where Twilight reconnects with his family, or Shimmering Blue, Striking White, where Time meets the Fierce Deity settled down on Satori Mountain and they both get closure.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, no! I've been blessed with mostly amazing and patient readers, even when my upload schedule isn't the best.

9. Do you write smut?

No, not really. I've attempted it, but I'm too asexual for it lol

10. Do you write crossovers?

Very, very rarely. Mostly privately, and only very specific ones. Only a single one has had an actual plot, so far (more on that one in question 15!).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also a nope! I tend to write for smaller fandoms, where these things don't tend to happen a lot!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! But it's been a while. Over a decade, in fact! I tried to find the fic to link it here, but it was on the German fanfic website fanfiktion.de, and my friend who posted it back then must have deactivated her account, because it's nowhere to be seen (I still have the Word file though!). It was a Multi-Crossover that started as an RP in a forum, and we took turns turning the RP into prose one chapter each. "If a Hero Turns to Dark" was its title. We were edgy teenagers.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Hissssss. Bad question. Shoo. They are all equally important!! But it's probably TenRose from Doctor Who.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

One of the very few crossovers I've ever worked on; a crossover fic between Assassin's Creed and Doctor Who, that I have mapped out in both chronological and timeline order, and yes, those are different. I only ever wrote about a quarter of it, since my primary audience of it disappeared when we graduated. I doubt I'll ever pick it back up properly, and if I do it'll probably go through heavy rewrites first since it's so old. Finishing it is a nice thought, but realistically, after 9 years it'll never be high priority enough for it to actually happen.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, especially arguments, and emotional impact. I've been told I do really well making characters feel alive and believable! Also I like to believe I'm decent at setting a scene and giving it the vibe I want it to have!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with dialogue tags when nothing much is happening besides the talking. I always feel it's too bland, and fall back on the same phrases. My scene transitions could use some work too.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done this with Japanese phrases, because I was a massive weeb. Usually I followed them up with their own translations, though; I'm not the biggest fan of footnote translations, unless they are properly linked to. Simple dialogue tags are my favourite way of indicating a language switch.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Black Cat the Manga/Anime! It's a series about an assassin turned bounty hunter trying to live a life separate from his murdery past, but getting dragged back into things by still wanting to avenge his best friend's death. The series has a special place in my heart and my bookshelf, it left an imprint on 13-year-old me that will never leave.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Probably Jailbreak, uncharacteristically enough! It's one of the only fics I never got stuck in once. Writing it was a great feeling from start to finish. I love writing all of my fics, but that was a special few days.

Tagging @ahrva @nowhere-to-go-but-down @silvercaptain24 and @aeghina! And anyone who wants to do it, really, go wild

#fanfic writer game #ace writes #tag game #tag games #writing #long post

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twwofwwands · 4 years ago

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A Year and a Day UPDATED - 206 prompts - A Quest to discover my individual Witchcraft

*UPDATED - original post was 196 prompts

After a lifetime of subtle magic and a year of failing to step into my power, I wrote this personalized curriculum to learn my own individual Witchcraft over 366 days. There are 206 points on the list. Some will take a bit of time and work. Others require more simple answers.

I used the words "personalized" and "individual" for a reason. Witchcraft is very personal. We are all individuals and nothing we do looks exactly the same. Some of the points may not suit you. Adjust or omit them.

I will be kicking this off with a devotional river bath on June 1st.

Follow me on Instagram if you'd to tag along. Inspired by https://sammmango.tumblr.com/post/175974393404/a-whopping-list-of-grimoire-prompts-and-ideas

Cleansing Commencement Ritual

1. List everything you’re grateful for. Be very specific – from the people you love to the water you drink

2. Write down what you want to change about your life. What is holding you back?

3. List everything you need to release, unlearn, and cleanse

4. Write affirmations to support your unlearning and growth with everyday

5. Take a cleansing shower or bath. Use whatever candles, herbs, crystals, etc. you feel like.

Wheel of the Year

6. Create your own calendar/”wheel” as you go

a. Keep a running list of signs you notice of the changing seasons

7. Research each of the Sabbats and decide how they work into your craft.

a. Summer Solstice/Litha – June 20

b. Lammas/Lughnasadh – August 1

c. Fall Equinox/Mabon – September 22

d. Samhain/Halloween – October 31

e. Yule/Winter Solstice – December 21

f. Imbolc/Candlemas – February 2

g. Spring Equinox/Ostara – March 20

h. May Day/Beltane – May 1

8. How do you wish to celebrate the popular holidays or combine them with related Sabbats? Valentine’s Day? Easter and Ostara? Yule and Christmas?

Witchcraft 101

9. Definitions – Determine what these terms mean to you by researching various descriptions

a. Grounding

b. Centering

c. Cleansing

d. Charging

e. Blessing

f. Charming

g. Enchanting

h. Warding

i. Binding

j. Banishing

k. Consecrating

10. How do you ground and center?

11. How do you cast a circle? Do you bother?

12. What are the corners? How do you call them?

13. How do you set up an altar? Do you bother?

14. Research various workings and their origins;

a. Candle magic

b. Knot/braid magic

c. Sigils

d. Self protection

e. Home protection

f. Egg workings

g. Foot track work

h. Hair/Tag-lock magic

i. Money magic

i. Money bowl/plate

ii. Money candle

iii. Money dust

iv. Lode stone money spell

v. Look up 5 good money spells that you would use

j. Sex magic

k. True jar spells

Correspondences

15. Directions

16. (5) Elements

17. 7 Days of the week

18. Colours

Astrology

19. Read your own birth chart in depth while working through this section

20. Triplicities – Elements in Astrology

21. Quadruplicities – Cardinal/Mutable/Fixed

22. The 12 zodiac signs

23. The 12 houses

24. Aspects

25. Rising sign

26. Sun sign

27. Moon sign

28. Mercury

29. Venus

30. Mars

31. Saturn

32. Jupiter

33. Uranus

34. Neptune

35. Pluto

Lunar Magic

36. Moon Phases

a. Correspondences

b. Add to your calendar/”wheel”

37. New Moon rituals

38. Full moon rituals

Divination

39. Read cards every day

40. Pull a tarot card for each week. Read it for yourself. Research traditional meanings and symbolism as well.

41. Draw some tarot spreads to refer to.

42. Write a list of other divining methods that you’re interested in

43. Make runes or charms…a bone set?

Crystals

44. How do crystals work?

45. How do you cleanse crystals?

46. How do you charge crystals?

47. How do you program crystals?

a. Create a charm to carry with you as reminder and amplifier of your magic

48. What are the uses of crystal grids? Look up some examples for more ideas.

49. How can you use crystals?

a. Physically

b. Metaphysically

c. Around the home

50. Write an information page for every crystal you have. (See Crystal List)

Green Witchery

51. Research all the herbs you are growing;

a. Basil

b. Calendula

c. Chives

d. Catnip

e. Chamomile

f. Dill

g. Lavender

h. Lemon Balm

i. Oregano

j. Peppermint

k. Rosemary

l. Sage

m. Thyme

52. Identify and research 15 plants or trees in your yard. How can you use these in your craft?

53. Identify and research 15 wild plants or trees in nature. How can you use these in your craft?

54. How can you garden by the moon?

55. Note any foraging times on the calendar/”wheel”

Potions

56. Research the essential oils you have on hand

a. Bergamot

b. Cedarwood

c. Cinnamon leaf

d. Chamomile

e. Eucalyptus

f. Frankincense

g. Geranium

h. Lavender

i. Lemon

j. Lemongrass

k. Lime

l. Peppermint

m. Rose

n. Rosemary

o. Tea tree

57. Make body butter

58. Make “Personal Growth” scalp and nail massage oil

59. Make face/gua sha oil

60. Make toothpaste

61. Make toner with oil (like micellar water)

62. Make ‘Thieves’ body spray

63. Create your own signature scent in a body spray

64. Learn to make herbal infusions

65. Learn to make infused oils

66. Learn to make herbal decoctions

67. Learn to make tinctures

68. Learn to make mouthwashes

Spirit Work

69. List the Spirits you can think to work with

a. Ancestors

i. Do you have an item that belonged to them?

b. Flora, Fauna & the Land

c. Planets

i. Where are they in your chart?

70. How can one connect with the spirit of a/an;

a. Ancestor

b. Plant or tree

c. Natural body of water

d. Fairies

e. Planet

71. What type of offerings would you provide different spirits?

a. Ancestors

b. Plants or trees

c. A natural body of water

d. Fairies

e. A planet

72. Take what you’ve learned above and try connecting with spirits;

a. An Ancestor

b. A plant or tree

c. A natural body of water

d. Fairies

e. A Planet

Shadow work

73. Look at your chart;

a. Moon, house

b. 12th house, ruler

c. Saturn

d. Chiron

e. Hard aspects

74. Research Jungian Archetypes and determine which ones fit you.

a. What are your shadows? How can you work on them?

75. Research Myers-Briggs personality types and determine which one fits you.

Personal Maintenance & Glamour

76. Hydrate – your body, brain, Earth and the Moon are mainly water

77. Eat of the Earth

78. Create a soothing bedtime ritual

79. Create a morning ritual that you look forward to

a. ‘Bubble up’ ideas

b. Make a list of Affirmations

c. Gratitude candles

d. Print a checklist

80. Exercise – hike, bike, lift

a. Make a list of your favourite dog walking spots

b. Make a list of your favourite hiking spots

c. Make a list of your favourite biking spots

81. Meditate daily – even if it’s just a few minutes

82. List best hair care practices

83. List best skin care practices

CULMINATING PROJECTS

84. Make a detailed Calendar or “Wheel” with your individualized plans for the next year. (June 1, 2022-June 1, 2023)

85. Write your Grimoire – Create a tidy book of the information that you will use in your craft.

a. Your personalized Holiday/Sabbat celebrations, dates, symbols, etc

b. The basics that make up the foundation of your craft

c. The various workings you do/intend to use

d. Spells

e. Correspondences

f. The tools of your craft

g. Your completed birth chart interpretation

h. Moon Rituals

i. Personal Tarot card meanings, spreads

j. A guide to your Runes, Bones, or whatever divination set you may have made or acquired (#39)

k. Crystal practices, information pages

l. Plant information

m. Essential Oil information

n. Recipes

o. Spirit information, communication records

p. Shadow work and a plan to work on your shadows

q. Your ideal day

r. Your ideal week

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nosebleedclub · 4 years ago

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May Prompt Challenge

1. Eyes closed tight 2. The forgotten suitcase 3. Preternatural 4. Havoc 5. Final painting 6. Rosemary and thyme 7. Platonic love 8. The tenderest part 9. Eel 10. Gathering storm 11. The caribou migration 12. In the lilac grove 13. Night terror 14. Sunset drive 15. Corsage 16. Playful faun 17. Limoncello 18. Eighteen candles 19. Spring rain 20. Empty airport 21. Blood orange 22. Awake at dawn 23. Brown bear 24. Endless staircase 25. Painful memory 26. Flower moon 27. Badminton 28. Ocean crossing 29. The things you kept 30. Katana 31. What greets you at Heaven’s gate

#prompts #nosebleedclub #prompt challenge #may prompt challenge #spring #monthly prompt challenge

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calamity-bean · 6 years ago

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Aziraphale/Crowley Fic Recs

AKA “There is SO much Good Omens fic nowadays, with more being added at SUCH an incredible rate, that I keep forgetting to bookmark things and thus completely lose track of what I’ve read and what I liked and which ones to watch for updates and which ones I might want to read again and etc etc. So, for the sake of my own sanity, I have made A List.”

