#prompt catchup

[c0rrupt3dsp1r1t]

BStober days 7-9 (substituted prompt): control

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Deep Water Prompt #2848

Things are bad here, so when the parasites arrive our town votes to host them willingly. I understand what a miracle feels like, the second the bug taps my bloodstream.

[sunkeeperxiv]

FFXIV Write 04 - Reticent

Timeline: 2.x, after the Crystal Braves are formed

Daca'li has someone looking for him at the Rising Stones, and it's someone not particularly inclined to speak with anyone else in his absence.

Thancred was becoming used to the Rising Stones being a center of activity, what with all the Braves running in and out now. It was odd, having their headquarters no longer be a secret, but it was a pleasant change, in a way. Seeing so many people enthusiastic to contribute to the well-being of Eorzea was heartening.

One of the Braves had caught his eye today, though. He was a miqo’te with dark grey skin and green hair, his ears fading to black spots at the tips. The way the man stood didn’t indicate to Thancred that he was a practiced soldier. Frankly, he seemed downright uncomfortable in the heavy blue coat the Braves used as a uniform, and was looking from side to side as if searching for someone.

Nothing about that was suspicious on its own - while the Braves had recruited from the Grand Companies, they had no few recruits who had joined without any such history. No, it was how lost he looked that gave Thancred pause. If he was here to report to one of his commanders, he shouldn’t have any issue finding them - they were all clad in the same bright blue coats he was. He shouldn’t have any trouble unless he was looking for someone else entirely.

He strode up, into the man’s line of sight, and raised a hand in greeting as he startled and snapped his head around to look at Thancred. Up close, Thancred was able to make another mental note on him - the man was tall, at least for a miqo’te, perhaps even a hair or two taller than Thancred himself. He could have been quite imposing… if he hadn’t been carrying himself as if he wanted to curl into a ball and roll away.

Ah well, we were all young and unproven once. “Hello,” he said, smiling to put the man at his ease. “Thancred Waters, Scion of the Seventh Dawn. You seem lost. Perhaps I know who you’re looking for?”

He got a very interesting reaction. At the word “Scion”, the man’s ears twitched backwards, as if he wanted to lay them flat, and his lips tightened ever so slightly over his teeth. A huff and a shake of the head, though, and it was gone, and the man standing in front of him was only nervous, and perhaps a little impatient.

“I’m sure you know him. It’s knowing where he is that’s the problem.” he replied, his voice low and soft. “Is Daca’li here today, by chance? Or is he off on a… a job?” He paused before the word job the way people tended to when the first way they thought to describe a thing lacked a certain degree of propriety.

Thancred did know where Daca’li was, as it happened, but he wasn’t sure he was inclined to share the information. It could all be perfectly innocent, of course: likely this man felt a sort of kinship with his fellow Keeper, but his manner gave Thancred the impression he didn’t particularly like the Scions. “He’s not,” Thancred answered without elaborating. “I’m afraid I don’t know when he might be back, either. I could give him a message?”

The man did lay his ears back at that, a short growl of frustration escaping him before he shook his head. “No, but thank you for lettin’ me know. I’ll just keep tryin’.” Without anything else to say, he turned with a short, perfunctory wave and exited the Stones without a single word more.

Later, Thancred relayed news of the meeting to Daca’li anyway. “Someone was looking for you. Miqo’te, green hair, about… yay high?” He held his hand up to just about where his hairline was.

Daca’li cocked his head, then a spark of recognition appeared in his eyes. “Blue eyes? Black eartips?” He stood up and, with a wry smirk and a cocked eyebrow, adjusted Thancred’s hand until it was just barely higher than the top of his scalp, although he himself had to stretch to do so. “Yay high?”

Thancred brushed Daca’li’s hand aside, prompting a sharp-toothed chuckle, and shrugged. “Yes, yes and perhaps. You’re familiar with him, then?”

“Y’met my nephew. Rashe’a. Was he real standoffish?” Daca’li asked this with some genuine concern, although he was still smirking. Thancred supposed he had been right after a fashion: certainly kin had the right to feel kinship. He could have simply said something, though.

“Perhaps, but I did respond in kind. I got the impression he didn’t have a very high opinion of me, you see, or of the Scions as a whole.” At that Daca’li’s expression fell into a grimace. “He— aye, you had the right impression, I think. He ain’t particularly fond of me runnin’ into danger all the time.”

“Is that why he’s here then, to watch over you? We would have welcomed the help directly, if either of you had asked.” Daca’li cocked his ears at Thancred, a silent request for clarification. “It will be a bit more complicated for a Crystal Brave to fuss over one of the Scions.”

