#anonymous prompt

[ejzah]

Hi! How are you? I'm so glad to see you're still writing for LA. I'm a big fan of your fics. And as I was randomly thiking about Densi, I was thinking we never got to see Kensi ask Callen and Sam to walk her down the aisle. I was wondering if you could write it? Especially Callen/Kensi because I love their friendship. Thanks again for taking the time to write wonderful stories! :)

A/N: Dear anon, so sorry for the delay (my constant anthem). Thank you for your kind words and continued support!

***

Going to the Chapel

“No, no, I don’t actually have the wedding date yet, I’m it trying to get an idea of how much catering for between one hundred and two hundred people would be. Um, I’m not sure about that,” Kensi said, tugging on her bottom lip as the caterer on the other end of the line continued to ask questions she didn’t have the answers to. “Right. I suppose I should figure that out first. Yes. Thank you so much for your time.”

She hung up, rubbing her temples. There was another hour of her life gone with no results to show for it.

“I take it wedding planning is going well,” Callen commented from beside her. His sarcastic delivery made her crack the tiniest hint of a smile. She’d almost forgotten he and Sam were in the bullpen with her.

“At this point, I’m beginning to think Deeks was right and we should have just eloped. Would have been so much easier. And less stressful.”

“I remember when Michelle and I got married. We had a tiny ceremony and reception and it still took a couple months to plan. Trying to accommodate relatives was probably the hardest part,” Sam shared knowingly.

“Oh my god, yes!” Kensi groaned. “I love Roberta, but she has so many opinions, and even though my mom is less vocal about it, I know she has just as many. Deeks spent two hours convincing his mom that we did not need crystal centerpieces to give all the guests or beef prime rib.”

“Well, we’re here to support you guys however we can,” Sam offered. “Especially if it means we get this wedding on the road.

“I will help with everything but folding napkins,” Callen specified, nodding significantly when Sam gave him an odd look.

“Actually,” Kensi hesitated. She’d been debating the whole walking down the aisle issue for months. Did she ask her mom or walk alone? Just skip it altogether?

“There is something I wanted to ask you,” she finished before she could lose the nerve again. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to though.”

“Why, is it something weird?” Callen asked. “I also draw the line at helping pick out lingerie.”

“Oh my god, no. I swear you get ten times worse when Deeks isn’t around,” Kensi said, making a face. “No, I was wondering if you and Sam would consider walking me down the aisle.”

“You want us to give you away?” Sam said, sounding surprised.

“I like to look at it more like being transported to the next stage of my life.”

“Wow, wedding planning really has screwed with your brain.

Kensi jabbed her elbow in Callen’s direction, and he moved to the side, chuckling.

“I’m serious. I was going to ask Granger before he passed.” She paused, blinking away the sudden tears in her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice betrayed a slight shakiness. “You know, since he knew my dad and he turned out to be a pretty good mentor.”

“Granger would have hated that,” Callen predicted.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t have let anyone else do it. The man had a soft spot for sure,” Sam added. He nodded to Kensi, his expression compassionate. “I’m sorry Don couldn’t be here to walk you down that aisle.”

“I think he would be happy to know it’s two of the best men in my life,” Kensi told them honestly.

“Well, after that I don’t think we can say no,” Callen said softly.

“Definitely not.”

Kensi stood to give each of them a hug, lingering a moment in Sam’s comforting strength. “Thank you.”

“We show up for family. But “two of the best”?” Sam pointed out, feigning offense. “Not the best.”

“Only because you’ll be leading me to the very best man in my life,” Kensi said.

“Smitten,” Callen sighed, shaking his head.

“Yep, she stood no chance against the curly blonde hair and blue eyes,” Sam lamented.

Kensi just rolled her eyes, secretly enjoying their teasing.

***

A/N: I hope that was ok. It’s very rare for me to write a fic that doesn’t include even a tiny bit of Deeks.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #kensi blye #Callen and Sam #mentions of Deeks #fluff #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

[pollylynn]

Lookout—A Caskett One-Shot Insert for Love Me Dead (2 x 09)

This is in response to an anonymous prompt, which I've included at the end so as not to spoil. Thank you for the prompt, Anon! This is in place of a chapter of Fabrications tonight; I had a pile of other people's failures dropped on my head tonight and I just didn't make it to the dreadmill.

Title: Lookout WC: 1400

He follows her from the perfect distance. He draws close, then falls back, skirting the edge of danger, because he can. He’s confident. He uses the comparatively thin, post–rush hour crowds to his advantage. Even when she darts suddenly ahead to eat up the last few blinking milliseconds of the little, white Walk man—to beat the red Don’t Walk palm to the punch—the distance he maintains is absolutely perfect at all times. 

He has skills. No, seriously. He is impressing even himself with how good he turns out to be at maintaining a tail. He supposes that she, ironically, deserves some credit for those skills. He’s picked up a thing or two in the last eight months, despite her total unwillingness to provide him hands-on instruction with the more vitally necessary—and coincidentally exciting—aspects of police work, like wheel work during high-speed pursuits, a place in the line-up for those cool, coordinated, weapons-drawn roll-outs when they’re clearing a room a suspect might be lurking in, or anything to do with the car radio. 

