#fantober2020

[belligerentbagel]

fantober 9: baking

a responsible use of counters

[fantoberink]

Fantober 2021 Official Prompt List!

Crate art, fics, or any other sort of creative medium to show us your love for your favourite fandoms and or original work!

Use the hashtags #Fantober or #Fantober21 on tumblr, Twitter, and Instagram!

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Day 29: Soulmates

Soulmates

The Darkling x reader

Word Count: 729

Everyone had a name scrawled across their wrist, one that belonged to the person with the other half of their soul or so the myth told, in a color that somehow represented that person. The name appeared on a person’s arm when they turned eighteen, whether or not the other person was even born yet. Granted, such cases were rare, but it’d still been recorded to happen. It was old news, something that everyone and their dog knew. 

What was strange was the name that appeared on your wrist when you came of age. ‘Aleksander Morozova’. Such an odd name for someone. Especially when one considered the fabled Morozova’s stag. As far as you or anyone around you knew, no one had had that last name since the famous grisha, Ilya, died. Whenever anyone caught sight of the harsh black lettering of the odd name, it never failed to give you grief. Some were simply curious, after all no one you had ever heard of had a name in stark black. Some demanded answers you simply didn’t have, such as the location of that mythical stag. Others got oddly violent, though you never knew why. So you learned to wear a bracelet or sleeves to hide the name.

All of that changed when the grisha testers came, though. It was pretty obvious that you were an Inferni. You’d known it for years, but you hadn’t wanted to leave your family so you kept quiet about it. Still, you didn’t hide your gifts. Nor did you hide the name when it came to the whole ‘joining the second army’ thing. It was standard protocol for them to record everyone’s soulmate’s names in case a match showed up.

You, however, seemed to be a special case. Instead of being housed with the older grisha, you found yourself being led to a more secluded area of the Little Palace. A darker area. One that exuded opulence of a different nature than that of the Grand Palace.

“Where are we going?” you asked the servant that was carrying what few things you still had.

The skittish looking woman merely shook her head. Before long, you found yourself ushered into what looked to be a common area in these dark, strange chambers and quickly abandoned to wait alone.

It took several minutes, but eventually a cool, male voice broke the suffocating quiet, “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Y/N.”

You could feel the fire licking at your fingertips as you started, head whipping to the side to see who had managed to sneak up on you. “Who’s there?” you demanded of the shadows at the edges of the room that hid whatever figure was speaking to you.

“An Inferni,” he mused, still hidden away. “I suppose that is fitting considering everything.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“And with a personality to match.” A chuckle rumbled around you. “Nevertheless, you can relax, dearheart.” Your heart just about stopped when the Darkling himself casually waved a pale hand to dismiss the veil of darkness that’d been rendering him invisible. “You’ll never be in any danger from me.”

“Sir,” you greeted stiffly with an awkward little nod. You’d never been one for bowing, anyway, no reason to start now. “I didn’t realize it was you; I apologize for my tone. But I must ask: Why am I here?”

“That, at least, is simple.” He paused in order to pull off a leather cuff that was fastened to his wrist. Once it was gone, it was only the simple matter of tipping his hand up that sent his billowing sleeve up to his elbow and exposed the red, familiar script of your own name.

“Aleksander . . .” you breathed, eyes slowly dragging back up to meet his grey ones.

“No one has called me that in a very long time,” he murmured, stepping closer to you.

You were forced to tilt your head back in order to keep eye contact. “That’s what happens when you forge a position called the Darkling, I suppose.”

“And that’s just what I managed to do on my own.” A terrible, almost feral smile spread across his face much like the shadows that writhed around the two of you. “Imagine what we could do together.”

Your own grin tugged at your lips, yours equally cruel as his. “Color me interested.”

[demico-art]

Day 31- Halloween #Fantober2020

[doctorgalilei]

If you’re looking for a rad prompt list for October look no further!!

I have made my own very first list specifically for ships/fandoms! All generic prompts with some classic tropes in there!

If you use this list don’t forget to use the hashtag #Fantober2020 on any social media you post!! We want to support your creations after all🥰

I can’t wait to see what you all come up with!

[callonpeevesie]

Fantober Day 15: Star Gazing

[leiascully]

OctoberFicFest Day 2: Tea and Coffee

Tagging @xffictober

The first time she wakes up next to Mulder, she stays very still for a moment.  Well.  She’s woken up next to him a hundred times before, but never naked in her bed.  She savors the precious fragile moment of peace.  She thought she would be nervous, or afraid, or regretful; instead, joy bubbles up inside her, percolating through all the layers of defenses she’s built over the years.  None of them strong enough to withstand one lonely whim, it seems: a pair of forest-green eyes, a pair of warm and agile hands, and the voice that sounds like home to her.