“Wait, are you— he joined the Braves?” Daca’li’s ears pricked forward, then folded back as he thought. “Are you sure?”

“He was wearing the uniform,” Thancred answered. “I presume he’s not the sort to kill someone for it.” Daca’li glared at him and he held his hands up in supplication. “He said he’d try to find you here again, so if you hang around I’m sure you’ll see him. I didn’t ask where he was going, but I doubt he would have told me.”

Daca’li sighed. “Aye, you have the right of that. Try and get him to wait around next time you see him, though. I’d love to know what he thinks he’s doin’.”

[the-unending-journey]

Junelezen Day 4 - New Adventure

Now that Ishgard was making steps on changing for the better, Lucinne figured it was high time she started focusing on herself and what she wanted.

She had always wondered what lie beyond the imposing stone walls of the city she loved, as well as the blinding snows of Coerthas. Following in the footsteps of her late husband, Lucinne set down her mantle of knight and picked up a new one - adventurer

[tea-and-conspiracy]

Junelezen Day 16: Magic

They say pixies are born when a child is lost...

[whump-captain]

No. 8 - Everything hurts and I'm dying

Stomach pain | Head trauma | Back from the dead

2800 words | OC: Kintsugi

*leans into mic* three thousand words of body horror

no clue if this is coherent but the gist of it is fucked up sentient metal possessing people let's goooooo

---

CN: escape, gun use, gunshot, (temporary) character death, gore, body horror, general news horror, broken bones, harmful healing, magical healing, vomiting

---

"Come on," Lucy panted. "We'll lose them by the quarry."

The cold air made it difficult to take a full breath, even though she wasn't running anymore. Ethan was two steps behind her, stumbling in the ankle-deep snow but managing to keep up. It seemed the painkillers had whipped him into shape. His face was flushed and he stood a bit straighter now that the makeshift splint did the job of stabilising his arm. He didn't look at Lucy, eyes roaming the frigid landscape with a feverish intensity.

"Quarry?" he asked. His voice was rough for the heavy breaths he was struggling to control - but he pressed on. Lucy appreciated that, even though she had no time to think about voicing it.

"There's a gold mine just behind that hill," she explained with a wave of her hand. The tangled thicket of thin trees made the hill look imposingly tall but Lucy knew the way. They could circle it in no more than fifteen minutes and be in the clear. Assuming the quarry itself wasn't staffed and ready to mow them down the second they emerged from the forest. "There should be cars there, we can use them to get to the coast," she said.

"Why is there a gold mine here?"

"I don't fucking know," she snapped. "Shut up and keep walking."

Fuck's sake, she couldn't believe him. Her own mind was entirely occupied trying to deal with the dozens of armed mercenaries hot on her heels and here he was asking question after question about every stupid thing she said. And that after he'd spent almost a month getting the shit kicked out of him for sticking his nose into Memory's business. It was insufferable. He acted like he had some personal stake in figuring out every pointless detail about this island; like he stood a chance to understand anything the Response Group did.

Lucy asked herself again why she was risking her bloody life for this stranger. Once again, her strung up mind refused to answer logically.

All she could do was to keep walking.

They reached the edge of the wood and Lucy weaved in between the thin, slender trees. The snow was thinner here, too, revealing more of the ground uneven with rocks and ridges. Out of the wind, deceptive heat flooded Lucy's skin and she tightened her grip on her gun. She wished she'd had time to grab her rifle instead of this useless pistol; or to grab anything at all. As far as escape plans went, this one had been shite.

"I can't hear them anymore," Ethan whispered. By the shake in his voice Lucy guessed that they were on the same page: that this wasn't necessarily good.

"No." She scanned the spindly shadows around them, then looked up the slope of the hill. "They might be surrounding us."

She wanted to run. But it would do her no good if Ethan couldn't keep up. So she only picked up the pace slightly and glanced behind her. His face glistened with sweat and his teeth were chattering, but he stayed close. Good.

At the foot of the hill, Lucy took a turn through the denser trees. There was no point climbing; they would only tire out and they'd be exposed on the bare hilltop. If she'd remembered correctly, heading east would bring them out onto a small plain and then straight to the quarry. From there - she would figure it out.

The trees cleared out soon and new strength spread through Lucy's body. The bitter wind whipped her again but there was the quarry, in the distance, reaching up to the sky with black arms of machinery. Only a few hundred meters of snow and bare bushes laid between her and the goal.

They barely took five steps into the clearing when she heard it. A whistle and a tap.

Her mind added the gunshot, muffled and distant.