The joke’s on her, though, because he’s learned a thing or two anyway. Clearly. He never loses sight of her black leather trench. He has line of sight to its skirts as they whip behind her trying to keep up with her bad-ass stride. Or he has eyes on the tangerine streetlights sweeping over its shoulders. He can tell from the sharp clack of her heels against the pavement whether she’s going to slow suddenly to avoid a collision with some clueless pedestrian or pick up the pace to perfectly time her fluid movement between the slow-moving cars that are trying and failing to escape gridlock. 

He is crushing this tail so hard that he has some headspace to contemplate how, exactly, he’s going to continue surveillance once she actually hits Sutton’s. He’s not worried about her seeing him. No, he’s practically a ninja. There’s not a doubt in his mind that he can slip through the door undetected, fade into the woodwork, get close but not too close. 

But it’s the not-too-close that could—only could, mind you—present a problem. Close enough to eavesdrop is the goal. As entertaining as it is to tail her with the greatest of ease, it’s not actually an end in itself. He needs to know why his daughter is seeking her counsel instead of his. It’s an outrage, given that he is not just an expert in clandestine pursuit, but also the coolest of cool dads. It can and will not stand, so he needs to be within eavesdropping distance. Or not necessarily.  

He’s picturing payoffs. Or maybe a drinking glass to the high back of an adjacent booth. Or if there’s a spy shop along the way, he’s pretty sure he could nip in for bug-and-receiver set up, nip back out, and still not have lost her. Or he could lip read, right? Like, how hard can that even be, given all that he has discovered just tonight about the innate skills he has for intelligence gathering?

He’s hemming and hawing. He’s on his phone surfing for spy gear, though he’s grumpily aware that realistically speaking, toys worthy of a certain British secret agent will probably have to wait for some future op. He’s weighing the pros and cons of paying off a waitress or a bus boy versus flexing his lip-reading muscles when he nearly experiences internal decapitation courtesy of someone grabbing him quite literally by the collar. 

Courtesy of her grabbing him quite literally by the collar. 

“How long are you planning to keep this up,” she hisses. She seems to think his collar belongs to her now. She makes a compelling case, having him yanked down to eye level as she does.  Despite the fact that this is no great distance, given the height of those informatively clacking heels, it’s painful. It’s almost as painful as that very first memorable ear grab on the campus of Redding Prep. 

“Beckett! What are you . . . I mean. Wow! Running into each other like . . .crazy, right?”  His ability to feign surprise is definitely not in the same league as his mad surveil and tail skills. Or maybe it’s in exactly that league, given that she has him by the collar. Still, he soldiers on. “I mean . . . crazy!”

She ignores his stammering amateur theater. He’s not sure if that’s mercy or contempt. “What is wrong with you?”

“I have a right to know!” he blurts. The declaration loses something, given the involuntary yodel that creeps into his voice. “She’s a child, and if she’s in deep to the mob for thirty large, I need to know.” 

“Just how big an idiot are you trying to be, Castle? Is there like . . a contest?” She releases his collar—finally—thrusting him away from her in a gesture of disgust. “You think your kid—the child of a millionaire—is going to come to me to solve her mob payoffs?”

“Maybe she wants to turn state’s evidence!” He makes a show of setting his shirt and overcoat to rights. “Maybe she’s worried about her loved ones’ kneecaps!” 

She’s working on an artisanally crafted look that will convey precisely how unlikely she finds this concept. He’s bracing for it when he spies a glint of red-gold hair in the not-nearly-distant-enough distance. He catches a glimpse of pale cheek. He sees her lifting on her toes and ducking around people’s shoulders trying to get a look at the interior of the cafe to see if her confidant—her practically-a-stranger confidant—is already at the meet. 

He panics. That is the explanation he will carry to his grave. And given that he’s kissing her—he is suddenly kissing Beckett—he might be carrying it to that grave in hurry. He has her by the lapels of her trench coat. As he turns their two bodies to present his back to the general area containing his daughter, a desperate part of his brain wonders if the fact that he doesn’t have his hands on her actual person will, in any way, save him. 

But the desperate part of his brain falls quiet. All parts of his brain fall quiet, because he is kissing her, and she is . . . kind of kissing him back. No. Strike that. She is completely kissing him back for the span of many Mississippis. He knows this instinctively. It's not like his quiet brain can count. But he knows it's been a lot of Mississippis before they jolt apart, shocked in equal measure. 

“She’s here.” It’s a high-quality stage whisper, facilitated, no doubt, by the fact that every part of his body is stock still, frozen with terror. “Alexis . . . she is . . . is she behind me?” 

“What?” The word is breathy. It’s ragged and she’s blinking a mile a minute. “Where?” 

“She was going to . . . see.” It’s the worst justification in the world. He wishes he hadn’t said it before the sibilant vibrates his already-vibrating lips. It invites the question of what his daughter was going to see before his super-spy move and what she very well could have seen just now. 

She has accepted the question’s invitation. Or vice versa. Whatever. She is thinking about what his daughter very well may have seen, and her eyes are wide. She claws her way past him. 

“She’s sitting down,” she says. Relief rolls right off her. “She’s on her phone.” 

“Does she look—“ 

The rest of the question is lost as she shoves at his shoulder to keep him from turning around. He wants to protest, but against all odds, he’s survived the last forty-five seconds. It’d be a shame to die now. 

“Go,” she says through her teeth. He’d like to oblige. Kind of. But she has his collar again. “Get out of here.” She’s hissing again, right in his ear this time, her front pressed into his back, and it’s difficult. “Go, Castle.” 