She lies next to the slumbering warmth of him for long minutes, cozy under the covers.  He has not stolen the duvet in his sleep, or thrown a possessively oppressive arm over her.  Just his hand is pressed to her shoulder, and when she shifts, he nestles further into the covers.  She eases out of bed and wraps herself in her robe, not bothering to put any clothes on.  This is, for the time being, her Eden.  She will let herself be innocent and unashamed.  

In the bathroom, she tries to flush quietly.  She brushes her teeth and splashes a little water on her face.  Her own eyes look bright.  The crease between her brows has smoothed away.  She goes to the kitchen and puts the kettle on.  While the water boils, she measures coffee into a pour over filter.  Her mother always made pour over coffee for her father, when he came back from the sea.  Sometimes he would let her have a sip.  It tasted richer than the drip coffee they usually made, more like the sun and the earth that had made it.  She saves it for special occasions.  She only has one filter, but she can make two cups of coffee, for the two of them.  Or maybe she’ll make one, and they can pass it back and forth between them, just something to sustain them before they pull themselves together and go out to face the world.  She’d like a big plate of eggs and hash browns, a rare craving.

The kettle begins to whistle and she pulls it off the heat before it can scream and wake him.  She pours the water in a careful stream over the grounds.  The steam rises, curling the wisps of hair around her face.  The scent of the coffee wafts up, smelling like devotion and faraway lands.  She inhales deeply and smiles.  She sets the kettle back on the stove and pulls a second mug out of the cupboard.  Her eyes pass over the box of teabags on the counter and a cold uncertainty grips the back of her neck.  She’s had coffee with Mulder many Saturday mornings, but never after moaning his name in the middle of the night as he swore, over and over, that he loved her, that he needed her, that he’d been waiting all his life to be in her arms.  What if he prefers tea, the morning after he makes passionate love to someone?  What if it’s a taste he cultivated in England, in Oxford, in an old building on a misty morning with a lithe brunette stirring lemon into her own cup?  She hesitates, retrieves a bag of English Breakfast from the box (surely Earl Grey is too trite, Constant Comment too tea party-ish), and sets it on the counter.  There.  Her bases are covered.  

Mulder pads into the kitchen and wraps his arms around her from behind, setting his chin on her shoulder as if they’ve been doing this for years, waking up together in cozy domesticity.  He sniffs exaggeratedly, nuzzling into her hair, and it’s all so perfectly normal, and yet still perfectly delightful.  

“Coffee?” he says in a raspy voice.  “I knew I loved you.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted tea,” she says.  

“The coffee smells amazing,” he says.  “Special blend?”

“No,” she says.  “Just pour over instead of drip.  My mother used to make it this way, sometimes.”

“Pour over coffee and thee,” he says softly, still holding her.  “Scully...do you want to go eat hash browns with me?”

“More than anything,” she says.

[mamanabeille]

Sleepover

Luka hears the soft knock on the porthole. He sets his guitar to the side and goes over to open it, smiling at the superhero waiting there for him  “Hey,” he whispers, placing a kiss on her cheek.  “Is this a ‘Paris is in trouble’ visit or a ‘girlfriend sneaking into my room’ visit?”

“Well.  There’s no akuma alerts going off,” Ladybug smirks.  “Can I come in?”  Luka steps to the side and admires how quickly the spotted hero jumps through the raised window.  “Besides, you already have Sass,” she giggles, stepping forward to kiss him.  She smiles into his lips and wraps her arms around his waist.  Once she pulls away, she rests her head against his chest. “I just missed you. I haven’t seen you much this week.  Juleka let me know she and Mylene were staying with Rose tonight.” 

“I missed you, too,” he tells her, kissing the top of her head, thankful for his sister’s heads up. It really had been a long week, and he hadn’t seen his girlfriend outside of patrol. “Do I get you for a little while, or do you have to patrol tonight?” 

Ladybug steps back to look up at him shyly.  “Well. I actually told Mom I was staying at Juleka’s and she was having a girls night, both of which are technically true.  Juleka offered me her bed so there’s no pressure.  I just really wanted to get to spend some one on one time with you outside of the superhero duties.” 

Luka grinned at her and pulled her close again.  “I will never turn down a chance to fall asleep next to you.” He kisses her softly just as Sass floats over. “Excuse me, may you release Tikki, please?” 

“Oh, sorry, Sass.  Tikki, spots off,” she calls and is surrounded in the magical pink glow before transforming, her kwami hovering over her shoulder. 

“Thank you, Marinette.” Tikki kisses the tip of her nose before gliding off to some hidden part of the ship with Sass. 

“Ah.  There’s my girl,” Luka grins, reaching out for her hands, pulling her into a deep kiss. “As much as I admire and cherish Ladybug, I prefer when you’re Marinette.” 

“Me too,” she nods, happily.