A sniper.

"Get down!" she yelled.

Whistle, tap. Snow burst out in a cloud where the bullet hit. Lucy sprinted, slid to drop by a bush. No protection.

Another whistle, just as she whipped her head up to look.

Ethan only managed half a turn. Another tap.

The bullet caught him square in the chest and threw him six feet back like a ragdoll. Lucy cried out. She started towards him; more snow exploded out under fire. She stumbled, fell back behind cover.

"Hold fire!" someone shouted. The voice echoed through the plain. "Lucy Richardson, stand up with your hands in the air!"

She ignored it. She pushed herself up, halfway on her knees, she felt her way through the snow with gloved hands. The imaginary gunshot rang in her ears and everything in front of her blurred. She only saw colour. Blinding white marred by bright, biting crimson. A dark shape motionless in the snow. A tunnel stretching infinitely before her, black and suffocating and inescapable.

She had failed.

Ethan's empty eyes stared up into the sky. He laid with his arms thrown open and his face frozen in a soft expression of surprise. A tiny hole in his jacket bloomed around it a ring of red. Under him was a pool of blood, thick with viscera and studded with white shards of bone. It soaked into his hair and his clothes - Lucy's old jacket, useless now at keeping him warm.

Her shaking hand rested on his neck, but it was formality. Stillness and cold seeped into her body from Ethan's skin and extinguished the last traces of fire that determination and adrenaline had lit under her.

Replacing it, a void opened up in her stomach. She had screwed up again. She'd cost someone their life. Everything that she had spent so long running away from had caught up. There was blood on her hands again and the snow refused to wash it away. All her effort, her doubt, her illogical, infuriating thoughts - it had all been pointless. The final outcome was the same as if she had never gotten involved at all, if she had never abandoned her safe refuge of apathy.

Ethan Lythmer was dead.

All she had gained was the sight of his lifeless face growing grey and rigid in the cold.

=====

Within the ground, notice is taken.

I sense the change above me; it feels like a snap in the stillness that envelops me. The steady rock flinches and I lose focus.

The dead human weeps its heat out into the soil's veins. The warmth is a thrill but it's a fleeting one. I want to keep it. The human wanted that too, in its last moment of sentience and experience.

It was the most exquisite moment.

I want it to last, like I do.

If time is a plane, I am the slice cut out of it and turned on its side. If the future is a sunset, I am the north pole in summer. If the past exists, I hate it.

I take from it, unhindered and joyful. I drown in that single moment of overwhelming emotion and I let it freeze with me into forever.

I embrace the human and I take it with me.

=====

The snow steamed. Bare black earth emerged from under it and then began to crack. A nauseating stench of boiling blood filled the air and then the rock swelled, as if the whole island took in a breath.

The ground drank. The cracks filled and spidered out in a sprawling pattern of veins. They hissed and then, suddenly, they shone.

Pure liquid gold erupted into the veins in a single pulse, turning the soiled earth into a masterpiece.

With a sound like an unsheathed knife, a spike of gold ripped out from the ground and stabbed through Ethan's chest. The force lifted the body off of the ground where it hung impaled with arms splayed like a pinned butterfly. Lucy jerked away, slipping in the snow. Blood poured down the golden stalagmite and swirled as it was absorbed into nothing more than a reddish sheen. The tip of the spike exploded out of the bullet hole into a thousand hair-thin branches like a bare, fractal tree.

Time itself frosted over and from a frozen moment in the past, Ethan's consciousness was thrust back into his body. The peaceful black split open as light exploded, painting the veins in his eyes bright gold.

He had no lungs to gasp with. There was a gaping hole in his back where they should be, framed by teeth of broken ribs and curtains of pouring blood. He saw it. He felt its warmth as the gold eagerly drank and circulated it.

This massacred body wasn't his. He watched it from the outside, through some other eyes. He couldn't feel anything below his neck. The pressure of suffocation was trapped in his skull and it built until he couldn't bear it and his vision dimmed again - but this time there wasn't peace in the dark.

Please, he thought, more feeling than consciousness. I can't breathe. I'm going to die.

Something replied, inside his mind:

Not die, not die.

The voice echoed into infinity and Ethan thought his eardrums would burst.

We live, we live, it said.

Help me, was all he could think.

The darkness sharpened and struck him like a fist. Gold burst out into his vision in infinitely repeating cracks and they formed an undulating shape. A shape that watched him, reached out to him.

A shape that lived.

A skintight grip enveloped him like ice and for a moment, he was whole again. The world cracked in half and fell away, and he emerged back into the light like a metal cast released from a mould.