And I thought, hey, might as well share.

I’ve divided this list into WIPs and Complete Works, but otherwise, it’s a jumble: canon-verse and AUs, short and long, ranging in rating from G to E and incorporating various tropes and headcanons. I tend to gravitate toward happy endings, so there’s probably nothing too dark or soul-crushing, but as always, buyer beware, pay attention to tags and content warnings and your own personal tastes. Works are listed in chronological order of first publishing, simply as a neutral and objective way to list them, and more will be added intermittently as I read new ones or rediscover ones I forgot.

Hope this helps someone find some good reading and directs more attention to some well-deserving work!

-- WIPs --

On Espionage and Prophecy (or How to Accidentally, but Wholly, Fall in Love With a Soho Bookseller) by RockSaltAndRoll (June 15, 2019)

1941 is the London Blitz and the year that MI5 really comes into its own with the now infamous ‘double cross’ system. The service keep tabs on suspects, root out enemy agents and try to turn them into doubles.

Anthony J Crowley is fucking great at this job. He can be sneaky, underhanded and damn ruthless but also charming and kind. It’s what makes him good at turning.

Aziraphale is just a regular Soho bookseller who loves his shop and books and good food and wine when he’s approached by a woman claiming to be MI5, wanting to recruit him for espionage. The poor man is too trusting and gets the shock of his life when he’s approached by a charming but dangerous-looking man also claiming to be MI5.

Crowley recruits Aziraphale to double cross a double crosser and Aziraphale takes to espionage like a duck to water.

Danger, hijinks, and sex ensue.

Show Me a Great Plan by WriteDreamLie (June 17, 2019)

A.J. Crowley is an eccentric "business man." A.Z. Fell is a bookseller who refuses to sell any books.

After Fell (unwillingly) helps Crowley out of a sticky situation, the two become oddly fixed on each other. And their relationship could just be the thing that saves them both.

icing on the cake by Etheostoma (June 18, 2019)

Between the black attire, swaying hips, slouching pose, and affected “devil-may-care” attitude that actually belied an incredibly sensitive nature, A.J. Crowley was a walking puzzle—and one that Aziraphale, when he allowed his thoughts free rein, wanted desperately to solve.

That being said, at the end of the day Crowley was also technically his employer, and therefore even the thought of anything more was decidedly not a Good Idea.

Vita Nova by AMidnightDreary (June 18, 2019)

“Angel, bloody hell. Hi. You doing okay? Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

It was quiet for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said then, still polite, but a bit perplexed. “Who is this?”

Crowley, upon finding that Aziraphale does not remember him, is very much Not Okay with the changes Adam made after the Apocalypse That Wasn't. He can't do anything but try and make the best out of it, though. (Which is a lot easier than it should be.)

Sparse Clutter by ItsClydeBitches (June 26, 2019)

A fic bingo collection featuring twenty-five, one word prompts. Whole thing is probably best described as "Ineffable husbands stupidity with a hefty dose of gen world building," but I'll chuck brief summaries below as I update!

Strange Pilgrims: Being the Account of a lost Angel, the Journeys of a Demon, the meaning of Free Will, of the Unravelling of a Prophecy, and of Being Unravelled by it in Turn by sousverre (June 26, 2019)

"Aziraphale going missing" would be quite enough drama for Crowley to be getting on with, thanks very much - even without a prophecy that seems to be implying the significance of Feelings, and especially with every gargoyle in London trying to reunite them.

But when he does find the angel, Aziraphale has lost his memory, his wings, and insists that he is happily married to some kind of investment banker.

Right. So the first step is to fix all that, somehow, and then - and then - and then everything can go back to normal, like it was before, which is all Crowley wants.

Right.

How do we fix this?

Put Out The Fire by Aleakim (June 27, 2019)

Aziraphale finds himself in a very awkward position as some sort of spell makes everyone merely glancing in his direction instantly fall deeply and desperately in love with him.

Absolutely everyone.

Well, apart from Crowley, that is.

And while both angel and demon search for a solution to this fairly unique problem, Crowley can’t help wondering whether Aziraphale might finally figure out some things he kept hidden for so very long.

Ink Blots and Forget-Me-Nots by gutsandglitter (July 3, 2019)

Ninth Circle Ink was hardly more than a stone’s throw from the flower shop; Aziraphale knew from past experience that it took less than thirty seconds to go from door to door (forty-five if you had to wait for a car to pass). It had been a perfect arrangement in the beginning, when they were just starting out.

aka the flower shop/tattoo parlor (human) exes AU that nobody asked for!

You Can Have Your Cake by eragon19 (July 4, 2019)

Aziraphale has been working as Anathema's assistant at her wedding planning service for near on a year now. He thinks he's seen it all, from meddling parents to nervous brides, and in one case an ex with a penchant for arson.

What he isn't prepared for is a reluctant groom with a liking for black leather and a smile that has Aziraphale's mind going to places it most certainly shouldn't. Especially since the man is getting married, no matter how awful his fiance is...

To the Stars by StarRose (July 9, 2019)

The happy ending Titanic!Au no one ever writes but everyone always imagines in every possible fandom. Aziraphale is being forcibly sent to America to be forcibly married to Gabriel. Crowley is going to forcibly screw that up.

A Matter of Convenience by ylc (July 15, 2019)

There comes a time when even the most fervent enemies must call a truce and what better way to cement such truce than a marriage? And if the involved parties happen to be the most troublesome members of the ruling families… well, that’s all for the best, isn’t it?

Barriers, and the Breaking Thereof by Cardinal_Daughter (July 16, 2019)

Ezra Fell has long been comfortable in his loneliness. He’s content to simply run the Soho Public Library and otherwise keep to himself. However, when a handsome stranger bursts in one evening with a baby, frantic and in need of help, Ezra finds those carefully constructed barriers he’s long maintained begin to crack.

Perhaps it’s time to let them fall.

Series of one-shots focusing on the lives and developing relationship between Ezra Fell and Anthony J. & Adam Crowley. Human AU.

Lavender, Chamomile, and a Rather Permanent Arrangement by southdownsraph (July 17, 2019)

Crowley owns the flower shop across the street from A. Z. Fell's tattoo shop, and can't help but be intrigued by the slightly eccentric, yet incredibly friendly tattoo artist. When Crowley does finally pluck up the courage to talk to him beyond the occasional pleasantries, he kicks off the beginning of a friendship that could so easily drift into something else entirely.

Pride and Prejudice and Angels by SanSanFanFan (July 20, 2019)

Hampshire, England, 1809

Miss Crowley's plans for a small temptation near the South Coast go awry as she realises that Aziraphale is not only a guest of a neighbouring landed gentlelady but also suffering under some kind of malady.

Match-making! Balls! Fainting! Happily Ever Afters???

Celestial Bodies by LieutenantLiv (August 3, 2019)

The year is 1923. Aziraphale's friends at the gentlemen's club invite him for a weekend away in Devon. He asks Crowley to join. It gets very silly and very messy very quickly.

That's just how things were in the roaring twenties.

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm (August 9, 2019)

As soon as Aubrey Thyme, psychotherapist, had opened her office door and seen her new client, Anthony J. Crowley, sitting in her waiting area, she was observing and assessing him. At first glance, she paid attention to the following:

--His clothing was expensive and stylish; --He wore very strange but noticeable cologne; --His relationship to the seat he occupied could only, very loosely, be described as “sitting;” --He looked angry; --He was wearing sunglasses.

What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

-- Complete Works --

Anthophilia by FortinbrasFTW (July 7, 2014)

Anthony J. Crowley's life seems like it's finally falling into place: his floral shop has begun to gain an undercurrent of appreciation in the design elite of London, and he might have even finally found a boyfriend who looks just right lounging on his Tenreiro sofa. Things seem almost perfect, until one day the empty shop across the street is leased to frumpy fellow Oxford alumni, who doesn't seem to remember Crowley nearly as well as he remembers him, which really shouldn't bother him as much as it does - it was ten years ago after all, and it wasn't even that good of a kiss.

The Rose Thief and the Priest by ImprobableDreams900 (January 8, 2018)

When horticulturist A. J. Crowley sees a rare breed of rose in a churchyard, he decides he won't stop until he can get a cutting—even if he has to go through the church's stuffy priest to do so.

Running in the Shadows (Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies) by soft_october (May 10, 2019)

"In plain terms, Mr. A. Fell was a man of impeccable conduct and unusual habits, and in a similar manner to many of whom bore the first two traits, he must also take up the third: dire loneliness. Yet it had not always been thus. Indeed, there once was a time when it seemed as if he should never know solitude or want of suitable company for the rest of his days, but the circumstances by which Aziraphale might have unwound the knot that now bound up his heart had long since dragged themselves, mortally wounded, to die in the shades of regret. Their ghosts hung in his past, growing in consequence with the singular passing of each year until they eclipsed even the death of those who had the foremost hand in their making, and had the effect of separating the sequence of his days of into a gentle, blooming Before, whose painful beauty made the egregious scars of the After that much more appalling."

What Aziraphale does not know is that, from across the ocean, Mr. Anthony J. Crowley is returning to England with his newly aquired wealth, wanting nothing more than to rebuild his life after a terrible shock and, perhaps, discover why he had been abandoned by his fiancé ten long years ago.

You Might Think I’m Crazy (All I Want is You) by soft_october (March 29, 2019)

'“Look I understand, you’ve got to check up on the new occupants, make sure I’m a proper ‘fit’ for the neighborhood or whatever euphemism you’re going to use this time, 'the greater good,' I saw the film, I get it. But I peeked in at the place next door the agent mentioned and if you aren’t bothering him I really don't think you should be-”

“I’m your neighbor,” Aziraphale interrupted. “I own that place next door?”

“Oh.”'

