A challenge appears!

A blog for XF fanfic challenges.

[xfficchallenges]

Challenge:  Number Ones

I’ll post a prompt weekly on Sundays to try to encourage people to write stories.  You can post them whenever you want.  You can write the prompts in any order, combine them, use only the parts you want, interpret it however, pick a prompt from a different week, what have you.  Just put some words out into the world and watch them work their magic!

Prompt:  Number ones The number one song on March 6, 1992 was “To Be With You” by Mr. Big.  The top-grossing movie in the US was Wayne’s World.  Did anybody from the show go see this movie?  Hear this song on the radio?  Hum along?  What kind of nostalgia does hearing/seeing them again bring back to their current incarnations in 2020?  

Restrictions: none  Word limit: no limit Rating:  the sky’s the limit.   How To Post: Tag  @xfficchallenges and we’ll find it and reblog it!  You can also use the tag #xfficchallenges in the first five tags (if it’s not in the first five, it won’t populate into the tag) Find all past challenges in the tag

[xfficchallenges]

Challenge: Thirst Trap

I’ll post a prompt weekly on Sundays to try to encourage people to write stories.  You can post them whenever you want.  You can write the prompts in any order, combine them, use only the parts you want, interpret it however, pick a prompt from a different week, what have you.  Just put some words out into the world and watch them work their magic!

Prompt:  thirst trap A thirst trap, for those who haven’t heard the terminology, is a suggestive photograph that is usually posted on social media.  Think less eggplant and more bulge.  I think we all suspect that Mulder is more likely to take thirst traps, but maybe he’s not?  Maybe it’s Scully, or Krycek, or Skinner, or even Reyes? 

All thanks to @wtfmulder for the inspiration. 

Restrictions: none Word limit: no limit Rating:  the sky’s the limit.   How To Post: Tag  @xfficchallenges and we’ll find it and reblog it!  You can also use the tag #xfficchallenges in the first five tags (if it’s not in the first five, it won’t populate into the tag) Find all past challenges in the tag

[xfficchallenges]

Challenge:  Disaster Preparedness

I’ll post a prompt weekly on Sundays to try to encourage people to write stories.  You can post them whenever you want.  You can write the prompts in any order, combine them, use only the parts you want, interpret it however, pick a prompt from a different week, what have you.  Just put some words out into the world and watch them work their magic!

Prompt:  disaster preparedness Let’s see the calm before the storm.  What do they do to prepare?  What do they stockpile or not?  What do they argue over?  Do they buy a bunker?  Learn to can their own food?

Restrictions: none Word limit: no limit Rating:  the sky’s the limit.   How To Post: Tag  @xfficchallenges and we’ll find it and reblog it!  You can also use the tag #xfficchallenges in the first five tags (if it’s not in the first five, it won’t populate into the tag) Find all past challenges in the tag

[xfficchallenges]

Challenge: Home Improvement

I’ll post a prompt weekly on Sundays to try to encourage people to write stories.  You can post them whenever you want.  You can write the prompts in any order, combine them, use only the parts you want, interpret it however, pick a prompt from a different week, what have you.  Just put some words out into the world and watch them work their magic!

Prompt:  home improvement I know that I and a lot of us have been working on making our homes more comfortable now that we’re in them all the time.  What voluntary home improvements did M&S make to their apartments, on-the-road housing, or the unremarkable house?  New furniture?  Mulder’s new post-waterbed-bed?  Where did Scully buy her windchimes from “all things”?  

Restrictions: none Word limit: no limit Rating:  the sky’s the limit.   How To Post: Tag  @xfficchallenges and we’ll find it and reblog it!  You can also use the tag #xfficchallenges in the first five tags (if it’s not in the first five, it won’t populate into the tag) Find all past challenges in the tag

[baronessblixen]

Here’s my “shopping” fic for the @xfficchallenges challenge! Set after “The Goldberg Variation”.

Also tagging @today-in-fic

Ready

Mulder has never put much thought into grocery shopping. In and out in under twenty minutes, buying whatever he could grab the quickest and happy as long as he had orange juice and sunflower seeds. That’s him. Until today, that is. He’s standing in the produce department, leaning over his cart, staring at Scully. Yes, they’re grocery shopping. Together. Sharing a cart and all. What are the odds of that?

They got back from their latest case in Chicago where they left one Henry Weems to his luck. Their own running out, he thought, as they didn’t get to sit next to each other on the plane. They found each other after, Scully rubbing her eyes tiredly and Mulder wondering whether she’d used a stranger’s shoulder as a pillow. 