“I . . .” He tries not to squirm, but it’s fairly impossible. “I’m going, if you’ll . . . You’ve kind of got my . . .” 

She makes a sound. It’s a small, surprised thing, and he imagines her mouth in the shape of an O. He imagines a sudden multitude of things about her mouth as her fingers violently untangle themselves from his collar, and she is gone. 

He is rooted to the spot. He is picturing monuments right here. He kissed her. 

A/N: I know it's not quite the prompt you gave, Anon, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

Prompt: prompt: they’re arguing and character a shuts up character b with a kiss

#Castle #Caskett #CastleABC #Castle: Season 2 #Castle: Love Me Dead #Castle: 2 x 09 #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Alexis Castle #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #writing prompt #Anonymous prompt

[c-is-for-circinate]

Hi! For your drabble challenge: arranged marriage and I Never Loved Myself Like I Loved You by Dead Poet Society.

Hope you're having a good week!

Oooh, song I had not heard before and like very much, thank you kindly dear anon. You did not specify fandom, character, or any such context, so I hope you are familiar with The Untamed, because this is gonna be real confusing if you're not. (Nobody I know loves that hard, with that much self loathing, if not the Wei Wuxian.)

There's a much bigger story here, and maybe a less sad one, but in a hundred words we get this:

There’s nobody in all the jianghu good enough to deserve Jiang Yanli, but then — there’s nobody good enough to deserve Lan Zhan, either.

He turns around when he hears the news in the Yiling marketplace, arrangements made, announcements out, deal done.  Turns and leaves Wen Ning and the radishes right there, back to the Burial Mounds, walking faster, jogging, running for the hills, darkness, blood, all he's always known he deserves.

He loves them.  He can’t, wasn't ever meant to — the two best people he’s ever known, his sister, his—

He can’t.  He bleeds just to think it.  He runs.

#C writes stuff #drabblefest 2023 #anonymous prompt

[kylo-wrecked]

"You couldn't be humble if you tried. You're a cad and I never want to talk to you again." (Music!Ben)

{ from this meme }

— ☾ —

The top video result for Ben Solo is interview footage from a talk show that doesn't exist anymore. Its upload stamp dates ten years back, it's grainy, and it begins with a media player title card that thanks the viewer for watching.

The interview is difficult to find in full, and its best-known moments, the memes, come from this clip. It's called 'Ben Solo - humble.'

In it, four members of KoR sit together in a row, in black, in various states of lackadaisicalness. Brothers sharing the backseat. This is the first time, the first-ever footage, of the Knights of Ren, in public, on live broadcast, without their helmets.

The host leans in and says, "Now—Kylo? Is that right?" The audience laughs. The night's running joke is how no one recognizes the Knights of Ren without their trademark masks.

"You're the quiet kid. Did you ever imagine you'd become so famous so fast?"

The camera pulls in on Ben's face. Represented here is a softer face, a younger face. A smile that doesn't seem so sure it wants to be there.

"No," he says shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, I kinda sat out that race, actually."

"But you're here! You've made it. Now, come on, lad. What about you? What's in it for Kylo?"

The audience whoops. Ben licks his teeth.

"Just the music," he says. "Always the music."

"Oh, he's a good bloke. Really? Always?"

"Always."

~

He picks up right away. Confused and startled by this eventuality, your well-rehearsed tirade kicks off with less confidence and steam than you imagined.

The first thing Ben says when you've finished is, "Cad? Did you call me a cad?"

You can picture him in his space gray loft. The one with the exposed walls and slated, triangular windows that make his living room look like a desert terrarium. You can see him slanted against those windows like he was photographed in Architectural Digest. You picture him leaning and grinning. You know exactly what grin he's wearing.

"What is this? A Howard Hawks joint?"

You don't know who that is—thankfully, you recognize the impeccable impression, the phrasing, and the diction of Cary Grant. You may not mean to, but you laugh. You laugh, and Ben doesn't. This is his power.

"When you never want to talk to someone again,” he says slowly, “don't you just... stop?"

You don't answer. And he doesn't bother waiting for the answer that doesn't come.

"If you feel that way," he begins, in a singsong voice, magnified and softly buzzing, so you know how close his mouth is to the receiver. "If you feel that way, why're you calling?"

You were calling because you hoped you'd hear some part of him shatter. All you hear is him crossing the room, and you just know he's wearing shoes on those forty-eight thousand dollar floors. There isn't a surface or a person between L.A. and New York he hasn't or wouldn't walk on. He lives for and to ruin. Price is of no issue.

"Did you think?" The breath of his body reclining, falling back on the good leather. "Did you think I was gonna cry? Do you want to try and make me? God, you're so fucking cute. You should come up and see me some time. Get off on it in person. Lick the tears straight from the face. What do you say?"

You say… you would say…

In these moments between his hailing rhetorics and each pump of your heart, your mouth goes dry, and you can’t swallow, and you end the call so you can breathe without him hearing.

You hate how the things he says make your insides squirm. You hate the way you love to hate him, and you hate how he knows.

You should have just said fuck you.  