Since the next shop over closed down, Aziraphale's had a peaceful few months, barring those unpleasant interactions with the men in cheap suits who keep trying to persuade him to sell his shop. But now a (handsome) new owner has taken up residence beside him and, horror of horrors, he wants to open up a coffee shop.

A Home at the Beginning of the World by stereobone (June 6, 2019)

"Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me."

creatures of circumstance by attheborder (June 10, 2019)

Anthony J. Crowley, Jr. is the prodigal son of CrowleyCorp, the UK’s most powerful, dangerous, and controversial technology company.

A one-night stand with a mysterious man who calls himself Aziraphale tips his hopeless life upside-down into a dangerous obsession.

And somewhere else entirely, a girl-shaped creature is presiding over the back room of a bookshop in Soho, where an angel and a demon lay unconscious on the floor…

Bending Space and Time by Draco_sollicitus (June 11, 2019)

Crowley could never have envisioned a miracle quite like making an angel smile.

And when that angel is Aziraphale, well, he'll do whatever he can to experience that miracle again, and again, and again.

(Crowley spends the twentieth century bringing books to Aziraphale in an effort to make his angel smile a little more)

the words of the prophet are written on the subway walls by volantium (June 11, 2019)

Aziraphale and Crowley do the twenty-first century. (Or, Aziraphale and Crowley, dorks in love, post-Apocalypse).

a picnic plan for you and me by theapplepielifestyle (June 12, 2019)

“It’s angel food cake,” he said. He waited. When Aziraphale did nothing but nod politely: “It’s funny, see, ‘cause-”

“No, no, I get it.” Aziraphale nodded again. “Very funny.”

“Oh, shut up, it is-”

“May I ask what brought this on?”

Crowley paused. “Can’t a guy just want to try baking?”

(Or, Crowley makes Aziraphale food after the world doesn't end. It has absolutely nothing to do with how much he wants to make Aziraphale smile.)

with urgency but not with haste by Sanwall (June 13, 2019)

Aziraphale moves to the South Downs and gets bees, and Crowley gets into one of his moods.

The Play’s The Thing by volunteerfd (June 16, 2019)

“Who was at the very first rehearsal, hmm? Who read over Shakespeare’s shoulder as he put ink to parchment? If anything, I know Hamlet just as intimately as I know you.” Aziraphale picked up his teacup again and looked at Crowley over the rim of it. “Maybe even more.”

Crowley was tempted to ask if he’d fucked Hamlet.

****

Aziraphale is cast as the lead in a community theatre production of Hamlet, a lifelong dream of his and a lifelong night terror of Crowley's. But, as the hapless Crowley helps him run lines, it becomes a mystery why anyone would let Aziraphale on stage. Tears are shed, skulls are crushed, monologues are butchered, and through it all, Crowley remains supportive. After all, the show must go on--even if it is the fifty billionth production of stupid, overrated Hamlet.

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by 13thDoctor, JHarkness (June 17, 2019)

5 times Aziraphale and Crowley were mistaken for a couple, and the 1 time they weren’t.

A Regular Rip van Winkle by aurilly (June 20, 2019)

After almost an entire century spent asleep, Crowley wakes in 1888 to find the world more changed than he thought possible. His first order of business is to find his angel.

Also concerning the origin of the Baroque gavotte (spoilers: Aziraphale was feeling thirsty).

A bookshop is not a business by anactoriatalksback (June 22, 2019)

In which Aziraphale has no intention of selling books to anyone at all, let alone this infuriatingly persistent customer. No matter how nice his cheekbones are...

like a prayer for which no words exist by lipsstainedbloodred (June 23, 2019)

“What do you want, angel?” Crowley asks before Aziraphale is even properly in the room.

“Hullo my dear,” Aziraphale sounds cheery but also awfully worried, “I hadn’t seen you since - well, since-” Since they’d swapped bodies back; since Crowley had turned tail and ran from St. James’s Park like the Devil himself had been on his heels.

(in which Crowley and Aziraphale do not dine at the Ritz after that nasty business with Heaven and Hell, and Crowley has an existential crisis instead)

far too much in love to see by imperiousheiress (June 25, 2019)

“Hello, can I help you with anything in particular?” Aziraphale asks. And then, he freezes.

Inexplicably, impossibly, it’s the same man who had entered the shop the last time they’d been open. He’s sure of it. The man who he’d felt a rather insistent urge to garrote.

(Or, one of Aziraphale’s regular customers takes a little too much interest in Crowley, and Aziraphale feels somewhat unfamiliarly unpleasant about all of it.)

The Holiest by merle_p (June 26, 2019)

So when Aziraphale hears, through the grapevine, that an exorcism is supposed to happen on New Year’s Eve in Major Gruber’s flat, he knows that despite his general distaste for exorcisms, this is where he is going to be, on the slim chance that the demon Major Gruber and his spiritist friends have found is the same one Aziraphale appears to have lost.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers by Gefionne (June 26, 2019)

Because they can’t see each other more than once every few decades, Aziraphale suggests that he and Crowley write to each other to pass the time apart. As quills for their letters, they exchange wing feathers: a gesture of great intimacy that Crowley is convinced only he perceives the depth of. But time will tell that it’s not just him who sees it that way.

Night and Day by Gigi_Sinclair (June 27, 2019)

Five times Aziraphale and Crowley encountered queer historical figures who know more about them than they do, and one time they actually have a clue.

Needed a break, gone to France x by sleepymccoy (June 28, 2019)

A week or so after the nopocalypse Aziraphale takes a holiday that, unfortunately, sends Crowley into a bit of a tailspin about where they're at

In Holy Matrimony by Myracuulous (June 29, 2019)

From the private journal of Alisha Jones, wedding planner, concerning the nuptials of Anthony J Crowley and Aziraphale and the planning process thereof, containing an account of chosen decor, guest list construction, and the holy war against the Antichrist that nearly ruined six months of professional organization and a very nice dinner.

Acts of Service by seekwill (July 2, 2019)

After receiving direct instruction from God, village reverend Aziraphale leaves his countryside congregation to serve the underserved and in-need at an urban church in London, a transition made all the more complicated by the mysterious and handsome Crowley, who always seems to appear when Aziraphale least expects him.

greatest hits by attheborder (July 2, 2019)

“But my dear, I just can’t believe you never told me that you had joined a musical group. I would have come out to support you— at your gigs!”

“First of all, never say ‘gigs�� again. Second of all, not my fault you never noticed when I showed up to dinner with a great big guitar case slung over my shoulder.”

(Aziraphale accidentally discovers Crowley’s secret: he was in a band in the 90s. And he wrote a whole album of love songs…)

Nanny Knows Best by DictionaryWrites (July 5, 2019)

Being a nanny, that should be simple. Simple. Easy as pie.

Crowley wished that were true.

human childcare for the occult (and ethereal) by suzukiblu (July 10, 2019)

The Dowlings miraculously need a nanny and a gardener at the same time, and Aziraphale suggests they flip for it. Crowley takes one moment to picture Aziraphale nannying anyone and calls dibs. It’s not that Aziraphale’s terrible with humans, he’s just, well. Terrible with humans. Truly, truly terrible.

He doesn’t want to deal with Aziraphale getting metaphorically guillotined or kicking up security’s paranoia, basically. A gardener can be a little odd, and no one will notice or care. Except Warlock, perhaps, as the only other person with any real reason to spend much time out on the lawn, but Warlock’s the one they want noticing so that’ll be fine, Crowley’s sure.

Even if it does make him cringe a little, leaving Aziraphale in charge of the plants.

keep me close by Iselmyr (July 17, 2019)

Aziraphale was expecting to see a talented but otherwise ordinary performance of Les Misérables with a genderswapped cast. Aziraphale was not expecting who came onstage.

Crowley was expecting an ordinary second night show, because Aziraphale always goes to opening nights, and Crowley never performs on them.

Except, this once, Aziraphale missed the opening, and came to the second night. Everything else snowballed from there.

lit in the darkness by ToEdenandBackAgain (July 17, 2019)

Aziraphale returns to Crowley's flat for the night after Armageddon. After all, it's hardly the first time they've shared sleeping arrangements. Or: Times throughout history Crowley and Aziraphale have shared a bed.

Reflect What You Are by Owenjones (July 17, 2019)

It's a year after the almost-apocalypse. Aziraphale makes Crowley go see a therapist.

“Have you been having any issues in particular?”

“Issues? Such as?”

“You tell me.” She could tell he had something on the tip of his tongue.

Crowley sat for a second, then blurted out, “He thinks I’ve been sleeping too much. He’s worried.”

An Answer to Prayer by Jupiter_Ash (July 20, 2019)

Prayers can be answered in a multitude of different ways. When it came to a certain cottage in the South Downs though, no one had expected it to be answered by the squealing wheels of a classic Bentley and Queen's Princes of the Universe.

All Karen wanted to do was sell a house.

The Ineffable Temptations of Oysters by gimpy_terry (July 20, 2019)

Wherein Aziraphale sometimes invites Crowley to dine on oysters with him and Crowley definitely takes him up on that offer.

did you open up your heart there? by weatheredlaw (July 21, 2019)

or were you quiet and afraid? — Aziraphale and Crowley meet over and over and over again. Aziraphale doesn't know what Crowley is, or why their souls can't seem to be parted, but he is a creature of love, and he's not going to argue with that.

A Machine for Living In by pineapplesquid (August 6, 2019)

All Crowley wants is to see the inside of the bookshop so that he can get this design for the building next door done so the clients will be happy and his bosses will stop yelling. What A.Z. Fell wants, apparently, is for Crowley and the project that’s he’s working on to disappear. Permanently.

One of these might be more attainable than the other.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #fic recs #op #also PLEASE let me know if any of the titles link to the wrong fics #i was doing a lot of rapid copying & pasting #and also if you have any others to rec... feel free to add or let me know!

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nerd2614 · 5 years ago

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April’s Fall - Part 2

Suspicions & Secrets

Part One // Part Three

@write-it-motherfuckers prompt

Over the past three weeks you’d continued to have odd dreams about the stranger with glowing eyes. Every other night was a dream filled with incomplete visions of a distant past that never seemed quite real. For all the dreams you had, you had still not learned your stranger’s name. Whenever you had asked, he always told you that you would know soon enough.

Yet each time you met him in the dreams, you could never quite recall what it was. A name always dangled on the tip of your tongue, but nothing ever formed. Letters swirled around in your head, frustratingly out of reach.

You noted that each time you had a dream the once pure white glow of the rose faded slightly. Other than a hint of red leaching up through the base of the petals, the rose had not changed since the moment your stranger gave it to you.

The flashes of your initial dream were slowly being fleshed out over time.