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[xfficchallenges]

Challenge: Spring Holidays

I’ll post a prompt weekly on Sundays to try to encourage people to write stories.  You can post them whenever you want.  You can write the prompts in any order, combine them, use only the parts you want, interpret it however, pick a prompt from a different week, what have you.  Just put some words out into the world and watch them work their magic!

Prompt:  spring holidays We know that Scully is Catholic.  Many of us (including David) headcanon that Mulder is Jewish.  Passover and Easter are pretty close this year, and there are plenty of other spring holidays to choose from.  How do they celebrate?  Let me see the Scully family ham dinner or the Mulders’ seder or our intrepid agents being invited to Holi or Ostara or some other holiday, or even making up their own.

Restrictions: none Word limit: no limit Rating:  the sky’s the limit.   How To Post: Tag  @xfficchallenges and we’ll find it and reblog it!  You can also use the tag #xfficchallenges in the first five tags (if it’s not in the first five, it won’t populate into the tag) Find all past challenges in the tag

[frangipanidownunder]

Person A and person B losing each other in the store 😁

The Properties of Magnets in a Nursery: field trip research notes by Fox Mulder and Dana Scully: fic

This is pure fluff, written in a 30 minute post breakfast rush of inspiration. 

There are rows and rows of them. Not the small selection he anticipated. How many types of hedging shrubs could there be? Flowering, fruiting, low growth, high growth.

           “There are five types of privet, Scully.”

           “Species, Mulder. There are more than 50 in the genus, Ligustrum. But some are considered invasive.”

           He followed with the trolley as she walked past and on to the brighter coloured plants further away. “What about that one?”

           “Knockout roses? Too high-maintenance.”

           He inhaled as they walked on, trolley remaining empty.

           “These?”

           “Hydrangeas? Too showy.”

           “This?” He pointed to a purple flowering plant.

           “Lilac? They’re bad luck, Mulder.”

           “Ooh, Scully. Are you getting all superstitious on me?”

           She rolled her eyes and stopped at a row of spectacular upright hedges in autumn colours. One called to him instantly, with its flat oval leaves an olive green, edged with a brighter lime and turning a spectacular dark red at the top. He looked at Scully. Her pant suit was dark olive, her sweater was bright lime and her hair was a darker shade of red in the low afternoon light.

           “This is compact, hardy, tolerant and they look pretty good, too.”

           He turned over a label on the nearest plant. “Low-maintenance, high impact. Perfect,” he said.

           “We’ll need a dozen or more for that fenceline. You load up and I’ll go look at the trees.”

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[frangipanidownunder]

It’s Only Natural: fic

This is for @ellivia and @kega-umi who both requested  Person A has to come into Person B’s changing room and help them out of a particularly tight pair of pants, from the shopping prompts. Thank you! I had fun with this one.

It’s only natural, she tells herself. Quarantine meant lazy eating and half-hearted exercise plans that often ended up with a ‘full body workout’ (a Mulder euphemism) that, while vigorous, and (extremely) enjoyable, did not burn calories the way an hour cross-fit class might.

“You wound me, Scully,” he’d said, the first time she scolded him for cajoling her into their bed instead of the living room for a stretch and tone. His armoury included a wicked pout of his glistening lips, a lascivious wink and a wander of his fingertips along the ridge of each abdominal muscle. As she came a second time, she’d promised herself she would remove all carbs for a week. At least.

The denim slid up okay. She wiggled. She waggled. She shimmied and she jiggled. And then the jeans were up, snug at her lower back, moulded to her ass. The button was challenging but she supposed arthritis in one’s fingers was normal at her age, and the fabric hadn’t had a chance to stretch. She smoothed down the legs so the creases softened. Of course, they were too long.

Bending down to fix the stupid ruffles at her ankles was the moment she realised something was wrong. Not in the bee-sting kind of way, but in the too many just one more spoonful kind of way.

“All right in there, Scully?” he asked, nose peeking through the gap in the curtain. And she’d sent him away with a flap of her hand.