The gold below him crawled up. Drawn from the veins that scarred the earth, liquid metal flowed up the spike and then further. It found the crushed mess of Ethan's spine and curled around it, pouring into the cracks and bringing the shattered bone back together. It reached through the past, to the split second between the bullet entering the body and the moment it ripped its way out. From that memory and from the tissue it had devoured, the gold spun a delicate wireframe of a ribcage, glinting like jewellery among the slick gore. Shuddering like rock under a seismic wave, new bone grew into it from nothing and formed bare, exposed ribs. In their confines, red, bulbous flesh boiled out of the collapsed lungs and made them swell back into shape.

They lurched, pushing air out into the rest of the body. Blood bubbled out of Ethan's mouth, he choked on the breath forced into him. A violent cough contracted his chest. It felt like drowning, like burning liquid rising in his throat with every gurgling gasp.

He felt his body again. Torn nerve endings were welded together with flowing gold and immediately they caught fire. Ethan couldn't even scream. Pain exploded through his chest and burned through his back as new skin emerged on torn muscle in gleaming gold patches until the frayed edges of the exit wound met again and melted shut. Flesh merged with metal and became one with the stalagmite that held the body aloft.

Ethan heaved a desperate gasp, fighting the pain burning between his ribs. All he could manage was a keening groan before fire shot through him again and strangled his voice. He could feel the living gold circulating alongside his blood - a cold, crawling presence pushing its way between the layers of tissue. Wherever it found the skin broken, it burst out of the wounds in crystal-like spikes, spraying blood as the damaged flesh tore further. Ethan finally screamed as gold blades stabbed out of the barely healed cuts on his forehead.

New lines of pain erupted all over his body. He was dying, surely; again. He would bleed out. He could see the blood and his own writhing body and he knew this time that it wasn't hallucination. He looked through the eyes of something else; something that was sentient even though it was heatless metal deep underground. It watched, and drank, and thought - to itself but also to Ethan, straight into his mind:

We live, we live. I help, I help.

It felt his pain. The feeling echoed just like its glittering voice did, reflected into two bodies - human and not. The gold blades softened and smoothed. They melted back into the wounds and spilled, leaving behind raised, exquisitely glistening, golden scars. The pain faded slowly into a biting ache like frostbite. Ethan fought for frantic, wheezing breaths but cold pushed through his body again; spread out from his chest and out into his limbs.

Without an immediate memory, the inhuman, metal being could only guess at the human body's correct shape. Ethan's skin turned black as liquid metal replaced the blood in the bruises on his arm. The pain ripped from his throat, a ragged, barely human howl of agony. A metal grip wrapped around the broken bones and ground them together in an attempt to weld them back into one. Ethan's vision dissolved, burned away. His forearm snapped in half at a right angle and golden spikes erupted from the skin as the bone ripped it open. All other feeling was gone. His body had disconnected from everything but this horrifying, all-consuming pain; the heartlessly clear feeling of muscle tearing away from tendons. Gold leaked into marrow and the bones shattered from the inside out, exploded by sudden pressure.

But then the metal spun into itself and the bone shards gathered back into shape. The gold fused them together and filled in the gaps. A delicate net of cracks and seams caught the light once before new veins and nerves stretched out over it like wet wires, reattaching as they crawled. Ethan's scream hitched. He thought he'd faint. He had to faint, he couldn't bear any more. Silently, he begged for unconsciousness to take him, for any escape from the pain. For death, if that was what it took. But the echoing voice in his head kept singing and it kept him awake - and so Ethan kept screaming, his body convulsing around the destructive force that was trying to save him.

Like a ship in a bottle unfolded by a carefully pulled string, the mangled flesh and bone of his arm twisted back into its natural shape. The last of the regenerating muscle bulged out and was wrapped in skin, growing out from it like a stain of paint. A raised patch of gold blistered the surface where the fracture had been open, settling into a shining, metal-smooth scar.

Ethan's breath came in a strangled wheeze. Trickles of blood ran down from his mouth and eyes, marking crimson lines on his ash grey face. His fingers twitched as the new tendons tested their motions but he didn't feel it. The pain still rang through his body, an afterimage of agony. His chest heaved as his lungs demanded air, even though he had no strength to keep breathing. A groan died in his throat, emerging only as a broken, barely audible whimper.

The voice sang, like wind whistling between the mountains:

You live, you live.

It was the last thing Ethan heard before he was finally allowed to faint.