A general feeling of happiness came from a picnic and being chased by a pale young boy. It came from playing games with him, with people who you could never quite make out the faces of. Deep laughter came from a kind old man with a circle of gilded flowers resting on his grey hair. The white roses that the boy always gave you. The twin white roses the boy, who now looked 16, placed gently on what looked to be a grave. After that the old man didn’t see the two of you anymore. He was always busy. You tried but could not figure out who died. You only knew that they were important to both you and the boy with Autumn hair.

Out of desperation you asked the mysterious man whom called you his love. Each time he smiled sadly and shook his head. “You are not ready yet, my dear.” He claimed that you would not believe him. Deep down you knew that to be true.

And so the cycle continued. The harder you tried to piece together the puzzle, the more elusive the answer was. The most confusing vision was the one in which the pale boy turned into a young man with flaming armour, screaming at you, pleading with you to run. You were also clad in light armour and carrying a thin blade. You had no memories after that.

With the dreams came doubts about your grandmother. Since they began, you’d been avoiding her as much as possible. It was a difficult endeavor as you were still under ‘house arrest’ in the small woodland home which the two of you shared.

Grandmother was becoming suspicious. Not only had you been quite successfully avoiding her, you had also not drank anything she gave you. You tried to avoid eating anything she made too. While your behaviour was out of the ordinary, your grandmother could not outright say anything about it lest you start asking questions. Questions that she did not want to answer.

The more you avoided her and her cooking, the more your mind seemed to clear. You noticed gaps in your memory and holes in your grandmother’s stories. Anything before age 10 was completely gone. Large gaps in your memory were present until you turned 16. You couldn’t recall your parents at all.

The more you focused on the gaps, the more desperate you became. How could this have happened?

After three weeks of unexplainable dreams and feelings, you were in dire need of answers. So you decided that whenever grandmother went out, you would search the house.

It took another week before you were left alone. You waited a few moments after she left in case she returned. After searching for hours, you found absolutely no mention of your parents at all. There were no pictures, paintings or even old diaries. It was like they never existed.

The more you looked around the house, the more confused you had become. You noted there was no historical books or anything of you as a child. Over the period of a fortnight, you searched the entire cottage from top to bottom. The only places you were unable to check were your grandmother’s bedroom and a locked door you had never taken notice of before.

It looked to be broom closet. You raked through your memories to see what it was. There were contradicting memories of your Grandmother saying that it was a broom closet, a little pantry, a storage cupboard, a coat room… it was different each time! You tried to pick the lock but it was no use. You would have to go into town in order to gather materials.

With your mind made up, you decided to come up with an excuse to go over to the town.

That night came yet another dream. By now, you were very familiar with the room in the trees. The scenery never changed. It seemed timeless. Caught frozen in time and space.

The man you saved would always be there; he coaxed you to remember. It was difficult. It seemed like there was nothing to remember. There was something in your mind encouraging you to forget.

It was the man who gave you an idea of how to convince your grandmother to let you go to town. As the two of you sat at the table, you drew a deep breath.

Smiling, you asked, “Can I go to town tomorrow please, Grandmother?”

She blinked slowly. “Why?”

You put your spoon down, “Oh, I wanted to get a few books.”

She copied your action. “On?” Your Grandmother narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Nothing much…” You trailed off. Seeing that wouldn’t be enough, you elaborated. “I’d like some more cooking books.”

Grandmother contemplated for a moment before conceding, “Very well. Ensure that you pick up some lemon-thyme whilst you are in town.”

“Thank you, Gran.” You forced yourself to smile despite the bitter taste that the word left in your mouth.

“You may go at sunrise tomorrow. Remember to not stray from the path, child. I expect you to be back the following day.” She said dismissively.

“Yes, Grandmother.”

It was the first time you’d been allowed into town since that fateful day in the woods and you were almost paranoid. You thought you saw the man in the woods as you walked the path to town. A flash of brown and fire. A rustle in the bushes. A sigh.

When you stopped for a break at midday you were certain that there was a voice calling you to wander off the path. You hurriedly finished your bread and continued at a fast pace to town. There was something wrong. You just knew it.

It was late afternoon when you arrived. The first thing you noticed was that everyone was acting rather odd. When you interacted with some of the townsfolk, they seemed guilty and danced around topics. They had an overall aura of fear.

Thankfully the blacksmith had some of the tools you needed in stock. He was quite suspicious and nervous about allowing you to purchase them. When you insisted they were to help you fix the lock at the front entrance, he reluctantly sold you the tools. They were exactly what you thought you would need to unlock the strange door. The townsfolk acted even stranger than they had been when you exited the smithy. Pitying, whispering, fear, apprehension, were all words to describe their behaviour towards you.

You dismissed their behaviour to be deconstructed at a later time and made your way to the little herb shop to get lemon-thyme. The old man in there had always made you feel welcome. You felt a sort of kinship with him for some reason. When you asked for the herb your grandmother requested, he looked incredibly sad and guilty. It was a similar expression to the one the old man had in your dreams.

“Take zis.” He said gruffly. ‘This’ was a small vial of a white swirling cloud. “Have it next time you meet ‘im.”

You had to stop yourself from taking a step back. “Yo- Wha- I have no idea what you are talking about.” It was impossible to meet his eyes.

The small, sad smile faded from his face before you could look at him again. He pressed the vial into your hands. “It will ‘elp. I promise you.”

You were confused, but complied with his wishes.You bid him farewell, promising to see him next time. After you left he whispered a final farewell. He would not live to see your next visit, not if you did the right thing.

From the small apothecary, you headed to the small library. The sun was starting to set now, so you made sure to hurry. The old librarian almost always closed at sundown.

There was a new person that greeted you when you entered. He was pretty cute with his brown hair, blue eyes and glasses. But something inside you rejected the thought, was disgusted by him even. That little part inside you warned you to run. It kept niggling at you, but you pushed it to the side.

“Good evening.” He smiled. His voice sent a cold shiver down your spine.

“Hello.” You looked around for the old man but couldn’t see him. “Is there any chance that Mister -”

“He’s gone. How can I help you?” The young man interrupted. His smile was just a little too wide, just enough that it was unsettling.

“I need some cooking books.” You conceded warily.

His smile widened further, as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. “Of course, Miss April. They should be over here.”

It was bigger than you remembered. There were many more rows to weave between. The library was more of a maze. A sinister feeling was starting to creep its way through you.

“Here you are.” He spun around quickly, trying to catch you off guard. You maintained the careful distance between the two of you. He watched over your shoulder as you browsed. After picking a couple of books, you hugged them close to your body. They were another barrier.

You looked down and mumbled a question. He tilted his head to indicate that he didn’t hear.

“Do you have any books on history?” You repeated, refusing to look up from the ground.

“Here you are.” He said, leading you to the next shelf.

You shook your head after reading some of the titles. “No, I mean factual history.”

Something sparked in the young man’s eyes. An odd emotion flashed across his face but he quickly covered it with a horrifyingly charming smile. It must have been a trick of the light. “Please follow me around to the back. We keep all those types of books in there.”

“Why?” I stepped forward and he turned his back to me.

His shoulders tensed. “I just haven’t put them out yet.”

“But…” you trailed off as he started walking back towards a slightly hidden door. What he said didn’t make sense. He hasn’t put the books out yet but they belong in the back room? Again, you shook off the uncomfortable feeling that seemed to linger.

“Are you coming? You don’t have to.” He called from behind the counter. There was something strange in his voice. He almost sounded like he was hoping that you would just leave. That made you more determined to find out the truth.

“I’m coming.” You said firmly.

You walked through the door and

- woke up in a bed.

You shot upright, noting that the room was simple. There was a chair with a folded dress and cloak, the bed, and a nightstand. It looked like a room at the inn. You stood up and promptly fell on the bed when your knees buckled. The open window allowed a cool breeze to run over your exposed skin. Sunlight also weakly filtered into the room. You couldn’t recall changing into your nightclothes, yet that was what you were dressed in. As you reached towards your satchel, your muscles ached in protest. There were red marks on your wrists that disturbed you.

With urgency, you rifled through your satchel, breathing a sigh of relief when your rose was still there. You were deeply confused. Though you searched, you could find no clear memories of last night.

You clutched the rose tightly. A thorn pricked your finger and you hissed in pain.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this. Come with me, my love.” My pale hero whispered to me.

“How do I know that you’re not the one messing with my mind? Grandmother has been nothing but kind to me. Harsh sometimes, but that’s necessary.” My head was spinning. Nothing made sense. My wrists throbbed. He noticed and softly kissed them.

“My dear April, please.” He was begging.

I shook my head.

Startled, you thrust the rose gently into the satchel and held your pricked finger. Your heart was thudding fast. It continued its frantic beat as you dressed quickly and rushed out of the inn. You made eye contact with no-one as you hurried out of the town. If you kept up a steady pace, you would make it home by sundown.

Tags: @scuzmunkie @wordsaremylife @inuhuffclaw

#April's fall #prompt response #fae x reader #manipulation #hmm I wonder what happened to April last night #fem!oc #I don't know how to tag #sorry it took so long

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cowtale-utau · 5 years ago

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Prompt List Masterlist

Here’s a list of the prompts I’m currently accepting (if I close any I’ll mark them as such) and links to the answers that have been done. I will answer as many of these as you want, for as many characters my limits are, if you have more than 4 questions, please split them into multiple asks. If you have more than 6-8 characters you want done, again, split them up. That way we don’t end up with anymore massive posts than I already do.

What If / Imagine Prompts If you only use the numbers to request, please mark with “WII”

53 w/ Scout, Piper, Whip, Coyote

36 & 52 w/ Lief, Coyote

27 w/ Spur, Haze, Aurum, Viridis

7, 37, 46 w/ Chisel

12, One-shot w/ Chisel

45 w/ Leif, Chisel, Piper, Saturn

2, 43, 47, 53 w/ Cirrus

4 w/ Chisel, Spur, Scout, Piper, Shine, Calico, Haze, Cirrus

18, 21, 34, 41 w/ Piper

9, 36 w/ Piper, Chisel

12, 16, 37, 40, 52 w/ Doc, Aurum

49, 42 w/ Piper, Chisel

Number and OC Questions If you only use the numbers to request, please mark with “OCQ”

4, 63, 73 w/ Coyote

76, 81, 94 w/ Chisel

4, 8, 28, 38, 65 w/ Flint

14, 32, 53, 67 w/ Piper

65, 96, 15, 73, 8 w/ Cook

17, 24, 47, 63, 81 w/ Sage

32, 77, 36, 63, 51 w/ Shuffle

2, 4, 55, 72, 96 w/ Saturn

3, 57, 43, 73, 17 w/ Thyme

85, 72, 54, 70, 38 w/ Foxtrot

27, 18, 86 w/ Flint

Lyric Inspired Smut Prompts If you only use the numbers to request, please mark with “LS”

23 w/ Chisel

44 w/ Lief - WIP

27 w/ Piper

14 w/ Doc

35 w/ Coyote New Vague Prompts If you use only the numbers, please mark with “VP”

20 w/ Flint

24 w/ Cirrus

#promts #prompt lists #prompt responses #masterlist

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 7 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday, jbsaucy!