So here she is. Dana Scully, former FBI agent, scientist. Fucking. Doctor. Stuck in a pair of skinny jeans. When clearly SHE ISN’T SKINNY. The changing room is becoming claustrophobic, pressing against her limbs as she tries to undo the button and manoeuvre the pants back down. She stands up straight. Breathes. Looks in the mirror to find herself. She sees an angry old woman. Who the hell puts fluorescent strips over the mirror? Her skin is ghostly. Her hair is the rusty side of copper. A strip of silvery roots shines. Yes, SHINES. She rubs her cheeks, squeezes her eyes shut. Looks again. But nothing has changed. She could use some of Mulder’s effervescent optimism.

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[xfficchallenges]

Challenge: Shopping

I’ll post a prompt weekly on Sundays to try to encourage people to write stories.  You can post them whenever you want.  You can write the prompts in any order, combine them, use only the parts you want, interpret it however, pick a prompt from a different week, what have you.  Just put some words out into the world and watch them work their magic!

Prompt:  shopping How about a nice shopping experience where everything is in stock and you can actually approach the salespeople and you don’t have to hold your breath if someone gets in your meter?

Restrictions: none Word limit: no limit Rating:  the sky’s the limit.   How To Post: Tag  @xfficchallenges and we’ll find it and reblog it!  You can also use the tag #xfficchallenges in the first five tags (if it’s not in the first five, it won’t populate into the tag) Find all past challenges in the tag

[frangipanidownunder]

So you simply can't post a list of kiss prompts and expect me NOT to ask you for one. Do you not even KNOW me? Please consider a ficlet (or more!) for #11-Reunion kiss. But maybe pre-breakup. A reunion after being apart for some other reason? This could easily be combined with another kind of kiss - first, shy, etc. (And I am holding my breath for your maid/master AU!) Fic is Medicine Anon

A Lifetime Ago: Fic

Fat blossoms, serrated petals, marshmallow pink, weighted the branches on the tree in the courtyard of her block. Sun heated the top of her head, lifting the hair from her scalp, and the interior of the car smelled of warm leather and dust. Motes danced as she laid her jacket on the passenger seat. 

When Mulder got in, he moved the jacket. Of course. She’d become so used to driving alone. More dust sparkled in the shaft of sunlight that shot through the glass. A glitter welcome party. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, lost in the weird sense of the strange and familiar, the old and the new. He looked at her oddly. 

It made her blush, the intensity of his scrutiny. But the house looked pretty in the rearview mirror. Climbing vines over the fence, vivid green leaves bushy on the trees and shrubs. She could see a row of stakes just by the shed.

“Tomatoes?” she asked, nodding over her shoulder.

“Dirty Girl, Super Snow White and Ruby Gold.”

She drove over the gravel towards the road. “Sounds like one of those movies you used to watch.”

His chuckle was chesty, and she caught his full smile out the corner of her eye. He looked well. He looked good. He’d been looking better each time she’d seen him over the past few months, as though he’d turned some corner in his mind and life was no longer the bitter drag it had been. If tomato plants with exotic names were the key to this change, she’d take that over Prozac and desperate, begging midnight phone calls.

Years before she had loved those quiet, murmured conversations. When they meant connection, trust. But the FBI was a lifetime, a lost child and a break-up ago. Now, phone calls were made in office hours, more recently, she realised, when she was already on her way to see him.

“Where are we going again?” he asked, winding the window down and resting an elbow on the sill. “I admit I was surprised when you called. It kind of felt like you were asking me on a date.” He looked across at her and the fresh blast of air saved her from blushing again. “Is this a date?”

Chuffing, she fixed her eyes on the road. “When was the last time you went out, Mulder?”

“I go out,” he said, indignant. 

She snorted. “Running at three in the morning does not constitute going out.” 

“I’ve become friendly with the guy at the nursery.”

“Friendly?”

“Don’t give me that look. I can be friendly, Scully.” She remembered his friendly as either empathetic, nerdy or flirty.  “He orders heirloom produce for me, teaches me about companion plants and has a fascination for UFOs. Funny how life works out, huh?”

“Huh,” she said. Nerdy.

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[baronessblixen]

Dance With Me

Whoohoo, I wrote a fic! It’s for @xfficchallenges “social gathering”. Prompt is: Someone from the XF universe attends a social gathering.

Set in season 6. Also tagging @today-in-fic

It’s taking her longer than she thought it would, finding Mulder. Who knew so many people worked at the Hoover building? Scully apologizes a few times as she makes her way through the crowds, pressing against sweaty bodies. A few eyes follow her and whispers reach her ears in passing, but she never catches more than a few words in between the clinking of glasses, the music, and the chatter. She’s heard it all before anyway. She and Mulder have been gossip fodder for as long as she can remember and tonight is no different. For once, she is aware that’s she’s added to it, arriving not with Mulder but with an actual date. One of the reasons why Mulder is nowhere to be found.

