#me: send prompts and i'll write a super quick drabble. also me:

[ryndicate]

Quick Commissions!! Fund my anime addiction!

TLDR; taxes are fucked and so am I </3

Ok it's not actually funding my addiction. So long story short, apparently(?) the tax forms changed last year and I didn't notice the change until September,,, which meant I went 9 months of the year without paying anything into taxes. I didn't think it would be this bad but now that I've filed, it turns out I owe a laughably high amount and i have until July to pay it back :')

There's no way I'd be able to pay it off on commissions alone so I'm doing little comms to help offset my spending and make it easier to put money towards the debt.

The categories are more for cuteness than they are what I'm actually going to spend them on. Won't lie, it'll probably be going into my food budget or paying for my gas.

ㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤ     ㅤ ㅤㅤ ꘏ Blog Rules Apply ꘏

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤ꘏ Fandom/Characters I will write for ꘏

ㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤ     ㅤ ㅤㅤ ꘏ 1/3 slots taken ꘏

Buy me a blind bag clip — $10

1k-1.5k drabble, all content types are acceptable but this category will be best quality for sfw/suggestive due to limited length

But if you're not looking for a lot of background info and just want something horny, I got you.

Buy me a manga — $15

2k drabble/ficlet, preferably nsfw/dc

Buy me a little figure — $25*

3k-4k fic, nsfw/dc

* Price will mark up to a discussed price if the length passes 4k

Buy me a BIG figure — $60*

7.5k is the max, will not be less than 6k.

* This category is DC only because for me to commit to something of this length, it needs to be something that aligns closely with my interests or I'd worry about getting it done and actually being quality work.

Alternative Commission Options!!

Buy me an actual coffee — $5

I will write you a quick little coffee date/meet cute with a character of your choice! around 500 words

Sponsor a WIP* — $20

Let's say you want to help out but don't really have an idea in mind,, I'll send you a list of my drabble/ficlet wips for you to browse and whichever one you pick will be placed on a higher priority list for me to write and will be dedicated to you!

* Any of my series updates and longfic wips will not be available for this option, sorry!

To request your commission!

Fill out this form! I'll contact you from whatever blog name you provide either from here or my main (@darlingsanzu) and we'll talk a little more your desired price and prompt to make sure I understand what you want and we'll go from there! (Payment will process either through Kofi, or directly from PayPal.)

I will try to be as timely as possible :) starting with 3 commissions, but every time I finish one I'll update the availability

I will be putting as much love as I can into them, like I do with all my writing, but dark content is the winner of my heart so that's where you'll really get the most of your dollar :3

Donations are also okay if you are just that super sweet kind of awesome, here's the link to what I am affectionately dubbing my little cookie jar. Rewarded with nose boops and kisses!

Thank you so much if you read this far! I'm really thankful for your time 💞

ㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤ     ㅤ ㅤㅤ Reblogs are incredibly appreciated!!

#tokyo revengers x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #bnha x reader #blue lock x reader #csm x reader #aot x reader #bleach x reader #hxh x reader #naruto x reader

[kitchenscene]

some mashup of 1 & 13 or just one or the other with buddie if it gives u inspiration

inhale, in hell there's heaven

An argument over bullet wounds and words left unsaid, a five alarm fire, and a handful of constellations. But today can be different. Today he can be fine, not good, great, okay, just fine.

or; Eddie's not okay. Buck reminds him that he doesn't need to be.

(things you said at 1am)

They’re called to a fire one day. They don’t manage to put it out until the next. Friday passes into Saturday as they pass the threshold of midnight, surrounded by ash and ember and charred metal. Burnt photographs of a family, now on their way to the hospital after a close call, too close, scattered the pavement outside of what used to be an apartment complex.

There’s a scrapbook with torn edges, shrunken from the flames, but somehow intact. The front pages are burnt and peering through the rest seems invasive. Eddie finds a polaroid just outside the truck that somehow drifted through the wind to his feet. Two girls squinting at the camera shudder, laughing in the most freeing way imaginable. One girl has her arm around the other’s shoulder, holding an open beer in the same hand. The other girl is covering part of her face with her hand and Eddie can’t help but notice the flower tattoos on their wrists. Two daisies. A matching set.

(No one died on the scene, but there’s no telling what will go wrong between the fire and the hospital. He reads the caption, “Summer, 2019, the day it all ended,” and he sets the photo on top of the scrapbook, hoping their story can still have a happy ending.)