Today, we wish a Happy belated Birthday to @jbsaucy! We hope you had a wonderful day back on Nov 16, and celebrated in style. To bring the Birthday feels back around, @ally147writes has written a story just for you!

AN: I am so sorry for the delay, @jbsaucy! The ending would just not cooperate with me at all! I took your soulmates au prompt, then found a wonderfully extensive list of soulmate scenarios on one of those OTP prompt blogs on here, and picked one that really tickled me to write - I hope you’ll like it, too, even if it does get a tad dramatic in the middle :)

Unedited and unbeta’d - please forgive any glaring errors.

Katniss

Cool

The plants growing on the trellises on either side of the garden path reach out to her with tiny, curling trails. Not enough to be a hindrance, Katniss thinks as she kicks another tendril off her ankle, but to play. The plants never respond this well to her. That’s more Prim’s thing. They tug at the end of her braid and curl around her fingers. Some tear the ripe fruits from their vines and hold them out to her until she sees fit to take them. Kind of cute, maybe, if she gave a crap.

“Uh, thanks?”

She stows the plants’ offerings in her satchel bag, alongside the rest of the herbs she foraged from the nearby woods, and trudges up the path towards the small cottage she shares with Prim. A steady plume of smoke billows from the chimney. Lavender, vetivert, and chamomile; a sleeping potion Prim often prescribes her patients.

She yawns as soon as she steps inside. Has Prim’s sleeping concoction always been so strong?

“How’d you go?” Prim calls from the kitchen.

“Fine, I guess. I found the wild strawberries you were after.” She kicks her boots off near the door and makes her way into the kitchen. “The plants are friendly today.”

“Really? They were kind of quiet when I was—” Prim looks up from her slow, constant stirring, glances out the garden-facing kitchen window, and drops her ladle with a splash. “— Holy crap, Katniss! What did you do to them?”

“What, nothing!” Katniss scrambles to her sister’s side and follows her gaze. The plants are triple the size they were when she walked up the path, greener and lusher and laden with fruit. Even as she stares at them, some seem to be growing even more, right before her eyes. In the space of seconds, a vine of tiny, green cherry tomatoes grows to size and bloom a bright, cheery red. The flower bed where Prim cultivates the most requested medicinal plants overflows with colour and scent Katniss can pick up form behind the window glass.

“I didn’t do anything to them,” she says again. “They don’t even like me that much!”

Prim lets out a little laugh and wipes her hands on a small towel hanging over her shoulder. “I wish they did that for me. I reckon I could have been waiting forever for the pinkroot to bloom, but still. Was it like this in the woods, too?”

Katniss shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Not that I was really looking back, though. A lot of animals were following me, too.”

“I bet if you went back out there now, there’d be overgrowth all over the path you took.”

She leans a little further, over the stove, towards the window. The plants seem to grow a little faster with the gap just barely narrowed. The warm scents of the potion billows over her, and her eyes dip. Her grip on the edge of the bench goes slack. It’s warm… so warm… “Yeah…” she slurs. “Maybe.”

“Hey, what are you — What the fluff! Katniss, get back!” Prim cries. With surprisingly strong hands, she shoves Katniss out of the kitchen into the small hallway. Katniss lands flat on her back on the firm, unyielding stone floor, more wide awake than ever, and watches as Prim scurries for the lid to slam atop the overflowing pot. The pot Katniss almost just fell in. She furrows her brow; the contents of that pot weren’t so much as simmering before, were they?

“Jeez, Kat.” Prim holds out a hand and pulls Katniss back to her feet. “Are you all right?”

“I’m okay, I think.”

“What did you do?” Prim breathes.

“I don’t know?” she says, though it sounds more like a question. “I just… it wasn’t boiling like that before, was it?”

“No! I simmer it down to half its volume before boiling so it doesn’t make a mess. You know, like it just did!” Prim sighs and wipes the spilled with the edge of her apron. “It shouldn’t have hit you so hard so soon, though, and definitely not just by smell. What is up with your magic today?”

“I don’t know!” She buries her fisted hands in her trouser pockets. “It’s never… the only time it’s ever been this weird is when I was little.”

“Ooh, maybe you’re about to meet them!” Prim says, nudging Katniss with her bony elbow.

She scowls. “Meet who?”

“Your soulmate, silly! Your magic’s gone haywire; that only happens when they’re close.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“And when you meet,” Prim goes on dreamily, “your magic will escape from you in a burst of colour to twine with theirs, binding your souls together forever.” She sighs; Katniss fights the urge to gag. “So beautiful.”

“You actually believe that crap?” Katniss lets out a barking laugh. “There hasn’t been a confirmed pair of soulmates in centuries, if there ever was at all.”

“Well, if it’s not your soulmate — and you’re no fun at all, by the way — you’re probably just coming down with the flu.” Prim wrinkles her nose. “I’ll brew you something, just in case.”

“Medicine or bottled pheromones?”

“At this rate, I think either would cure you.”

Prim sighs again and stares down at the pot, the remains of the potion now a thick, gloopy mess stuck to the bottom. “There’s no more vetivert left to make more.”

“Want me to go to the apothecary and get some?”

Prim quirks a brow at her. “In your state? You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Can’t get any worse than staying here, right?”

“But what if your soulmate gets any closer? You’d be a danger to yourself and everyone else.”

“I’m sure it’s just a cold, Prim.”

“In any case…” Prim darts out of the kitchen and down the stairs to the small cellar where all her potions are kept in carefully labelled bottles in neat, orderly rows. Katniss follows a few steps behind, and as soon as she reaches the final step, Prim shoves a small, blue bottle in her hands.

“You should drink this first,” she says before Katniss can say anything.

She pops off the lid and sniffs it. Lemon and thyme. “What is it?”

“A suppressant,” Prim says. “Should keep your magic nicely wrapped up for the next half hour or so.”

Katniss stares between the bottle and her sister. “And that would be a good thing?”

“For the time being, I think. You won’t be able to actively cast anything, either.” Prim trails off, thoughtful. “Although, if it’s leaking out of you like this…”

Katniss snorts and tips the potion back in a single, neat motion. “I’ll be quick, then.”

Peeta

Warm

It’s not that unusual, he tells himself, his soaked arms crossed over his equally damp chest.

It’s a bakery where woodfire ovens are used every day. It’s not that far outside the realms of possibility that the fires might shoot clean through the chimney like a gigantic birthday candle. It’s a fire in a fireplace; where else is it meant to go?

It’s also not that strange that, because of said fires, the dough would rise so much and so fast that it would spill out over the sides of the bowls and land on the benchtops in soft, sticky lumps.

Or that whole batches would burns after only seconds in the oven, that yeast would literally die, and that sweat would drop off him at a rate quick enough to fill a swimming pool in seconds.

Okay, Maybe it’s a little bit weird.

There’s not even anything he can do about it. Once the dough is on the ground, not even the most thorough spell-work in the country could make Peeta think it fit to serve to the magical public. Even if he takes the breads out of the oven before they become a charred mess, the insides are still sticky and raw. And the fires? Well, the only thing he can do about that is put them out, and that’s not an option, considering they’re kept stoked by the combined efforts of the Mellark family powers.

“Er, Peeta?”

His father stands in the doorway of the kitchen, looking about as great as Peeta feels. His greying hair is matted against his head, and his jolly pink cheeks are flushed so red and his panting breaths so hard that Peeta might be concerned if he wasn’t convinced he was a mirror image.

Peeta swipes futilely at his forehead. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Do you, ah…have any idea what’s going on?”

He shakes his head; the movement makes the room spin. He clutches the edge of the bench, but his hands slip too much to gain any purchase. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

His father quirks a brow. “Peeta, if this is your magic playing up again like last week —”

“— I’m not doing this!” Peeta furrows his brows and glances at the steam rising from his hands. Were they doing that before? He thinks he would remember them doing that before. “Not… not consciously, anyway.”

His father frowns. “Are you feeling sick?”

He almost laughs. “I don’t think I’d be able to tell in here anymore.”

“Maybe you should head home, just to be on the safe side.”

“Then it’ll just be you all afternoon.”

His father waves him off. “I’ll close early. It’s not like there’s anything to sell, and that massive flame shooting out the top is certainly doing its part to keep customers out.”

Peeta waves at the sticky counters. “The cleaning, though?” God, he’s delirious. “It’s so much mess?”

His father’s eyes almost twinkle. “Are we magic, or are we magic? I’ll be fine, Peeta.”

“But I can help?”

“Peeta, the fire, and the heat, and everything else that has gone wrong with the bakery this morning only started when you arrived. Pardon my saying so, son, but I don’t particularly want any more of your help today.”

He says it all with a wry smile, which only looks a little out of place of his father’s bright red, glistening face. Peeta nods, braces himself against the edge of the bench once more, and pulls the apron from around his head.

“Peeta?” his father calls as he’s heading for the door.

“Yeah?”

“Might be best to avoid the car today, what with this crazy fever you’re running.”

“I’m not sick!”

“You’re certainly something. Head home, Peeta. I’ll check in on you later.”

As soon as the door closes behind him, a cool breeze douses Peeta’s face. He lets out a sigh, and the jet of flames shooting through the chimney stops, leaving only a thick trail of smoke in its wake.

He’d be almost relieved if his hands weren’t still steaming.

Katniss

Warmer

Though she doubts (hopes?) anything will happen, Katniss walks to the nearby town. The suppressant Prim gave her hurts something deep within her with every step she takes, but at least there’s not another jungle growing in her wake. Only a few flowers bloom before her eyes, along with a pair of chubby-cheeked chipmunks which stare at her like she’s the moon, sun and stars all wrapped into one. Katniss scowls and walks straight past all of them.

A tall plume of smoke billows on the horizon from the town, wafting out and around like a massive toadstool. The air is thick with the smell of it, and something else like burned bread.

The bakery, maybe? That’d suck. The cheese-buns from there are to die for, and she’s not the only one who thinks so. Just last week, Katniss went in and almost got into a fight with the little old lady behind her when she bought the last half dozen. She sure hadn’t meant to make the fox stole around the woman’s neck come back to life. And she hadn’t meant to get so rage-filled at the woman’s audacity to come between Katniss and her cheese-buns, either, but something shot through her that day. Might have been the ridiculous heat in there that day, making everyone a bit crazy.

Kind of like today.