The golden tree that grew out of his chest slowly withered. The veinlike branches curled in and retracted into the spindly trunk until it became a single, smooth spike. It bent down and held Ethan's body upright, with its feet an inch away from the ground, as if posing it to stand. It hung from the metal impaling it, limp and bloodied - but it was whole, every break and bruise healed.

The golden spike thinned and shortened. In a blink of an eye it became little more than a glistening thread. Then it snapped with a quiet clink and disappeared.

Ethan's body dropped into the snow.

There was silence.

It was broken by the sound of retching. Lucy dropped to her knees and vomited, her shaking arms barely holding her up. Everything was hollow. She felt like she had to scream, but the grip on her throat didn't let any voice out. It felt like metal.

It felt like it would come for her next.

Somebody else's gagging coughs broke through the haze. There was shouting. There were footsteps. Someone was yelling her name, screaming at her to raise her arms. She did, sitting back on her heels. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the body in front of her. She could see brilliant gold among the ruined clothes.

Movement erupted around her. Two men pointed rifles at her, shouting, but she couldn't understand them. Another one was talking into a radio; cracks of static rang out like gunshots in Lucy's ears.

"We need medical evac and a full containment team to seven-west slash-" The words blurred together in her ears. Someone told her to stand up, so she did.

There was fog over her eyes, melting everything into the muted white of stained snow. Like afterimages from the blinding sun, shadows of golden veins remained in her vision.

No matter how many times she blinked, they wouldn't fade away.

[yeehawgust]

Howdy, folks!

Hope y'all had a great Pride Month, and good luck to those who are jumping into the Art Fight fray. It's July 1st, which means Yeehawgust is just a month away. 🤠 This is just a quick update to let y'all know Yeehawgust will ride again in 2024. Keep your eyes open around the middle of July for this year's prompt list!

In the meantime, this blog'll be doing a bit of catchup with posts that have been made sometime between the end of last year's event and now.

[anniebass]

baby don't be mad

1.3k word actverse ficlet under the jump rating: M tags: dialogue-heavy, beginning of the relationship, the boys are arguinggg, old man eddie's being a clueless slut, and also a dweeb, and steve's being... a person that rly needs therapy lol

Rapid catchups, they name it, though it doesn’t really need a name, it’s basically just talking. Early on Eddie realizes he doesn’t know all that much about his sexy old-but-new long distance serious boyfriend, that he possesses a fuckton of outdated information, that, duh, people change, especially in the long-ass time they spent apart. That the habits and opinions of a twenty-year-old shithead don’t necessarily last until someone’s forties.

That evening, they do the rapid catchups, starting off easy, prompted by the takeout dinner they have at Steve’s: best Asian food, go, at which without a second thought Steve says Chinese, while Eddie goes with Japanese, love me some sushi, yum. Later, when they’re full of kung pao and mapo tofu, lazily digesting on the couch, half-watching an old movie where Sharon Stone saunters across the screen and smolders at bad men, Steve says: you have to sleep with a woman, any woman in the world, dead or alive, go.

Eddie groans and slides down the couch, throws his hands up: dude, I don’t know! Uh, like maybe— Cleopatra? Or maybe one of those amazonian greek warriors with one boobie?

So, no one you actually know the face of? he says, with a little smirk.

Man, I don’t— I mean, there are some beautiful women walking this earth, like stunning stunning women I can’t get enough of, but that don’t mean I want to fuck them! My willy shrinks at the thought, he explains meekly, and shrugs, clicking his tongue: I dunno, maybe Eartha Kitt? She seems very fun.

Good choice, mutters Steve, and to Eddie’s your turn he tilts his head, scratches his nose: I don’t know if that question really applies to me. But if I had to have a sex list, it would be… Linda Evangelista? Or Sharon, she’s hot. Or— yeah, Monica Belucci, Jesus. Her, definitely. If not her then Cleopatra, that’s actually a great answer, she must have been good for all that shit to go down around her, he says with a smile, and Eddie sighs dreamily, oh, I’d love to watch. From the closet, imagine myself in her place. In a little egyptian wig, he adds, to which Steve snorts, rolling his eyes.

Alright, my turn. Best casual sex you’ve ever had, go, says Eddie, and Steve hums at that, leans back on the couch, rubbing his chin, mumbling under his breath, until he sighs and says: I actually didn’t have that much of it beyond my teens, and what I had back then was very… teenaged, y’know. And in that short gap between my first and second wife I slept with just three people, two dudes and one woman, and neither of those was mind-blowing. The guys were kinda disappointing, I thought after so many years of straight sex I’d be blown away, but it was just… okay. Actually—, he adds, shaking his head: it sucked. I was drunk, they were drunk, I don’t remember much of it. Or don’t want to. I remember stinky balls. So, I dunno—, he says, and sighs, and glances at him: am I a big loser if I say the best one was when we reconnected? Could say it was still casual back then, right? When we fucked in the church, or by the pool, or—, yeah, there was a lot of it, on that trip.