#friendly anon #m. a | music!verse ben: nowhere man #music!verse headcanons #anonymous prompt #queue de la k #edited: for quality assurance

[kathonyprompts-fanfics]

Harry Potter AU where Anthony is an Auror on his way to becoming future Minister of Magic (Edmund was the youngest to be elected before his untimely death). Kate Sharma is named Headmistress after the previous, Headmistress Danbury decided to retire. Previously a Care of Magical Creatures professor, she is not only the youngest Headmaster to be chosen, she is also the first to have Muggle parents. Due to the threats Hogwarts has been getting from pure blood supremacists, the previous Headmistress Danbury asks Anthony to help protect Hogwarts. Anthony initially disagrees, but after seeing the latest attack on Hogwarts, he decides to go to mostly ensure the safety of his youngest siblings (Francesca, Hyacinth, Gregory). Eloise is training to become an Auror as well despite Anthony's objections to the dangers of the job. Edwina is in her last year of Hogwarts. He does not expect the new Headmistress Sharma to be as obstinate and inflexible as she is as they find themselves disagreeing on the best way to protect Hogwarts.

Alternate Universe prompt. Kathony x Harry Potte AU prompt.

#bridgerton #kanthony #kathony #kanthony prompt #kathony prompt #kate x anthony #kate/anthony #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #anthony/kate #anthony x kate #harry potter au prompt #au prompt #headmistress!kate #auror!kate #submission #anonymous prompt

[poppiesandpromises]

Poetry prompt: Write about your greatest desire. Regardless of social norms and all that s.

It took me some time to work this one out. It's such a huge and weighty question. The answer will, of course, change every 18 to 22 seconds. Thank you for the prompt! 💜

The poem follows!

#Anonymous prompt #Thanks anon!

[slunch]

are you still abusing your cat

i pick her up and bash her into walls. she loves it

#anonymous #what on earth prompted this ask and why is it formatted like the 'have you stopped beating your wife yet' joke

[half-bakedboy]

Number 2 from the 50 cliché tropes and prompts

Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn't help but steal it

Buck never understood why he had lost so many sweatshirts and button-downs to past girlfriends. Nine times out of ten, they didn't even remotely fit their figure and they were only worn in the comfort of Buck's home anyways. 

Then he started staying over Tommy's house more and more. He'd always come prepared–an overnight bag filled with an extra LAFD shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of chinos, and two shirts, one with a collar and one without–just in case he needed to rush out in the morning. 

This morning, he isn’t quite as prepared as he wishes he had been. Tommy’s in the shower after sleepily kissing Buck good morning and Buck promised he’d run Hercules–Tommy’s ten-year-old retired racing greyhound–outside before Tommy dropped Buck off at work. Thunder crashes outside and rain pounds on the roof, and Buck didn’t even think to bring a jacket. 

He looks around the bedroom closet, careful not to invade the private space too much, but he doesn’t see anything that might help. He knows there’s an umbrella waiting beside the door, but he’s already shivering from the chill sneaking in through the closed windows and Buck knows he’ll need something to protect his skin. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a pullover laid neatly on top of the laundry pile. It’s similar to his LAFD one, but a lighter blue that matches Tommy’s on-duty uniform. It won’t keep him dry, but it’ll keep him warm and keep the water off of his skin which is all he has time to care about. He snatches it up and shouts to Tommy that he’s taking the dog outside even though he’s not sure he’s heard. 

Before he gets too far, Buck pauses to get the pullover on. The first thing he notices is how much bigger it is on him. He’s not a small guy by any means, and he’s not much smaller than Tommy–at least he thinks–but there’s so much extra fabric that he has to bundle it up at his waist. He can also tell that the back doesn’t stretch taut against his shoulder blades and that the neckline slouches a little in the front. 

It’s strange to wear something so unfit for him, but at the same time, Buck can’t help but feel giddy. He glances at himself in the mirror and feels small, but not in the way he usually does. It doesn’t make him feel inconsequential or overlooked, but like he’s protected and well-loved. It stirs inside of his stomach until the joy begins to bubble in his chest. 

He notices that Tommy’s name is embroidered just over his heart, and he brings his fingers there to trace over the lettering. It takes everything in him not to whisper his name combined with Tommy’s last and he wonders if this was how his old girlfriends felt when they stole his LAFD shirts that had his name brazen on the back. 

Where he expected to be a bit embarrassed at the claiming nature of it all, he can’t help but feel… powerful. Yeah, there’s something powerful about wearing someone else's name, like he’s screaming to the world that Tommy is off-limits because he’s Buck’s. 

He’s Buck’s. 

He’s too busy thinking about what exactly that means for him to hear the bathroom door open and a freshly showered and shaved Tommy emerge. Another figure beside Buck’s reflection startles him but Tommy’s reassuring hands slide around his waist. It’s strange how normal it feels to have strong, long arms wrapped around him and a broad chest waiting to hold him up as he leans back against it. 

“You’re wet,” Buck says, feeling the dampness on Tommy’s unclothed chest. He’s in sweatpants like he’s ready to lounge around for the day, but the bare skin of his upper body is clearly on display where Buck’s body isn’t hiding it. He wants to pull away just so he can take another peek. 

Tommy doesn’t seem to notice nor care that Buck is analyzing them because he’s too busy doing the same. There’s something in his eyes, though, that sends an eruption of warmth to Buck’s face. Tommy tugs at the extra fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s having the same realization as Buck did, and then he slides one hand up Buck’s chest to trace his name. He whispers each letter like a secret into Buck’s ear, piercing eyes never leaving Buck’s in the mirror. 