She could have sworn it wasn’t this hot when she left. At least, not magma-levels of hot, anyway. Each step towards town feels like she’s heading towards an active, gurgling volcano. Her braid sticks to the back of her neck, and even shedding her jacket does nothing to stop the sweat dripping and pooling down her back. If anything, the heat gets worse and worse alongside the pain inside her. It’s like being lanced through the gut with a white-hot skewer.

There’s not enough time to panic. She collapses face-first to the grass. It turns from dry and crisp to green and cool beneath her. A few shy violets peek through the dirt as though to check if she’s okay, but she’s got no words; they’ve boiled and dried on her tongue.

Before she closes her eyes, though, something even more horrifying greets her: a human figure engulfed in flames. Is she delirious? Is it real? Not real? They lumber closer, and her boiling world goes black.

Peeta

Hot

Peeta gives his car a wide berth and shoves his hands in his pockets as he darts down the street. Smoke rises out of the sides like he’s stashing lit cigarettes in there. He keeps his head down and refuses to meet anyone’s eye. The sooner he gets home and douses himself in ice water, the better.

God, he’s still so hot! The bottoms of his boots melt into the pavement and leave great, sticky prints in his wake. His finger prickle with a weird sort of heat he can’t understand until he pulls his hands from his pockets and finds tiny flames dancing over his fingertips.

“Holy shi —!” He whacks his hand against his leg and waves it through the air, but it only seems to encourage them. They aren’t painful — a little tingly, maybe — but it doesn’t stop him panicking when they spread over him like a robe.

Someone screams. Somewhere. Behind him, maybe, or all around. He’s not sure what else to do. His boots melt off him completely, and his clothes aren’t far behind. Peeta sprints for the nearest exit out of town and runs until he can’t see life anymore.

Until, he thinks, he finds death.

A slight figure, a girl, he thinks with inky-black hair, lies face-first on the ground. Her shoulders aren’t moving, and in a perfect circle around her is a patch of bright grass with small, colourful flowers. As Peeta gets closer, the grass grows higher, the flowers bloom larger, all while the flames coating his body reach further and further to the sky.

He drops to his knees beside her. The grass doesn’t so much as flinch away from the heat of him.

He can’t begin to explain why it feels like everything in his life has led up to this moment as he reaches out with a flame-covered hand. “Hey, miss? Are you all —”

It’s like an explosion within him, like all the heat was a catalyst for his own personal, magical Armageddon. His magic erupts and spills out in a flash of flame and colour, swirling with something calm and green that smells a little like lavender. It’s like the very best fireworks show, full of colours he’s never seen before. He feels it all in the powerful rush of his blood, in the firing synapses of his brain, the happiness wending its way through him now… he could die at this very moment and be absolutely content.

He’s got no idea how long it lasts, but when it’s over, so is he. He chokes out a gasping breath and collapses beside her.

XXX

Peeta doesn’t know how long he’s been lying there. He almost expects to be lying in a crater, but a cursory pat of the ground proves it’s all intact. And less green than before, too. Even the flowers that were there before are gone.

But the girl is still there, her head propped up on her hand as she surveys him with eyes like shiny silver coins. She jumps when she sees him watching her back. She’s a little pale from their ordeal — so is he, he’d guess — but a blush blooms bright on her cheeks at being caught staring. He grins at her. She’s gorgeous. And she’s… he doesn’t know how to describe how natural her presence is beside his. Like she was meant to be there the entire time. His head and heart are so calm just watching her, whoever she is.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“Peeta.” He coughs and moves so he’s sitting up. “You?”

She follows him. “Katniss.”

“Katniss,” he repeats. He smiles at her. “Pretty name.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you have any idea why… I mean, you were out when I found you.”

She nods. “And you were on fire.”

“Yeah, that’s… yeah, I was.”

“And then, after…”

“You saw all that?”

“No, I just kind of felt it. Like all the magic in me just exploded.”

“It was the same for me, too. But I feel… great, actually. Stronger. Better than ever.”

“Me, too. I feel… incredibly peaceful. Strong, too, like I could do anything.”

“Any idea what it all was?”

She opens her mouth, closes it, stares at the ground where another tiny flower, a dandelion, peeks through. She smiles at it and says, “Peeta, you wouldn’t happen to believe in soulmates, would you?”

He watches her for a long, immeasurable moment before telling her, “I don’t know,” He takes her hand, thrilled that she lets him, and it sparks in his. “But I think I might now.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by ally147writes

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roleplay-today · 2 years ago

Note

I'm prettysure my ask got eaten but might as well re submit

Name [you can ignore this for anonymous ads] :Aenon, Basil, Thyme or Payton (in order of preference)

Age/Age Range: 16 -(Range - 15+ and under 18)

Literacy level [literate, semi-lit etc]: semi-lit?

Pairs [mxm, fxm, nbxf etc]: mxm (preferred)

Fandoms or fandom less roleplay: fandoms!

Looking for Characters (Both): Georgie Cooper Jr (Young Sheldon)

Looking for Characters (Olin): any Masc characters (spicy mints/stranger things/dsmp/mcyt/harry potter)

Looking for Characters (Aenon): Lucas Sinclair (ST),

Olin Characters: Steve Harrington (ST), William Byers (ST)/In Byler, Ranboo (SMP), Billzo (SMP). Dream (SMPS), Any Male/Masc chars (DreamSMP/Harry Potter/Stranger Things)

Aenon/My Characters: William Byers (ST)/In Byclair, Tommy Hagen (ST), Test Subjects (ST), Micheal Wheeler (ST), Jake (ST), Sheldon Cooper (Young Sheldon), OwengeJuiceTV (SMPs), TheOrionSound (MCYT/SMPs), Grian (Hermitcraft/SMPs), any feminine male/masc characters (fandoms)

Ships: Byclair (ST), Byler (ST), We can talk about them to see so!

Basics on your OC [for fandomless especially]:

CCxCC, OCxCC or OCxOC [for fandom, CC being canon characters and OC original]: CC+CC

Genres [Au/Romance/Action etc]: any depends on what characters

NSFW or SFW: SFW

Preferred platform [mail, Discord, Tumblr threads etc]: Discord

Plot ideas/ prompts [if you have any]: we can think of them! or make one during, just dont be weird about it

Other: Cupids Bow#2659, tw gay/j, can be a groupie rp or a one on one!, or with my friend olin! (16 they/them) and you can invite a friend too! i dont mind just make sure they fit into the age range, plus Olin's user:, and I can aslo play feminine characters! or feminine males no matter!

Gorg#7256

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emospritelet · 7 years ago

Note

DC!rumbelle fic fest 32. “Perhaps you’ll take me out one day - or do I have to make an appointment?” 33. “The way you flirt is shameful.”

Send me a prompt from this list and I’ll write DC!Rumbelle!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18]

AO3 link

Belle had enjoyed looking over the library, browsing the book titles and making a mental list of those she most wanted to read, and before she knew it, midnight had come and gone. She went to bed with some reluctance, but the thought of being able to spend her evenings in the library filled her with joy, and a growing fondness for her strange master.

She woke later than usual, but not so late that she would have to rush to prepare Rumplestiltskin’s breakfast, and after washing her face and tying up her hair, she strode to the wardrobe.

“Rumplestiltskin says my breeches are too tight,” she said aloud. “Perhaps I should wear a dress today, Castle, what do you think? We wouldn’t want him to get distracted, after all, would we?”

She opened up the wardrobe doors, tilting her head to the side as she looked over the contents. Her breeches and shirts were still there, but the castle had also hung up several dresses. There were full skirts that ended just above the ankles and tight lace-up bodices in shades of blue, green and yellow. Sheer linen blouses were folded neatly on one of the shelves, along with fresh underwear and stockings, and small heeled shoes, and Belle nodded approvingly.

“Can’t hurt to have a change of look every now and then,” she said, and selected a blue dress and one of the little blouses, along with a chemise and stockings.

The clothes were beautifully made, and very comfortable, even the shoes. She tied the ribbon at the waist of the skirt, and laced up the bodice with firm tugs. It pushed her breasts high, the neckline of the blouse showing their pale curves and the deep shadow of her cleavage, and Belle turned this way and that in front of the mirror, pleased with the outfit. Now to see if it was as easy to move around in as the breeches she had grown used to wearing.

She trotted down the stairs, enjoying the feel of the skirts swishing around her legs, and headed for the kitchens. The castle had already set out the breakfast food, and a kettle was boiling on the fire, so Belle spooned tea into the pot and wrapped a cloth around the handle of the kettle to pour on the hot water. At that moment the back door opened and in walked Graham, his cheeks pink from the cold spring air, a hessian bag slung over his shoulder. He did a double-take when he saw her.

“Were you feeling nostalgic, my Lady?” he asked, looking amused. “I thought you’d given up on dresses.”

“Rumplestiltskin said my breeches were too tight to be good for me,” she said, and Graham chuckled.

“Did he indeed?” he said, amused, and heaved the bag onto the kitchen table.

Belle peered inside, finding several large joints of venison along with some rabbits and pheasants.

“A good couple of days hunting, then,” she said. “Perhaps you’ll take me out one day - or do I have to make an appointment?”

She grinned at him cheekily, and he sent her a wry look.

“Yes, if I ever feel like getting eviscerated I’ll just take you out of the castle with me,” he said. “I have a feeling Rumplestiltskin would take a very dim view of that, my Lady.”

She sighed.

“I suppose,” she grumbled. “I’ll have to make do with the tales you tell when you return. Did you see anyone out there?”

Graham shook his head.

“Saw a few tracks along the borders of the forest,” he said. “Didn’t bother following them. Have there been any visitors?”

“Not that I know of,” she said. “Rumple hasn’t had anyone here to deal in weeks.”

Graham gave her an appraising look, folding his arms across his chest.

“Rumple?” he said, in a very bland tone. “Did you give the Dark One a pet name?”

Belle’s mouth fell open, and she felt herself blush a little.

“It’s - uh - quicker to say.”

“Uh-huh.”

Belle’s blush deepened, and she busied herself with the breakfast tray, setting pastries on a plate next to a dish of porridge with fresh berries and honey.

“There’s plenty of porridge in the pot,” she said, nodding at the iron pot keeping warm next to the fire. “You can help yourself, if you’re hungry.”

Graham shook his head.

“I need sleep, first,” he said. “I’ll leave you to take breakfast to your - Rumple.”

Belle shot him a look, and he grinned at her, touching his knuckles to his forehead before ducking out of the kitchen. She carried the breakfast tray up the stairs, the doors to the Great Hall opening in front of her, and saw Rumplestiltskin already sitting in the chair at the end, tapping his fingers together. He blinked when he saw her.

“You’re wearing a dress,” he said, and she smirked.

