#30-day writing challenge

[deadheaddaisy]

Day 16!

Sunshine!

(And also, pineapple for Enterprise Appreciation April, though a very delayed entry.)

AO3 link

Malcolm sighed as he sat in the armchair of their hotel room, staring out at the grey sky and fat raindrops hitting the window. While he didn’t mind the weather too much - at least they were off the ship - he was a little disgruntled that their shore leave threatened to leave them in grey gloom.

A rustle in the room behind him alerted him to another presence, and moments later, a gentle hand fell on his shoulder as Hoshi perched on the arm of his chair.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just irritated at the weather.”

“Why? I know it’s miserable, of course; but I wouldn’t have thought you’d have wanted to go out into the sun. Especially on a tropical island.”

“Maybe not; but you want to, and I’m annoyed that the weather’s circumventing that.”

“True; though it’s a warm rain, and I suppose I could walk around in it in my swimsuit, but a swimsuit in the rain just doesn’t feel right.”

This time his grumble was audible. “See? Stupid rain!” His foot twitched, as though he were going to kick at the weather, and then he pulled it back and tucked it under the chair as though he’d thought better of his actions.

Hoshi’s belly-laugh was rich and full. She dropped a kiss on top of Malcolm’s head, and he turned his face upward, silently asking for more. Happy to oblige, she leaned over him, upside down, and peppered his face with kisses before placing a chaste peck on his lips.

She didn’t notice his arm creeping around her waist until a sharp tug sent her tumbling into his lap, a little squeal escaping before she could stop it. A thrill rushed through him; he could listen to that squeal every day, and the joyous laughter that followed as she wriggled herself into a more comfortable position.

He let out a sigh of contentment as she cuddled up against his chest, her face in his neck. “That’s much better. Now I can enjoy the rain.” Their fingers tangled and he lifted them to his mouth to nibble at the ends of hers, delighting in her squeaks of laughter, looking down inquiringly as she said something that was muffled by his shoulder. “Hmm?”

Hoshi’s head tipped back, exposing her gracefully-curved neck. Abandoning her fingers in favour of finding the spot on her neck that made her squirm, Malcolm enquired against her soft skin, “You were saying?”

“I was—no, stop, stop!” She giggled and shrieked as his stubble scraped along her delicate skin, trying to wriggle away from the ticklish sensation, but unable to as he held her fast. Obligingly, he stopped scraping her with his chin, but turned instead to mouthing at her with soft lips for maximum ticklishness.

“If you don’t stop, I won’t tell you about the new swimsuit I bought!”

Malcolm stopped tickling her immediately and sat upright, schooling his expression into one of polite enquiry. “New swimsuit?”

Having caught her breath, Hoshi squirmed her way - most satisfyingly, he thought - into straddling his lap. She stroked her thumbs down both sides of his jaw, watching the movement of her hands.

“It’s got pineapples,” she informed him solemnly, though mischief shone from those limpid brown eyes.

“Really,” he murmured, thumbs stroking her hips in turn, enjoying her little game.

Hoshi nodded, her eyes meeting his briefly. “And cherries. Juicy-looking ones, too.”

“Juicy cherries are the best kind.”

She nodded again, the corner of her mouth quirking. Her eyes lingered on the soft smile that he couldn’t seem to prevent around her. “And it’s a halter-neck. Just ties into a bow - no, two bows,” she corrected herself, eyes lifting beyond him as she checked her memory, “one behind the neck and one behind the back.”

“Bows are nice. Easy to come undone.” He blinked at her innocently as her eyes cut back toward him and she wrinkled her nose, struggling to hold back the grin that was threatening to break through. “Does that mean this is a two-piece suit?”

“Oh, yes, indeed it is. The bows help - I wouldn’t want to sunbathe and get tan lines, after all.”

Malcolm swallowed hard at the thought of that long, smooth back under his hands. “I’d have to help you put on sunscreen,” he offered. His voice was a little husky; Hoshi’s eyes crinkled as her thumbs began brushing over his cheeks.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Her voice had dropped to a low murmur; she leaned forward, her nose brushing his, lips millimetres away. His eyes began drifting shut involuntarily, in anticipation of her lips on his.

Then suddenly she was gone, off his lap and standing in front of him, a mischievous grin on her face, mouth stretched wide and eyes crinkled with laughter. Malcolm bit back his groan of frustration and gave her his best unamused glare; its only effect was to make her giggle.

“I’ll show you, and maybe it’ll bring out the sun!” And with that, she was gone.

He grumbled, though in fond exasperation, as he adjusted himself to sit more comfortably; having his wife wriggle around in his lap was a particularly enjoyable experience. Which was why she tended to do so quite deliberately.

The rustling in the bathroom stopped, and he heard light footsteps approach. “Eyes closed!” He shut them obediently, and felt Hoshi’s warm presence brush past him; his hands itched to reach out, but he knew she’d probably slap his hand away, so he contented himself with pressing his fingers together instead.

She came to a halt in front of him; Malcolm stayed still, waiting for Hoshi’s signal. “You can look now.” His eyes opened, and he gazed appreciatively at her lithe figure, clad in a form-fitting black bikini printed with bright pineapples and shiny, juicy-looking cherries - some strategically placed, to his amusement and delight.

