parsitive | Tiny promptfic fest

It feels like everybody I know is working their butts off on some huge ficathon or other and feeling that mid-huge-project itch. This is just a little party to leave prompts, request fic, write stuff, and roll around and squee without it needing to be super polished and without having to attach your name to it.

I also want to nod to OMGCP Heartbreak Fest, which is taking prompts right now. We don't want to steal from their pool of prompts, but if you come up with a really juicy angsty prompt, consider dropping it there instead!

In case no one's ever done this before:

Prompts should be OMGCP-centered. They don't need to feature Kent Parson, but they can't bash him. (Acknowledging his character flaws is different than bashing him)

Post prompts as replies to this post. The subject line should follow the format: Character/character, brief prompt. You can expand on the prompt (please less than 300 words) in the comment itself.

Post prompt fills as replies to that comment. Fills can be anything--fic, art, meta, filk, fanmixes, moodboards, fiber arts, you name it. Please link to NSFW images or videos instead of embedding them.

Do not hijack a prompt. Please post your own if something within a prompt inspires you in a different direction

Multiple people can fill a prompt. You can fill your own prompt. You can post your fills wherever you want. You can do this anonymously or under your own name.

This is a kink-friendly, non-judgmental, Parse-positive space, and it's actively moderated so don't be an ass.

Please warn for for common triggers or squicks (RPF, NSFW, noncon, dubcon, character death, underage--comment if there's something you want added to this list) or include "Choose Not to Warn" in your comment subject.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maybe that thing where you keep your friend's hand warm by holding it and putting it in your jacket pocket and you can insist it isn't gay but let's be real here, you fucking want it to be.

It wasn't snowing when Kent hauled his bag into practice, but as he leaves through the front doors the wind whips snow into his face, down the neck of his sweater. He groans as Jack walks up behind him, pulling up the hood of his own Oceanique sweater.
"I told you it was gonna snow, man," Jack says, like it does any good to Kent now.
Blinking snow out of his lashes, Kent pulls his phone from his back pocket, flipping it open and calling his billet house. Fran, his part-time mom, agrees to come pick him up, but she's ten minutes away and the doors to the rink are locked now. Jack offers to wait with Kent, since he's impervious to the cold like his blood is made of anti-freeze. Kent shrugs at the offer, but he can feel his heart beating harder because Jack wants to be here, out in the cold, with Kent. When they step out of the wind and huddle close to the wall Kent schools his face into something he hopes looks neutral, and tries not to notice the smell of Jack's shampoo, or the snow that catches in his bangs.
"Your hand is getting red already."
Kent looks down. Jack's right, the tips of his fingers are going numb with the cold, still absently playing with his phone. Before he can pull them into the sleeves of his sweater, Jack has both his hands over it, cupping in the warmth.
"Can't play hockey with frostbite," Jack says, joking. Kent thinks his face must be so red it could melt the snow around them.
"Yeah," Kent croaks out, a little belatedly. "Uh, your hands are-"
"Oh. It's ok. They aren't too cold-"
"-you can have them back if you want."
"It's ok," Jack says again. He's red in the cheeks, probably from the wind and the cold, but he looks down at their joined hands and gets redder. He pulls Kent in a bit closer and shoves both their hands into the front pocket of his sweater.
Kent can't even feel the snow now, so warm on the inside like a fire's catching in his lungs.
"Better?" Jack asks, and all Kent can manage is a shaky nod. He's not even sure if he's breathing. He wants- he wants to kiss Jack, but he knows he couldn't manage that, but he could lean in, rest his head on Jack's shoulder and bury his face in Jack's neck. It's a thought he's pushed away in the past, but now he thinks, maybe, that Jack wants that too. Maybe Jack would drop his head to rest on top of Kent's and...
The crunching of snow under tires brings Kent back to reality. He pulls his hands from Jack's in a move that feels like tearing velcro and turns to see Fran coming down the parking lot.
"Do you want a ride?" Kent asks, just for something to say. Jack lives a block away, which Kent knows full well.
"See you at school," Jack says as Fran pulls up in front of them. As Kent slides into the front seat, he feels so hot he almost changes his mind and walks home after all.

*MAKES A GURGLING SOUND AND DIES*

like tearing velcro oh god.

Oh damn, this is so pretty and poignant. Their youth makes my heart ache.

Holy shit.

Th last line and the inane "do you want a ride?" especially.

Tiny promptfic fest

Jack/Parse, holding hands during the Q

Re: Jack/Parse, holding hands during the Q

Re: Jack/Parse, holding hands during the Q

Re: Jack/Parse, holding hands during the Q

Re: Jack/Parse, holding hands during the Q