The busted sprinkler pipes couldn’t stop the thin wall from burning, too hot, too fast. All those memories, a baby's first steps, a best friend’s first kiss, a young bachelor’s first home, a matching tattoo, now just a pile of dirt, dust, and ash.

It’s part of the job, he knows that, has become all too familiar with it. They save people, they lose them too. Sometimes they save people just to lose them later on, in the ambulance, in the hospital, in another wreckage somewhere down the line.

Death isn’t the only loss. Yesterday was a bad day but there was no death, funeral, or promise of a future death. There was a different kind of loss, if it can even be qualified as a loss. Yesterday, before the fire, hours before the new day began, Eddie was at a loss for words.

-

(It’s pathetic, really, it wasn’t even a bad call that set him off. No, it was the torn seam on his shirt, thread unraveling, slowly, slowly, slower still. Easily mendable with a new string of thread. But that’s the thing about a breakdown, the breaking is never convenient or planned or well timed. It occurs in small moments, trying to tell a lie that is obviously a lie, but lying is easy, easier than any number of truths, so the lies become easy, well intentioned, but still lies.

“I’m fine,” is the first lie he tells.

“Why is it so hard to admit you’re not fine? You got shot—”

“—I remember, thanks—”

“—and you’re pretending like it never happened.”

“Not now, Buck.”

“Then when?”

There’s never a good answer for that. Now, never, tomorrow, thirty-six hours, in a phone call some other day, some other easier day where it’s no longer his problem, but a problem for another Eddie to solve. When, he doesn’t know, but not now, that much he knows.

A torn shirt, that’s all it took. A torn shirt and an overwhelming gust of fear because it led him to the simple conclusion that he is not okay. Eddie knows he’s not okay, but the longer he thinks about it, the more not-okay he becomes and there’s no telling just how far back that hurt runs. How long will it truly take to heal? Soon, he tries to reason. Soon, it has to.

And it gets worse, because even that is a lie. Another lie. He wants, so desperately, to forget the scar on his right shoulder and all the weight it carries, but he wants, even more, to move forward. But the forward path seems to travel uphill and he’s tired, that much is true. Too tired to keep climbing, crawling, tumbling backwards to the bottom of the hill just to start again and again and again. Eddie wants to talk, really, truly, but he’s tired and somehow the words are stuck with him at the bottom of the hill.)

[read on ao3]

send me a 'things you said' prompt

#me: send prompts and i'll write a super quick drabble. also me: #prompt fills #911 fox #911 #911fic #buddie fic #buddie #texas.fic #tusera #userbecky #userceecee

[sugars-fluffy-escapes]

Pre-work ramble and some news 🤎

So... I'm currently preparing for work, but, since I have a half shift, I might try my hand at the "send me a sentence and I'll write the next five" prompt thing later today 🤍

I've also decided I'm gonna make two drabbles about Reader and Peter dancing in the rain. One is gonna be the Black!reader drabble I mentioned because imagine Peter getting all smitten over the way the water droplets look like crystals sitting among Black!reader's hair 😭 Like-

I have this vivid memory of being in preschool and we were outside in the summer with the sprinklers and my afro was just flying free and one of my preschool teachers said the droplets in my hair were like beautiful crystals- I wish I could have held onto how happy that made me fee instead of becoming insecure about my natural hair throughout most of school. Doing the big chop was life changing for me! It also made me realize that hair length does not equal beauty.

Another thing I've noticed. When I had longer hair (not even past my shoulders but just longer than now, I was wearing my binder a lot more often. Now that my hair is super short, I haven't been wearing it. I don't know why that is. Perhaps I've felt euphoric enough with short hair? Maybe a combination of euphoria and finally fully being able to be free of the internalized exors*xism (enbyph*bia) of people saying non-binary people have to present androgynously (which is a bunch of bs) of course, the binder still provides euphoria when I need it and that's important. (Another interesting note, for me personally, I got a million times more comfortable dressing super femme after coming out)

Back to hair, I've been really experimenting with ways to rock the natural curls. I have platinum blonde hair I style in finger waves but I will be growing out my fro again 👉🏾👈🏾 I also have some natural hair wigs I adore. Short hair's just been so convenient for work and it makes me gender euphoric.

This ramble's been all over the place, but real quick, I've improved the plot points for A Rose Without Thorns 🥳 Exciting exciting!!!)