The bikini provided more coverage than he’d envisioned, but somehow the way it fit her gentle curves - especially the perky little bows on either side of the hip-hugging bottoms - was particularly enticing. His fingers itched to test the integrity of the knots.

“You didn’t say the bottoms had bows, too.” He sounded a little hoarse.

“Oh? I must have forgotten.” Her voice was entirely innocent as she cocked one hip and tucked her thumbs into the bottoms before swivelling to provide a view of her back. Looking over her shoulder, she flexed her shoulder-blades. “See? Aren’t the bows lovely?” The wiggle she gave her … hips, yes, hips, was meant to seem entirely innocent too, he wagered, as his libido sky-rocketed.

“Lovely indeed.” Hoshi peeked over her shoulder again and grinned to herself. Malcolm’s attention was fixed on a completely different place than where the bows were situated. His voice was raspy again, and though he affected a nonchalant pose, his hands were twitching and his pupils dilated. “Why don’t you come a little closer so I can inspect those knots? Wouldn’t want them to come undone at an inopportune moment.”

Hoshi backed up until her bare feet were touching Malcolm’s sneakers. As he reached up and pulled her onto his lap, she looked out of the window and saw that the clouds had dissipated.

“Look, hero, the sunshine’s back! We can go down to the beach.”

“Bugger the sunshine,” he muttered against her neck, his face buried in her gloriously silky hair. “All I want is my minx and her pineapples and cherries.” His arms slid around her waist, and the sun was left to shine in through the windows, casting a golden glow throughout the room.

[hel-phoenyx]

1) All the reasons why

"Did you hear ? One of the noble families gave birth to a child blessed by the ocean."

"No, I didn't... Who had that chance ?"

"Don't be that happy, Styr, Kefer, that's not a benediction. I heard about it too, but the baby was just born with scales. People say it's more of a malediction of Harkyr."

"Ah, fuck, that was too good. Who are the parents ?"

"That's Harald's son. That shouldn't be a surprise..."

"Harald... The Blood Warrior ?"

"Yep ! The man himself."

"HA ! Yeah, that isn't a surprise. Did you see who he married ? Of course that bitch is bound to be cursed."

"Odin II should have executed her with the others."

"Why did a man like Harald marry a woman like her is a mystery."

"Heh. I hope for the Kraken Coast Ocean took pity of that poor man and gave him at least one descendant worth it. We'll see."

***

So many looks, coming from everyone in the castle, looks that the child can't see, but can feel, everywhere on his skin his ragged clothes his body so thin he looks like he's sick every passing day.

Looks of hate, from people that push him out of the way for the simple crime of being there. Some, afraid, afraid of the day a childish laugh almost started a seastorm right above the castle. Most of them are expectative.

Will it be a benediction or a malediction ? Will that child be the most powerful weapon under the chains of the queen or the one that will break the lineage of the Liberator ? Gift of ocean or poison of Harkyr ?

No one knows. Not even the child himself, just running in the palace to try and see his friend.

***

"You've got to be shitting me."

"THAT sword ? Is this a fucking provocation ?"

"Fucking Hrogni spawn, man, always parading the bane of our existences right in front of our fucking eyes."

"Litteraly. Isn't that sword called the Bane of Life ?"

"Yep. That was the Good King's sword. Pah. How many of our people did he kill with that cursed thing ?"

"And he dares bring that into the castle, near the prince. That lineage's arrogance really has no limits."

"We should have killed them long ago.

"Can't. Brynhild protected her and now it's Harald. Who know what would happen if we tried now."

"Fucking Harald man... What was he thinking ? Now the dishonor is his too."

"Don't know how he even lets the bastard parade around with that cursed thing."

***

Growing up the looks didn't fade, didn't soften, didn't get away. The powers were those of Ocean, the scales were those of Harkyr, and the sword was Hrogni's.

Now he knows, and he sees the eyes, all waiting for something. The moment he proves useful, or the moment he cracks. He knows it. The nobility, the soldiers, they're all waiting for him to show what he's made of.

There's so little people that don't care. The low classes, focused on survival rather than rumors, a handful of teenagers always chirping around the prince, and a boat full of the exact same kind of pariahs.

Only in those people the blessed curse finds solace.

***

"Why did his Highness get the doctors in such a hurry ? Wasn't he supposed to be at sea on..."

"The boat sank. A fucking seastorm. Guess who was in it ?"

"No fucking way. Don't tell me he sent one of our best ships to the bottom."

"Yep. And apparently he lost his right hand in whatever happened. Good riddance, if you ask me. A mutilated curse is better than a full one."

"And his Majesty still got him healed ? He's too good-hearted."

"People say he almost got killed on that boat. That the captain attempted against his life."

"I'm sure he got out without a scratch. That's our prodigy prince after all."

"Obviously. That's the difference between our righteous king and a fucking spawn of tyrant."

***

The eyes stopped waiting. They got what they wanted. Fed on pain, relished on disgrace, while he lost everything. Family, friends, honor, pride, and his ability to fight.