“Is that so hard to believe?” she asked. “I felt like a change, that’s all.”

She went to set out the breakfast things, bending over to put the bowl of porridge in front of him, and Rumplestiltskin made a high sort of squeak at the back of his throat. Belle raised her head.

“Is something wrong?”

He was staring at her, but at the sound of her voice he twitched irritably, glancing away.

“Nothing, nothing!” he said impatiently. “Are you going to set that out before the tea gets cold, or not?”

She gave him a very level look, but placed the pastries next to the porridge bowl and set down the teapot. She clicked her tongue in vexation as she realised that the castle had included a second teacup again. It kept doing that, even when she took it off the tray each time.

“Well, since you’re here, you may as well have some tea,” said Rumplestiltskin ungraciously. “I daresay I won’t eat all the pastries.”

Belle bit her lip to hide her delight. He flicked a dismissive hand at her, and so she pulled out a chair, smoothing her skirts as she sat down. She set the cups in their saucers and moved the tray to the side.

“Let me pour,” she said, and reached for the teapot.

Later that afternoon, Belle pulled on a thin cloak to keep off the chill air, before hooking a basket over her arm and going out into the gardens. She wanted to pick some of the fresh herbs for drying, and despite waiting for a sunny day in which to complete the task she had begun to despair that the rain would ever stop. The skies were leaden and angry as she stepped outside, and the wind was bitter, but it was at least dry, for now. Black clouds promised more rain to come; she would have to hurry. She made her way between the bushes of sage, thyme, rosemary and juniper that grew in the gardens towards the edge of the forest, snipping off the freshest herbs and berries as she went and humming to herself. Rain was starting to fall again, and she sighed internally as she heard the distant rumble of thunder.

The crack of a twig ahead of her made her stiffen and she stopped humming at once. She stood still, listening carefully, then took a silent step forwards to where the sound had come from. A short, slim figure, its head covered with a thick shawl, leapt up from the undergrowth, startling her, and immediately ran off into the forest.

“Wait!” she called out. “I won’t hurt you!”

The figure ran on, and Belle dropped the basket, hiked up her skirts and followed, ignoring the rain that soaked her. She was soon in the thickest part of the woods surrounding the castle; black branches reached out to grab at her clothes like the claws of hungry animals, and she gasped as a twig scratched her cheek painfully. She lifted her arm to shield her face and failed to spot a root at her feet, her toes catching on it and pitching her face-first into the wet leaf-litter. Belle pushed herself up, breath hissing through her teeth as pain stabbed through her ankle. She picked a dead leaf from her hair and rubbed at her twisted ankle, looking about her.

The rain was turning to sleet, and she shivered, wondering why she had been so foolish as to come out with just a thin cloak and then chase after a complete stranger. She drew the cloak around herself, noting ruefully that it was already getting soaked through, and pushed herself to her feet, crying out as she put weight on her ankle. There would be no more tracking this day; she needed to get home.

Gritting her teeth, Belle held onto the nearest tree, and viewed her surroundings anxiously. She could not see the castle, but she thought that she had been running south. The leaden clouds did not help her sense of direction, but looking at the lichen on the tree-trunks she found what she believed was north and headed that way, limping badly and holding onto the damp trees for support as she went.

She had been walking for almost half an hour when she finally admitted to herself that she was lost. Her ankle was badly swollen, the forest was getting no thinner, and it was growing dark. Exhausted from the difficult terrain and the pain in her foot, she sank down by a large oak tree and leaned back against its trunk, wishing that its branches provided a little more shelter from the freezing rain. She wondered if she had strayed beyond the boundary of the Dark Castle, and felt suddenly vulnerable. She could not think of anyone that would want to hurt her besides Gaston and his men, but they were far away and highly unlikely to come against the Dark One. However, she realised that someone could try to get to Rumplestiltskin through her; he would surely come after her if she was taken, if only to ensure her deal with him was fulfilled. She knew he would come when she called his name…

You need help, you idiot, she told herself crossly, and sat up.

“Rumplestiltskin!”

“Well, well, what have you been doing?”

She looked up at him, his face silhouetted against the veil of bare twigs above her, his slender form clad in brown leather and gold silk. His arms were folded, one finger tapping his elbow in irritation, but she was very glad to see him.

“I fell,” she said lamely, and he bent forward and pulled two or three wet leaves from her hair.

“Not your best look, dearie,” he said, his voice half-amused and half-angry. She shivered, tugging her wet cloak around her, and he clicked his tongue, holding out his hands to take hers.

“Let’s get you back to the castle.”

He pulled her to her feet and she bit back an oath as her ankle threatened to give way beneath her.

“You’re hurt,” he said, concerned, and she nodded.

“It’s my ankle. Only a sprain, but it’s painful to walk on.”

He sighed in annoyance. “Well, in that case…”

He waved his hands theatrically, and Belle was suddenly in the library. Heat from the fire hit her and she limped towards it, stumbling and almost falling before he caught her around the waist and pulled her upright.

“Throwing yourself into the fire will not help matters,” he said disapprovingly, steering her towards one of the nearby couches.

He pulled off her wet cloak and she sat shivering while he knelt before her, lifting her saturated skirts above her knees, tugging off her shoes and, to her horror, her stockings.

“I can do that myself!” she said indignantly, flushing. Exhaustion, hunger and pain had made her irritable, and he tsked in annoyance.

“Foolish girl!” he snapped. “What on earth were you thinking of? You could catch your death out there! Again! I already nursed you through one bloody fever and to risk another is highly ungrateful!”

“What do you care?”

Belle’s voice was sullen, and he sat back on his heels, gold-flecked skin glistening in the firelight, frowning at her.

“What good are you to me if you die of a fever?” he demanded. “Do you know how long it’s taken to get you to make my tea the way I like it?”

She glared at him, and he pushed himself to his feet, carrying one of the large painted screens from the other side of the room and placing it before the fire.

“Here. You can change behind this. I’ll get you something dry to wear.”

He disappeared, and Belle began wearily to unfasten the bodice of her dress, limping to stand behind the screen, where she was in front of the fire and shielded from the door. She was soaked through, her hair plastered to her head and still with pieces of the forest floor clinging to it. She unlaced her skirt, letting skirt and bodice fall to the ground before peeling off her wet blouse and chemise. The fire was almost too hot on her bare skin, and she turned slowly, drying every inch of herself as her shivering began to fade, the crystal pendant cool against her skin. The scratch from the branch had cut her cheek; blood was crusted on it in a ridged line, and the heat was making it sting.

“Your clothes are there,” he said, from behind her, and she spun in surprise, her face reddening, arms automatically covering herself.

She could see over the top of the screen that he was on the other side of the room, pacing up and down in agitation and throwing the occasional glance in her direction. She pulled the clean, dry, silk undergarments from where he had draped them and put them on, followed by the green woollen dress, warm and soft, then hung her wet things up to dry before the fire. The dress was ruined, she could see that, but she thought the blouse and underclothes were salvageable.

She emerged from behind the screen, limping on bare feet, and cleared her throat. He turned to her immediately, motioning her towards the sofa and wrapping his fur-lined cloak around her before she sat down. Kneeling in front of her again, he took her swollen ankle in his cool hands, his touch gentle. Belle saw a purple light flowing over her foot and felt a tingling sensation course through it, then the pain disappeared as the light faded, and warmth flooded through her, making her gasp. The bruising and swelling had gone, her ankle its normal size again. He reached up then to touch her face delicately, making her start, and again she felt a tingling and a rush of warmth as he drew his forefinger across her cheek, healing the scratch. She smiled at him as he sat back and pushed himself up without a word. Belle pulled her feet up beside her and he tucked them inside the cloak, the fur warm against her cold skin.

“I assumed you wouldn’t be in any fit state to make tea,” he said sternly. “So here.”

He handed her a large glass of brandy and sat down at the opposite end of the couch with his own, watching her somewhat anxiously. Belle swallowed a large mouthful of her drink, feeling its fire course through her, warming her from within. She looked at him from beneath her thick lashes as she lowered the glass to her lap.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, and his mouth twitched.

“Good help is hard to find,” he said dryly, and she bit back a smile.

“Nonetheless,” she said, reaching for him. “You’ve been very kind to me.”

She squeezed his hand, smiling at him, and he looked so startled at her touch that she let it go almost immediately. She had noticed that he would readily initiate contact himself, with a hand on the small of her back as they walked, or a touch at her shoulder to gain her attention. Yet, if she were the one to touch him, he seemed always to be shocked by the physical contact, and to recoil from it. It was strange. He was still watching her intently, and she felt a faint blush rise in her cheeks.

“What were you doing out there?” he asked curiously, and Belle sighed.

“There was someone here,” she said. “Looking at me when I was in the garden picking herbs. They ran off when I noticed them, so I followed them.”

He frowned. “Who was it? Man or woman?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Small. A woman, I think, or perhaps a boy. The face was covered, so I couldn’t tell.”

He stood, beginning to pace again, his fingers tapping against the side of the brandy glass rhythmically.

“I don’t like that people are snooping in my gardens,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I need to think about some better – security measures.”

Belle let her head fall back against the cushions. “Rumple, no! Just…leave them alone. I’m sure they meant no harm.”

He spun to face her.

“Oh, you’re sure of that, are you? Didn’t I promise to keep you safe? And yet you go haring off into the woods after who knows what without a single thought about the trouble it might cause!”

She sighed wearily, and drank more of her brandy. He was still pacing back and forth, and she slipped from the couch and put a hand on his arm to stop him, taking his hand in hers as he turned to her, and pretending not to notice his flinch. His shirt was open at the neck, the gold flecks on his skin gleaming in the light of the fire and the candles. She thought how pretty it was, that glittering skin he tried to hide behind like a shield.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said gently, looking up at him imploringly. “They’re gone, I’m safe, and you don’t need to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” he lied stiffly, and she bit her lip to hide her smile.

“Then sit back down with me and finish your drink,” she said gently, and pulled him back to the couch, curling up under the cloak again as he sat down beside her.

She leaned against his shoulder with a sigh as the warmth sank into her bones, and he surreptitiously pulled another leaf and a twig from her hair. He sat upright and unnaturally stiff as Belle relaxed into him, sipping her drink and watching a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She sighed, leaning into him a little more.

“Sit back,” she yawned. “I won’t bite you.”

Rumplestiltskin huffed a little at that, but leaned back against the couch cushions. She was shivering still, and he pulled the cloak a little more snugly around her. Her hair was making his shirt damp, but he allowed her to rest her head against his chest as she sipped at her drink. Her shivers slowed and finally stopped as she finished her brandy, and he looked down at her.

“It’s getting late,” he ventured, and she yawned again.

“Just a little longer,” she said sleepily, shifting her position slightly.