Buck shivers, pressing back against Tommy and leaning his head back so that it plops on Tommy’s shoulder comfortably. Tommy finishes his name before dragging a finger to the neckline of the pullover and letting it hang there like a weight that keeps Buck grounded.

“You’re wearing my jumper,” Tommy points out like he doesn’t already know. Buck suddenly feels anxious, like he’s made a horrible mistake, and stands back up straight. He turns to look at Tommy as he speaks. 

“Is that okay? I didn’t bring a jacket so I figured—” 

Tommy kisses him before he can finish, and Buck can only hope it becomes a pattern. 

It’s just as soft as their first kiss and every kiss they’ve shared since then, but it grows in passion second by second. Tommy is gripping the fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s deciding whether he wants to pull it over Buck’s head or leave it on his forever. Buck holds his naked shoulders, palms sliding down the hard planes of his chest then his abs, before sliding underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. 

When a cold nose hits his hand, Buck jumps back, out of breath and startled. Hercules is staring up at them like he’s let them have their fun and he’s done waiting to go outside. Tommy swipes at his face as he chuckles and Buck leans down to pat Herc’s head. 

“I’m sorry, Buddy. Am I stealing all of your dad’s attention?” Buck coos, and he can almost hear Tommy’s good-natured eye roll. 

“Well, if Evan here is done distracting me, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take you outside, huh?” 

“Oh, if Evan is done distracting you? Like you didn’t just walk out of the shower half-naked and damp and looking like you wanted to drop to your kn–” Buck inhales deeply when Tommy glances down then back up and raises his eyebrows. “Alright, I’m out of here. Be right back,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to Tommy’s reddened lips. 

“Mhm,” Tommy hums, watching him start to walk away. 

“Do you want your pullover back?” Buck asks, because he figures that’s what he would’ve wanted to be asked. 

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours now.”

It sounds a lot like I’m yours now, but Buck doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he takes Hercules out, ignoring the storm rumbling above him, and strokes his thumb distractingly against Tommy’s name over his heart. He guesses he’s Tommy’s now, too.

(now on ao3)

#911 on abc #bucktommy #kinley #kinkley #evan buckley #tommy kinard #answered #ficlets #my writing #anonymous #911 spoilers #please im actually dying of how soft this is #also i now headcanon that tommy owns a dog #and his name is hercules #and hes an elderly greyhound who used to be a racing dog #thats just what it is now #thanks so much for sending me this prompt 🥺 #also these keep getting so much longer lmao #the feelings are just too intense now #long post

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Playful prompts for tadc cast playing hide and seek with hider reader?

Awe this is a cute idea! (not including Caine bc I see him as the one organizing this game).

.........

Pomni

During her first week inside the Digital Circus, she's slowly adapting to everything...although she refuses to give up on finding an exit.

But when Caine forced everybody to play some hide n' seek, with you being the hider, she really doesn't want any part of it.

However you convinced her to play along, whispering that if she found you first, you'll share what you remembered from your old life as a "prize".

Although initially annoyed you wouldn't just tell her, she becomes motivated searching high and low, opening doors, looking down barrels, etc.

When she finally finds you (courtesy of a glitching object), she's anxious to hear what you had to say-

Unfortunately Caine decides to pop in and put on a big celebration for Pomni winning the game...which goes on the whole damn day up until everybody goes to bed that night.

You seemingly forgot what you were gonna tell her, to which she gets upset and angry that you gave her false hope, sulking in her room.

But you slide a note under her door, explaining that you only recently remembered your real name.

Suddenly she realizes that maybe her memories weren't 100% gone.

If you could suddenly remember your name, then....surely she can, too!

Gangle

After Jax was mean to her during the last hide n' seek game, you try cheering her up by playing another one.

It didn't involve Caine or anybody else. Just you two.

She mopes about being a terrible seeker. But since you're her best friend (and you promised her a prize), she'll go along if it makes you happy.

You decide to hide in spots that she would 100% think to check, deliberately allowing her to win.

Since she's all ribbons, it's easy for her to slink around and squeeze into tight spaces.

After finding you three times, she gets suspicious that you're purposefully going easy on her-

But she stops her accusations as you finally present her prize:

It's a brand new comedy mask!! Except this one wasn't made of porcelain or ceramic, instead being unbreakable material (or at least material that's couldn't casually be broken by anyone, especially Jax).

Gangle sobs with happiness before putting the mask on, squealing over how perfectly it fits, and hugging you tightly.

Thanks to you, she can finally feel joyful again!

Zooble

They'd rather do anything else....

But since this little hide n' seek "adventure" was all Caine's idea, she has no choice but to go along with it.

Even so, she puts the least amount effort into the game.

When you're the hider and she's the seeker, they just pray to whatever god is in this world (besides Caine) that you aren't anywhere in the Gloink cavern.

She'd rather not get discombobulated again.

Sometimes, she'll throw parts of herself in the direction where she thinks you're hiding, hoping to startle you into giving away your location so this dumb game can finally end.

Lucky for you, you know their tricks and keep quiet.

She doesn't expect any prizes (unless it's a limb that makes her body not look like a hot mess).

If they find you, she'll be like "yay I win..now I'm going back to my room" and saunter off.

Kinger

Like Zooble, he'd much rather do something else.

But he goes along with Caine's game anyways after you enticed him into playing for a prize.