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[xfficchallenges]

Challenge: Social Gathering

 I’ll post a prompt weekly on Sundays to try to encourage people to write stories.  You can post them whenever you want.  You can write the prompts in any order, combine them, use only the parts you want, interpret it however, pick a prompt from a different week, what have you.  Just put some words out into the world and watch them work their magic!

Prompt:   Someone from the XF universe attends a social gathering. In this difficult time of social distancing, write about a gathering of some kind: a party, a picnic, a child’s birthday, a concert, a movie, the much-loved FBI Ball, or even just a night at a bar or a restaurant.  

Restrictions: none Word limit: no limit Rating:  the sky’s the limit.   How To Post: Tag  @xfficchallenges and we’ll find it and reblog it!  You can also use the tag #xfficchallenges in the first five tags (if it’s not in the first five, it won’t populate into the tag) Find all past challenges in the tag

[suitablyaggrieved]

Can you write Scully finding a note with a number on it from another woman inside Mulder’s jacket, and she thinks he’s dating? Sometime during s10 please?

Thank you so much for sending me this!

Tagging: @today-in-fic, @agent-starbuck, @contrivedcoincidences6, @baronessblixen, @msrafterdark, @ellivia, @greycoupons

Combining this with @xfficchallenges’s Fic is Medicine prompt: “You broke my heart, Mulder.”

————

His laughter used to come fairly easily. In fact, he could make her laugh too, almost on demand. For years, they were the dynamic duo.

And now, Scully was alone. No, he hadn’t left her—in fact, he had begged for them to be together, to work things out, but in the end, Scully was just too tired to try again. And so they parted ways.

Until Fate, the all-knowing woman that she was, stepped in. Fate came and brought them together, which was why at 4:30 in the afternoon, Scully was getting ready to clock out of her job. She had traded her lab coat for a pea coat, and her stethoscope for a Sig Sauer. Not exactly a fair trade, but appropriate.

Her mind wandered to the small, white scrap of paper that came out of Mulder’s jacket the day prior. There was a phone number, and a name–Amanda Keyes.

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[suitablyaggrieved]

For @xfficchallenges Fic Is Medicine Anon: “I didn’t know it would be this easy/hard.”

Tagginf: @today-in-fic, @contrivedcoincidences6, @baronessblixen, @agent-starbuck, @megdoesart.

————

‘Breathe,’ His mind says, and he does so, not thinking it will work.

It doesn’t.

His hands are curled into fists, fists that shake, and her hand landing on his arm startles him. Badly.

“Fox, what’s wrong?”

Her voice is soft. Concern. It dots her features, and permeates her tone. It spills out of the corners of her mouth and flows into her hands. It suffocates him, because it feels fake. Her mouth is a large, swallowing maw that lies, and he can’t stand it.

“Nothing,” He responds. His jaw is clenched like his fist, and he walks, stiffly, forward. She watches, and then follows, glancing about her person, and staying close behind him. He leads her to his desk, and stands, silently seething.

“Are you sure? Do you need to talk?”

He whips around, rounding on her. She is not short, like his partner. She’s just eye level with him. His height won’t work here.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Mulder started, his fists loosening. His shoulders drop and the fight is knocked out of him. There’s a wave of dread, and revulsion, when he thinks of them, together. Eating lunch. Having sex. Going on dates. Everything is wrong. It should be him. But it isn’t.

Fucking Carl.

“What wouldn’t be? Fox, talk to me,” She says, and he collapses in his seat. She kneels slightly and touches his face.

Just like Scully might.

Fucking Scully.

“It’s nothing,” He says dismissively. He didn’t know why the sight of her just giving her boyfriend a kiss goodbye set him off. But it did.

“Fox, what is the matter with you?”

Mulder glanced at Diana again, and finally said,

“Scully is dating a literal incubus.”

There’s a silence that hangs in the air. Mulder holds his breath, waiting for Diana to laugh. She doesn’t.

“And she doesn’t believe you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“But it’s getting worse.”

“Yes. I think he’s going to kill her.”

Diana straightens up, and folds her arms over her chest, looking down at Mulder. She considers him as a person, their past, and the job she was tasked to do.

“Maybe I can talk to her,” She finally says after a brief silence. Mulder shakes his head.