He sighed, and relaxed back into the cushions. He rarely slept. It wouldn’t hurt to close his eyes, just for a moment.

The thud of a brandy glass falling to the rug made his eyes spring open. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, a warm orange light gleaming against polished wood and making shadows at the edge of the room appear darker than usual. He felt a strange pressure against his legs, and looked down, almost starting with surprise. Belle was lying down, one pale arm reaching out from the thick fur of the cloak, stretched across his thighs. Her head was in his lap, her breathing even as she slept soundly. It was a pleasant way to wake up, to be sure, but she was unlikely to find it so when she woke.

He pondered what to do, realising that he was not aware of the protocol for waking from unexpected sleep to find a young lady with her head pressed up against his groin. Belle chose that moment to move her head a little, rubbing against him, causing him equal parts intense pleasure and mortifying discomfort at his own reaction. He decided that it would be best to get her back to her own bed, and, careful not to wake her, slipped his arms under her back and behind her knees and stood up with her. She didn’t stir. He could, of course, have sent her to her rooms with a spell, but was enjoying the feel of her in his arms, and wanted to cherish it while he could. He began walking slowly towards the stairs, taking each step carefully, so as not to disturb her, but even with his steady pace she shifted against his chest.

“Where are you taking me?”

Her voice was a little slurred, drowsy with sleep.

“I’m taking you to bed.”

He could have bitten out his tongue! He waited for her eyes to widen in panic, for her to struggle in his grip and demand he release her. Belle let out a long sigh, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder, her breath tickling his ear.

“Good,” she said sleepily, making his heart thump harder.

He managed to reach her room without incident, and drew back the covers before laying her in the bed. She nestled into the pillows with tiny sounds of enjoyment that were doing awful things to his self-restraint. Looking down on her, he smiled slightly at her upturned mouth and flushed cheeks. He debated loosening her bodice to make her more comfortable, but decided there was only so much he could cope with in one evening, and settled for brushing her hair back from her face gently and whispering goodnight.

“Rumple,” she murmured, as he turned to go.

“Yes, dearest?”

Now, why had he said that? When had their relationship changed from that of master and servant to – whatever this was? She smiled sleepily.

“You’re a good man,” she whispered.

If only that were true.

#fic: crystal tears #rumbelle fic #my fic #dark castle rumbelle #thespinningmeanie #DC!Rumbelle fic fest

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thing-you-do-with-that-thing · 7 years ago

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SEASONS OF LOVE CHALLENGE - Bloom of Spring

Hey guys so a new season is upon us so here is the 3rd part of Season of Love. This time we will be focusing on spring.

Each part of the challenge will run for almost 3 months - to fit the season. This time I decided to add the option of getting a gif/picture prompt for another fandom than spn. Song and Word prompts are still strictly for SPN fans and if you wanna write for another fandom you have to run the pairing by me first since it is far from all I’d be willing to read.

If you are gonna need an extension when we near the end of the challenge or need to drop out just let me know. If you don’t turn in your fic on time and you haven’t kept in touch, you will be banned from all my future challenges.

Do I have to taken part in in Fall and Winter?

No. You can take part in one, in two ect. Any you would like.

If I do all do the stories have to be linked?

No. They can be but that is not an acquirement.

If I do them all do I have to write the same pairing each time?

Nope.

Will you read and reblog my fic?

You betcha :D

Do my fic have to be spring themed?

Since it is the idea of the challenge - yes I am afraid so.

When Do I Post?

Between March 1st and May 26th. Sign Ups start now and ends when there are no more prompts

Can I sign up more than once?

If there are still more prompts left Feb 22nd - yes! But I wanna give everyone a chance to get a prompt the first 5 days! - and I need 1 fic per prompt you sign up for!

RULES - READ PLEASE!

Don’t Post Before: March 1st

Due Date: May 26th

Word min: 500 words

Word Max: 6k words

Style: It can be a drabble, one shot or beginning of a series. Do not put in in the middle of an ongoing series since I plan on reading them and don’t want to read 10 parts of something to understand the entry. IT CAN BE THE MIDDLE OF A SERIES IF YOU ARE DOING FOUR PART ONE FOR EACH PART OF MY CHALLENGE WHICH I WOULD LOOOOVE!

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst are all welcome. DO NOT write smut if you are under the age of 18 and tag everything with appropriate warnings. AUs are more than welcome!

Limits on what you can write: No Mommy/daddy kinks, no non/dub con, no A/B/O, no glorification on cheating, no wife or actor hate in rpfs (breaking this last one will get you blocked and banned!) - if you got any questions at any time feel free to send me an ask.

Format: State in your A/N that it is for my (thing-you-do-with-that-thing) Seasons of Love - Bloom of Spring Challenge. And use the # SoL - Bloom of Spring challenge in the first 5 tags.

Submit: After you posted on tumblr you have to add yourself and your fic to this doc. If you don’t do this you will not be added to the masterlist I create when the challenge is over. If you got questions - just ask :D

Doc link it case tumblr is an ass: https://docs.google.com/document/d/17_oedTQINgq69u9FUif2tcpTLk8LzmuZxJKZ6qdMURA/edit?usp=sharing

How do I join?

You pick a prompt and a pairing off the list. Send me the prompt number along with a backup just in case and your pairing of choice. ASKS ONLY!! REPLIES, REBLOGS AND IMS WILL BE IGNORED!

There are no limits on the pairings but I only allow 1 person per prompt so think before you sign up. If you don’t think you will be doing it then don’t take the spot from someone else. Prompts and Pairings are under the cut!

Pairings:

No male readers - gender neutral are fine!

General Fics - character or rpf are both fine.

Sister/daughter/romantic/friendship reader pairings for following are all fine - just let me know which:

Jensen

Dean

Misha

Cas

Jared

Sam

Genevieve

Danneel

Ships (all are allowed as poly with reader too):

Destiel

Deonna

Megstiel

Saileen

Chestervelle (Dean x Jo)

Cockles

Jensen x Danneel

Jared x Genevieve

AS SOMETHING SPECIAL THIS TIME I WILL ALLOW TWD, GOT, OUAT AND MARVEL PAIRINGS - NOT ALL BUT SOME. ASK ME IF YOU ARE INTERESTED - I READ BOTH READER INSERTS AND SHIPS FOR ALL BUT NOT EVERYTHING! THERE IS A PROMPT LIMIT ON THESE. YOU CAN ONLY SIGN UP ONCE AND ONLY FOR A GIF/PICTURE PROMPT! - You can sign up for once of these and still do a SPN prompt too!

No shaming of any pairings or ships I just have to read them and these are the things I prefer. On to the prompts:

Activity and word prompts

1 Easter @rainyjaredpadaleckimoviespanda (Jarevieve)

2 Painting Eggs - @supersunsetkittypie (Jenneel)

3 Planting Flowers @teamfreewill-imagine (Jenneel x daughter!reader)

4 Picnic @mysupernaturalfics (Jenneel x Reader)

5 Spring Break @roxyspearing (Dean x Reader)

6 April’s Fools @internationalfandomgirl (Misha x Reader)

7 Baby Animals @sammy-moo (Sam x Reader)

8 Spring Cleaning @storytimewithlyva (Dean x Reader)

9 Spring Fever @mrspadalackles (Dean x Reader)

10 Birds

11 Bees @mysticalgrungefarm (Megstiel)

12 Flowers @percywinchester27 (Dean x Reader)

13 Butterflies

14 Bunny @not-moose-one-shots (sam x reader)

15 Mother’s Day @oneshoeshort (Sam x Reader)

16 Birth @captainemwinchester (Jensen x Reader)

17 Bloom @ruined-by-destiel (Sam x Reader)

18 May Day @ravenangel33

19 Baseball - @iwantthedean (Jensen x Reader)

20 April Showers - @tngrayson (Dean x Reader)

21 Memorial Day @plaid-lover-bay25 (jarevieve x reader)

22 St Patrick's Day @impalaimagining (Jared or Jensen x Reader)

23 New Beginnings - @torn-and-frayed (Jensen x Reader)

24 A Day Out @queen-of-deans-booty (Jensen x Reader)

25 Warmer Weather @thegodbucky (Jenneel x Reader)

Song Prompts:

26 April Come She Will - Simon and Garfunkel @like-a-bag-of-potatoes (sam x reader)

27 Spring Breakdown - Luke Bryan

28 Fires of Spring - Chris Rea @haunteddeanwinchester (Dean x Reader)

29 Spring Street - Vanessa Carlton

30 Wild Mountain Thyme - Jensen Ackles

31 Gypsy - Shakira @deanandsamsbitch (cas x reader)

32 Soak Up the Sun - Sheryl Crow

33 Hummingbird Heartbeat - Katy Perry @lifelovelaughangell123 (Dean x Reader)

34 Music of the Sun - Rihanna @myherodreamercowboy (Destiel x Reader)

35 Walking on Sunshine - Katrina and the Waves @atc74 (jared x reader)

36 Strawberry Swing - Coldplay @firefly124 (sam x reader)

37 Feel Again - One Republic @abbirae99 (sam x reader)

38 Butterfly Fly Away - Miley Cyrus @sillesworldofwriting (jarevieve x reader)

40 Here comes the sun - The Beatles @samsbeecharmer (sam x reader)

41 Purple Rain - Prince

42 Beautiful Day - U2

43 The Lifting - REM

44 Happy - Pharrell Williams

45 Best Day of My Life - American Authors

46 Brighter than the sun - Colbie Caillat @ladyismoriah (megstiel)

47 Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper @samwinjarpad (Sam x Reader)

48 All Star - Smash Mouth

49 The Rain Song - Led Zeppelin

50 Centerfield - John Fogerty - @katymacsupernatural (Jensen x Reader)

40 Secret Gif/Picture Prompts:

1 @winchesterprincessbride (Sam x Reader)

2 @luci-in-trenchcoats (Jensen x Reader)

3 @coldglittersupernaturaltaco (Deonna)

4 @homeschooldonmyhands (winchester sister oc)

5 @captain-s-rogers (steve x reader)

6 @waywardkittenarmy (Cockles)

7 @jayankles (Dean x Reader)

8 @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester (dean x daughter!reader)

9 @docharleythegeekqueen (destiel x reader)

10 @trunk-full-of-ideas (winchester sister!reader)

11 @highlyfuncti0nings0ci0path (dean x reader)

12 @queen-of-deans-booty (sam x reader)

13 @queen-of-deans-booty (dean x reader)

14 @acreativelydifferentlove (bucky x reader)

15 @becs-bunker (Bucky x Reader)

16 @deanssweetheart23 (Dean x Reader)

#sol - bloom of spring challenge #seasons of love challenge #sol - bloom of spring

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