Whatever momentarily stops his sanity from spiraling, I guess.

He searches high and low, getting nervous when he can't find you anywhere in the places he'd 100% expect you to be.

Lowkey starts to wonder if something terrible actually happened to you--like if you were trapped and not even Caine could help you.

The last place he could think of was your room but.....he doesn't have your key.

At the same time, he knew you weren't a cheater. You wouldn't hide somewhere that nobody else (except Jax) could access!

In the end, he goes back to his fort to sulk, openly declaring that you've won the game.

As it turns out, you chose to hide in that same fort, and you jump out with a grin, feeling victorious.

Kinger just stares at you for a solid 10 seconds.....before he suddenly screams and asks why tf you were in there.

You feel bad for scaring him, so you reward him for at least trying: a jar with a caterpillar currently wrapped up in a chrysalis.

He LOVES it, but now he carries around the jar every second of the day, staring at it until the little bug hatches.

At least now he has a reason not to fall off the deep end just yet.

Jax

Hide n' seek is like child's play to him.

Somehow this cheeky bastard knows exactly where you're hiding no matter what, even if it's outside the tent (like at the lake or fair).

It's definitely tarnishing your reputation as the best "hider" out of all of the gang.

When you ask him how tf he knew, he just shrugs and says "you're too predictable, try a better spot next time".

Hiding in your room is definitely not an option, as he's stolen your key (and would point out that would be cheating if someone else was the seeker instead)--so there truly is no place to hide.

Like Zooble, he's not in it for some prize.

It is, however, quite rewarding seeing you get so frustrated when he effortlessly finds you.

And that's enough for him

If it's a game involving everyone, then he just straight-up mocks the others for not realizing the very obvious spot (or at least to him it was obvious) you were hiding in.

Ragatha

She's probably the most enthusiastic about Hide n' seek (like you have mentioned, it's a good distraction from the stresses of being stuck in this virtual world).

Is also a fair and honest player, never once peeking while she counts to 10.

Like Pomni, she does her best to find you first, searching places she knows you frequent--or mentioned liking in the past.

But you're definitely the best hider out of everyone, so it's a little challenging.

Still, she refuses to give up!

When she does successfully find you, you and Caine decided that she should get a prize for being such a great seeker.

It's her very own centipede-repellent spray bottle.

While it won't stop Jax from trying to sneak those little pests into her room, the mist will deter them from coming near her at all and help her conquer her fear.

She's forever grateful and sprays it around her bed every night before she sleeps.

Oh, and she'll definitely threaten Jax with it if he even mentioned centipedes around her.

#ty for this prompt tbh <3 #trying to get a feel for how i wanna write these characters! #clanask #anonymous #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc pomni #tadc jax #tadc kinger #tadc zooble #tadc ragatha #tadc gangle #platonic #headcanons

[spntoxicfemslashevent]

Charlie's break in to Roman Enterprises but the security guard is a woman so she does flirt with her and has half her attention on hacking and half on having sex (earpiece turned OFF). Everything's going great until Clit Roman walks into her office unexpectedly. Helpfully, she seems pretty curious about this recreational sex thing so maybe a second distraction is in order....

CLIT ROMAN??????????????????????????????????

#spntoxicfemslash #prompt #spn femslash #submitted prompt #anonymous #charlie bradbury #dick roman #charlie bradbury/dick roman

[promptsbytaurie]

anything with wing clipping. i once tried to do research on it for a fic and,, it is SO angsty

i got u fam <333 (i have way too much brainrot on this bear with me LMAO)

tips for writing ✨wingfics✨

!!please credit/tag me if you use this!! i'd love to see what you write!!

physical differences:

area where wings connect to their back is insanely sensitive!!

feathers falling e v e r y w h e r e

wings are big!! if the wearer hasn't had them for long, or is younger/inexperienced, they're gonna knock shit over

~birb noises~

they're actually really good singers with insane lung capacity, a lot of them are/could be opera singers

thin bones, so they're super light and even though most think it's embarrassing to be picked up so easily there's always One Dude who's like 'carry me everywhere'

smaller birds = smaller people. most wings correspond to a specific species, and hummingbird varieties are notoriously short (though never say that to their face, they will probably murder you <3)

unless the avian is a kind of waterbird (penguins, sometimes eagles) going into water will clog their wings and they could drown!! adding onto this i imagine that avians have special bathtubs and brushes and stuff so that they can properly clean their wings

on the flip side if an avian does NOT clean their wings they can get tangled or matted which a) is super painful b) could impact their flying and c) could cause sickness !!

dislocated wings >:(( this happens about as often as dislocated shoulders do with regular people. this can be caused by a couple things like blunt force, trying to manuever/twist wings in ways they aren't supposed to go, or flying too often/straining wings.

psychological differences:

preening!! it's intimate, but doesn't have to be romantic/sexual. obv there is room for very fluffy and romantic moments but it can be either way

flock!!! it's kinda like a family or a pack

the urge to Make a Nest and Only Let the Flock In

once the Flock is In the Nest then the Flock Will Not Leave Ever

molting!! old feathers fall out to allow new ones to grow in !

molting is basically the bird version of a period except all birds have it once or twice a year. they're more emotional, super sensitive, and extra clingy during molting!!

if an avian gives you one of their feathers it's basically a version of marriage, except it doesnt have to be romantic. its essentially a promise, like a 'we're with each other forever' kinda thing.

