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@fandomtrumpshate 2018 auction fic for @robininthelabyrinth!
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it says discretion advised but it’s like 300 words of soft connor and murph 
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I wrote 800 words of BDS hurt/comfort after being so fucking unproductive on this account please love me
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"hold on when you get love and let go when you give it" by stars
(song)
It’s fuckin’ weird.
Okay, maybe that’s not a terribly articulate way of putting it. But it’s not inaccurate, either, so John figures that’s got to count for something. It’s fuckin’ weird to have someone care about you in a more than academic way.
But he’s getting used to it, slowly but surely. Teyla holding his hand, Rodney leaning against him, Ford making sure he eats. He doesn’t have to perform for them, put on a show the way he had to back on Earth. “Thanks,” he says simply, when Teyla pokes her head in the doorway to check on him. “Thanks,” he says simply, when Rodney offers him half a sandwich in the lab. “Thanks,” he says simply, when Ford scoots over to make room for him at the meeting.
So yeah, it’s fuckin’ weird, but it’s also kinda nice.
(give me a lyric or song for a quick fic)
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Troy/Moffitt, stars
They’re sitting side by side, hands barely brushing, when Moffitt glances over at Troy. “Sam?”
“Hmm?” Troy doesn’t take his eyes off the sky.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Troy points up at the stars. “There’s Orion’s Belt. I was just thinking about how I used to stargaze with my mom and how when I was little I’d make up constellations.”
Moffitt nods. “I remember doing that too.”
“You? I’d have thought you knew them from birth.”
Moffitt half-snorts. “No,” he says. “No, it wasn’t until I was seven or eight, I think, that I took a real interest in this stuff.” He points up. “There’s Polaris.”
Troy smiles. “True north,” he says quietly.
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send me a lyric (or an entire song, I’m not fussy) and I’ll write a quick fic for you
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riyo chuchi, "go down in flames"?
She crosses her arms, hiding the way her hands shake. She’s not entirely sure whether the trembling is fear or cold, but either way it’d undermine her position to show it. The Chairman probably isn’t going to listen to her either way, and in fact if she fails is going to do his level best to destroy her career, but it’s not like she doesn’t know details are important.
Details could save the lives of the Talz. Could save her career. Could save the Jedi from breaking their promise.
So if she’s going to go down, she’s going to go down in flames. She’s going to make a stink, she’s going to raise hell, she’s going to do her job. She’ll expose the Chairman’s callous disregard for the lives of the Talz, and she’ll take him down too if it kills her.
(prompt me clone wars or stargate)
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“edit until you feel like if you edit again you’ll cry,” they said
but what do I do if I cried while actually writing the damn thing?
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AroAceQP30 Day 21
prompt: seeing someone in an unusual or vulnerable state (without makeup, glasses, a certain garment, etc)
relationship is Wolffe & Plo Koon (SW:TCW)
Seguir leyendo
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❛ sleep with fists close, & shoot straight. ❜ + ronon
It’s not going to just go away.
He’s habitually paranoid, sleeping with one eye open, on high alert at all times. He practices his hand to hand, his firearm proficiency, his outdoorsman skills, because they saved his life before and will again.
He knows, intellectually, that he’s safe. That the Wraith can’t find him without finding Atlantis. That he has people on his side, who will fight with him and die alongside him. But that doesn’t mean his body can let go of what he lived with for seven years.
He remembers long, cold nights where he thought he would freeze to death. He remembers oppressive heat and humidity, struggling to breathe. He remembers when, at the very beginning, he’d spent time in villages. He remembers leaving, and returning to find people who had sheltered him dead. He remembers it all.
His aim is true. He fires the pistol, and pierces the cold, dead heart of the Wraith that’s about to attack his teammates.
Sleep with fists close, & shoot straight. Some lessons he’ll never forget.
prompt me
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❛ family is a thorny, vicious business. ❜ + the raven
“Well,” says The Unknown, “this is complicated.”
Ilkar folds his arms across his chest. “You could say that,” he allows. 
Hirad’s more blunt. “We’re fucked,” he says. “Absolutely fucked. Family is different.”
Denser frowns at that. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Not necessarily.”
“Yeah, it is,” Hirad says. “We’re family, aren’t we? I mean, I’d die for Ilks. For the big man. Maybe not for you, but then again, there’s not a lot you can’t handle.”
Erienne bites her lip, hiding a smile. “Family is the most important bond there is,” she says. “And yes, Hirad, we are family.”
Ilkar taps his foot irritably. “Yes, yes, we’re all good friends and family, but can we please focus on the problem at hand?”
The Unknown claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s get cracking.”
prompt me
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ten things about agent connecticut
1. she likes to knit
2. she is Mexican
3. her first language was Spanish
4. she is autistic
5. she is nonbinary and uses she or they pronouns
6. she has a knife collection
7. her favorite fruit is pineapple
8. she likes flip flops and toe socks
9. she likes techno music
10. she doesn’t like people touching her hands
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"Just leave already …" or “ Please tell me that’s not your blood! “ with Doug Eiffel! c:
“Please tell me that’s not your blood!” Eiffel’s voice cracks a little on the last word. 
Minkowski blinks up at him slowly, owlishly. “No, Eiffel,” she says carefully. “It isn’t.“
“Well, it’s not my blood, so –” He stops, brow furrowed, when Minkowski shakes her head. “It’s.” He looks down to see the tear in his pants and globules of blood floating out from it. “Oh,” he says faintly, and promptly passes out.
-
Hilbert sews up Eiffel’s leg and has time to make up a batch of coffee before the comms officer wakes up.
“Hey Commander, Captain,” Eiffel says sleepily, when Minkowski and Lovelace appear at his bedside. “Sorry about that.”
“Not a problem,” Minkowski tells him. “Just. Get better soon.”
“If you want to do that, don’t drink the coffee,” Lovelace advises. She claps him on the shoulder, and Eiffel watches the two women leave, definitely closer together than strictly necessary.
-
(prompt me)
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“ We’re going to die. Simple as that. “
(since you didn’t specify fandom, please enjoy my First Ever Farscape ficlet)
“We’re going to die. Simple as that,” Rygel says yet again. D’argo restrains himself - barely - from grabbing the Hynerian by the throat. “They’re going to get lucky eventually and kill us by ricochets.”
“Don’t be such a Debbie Downer,” Crichton reprimands. “We’re going to survive this. All of us.” He glances worriedly at where Zhaan is kneeling over Chiana’s unconscious form. 
“Of course,” Zhaan says, and D’argo can hear the smile in her voice. “I have stopped the bleeding, and as soon as we can get back to Moya, I know exactly what to do to help Chiana.”
“Good,” D’argo says gruffly. It’s pretty common knowledge that he and Chiana have been dancing around each other romantically, so he suspects that Zhaan’s comment had been mostly for his benefit. He claps Crichton on the shoulder. “Now. Let’s get out of here.”
(prompt me)
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store wares the clune wares + projecting own issues onto obiwan
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@drakanekurashiki
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@autisticblueteam
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