It really was magical, agrees Eddie, smiling at him.

So, uh, your turn, says Steve. Best you've ever had, go.

Oh, man, mutters Eddie. I know my answer to that. Japan, in the mid-nineties. We were on tour and stayed for a few nights in Tokyo, and I got to explore the city, research shit with the help of a very discreet translator, and finally, on our last night there, I ended up in a gay bar. Very hush-hush, a basement place hidden away in some grimy back alley, he says, lowering his voice into sultry tones of gossip. Met a guy there, this… slightly chubby middle-aged businessman type, suit and tie and briefcase, wedding ring on his finger, very regular looking guy, and we drank sake through the night, sang some karaoke, and ended up in some seedy by-the-hour love hotel. He didn’t know who I was, didn’t speak a lick of English, I was obviously drunk, but I still remember that night like it was yesterday. God, just— the way that guy fucked me, the way he seemed to know every inch of my body without having seen it before, the way he just knew what I wanted without any language, it was insane. We did it a few times that one night, practically without stopping, and never saw each other again. I actually jerk off to that memory to this day.

To this, Steve lets out a small hm, purses his lips and leans back, crossing his arms, and Eddie clicks his tongue, leaning closer, touching his shoulder: aw, don’t be jealous. That was casual, but out of all people, of course you are my number one, no contest. I just— remember that one time in Japan, because it worked so well without language, and that’s always kinda hot. Language of love, all that cheesy stuff. Up to that point and following it, it'd mostly happen with some hot Brazilians.

Okay, he says.

Eddie sighs, watching his face: Steve, you know that’s what my life was like back then, this neverending barrage of hookups. And most of those weren’t even that good, like, you talk of stinky balls? I met dozens, slobbered over them anyway like they were fucking Ferrero Rocher!, he says to a small groan in return, then sighs, speaks softer: being with you is a completely different quality from that, even from my previous relationships. It’s way different. With Marcell, we both slept around, there wasn’t much that we had in common beyond, like, incredible attraction at the beginning, and the fact that we work in the same industry, could endlessly talk about that. And with Zu, we— we really loved each other, but we weren’t a good fit. It was this weird thing where she needed someone more masc, but also I needed someone more masc, he says with an amused scoff. We were two bottoms in love, and it’s hard to make it work in the long term, without fucking other people. We’re way better off as friends. And the other dudes I dated, it was just— me being a drunken asshole, most of the time. I was a very shitty boyfriend for a looong-ass time.

There’s a stretch of silence, and Steve slides down the couch, still frowning: man… I just wonder why you asked that question in the first place. Because it seems to me like you wanted to brag a little about this incredible hookup you had in fucking… Japan. Do you miss fucking other people, Eddie?

He sighs, rakes a hand through his hair: Steve, I literally just told you I don’t. I might romanticize it, the— the way I might romanticize being on drugs, but I don’t want to go back to that. I asked because I want to know everything about you! I dunno, I— I guess I like Japan. It’s such a weird place, I really want to go back there, he says and inches closer, placing a calm hand on his thigh: come with me. Like, for two weeks or something. We’d take the girls with us, go in the summer or for the spring break. Would be cool to just wander around, shop, sing karaoke, eat tons of good food. Go to Kyoto, see the geishas, tea ceremony. Go to hot springs. Japan’s truly like no place you’ve ever been to.

I didn't know you liked it that much. A trip does sound nice, says Steve, with a small smile. Emily would go crazy, she loves those cartoons. Chels would like it too, I think.

Eddie smiles and squeezes his leg: sounds like a plan. Also, just to— get it out of the way: from the moment you first kissed me, I stopped thinking of us as casual. I was, like, fully fully back in love with you in point two seconds. Even before that, to be honest. If I ever for a single moment considered that a hookup, it’d totally blow that businessman out of the water. If you want, I could show you, uh, how I blew him out of the— fucking—, he falters, then snorts: sorry, failed metaphor. But you catch my drift.