#sugar-rambles #sfw tickle blog #sfw tickling community

[onebatch2batch]

I wanted to pop in to tell you how much I adore and value all your writing for this little fandom. You are sincerely one of my favorite writers of the Kastle ship. Also, I don't know if you're still accepting drabble prompts from that list, but if you are, could you please write something for 59. "Tell me to go and I will, but if you ask me to stay I'll never leave you again."

Hi!!! Thank you so much for this sweet message. I love this fandom so much, everyone is so kind and welcoming and I’ve very happy to be a part of it. For those of you who are waiting for me to answer prompts, I am working on them and they will get done–just not all right away. Thank you for the patience and love xoxo

59. “Tell me to go and I will, but if you ask me to stay I’ll never leave you again.”

Kastle, post-canon

The the bell above Johnnie’s Hardware’s door jingles happily as Frank steps through, a blast of cool air hitting him in the face. Sarah Lieberman sighs gratefully as she follows him in. He grabs a basket and shoots her an amused look.

“Y’know you didn’t have to come, right?”

Sarah huffs, following him towards the back of the store. “Pete, if I don’t learn this stuff, no one will. And then what will we do when Leo goes off to school? Trust David?”

He chuckles, eyes scanning the shelves. “You got some time before we gotta resort to that. And I’m a good stand-in.”

She hums, adjusting the strap of her purse. “Maybe so. But no way in hell I was staying in that furnace of a house. At least the van has AC. Might as well keep you company.”

Frank shakes his head, stopping before the shelves carrying the parts needing for her air conditioning system. It had gone out the day before and, due to the intense summer, the handyman had a list of clients will the same problem. After a full twenty-four hours of sweltering heat, David had called asking for his help. Frank was glad to do it and while David was at work he’d gone to survey the problem and picked up a tag-along into town.

Said tag-along is currently staring at the shelves critically. She leans forward to read the little labels underneath the parts and Frank steps over, picking up what he needs. He explains each part, what it’s called and what it’s for. Her blank stare tells him she’s regretting her decision to be included, and eventually he huffs. “Alright, that’s it. Ready?”

“I actually wanted to look at shower heads. Do you mind? The kids broke theirs–somehow.” Her frustrated sigh reminds him painfully of one of Maria’s after the kids had caused trouble. He gives her a tight nod and leads her to the opposite side of the store, turning the corner and stopping short.

Sarah collides into his back with a small yelp, and the woman scanning the shelves in front of them turns to look, jolted.

“Frank,” Karen says, eyes widening.

There aren’t many thing that scare a man like Frank Castle, anymore. Standing here with Karen Page in her shorts and tank top, a baffled and hurt expression on her face, is absolutely one of them. “Karen,” he says, but it comes out on a choke.

Her eyes fall to Sarah and the change in her is immediate. Her surprised hurt turns to a polite but confused smile. She lifts her basket on her hip and glances at Frank. He can see the panic in her eyes, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because she’s said his real name in front of a woman she doesn’t know. Always protecting him, even when she’s hurt.

Sarah steps forward excitedly. “Karen? As in Karen Page? I’ve heard so much about you–I’m Sarah Lieberman. It’s nice to put a name to the face!”

She blinks, digesting the information, and then relaxes slightly. “Oh, hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

Frank shifts awkwardly. It’s been nearly six months since they’ve been face to face. After the carousel and the hospital, he’d sent her a text (I’m fine, it’s over. I need some time.) and then retreated into himself much like before. It had taken weeks and months of group sessions with Curtis, dinners with the Lieberman family, and working as Pete Castiglione for him to work up the nerve to approach her. By that time it had been long enough he was sure she wouldn’t want to see him–she had stopped sending texts and calling weeks before.

He meets her gaze. “What’re, uh, what’re you doin’ here?”

She yanks her hair behind her ear and turns back to the shelves in front of her. It’s a familiar gesture that makes his chest ache. “My stupid sink is clogged and my super is a creepy asshole.”

Sarah’s elbow jabs him in his ribs and he blinks, realizing he’s been staring. “Uh. D’you need some help?”

Karen turns to him with sad, frustrated eyes. She looks like she’s debating on saying no. “If you have better things to do–”

“Oh, he doesn’t.” Sarah grins, plucking the basket from his hand. “Leo should be home from school soon. She can help me. Pete, why don’t you go help Karen?”

Frank feels a familiar panic blossom in his chest as both women look at him, waiting. He nods, a quick jerk of his head. Sarah squeezes his arm and smiles at Karen. “Nice to meet you, Karen! Maybe one day we can get some lunch.”

Karen returns her smile and this time it’s a little softer, a little more genuine. “Thanks, Sarah. I’d like that.”