“She hates you.” It’s stated so plainly, that Diana figures that he doesn’t mean it to be insulting. But it is.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess she doesn’t trust you. She doesn’t know you like I do. She probably thinks you hate her too,”

“I don’t dislike her,” Diana said, surprised coloring her features. It’s a revelation in the middle of Mulder’s own half confession.

“Well, she hates you,” He repeats, sitting up in his chair and turning to face the paper on his desk.

“Yeah, well, it sounds like you’re jealous, ever consider that?”

He glances over at her, as if he had only just remembered she was there.

“I’m sorry. I was rude. I’m just hurt. After all this time, she still doesn’t trust me. What am I supposed to do, wait until it kills her?”

“No,” Diana says, putting her hands on her hips. She exhales deeply. “You stop him. If he is what you say he is, send him where he came from.”

Mulder rubbed his forehead and let out a sigh.

“Sounds like you want me to kill him.”

She shrugged.

“If that’s what it takes.”

[baronessblixen]

No idea if I’m doing this right (new to the tumblr world!) I have a prompt I was hoping you would consider. looking for a fic set during Arcadia. Scully isn’t feeling well, gets sick/thinks she’s coming down with a cold, or has period cramps... somewhere along those lines. they are forced together as a couple, living together for the assignment. She is hesitant to accept his care due to the awkwardness during this time period because of Diana but eventually allows him to care for her.

Very old prompt! I combined it with prompt 14 from @xfficchallenges: please stay. Also tagging @today-in-fic

Nights in Arcadia 

“Honey, you’re home.” Mulder stands there with his hands on his hips, wearing a too small, salmon-colored apron that Scully has no idea where it came from, grinning from ear to ear.

“I am,” she answers slowly, her eyes on him as she takes off her coat and sets down her briefcase. Mulder is still grinning, reminding her of a Stepford wife. There have been times in their partnership when she would have found his silly behavior cute. These days, she just finds him irritating. The raging war in her stomach is not helping. There’s another bout of pain in her abdomen and she sighs to hide her pain from him.

“Cooked you dinner. I thought I should do something nice for my wifey.” That grin. Again.

He isn’t taking any of this seriously; the case, this life, her. Not for one moment. She can’t even fake a smile with her stomach in knots.

“I’m not hungry.” If she sounds like a petulant child, so be it.

His grin fades. “But…,” he trails off, tugging at his apron until it comes off. He expected her to play along, to laugh at his jokes like before, to indulge him. This time she won’t.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she says, the decision long made. That bathtub has been calling her name for hours. Mulder’s eyes follow her as she walks up the stairs but he doesn’t say a word.

Upstairs, in her – Laura’s bedroom - Scully takes a deep breath. Something in her stomach pulls and she moans. She shouldn’t have had that salad at lunch. If she were alone, meaning without Mulder, she’d get in her pajamas, get a hot water bottle and watch a movie until she falls asleep. But she isn’t alone. Mulder is here. She hears him downstairs, doing whatever he’s doing there in the kitchen. With a sigh, she walks into the bathroom and lets water into the tub, sitting there, just breathing in and out, willing the pain in her abdomen to subside.

Her alone time doesn’t last long, however. She should have known Mulder wouldn’t give up as easily.

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[agent-starbuck-deactivated20200]

Lost in You

Set during Arcadia. Cannon-divergent. Rated M.

A/N: This little writing exercise wouldn’t leave me alone until I refined and shaped it into a full-fledged fic. So here it is. Some parts old, some new, but all of it an attempt to finally do this story justice and give it closure. I’m really attached to this one, for some reason, so please read and review, and let me know what you think. 

Also, I’m including the @xfficchallenges prompt Please Stay.

•••••

Mulder can’t take it anymore. Being in this perfect little house that’s anything but little– or perfect– with Scully. Seeing that ring glaring back at him, taunting him, every time he looks at her left hand. A constant reminder of the life he doesn’t have, can’t have, but desperately wants– a revelation that has recently taken hold in his mind and hasn’t let go.

He wants it all. The honeymoon videos. The wedding albums. The house. Not this one, though. Their own house, with their own dishes and welcome mat– not the ones the FBI picked out for them.

Their own bed.

He quietly climbs underneath the sheets next to her sleeping form before he has a chance to change his mind, the early morning light nothing but a whisper on the horizon. A promise in the sky. For a new day. For something more. 