Yes, please, says Steve.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Ticci Toby and Jeff x reader who has a nightmare

Hope you guys dont mind the sudden influx of toby and jeff stuff, playing catchup with them with a lot of older prompts- since theres a bunch of posts for them being made + they're non requests I'm probably going to shuffle them around in the queue so actual requests don't have to wait

Notes: Reader is GN

CWs: none

Jeff

Hes a bit of an ass about it, he doesnt think it's that serious so long as it's not a night terror

He'll wake you up if he thinks you're getting too stressed out and sling an arm around you to pull you close

He even jokingly offers to kill the monsters in your dream, and he feels rather proud of himself if he gets a smile out of you

He wont shut you down if you want to talk about it, though, just don't expect him to be entirely sensitive to your fears

He loves you but that doesnt change the fact hes still a bit of an asshole

Ticci Toby

Wakes you up fairly quickly and is asking what's wrong

If you dont want to talk about it hes fine with talking to you about random stuff to get your mind off of it, letting you calm down

He even offers to stay awake for you if it would make you feel better, he struggles with falling back to sleep after waking up anyways- not that hes going to really get mad at you for waking him

If you have consistent nightmares or generally gets anxious about having one he offers to talk about his own- find comfort in relating to one another essentially

Has no idea where to start looking but he might try to find stuff to help- scented candles, blankets, stuff like that

[c0rrupt3dsp1r1t]

BStober days 16-18: AU

The Conductor!verse, a collaborative roleswap AU between DWEU and NuWho characters that actually started out as a different moodboard by @waltbraxiatel​. Of the prompts, I actually did this one first.

[whirld-of-color]

sticktober is just a frantic game of catchup to me. got prompts 6-9 done so more to follow. happy hollowhead whore saturday although tbh this one is less with the intent of sexy and more with the intent of cool lighting

[disrealities]

400 followers!! So many of you that like my stuff , and I'm so so honoured! I hope everyone that participates enjoys this event , I appreciate each and every one of you!

This is being posted before the start date of the event so that everyone can gather &. queue their ideas!

Rules and whatnot under the cut!

Sect. 1: Info

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You cannot participate if you are on my DNI! This can be found in my pinned post , but will also be linked HERE.

Please don't make weird terms! (Tr*nsid , radshit , etc terms!) Everything else is allowed! Npts , mogai , mad pride , graphics , doesn't matter!

It will start july fifth, and end on the tenth!

Sect. 2: Themes

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July 5: Pastry themed! Any kind — could be general , could be specific!

July 6: Aesthetic - based!! Any aesthetic is okay , go wild!!

July 7: Something that you've been wanting to make for a while , but haven't! ( free day)

July 8: Something you're really enjoying lately! Hobbies , shows , etc!

July 9: Something silly! A silly character , silliness in general , anything that is silly!

July 10: Catchup day! Anything you didn't make / had no inspo for can be posted on this day — Though it is not at all mandatory to use

Sect. 3: Winning

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There will be three winners , and they will be chosen by a wheel! The winners will be determined the day after the event. Those that do all five prompts will be entered into the wheel twice — meaning higher chance of winning!

You may use the tag " disrealities400 " , though i'd prefer to be tagged in all entries! I will do my very best to reblog all of them ^_^

The prize will be five terms / requests that can be redeemed any time! You may request ANYTHING that I make: Roles , system flags , alt terms , etc. You may request five things all at once , one thing at a time , or whenever else you'd like! you can even send things when requests are closed!

Make sure that in your ask you include that you're reclaiming your prize , and I will count down the number of things you've requested for you! ^_^

( thank you , @dovehoundd , for helping me with the prize !! )

Sect. 4: Thanks

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Thank you all for reading all the way down here! I hope this was a comprehensive guide . . . I feel guilty tagging others in promotions , so I will ask anyone and everyone reading this to promote it!! No pressure at all , but it would be very appreciated! Please enjoy my event , I'm very excited to see what you all make (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

( though I will tag @crow-collective15 & @villyth per request! )

[ofmdjanuaury]

It’s that time again!!! Join us for JanuAUry round 2!

Post your newly created fills to the ao3 collection and tag them #OFMDJanuAUry here or on Twitter!! Have recs for older things that fit the daily prompt? Tag those #OFMDJanuAUry, too!

Prompt list below the cut:

1/1 - Apocalypse | Municipal | LARP

1/2 - Food Service | Aliens | Inventors

1/3 - Author | Fae | Wedding Professional

1/4 - School Staff | Podcast | State Fair

1/5 - Bar | Any Meme/Vine/Tiktok | A. I.