just as humans have discrimination, i imagine that avians have it too. more common species like songbirds, ravens, or crows are probably valued in society way less than those like eagles, doves, or parrots, and there could also be stereotypes against species like vultures or condors.

on wing clipping:

in my mind wing clipping is a lot like trimming your fingernails realllly sloppily, except the difference is that you should NEVER clip an avian's wings.

what i mean by fingernails is that the nails themselves don't hurt but if you do it sloppily there are Consequences: clipped too short -> irritated skin. clipped inconsistently -> sharp edges, snags on everything INCLUDING other feathers

huge violation of boundaries/self!! clipped wings -> can't fly. flying is integral to avian health and if they can't fly their mood and mental health will fall drastically.

clipped feathers take a long time to grow back, and therefore clipping has long-term effects. it also damages the feathers themselves (obviously) in ways that sometimes can't be healed

if an avian's wings are clipped their trust goes DOWN and their insecurity goes UP. its likely that if someone else tries to touch their wings they will freak out

clipped wings also make avians more jumpy and paranoid because they've lost their major way to escape/protect themselves: flying away.

angst potentials in wingfics (spoiler: there's a lot):

like i said, clipped wings -> can't fly. write about an avian's first time flying again. (not super angsty but still)

SUPER angsty: write about the actual act of wing clipping.

an avian is neglecting their wing care and tries to hide it.

relationship between a 'noble' avian (eagle, dove, etc) and a 'basic' avian (crow, raven, etc) and society's dislike of the relationship.

or maybe avians are a minority in a human world, and an avian has to hide their wings to be safe.

hope this helped!! <33

#writing tips #wingfic #fanfiction #fanfiction tips #advice #writing advice #wings #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #prompt list #ask #anon ask #anonymous #anonymous asks

[ejzah]

heyy, I just wanted to say that I love your work and wanted to ask if you can write a story where Kensi is pregnant and Deeks and her haven’t told the team yet, but then Kensi gets in trouble (kidnapped or something) and in all the panic Deeks tells the team they’re having a baby and then of course they find her and everyone is happy!

(post season 14)

A/N: Thanks, anon! That’s so kind of you.

***

Collateral Damage

“What do you think? Can you tell that I’m 13 weeks pregnant?”

Deeks tilted his head, considering her outfit since she’d asked. She lifted her arms, turning in a slow circle. Her shirt was slightly looser than typical, but otherwise, Deeks didn’t see any obvious signs.

Of course, there were the little things. Like the actual glow to her cheeks, or the way she occasionally placed her hand on her stomach without realizing.

“Nope. You’re good,” he confirmed.

“Great.” Kensi sighed, slipping on a pair of shoes.

“You know somebody’s going to figure it out pretty soon though, right?”

“Deeks, we agreed—”

“I know,” Deeks assured her, gently cupping her shoulders. “I want to keep this just between our family for a while too. But let’s face it; we work with a bunch of investigative experts. On top of that, Sam has two kids. Somebody’s bound to pick up on your sudden disdain for anything with corn.”

“You’re right.” Kensi sighed, this time regret in the sound. “I just wanted this to be ours without worrying about other people’s opinions. “It’s been so nice. Just the two of us. Well, four.” She laughed soft, and pressed her forehead against Deeks’. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And it’s going to be fine.”

***

“So Johnson isn’t talking?” Callen asked, and Deeks shook his head.

“Nope. Sam even glared at him for a full minute. I threw a lot of legal jargon at him. He’s not biting,” Deeks said.

“He seemed smug,” Sam added.

“Did Fatima and Kensi get anywhere?” Resting his hand on the back of his desk chair, Deeks nodded at Rountree.

“I haven’t heard from them yet,” Rountree answered.

In lieu of their usual pairings, Deeks and Sam had been sent to retrieve the suspect in a murder, while Fatima and Kensi went to interview the dead man’s wife. Deeks couldn’t deny that he as somewhat relieved at Kensi being out of the direct line of fire. He knew she could still take care of herself, but it didn’t mean he liked it.

“Ok, check in with them when we’re done here,” Called decided. “If a Johnson isn’t giving us anything, we’ll need to find something on him that’ll give him some inspiration.”

“I’ll start digging—” Rountree started to say, then interrupted himself, raising a finger. “Incoming call from Fatima. Hey, what’s up—woah, woah, slowly down! What happened?”

Deeks leaned forward, his stomach clenching at Rountree’s tone.

“Devin, what’s going on?” Sam asked, but Rountree held up his hand, putting his head down as he listened. “No, it’s ok. It’s not your fault. I’m gonna call LAPD right now.”

“Rountree,” Callen prompted as he ended the call. Licking his lips, Rountree’s gaze flickered between them, lingering on Deeks for a few extra seconds.

“Kensi and Fatima were mid-way through their interview when Kensi heard a noise. The wife insisted it was nothing. Kensi went to investigate anyway and someone opened fire. Fatima says there were at least three armed men.” His eyes flicked to Deeks again. “They took Kensi.”

Deeks vision swam, and for a second, it felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, and his knees started to buckle. Kensi needed him. He shook off the disorientation, anger filling him along with the desperate need to destroy something.

“Deeks, you ok?” Sam asked softly, but Deeks ignored him, focusing on Rountree. If he focused on getting Kensi back, he would be ok.