“Scully,” he pleads desperately, nuzzling her neck. “Let’s be Rob and Laura… just for one night.”

“Mulder,” she whimpers as he runs his tongue along the shell of her ear. Her hand crawls, finger by finger, along the nape of his neck– reading him, learning him, goosebump by raised goosebump, guiding her path as if it were Braille– and he shivers at her exploratory touch.

“I don’t want to be Rob and Laura. I just want to be us.”

He pulls back to search her eyes for any hint of reluctance, his heart galloping with reckless abandon in his chest as his mind reels from what she’d just said, and he wonders if she’s even aware of it, or if her words were uttered in the hazy aftermath of slumber, after being thrust so suddenly from its grip. It takes everything in him to steady his tremulous hand as he brushes a strand of fiery red hair away from her face, studying her as though he’s not entirely convinced she isn’t a figment of his imagination, that he’s not dreaming this moment into existence. The air in his lungs grows stale, and he finally remembers to breathe.

“Do you ever think about us? Like this?“ 

His words are spoken so softly, so hesitantly, he’s afraid they’ll burn and disintegrate to ash before they even reach her ears– as if they were inscribed on a piece of flash paper and set ablaze to be carried off by the wind.

Because he has. Thought of them like this. Arguing over who gets the shower first thing in the morning or who took out the trash last night… 

Or how it would feel to wake up to the sensation of her small body pressed tightly against his before he even opens his eyes. Of being acquainted with the feel of soft skin against skin, of the steady rise and fall of her chest, only allowing his selfish eyes a glimpse of her laying next to him out of the need to reassure himself that he’s not actually dreaming.

He’s had six, long years to think about it. To imagine it. And he doesn’t want to imagine anymore.

“Yes,” she answers in kind, and he has to stop himself from eagerly swallowing the word in a kiss as soon as it leaves the perch of her perfect, plump lips.

Her admission, however, takes him aback. It shouldn’t. But it does. The beat of his heart falters, and he’d almost be afraid it had stopped altogether were it not for how incredibly alive he feels laying here with Scully so close he can feel the flutter of her shallow breaths against his skin. A sensation that sends a tingle through every nerve ending in his body.

This case has affected him in ways he could’ve scarcely predicted. The staunch lines of friendship– of professionalism– becoming more blurred with each passing day. 

That’s what happens when you draw lines in the sand– they’re not impervious to wind or water. The shifting sands of their partnership have changed between them lately. He feels it in the ground beneath his feet. In every tidal breath he takes in. Deep in the pit of his stomach when she walks into a room, and he has to remind his heart to keep beating.

He feels it especially now, with this case. With her lying in his arms. Not as Laura Petrie. But as Dana Scully.

It’s all too surreal.

And just a little bit terrifying.

He’s stared down the barrel of a gun. Looked evil in the face without so much as a flinch. Played the game of Risk so many times, he’s surprised he’s made it out with his sense and wit still (mostly) intact and, if he were a betting man, he’d think his chances at living a long, healthy life were slim to none. His luck is bound to run out. Eventually.

But despite the knowledge of that fact, or perhaps because of it, what scares him more than anything is making it another six years on this earth without letting Scully know how much he loves her.

He’s told her, in so many words…

You’re my one in five billion.

You’ve kept me honest. Made me a whole person.

But he wants to show her. Needs to show her. With his lips and his hands and his body. The way a man shows a woman. The way a husband shows a wife.

“We’d be so fucking good together, Scully,” he groans in her ear, his husky voice still relaxed from sleep, and she makes a strangled mewling sound in the back of her throat that he’s never heard before but aches to hear again.

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[xfficchallenges]

Challenge: Fic Is Medicine (18)

An anon who is dealing with some health challenges would like there to be even more fic in the universe, because they find it healing and helpful while they’re going through treatment.  They sent me some prompts and I’ll post one weekly on Sundays to try to encourage people to write stories.  You can post them whenever you want.  You can write the prompts in any order, combine them, use only the parts you want, interpret it however, pick a prompt from a different week, what have you.  Just put some words out into the world and watch them work their magic!

Prompt 18:   I didn't know it would be this easy/hard.

Restrictions: none Word limit: no limit Rating:  the sky’s the limit.  The higher the better, tbh Schedule:  This will run weekly as long as I have prompts! How To Post: Tag  @xfficchallenges and we’ll find it and reblog it!  You can also use the tag #xfficchallenges in the first five tags