1/6 - Performing Arts | Tentacles |ASMR

1/7 - Myth | Home Renovation | Vloggers

1/8 - College | Any Book | Taxi Driver

1/9 - Celebrity | Journalist | Award Show

1/10 - Transit | Any Cartoon | Dealer

1/11 - Law | Bookshop | 60s Sitcom

1/12 - Fantasy | Any Movie | Co-Working

1/13 - Boat | Radio | Robin Hood

1/14 - Trains | Fandom | Foragers

1/15 - Archeology | Postal | Game Show

1/16 - Noir | Creature | Crossword

1/17 - Neighbors | Any TV | Talking Animals

1/18 - Photographer | Olympics | Astronaut

1/19 - Science | Gamers | Different Pirates

1/20 - Tattoo | Role Reversal | Animal Trainer

1/21 - Crime | Food Delivery |Advice Column

1/22 - Sci-Fi | Spiritualists | Research Vessel

1/23 - Pre-1900 | Car Enthusiast | Blogger

1/24 - Sports | Comic Book | Drag/Burlesque

1/25 - 20th C. | Animal Rescue | Fiber Arts

1/26 - Epistolary | Heist | EMTs/Firefighters

1/27 - Porn Star | Any Musical | Vintner

1/28 - Art Model | Filmmakers | Laundry

1/29 - Disney | Place- Based | Kink Club

1/30 - Small Business | D&D |Taxidermy

1/31 - Canon Diveergent | Fic of Fic | Write Yourself In | Catchup Day

Feel free to promote already-posted works on the relevant days, too!!

[arsillanola]

Good Omentober drawing challenge Day 11 - Aziraphale

There's probably a funnier caption for this but I'm too sleep deprived to think of it Playing catchup!

Following these prompts My other drawings in this challenge

[dickjayweek]

🎆🎊💞DickJay Week 2024💞🎊🎆 Prompt Reveals!

🌟✨DickJay WEEK✨🌟 is JayDick-centric Bottom Jason event week that will run from March 17th – March 23rd in 2024, with a catch-up (free) week of March 24th – March 30th for works that are late and ones that don’t fit into the main week’s prompts. This is the time to polish up old works and post them!

No need to sign up, and any form of fanwork is welcome! Simply make sure to use warnings properly when posting on AO3 and post to the collection when event dates come.

Rules and FAQs 

This event includes NSFW themes, and the prompt list will show a combination of NSFW and dark subjects. Click KEEP READING at your own discretion!

💕March 17 💕 Young Justice Cartoon Verse | Canon fix-it | Praise Kink | Dick calls adult Jason "Robin"

💕 March 18 💕 "Casual/Public sex is normal" AU | Kemonomimi/Animal Shifters/Hybrids/Wingfic | Bondage | Bratty Jason

💕 March 19 💕 Sci-Fi AU | Hypnos Tech/Mental Manipulation | Somnophilia (Consensual or Otherwise) | Caught on Camera

💕 March 20 💕 Dark Knights Of Steel/Medieval Fantasy | Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics | Robin Panties | "Brothers kiss each other all the time!"

💕 March 21 💕 DC vs. Vampires | Belligerent Sexual Tension | body worship/thighs/pecs | Jason Todd Cries During Sex

💕 March 22 💕 Officer Grayson | Subverted Fanon/Trope | Spanking | Slutty Jason

💕 March 23 💕 Robin Jason | Hurt & Comfort | Scent Kink | Dick's Fingerstripes

Catchup week - This year, we also populate the days with old prompts from previous years, with a bonus prompt that didn't make it during our unofficial discord voting. Feel free to use the assigned theme if you want a taste of past events that you might have missed, or completely ignore them if you have something completely new you’ve been working on!

🌟Catch-up week (optional) prompts🌟

💕 March 24 💕 - Cockwarming

💕 March 25 💕 - Arranged marriage/Promised to Dick

💕 March 26 💕 - Intersex Jason/Jason with a pussy

💕 March 27 💕 - "So I'm your dirty little secret?"

💕 March 28 💕 - Virgin Sacrifice Jason

💕 March 29 💕 - Dick Grayson was a good older brother for all the Robins... except for Jason

💕 March 30 💕 - Wayne Family Adventures

Hoping to see you there!🥳

Rules and FAQs are still the same from past years, just with the dates changed to March 17-23 (main week)/ 24-30 (catch up week), 2024, and the new tag being #DJW2024. This is a bottom Jason-centric event, but platonic works are also welcome, as do works in non-English language and Poly ships where Dick and Jason are both involved.

[morganali-art]

I've got 2-3 art prompts I'm working on for August, but I've decided I'm also going to belatedly do the Wolmeric week prompts because I didn't have a Wolmeric ship at the time. Anyway,

Wolmeric Week (Catchup) - Day 1 First Meeting

Same, lil buddy, same. 👀💦

Don't worry, Aymeric didn't notice. Not the first time at least.