Sarah waves and walks off towards the shower heads, and Karen’s gaze lands on him again. The air between them is stale with unsaid words, and he eventually looks away at the tools. “You know what kinda leak?”

She describes the problem and he grabs the appropriate parts for her, trying to keep himself busy. Soon enough they’re out the door and into the wet summer heat towards her place.

Her apartment is just as he remembers. Same eclectic bookshelf, same tiny kitchen and same beers pulled from the fridge. It gives him deja vu, taking the bottle from her outstretched hand as she looks at him with searching blue eyes. He lowers his head and mutters, “I should take a look at that” and then he’s under the sink and out of sight. Karen sits on the island opposite him, her flip-flop clad feet swinging into view everytime he looks down the length of his body. Her toes are painted a deep red. He turns to the task at hand.

“Is it fixable?” She calls after a moment.

“Yeah. Easy fix,” he grunts back, tightening and loosening and doing everything he can to keep his mind off the woman not three feet away. When he finishes and stands, he flicks on the tap and washes his hands slowly. It works fine.

Her gaze burns holes in the back of his head. He stares down at the suds on his hands and forces the words out. “…sorry I haven’t been around.”

Karen huffs, half amused and half…something else. Something he can’t quite name. Something close to betrayal, but not quite. “Yeah, well, I guess I should be used to it by now.”

He turns, drying his hands on a towel. The label of her beer bottle is peeled away methodically; scraps of paper fall onto the floor. “What’s that mean?”

She glances up, catches him watching and straightens her spine. She cocks her head, considering her words with an unwavering stare. “It means you and Matt and everybody else I care about seem to think they can just come in and out of my life and I’ll just keep letting them do it.” She pauses, looking away, and then says quietly, “…letting you do it.”

Shame fills him up until he feels like he’s going to drown in it. It’s taken weeks and months of searching to find out who he is, after everything was over. He’s still not entirely sure he knows, but he knows he’s not someone who can just let the people he cares about think he doesn’t. He twists the towel in his hands, then tosses it aside. He runs a hand through his hair and waits until her eyes came back. “I wanted to come back here. Almost did, a couple of times.”

She’s a little taller than him, perched on the counter like she is. She stares down at him, surprised at the admission. “Why didn’t you?”

“I had to get my shit straight.” Frank rubs his neck. He’s getting that feeling at the base of his skull—nervous, on edge, awkward—it’s the same thing he feels every time he opens up in group. “And I couldn’t drag you back into it, y’know? You—you did so much for me. It’s not fair to expect you to clean up this.” He gestures vaguely to his head, scowling. She doesn’t say anything so he looks away, energy draining with one long sigh. “I’ve been goin’ to group, and workin’, yeah? But I wanted to come back and be—…”

Her toes wiggle in his peripheral when he trails off. She shifts. “Be what?”

“…fuck, I don’t know, worthy?” He looks up and catches her raised brows. “I know, shit’s corny but…You’re one of the best people I know and I��…if I were lookin’ in on all this from outside, I’d want me to get my shit together first. Yeah? You’re worth the wait–that’s all.”

He hasn’t been so honest since that first afternoon in group. When he’d looked around the circle of women and men with the same exhausted defeat on their faces and said I’m scared. He’s a little surprised with himself now, if he’s honest, but there’s a gentleness settling in the soft slope of her lips so he can’t regret his candidness too much.

“What are you trying to say, Frank?”

He exhales slow, bracing himself. “I’m sayin’ tell me to go and I will…but tell me to stay and I’ll never leave again.”

Karen gives him a measured look, but her cheeks are lifting into a wide smile. She holds out a hand and he takes it, marvels at the smooth skin there and the beauty mark on her index finger. She tugs him closer, pulls his hand to rest on her thigh and covers his chest with her own. He peers up at her looking wrecked and star struck all at once.

“Promise?” she asks quietly. “Because Frank…I can’t watch you walk away again.”

His hand comes up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. Gentleness bleeds out of his eyes, buzzes around her skin. He leans forward and presses his temple to her own, the quietness of the kitchen filling the air around them.

“Promise.”

tagged (if anyone wants to be added let me know!)

@kastleandcoffee @emanationman @frank-castle-loves-karen-page @babsiechap @darknesseyez @marinefrank @tuntematonkorppi @ohmypreciousgirl @killorbekillcd @nina2406 @iamacolor @princesshaleyeve

#answered #anonymous #kastle fic #kastle #kastle ff #mine #my writing