“When did it happen? Did Fatima see who took her?”

“A couple minutes before she called. And she said they were masked. I’m sorry, Deeks.”

“It’s not your fault,” Deeks murmured, echoing Rountree’s own reassurance. He dragged a hand through his hair, desperately trying to keep his mind from spiraling, yet all he could think of was Kensi dead somewhere. And the twins—

“Deeks, we’re going to find here,” Sam assured him. “We always do.”

“Then why are still standing around talking? We need to get out there before they get too far,” Deeks said, spinning around with the intent of heading for the armory.

“Hey, Deeks, we’ve been here before, and rushing in never works,” Callen warned him, putting a hand on Deeks’ shoulder.

He shook it off, more aggressively than he normally would. “It’s not just about Kensi,” he snapped.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, suspicion in his voice, and some of Deeks’ anger dissipated, replaced by fear again, and grief.

“She’s pregnant,” he whispered. “Kensi’s pregnant.”

***

A/N: I hope that was suitably angsty and dramatic. Part two to follow.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #drama #angst #worried Deeks #kidnapped Kensi #Sam and Callen #Rountree #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

[setablaze11]

I feel like jj is a sex GOD like.. he’s so experienced w it he could make u have the best orgasm of ur life in seconds and when you say “oh my god” in bed or something he’ll be like “nope, jus’ me princess.” 🤭

may I be 🍪 anon? by the way I love you and your writing it’s incredible. 🥹🫶

Thank you so much for the compliments i’m full on giggling 🥺<3

But you’re SO right!! He’s so cocky about it too, like, sir? How you learn to do allat? I’ve had this vision for a while so just hear me out on this <3

When you’ve spoken to your friends about sex before all of them just seemed to confirm what you had already experienced, guys never cared about girls having a good time in bed.

That is until you have sex with JJ for the first time, already having a mental picture of what it’s gonna look like from previous experience, even before you start making out with him.

He’s on top of you, smearing messy, wet kisses against your pulse point as you let out small sighs, hands threading though the blond hair on the nape of his neck when he just blurts out, out of nowhere “can i go down on you?” and you’re like WHAT? Eyes bulging out of your head and whole body going stiff below him as he pulls his head out of your neck, lips kiss swollen and pink, eyes in a daze.

“You actually want to?” you mumble, tongue poking the inside of your cheek and cheeks tinting red when he grins.

“Do i want to?” he scoffs, leaning forward to press a nasty, wet kiss against your lips, pulling back with a smug smirk.

AND he makes a point of making you finish at least three times just from him eating you out, just to prove a point.

I feel like we all know in out hearts by now that JJ’s the muchiest munch of them all. Am i right or am i right?

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

#outer banks #chatting ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ #obx #obx fic #obx imagine #anon ask #anonymous #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj obx #jj outer banks #🍪 anon

[unorcadox]

Your time left in Heaven: 6 Days, 13 Hours, 7 Minutes, 12 Seconds

#weirdcore #dreamcore #dereality #unreality #my edit #unorcadox #liminal #liminal spaces #nostalgiacore #y2kcore #old web #requests #requested by: anonymous #<- original prompt was smth to do with heaven

[kylo-wrecked]

You're like a prickly pear. Hard, stinging nettles all on the outside, but inside you're soft and sweet and I risk hands and mouth just to try and taste your heart. I could believe you were born in this desert. That you were built of this stone but I've tasted your blood. Traversed your skin, every scar and mole and freckle. Every imperfection you think you have is art to me. Is stars. I want to transplant myself inside of you. Or have you live in me. Don't eclipse, Ben. Also I love your dog.

{ from this meme }

— ☾ —

Prison didn't make him hard. Neither did this desert. He built a wall. Spent years laying bricks with the help of almost everyone he knew except his parents, who tried to break them down.

Even when his walls lost their purpose, they were still there, preserving the soft, sweet fruit of him, parts of himself he didn't want to share. Parts he didn't know were still there, but then you came along.

He doesn't plunge into your waters or breach your shoreline 'cause he understands you might have parts of yourself you can't share with him. Those parts might've even been ripped out of you, so you might not have much to share. You might not even know they're gone. Should he fish for them?

He doesn't believe you should have to fill his missing pieces with yours that match if you've got so little of your own.

Ben still has a heart or something in the shape of one. Its eye stays shut, so it won't see yours. So it won't see your hurt. He glued its lids together like two sheathes of sun-dried cowskin. But it's there, and it beats, and beats, pumping his blood, blood that runs hot.

'You told him he's covered with stinging nettles all on the outside, and he still had a voice; he'd say that's just 'cause he's from North Wetyin. That's where he used to walk in the woods, head full of dreams.

'You told him you tasted his blood, and from that blood, you somehow figured his imperfections, and he still had a voice; maybe he'd ask if you liked how they taste.

Sometimes when he wakes in the night's deep, he sees blood in the moonlight pooling around your lovely head. Same color as the limp head he held in his hands on the night they carried out the unthinkable.

He didn't kill for love or out of love. He killed in the name of something that could never exist.

'Least he doesn't compare you to fruit.

#friendly anon #m. au | excon!ben: the drifter #excon headcanons #anonymous prompt

[mugiwarameme]

ask my muse questions about the relationships they have with other muses, whether it be in actual canon, or canons created among fellow muns.

#rp memes #rp prompts #rp starters #anonymous rp meme