Now they are only full of hate.

Kicked out of his place, only at sea he found his answer. The sea he can't see as a safe place anymore because the foam now tastes like blood.

Still, he looks at it everyday, feeds on the sight of a graveyard he still can't bring himself to build. Rather not get looked at at all than feel all the resentment.

It's ironic the only one that didn't give him this hate is the one that should hate him.

***

"I haven't seen him in weeks now. I know losing a hand is something you should take a long time to recover from, but still, I don't even know where he is !"

"Yeah, and he heals like a monster, you know ? That shouldn't take long."

"... Kaizarz told me where he lives now yesterday, you know. I tried to see him, but he didn't even open the door. Still, I know he was here. there was a smell of blood and burned candles."

"... Can I try too, you think, Dom ?"

"Well I'm not gonna give up that easily, that's for sure ! Next time you come with me and we will get him out of his cave !"

".... We should let him be."

"How can you say that, Meili ! That's our friend we're talking about !"

"Were we his ?"

"..."

"..."

"Drop it. If he really cares about us, he will come back himself."

***

He didn't come back. His heart ached like a thousand thorns, but everytime they came, they found his door closed and a complete silence. Knocling, shouting, pleading, crying sometimes, nothing could ever open anything.

Worst was not the joy around the castle, so happy to have gotten rid of the menace. Or the weather, now too calm for anyone's tastes but the people. Worst was the silence they found everytime. The days pass without a reappearance, or even a word, and with the days the certainty those harsh words may be right gripped at their skin like the stench of decay.

He knew they were coming, that people did not give up on him. But he did not want to get them close. They were the only people he still hadn't hurt. And he couldn't be sure that wasn't a ploy to drag him even further down.

After all, if his closest friend could hide his most profound hatred, so could they, right ?

***

"Who does he think he's fooling, showing his face like this ?"

"A hood and some makeup can't hide a damn curse."

"And the first time he shows his damn face since the attempt is at the coronation ? The nerve of that fucker !"

"His Majesty looked happy. I don't understand."

"He's quick to trust. I thought he would get more wary after what they did."

"We don't even know what happened on that boat... Maybe there's a good reason ?"

"Good reason or not, that tyrant spawn should get the Abyss out of here. he's not welcome."

"At least he didn't bring his sword. That would be injury added to insult."

"For sure. But that's like, basic decency. Sad that basic decency is the maximum we can expect. He should have died long ago. With that boat."

***

He's here, but he still doesn't talk, and he can see averyone looking at him. He hates that. He hates that for every person in this crowd is a person that once spew hatred and deception. He betrayed everyone's expectations, and now he dares try to act like everything is good, like he's too good for them ?

Except everything is not good, and he's nothing but good. That's why he doesn't talk. That's why he answers the hatred with snubbing and their attempts to reconnect with silence. He can see them trying, and he can see the hurt in their eyes when every try is sold by a failure.

He can see the wound reopening in his kings eyes when he shakes his hand without a smile. The same wound is buried behind his empty eyes.

[alchemiasart]

30-day writing challenges?

Now that March is almost here, it's time to think about my 30-day writing challenges because April is coming up fast. Back in November of 2023, I managed to crank out 30 short stories in 30 days. (Okay, it was actually 28 stories, and then the 29th on December 1st, and now I'm still finishing up the last one, but it's a happy tear-jerker, don't judge, those are really hard to write.)

Point is, the 30-day thing really got my creative juices flowing, my test readers loved them, and I think I could pump out a lot of excellent work if I only let myself write fiction... *whispers, "thirty days hath September, April, June, and November..."* FOUR TIMES A YEAR.

(I'm also in grad school, so I write a lot anyway, but not on these topics, obvs.)

But, of course, I also want people to read my work, and it'd be nice to be able to afford food on occasion.

I know there aren't a lot of you out there right now reading this, but what's your input? Does anyone else (good) do challenges like this? Is it worth it to share the stories as I go along, knowing they'll be disqualified from traditional publishing? Should I just go with "fuck traditional publishing" anyway?

FYI, the November 2023 story was a cycle of short stories about cryptids in daily life, but they're kind of a palidrome cycle: the first fifteen introduce characters, and sixteen through thirty resolve those stories in reverse order (#15 gets resolved in #16, #14 gets resolved in #17, and so forth). Does anyone wanna read those? What are your favorite platforms for reading short stories and supporting your favorite authors?

[starsoverbrooklyn]

just the headline, doll: confession in the middle of an argument. (#2/30) starring... Avenger!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader storm ahead, sweetheart: affection shielded by distaste. grumpy x grumpy. a sprinkle of a couple swear words for good measure. inked just for you: 479 a word from yours truly: please accept my late work, i wrote the bulk of it yesterday. p.s. send help b/c why are micro arguments so hard to wrap up? hope you enjoy! ♡⋆｡°✩ -rrinnie

“You need to put about five more steps between us, Barnes. ‘Cause you’re about two seconds—and one more breath down my neck—away from getting rocked.” 

He knew better than to push when you were genuinely pissed, but in his defense, you’d been impossible since the moment you graced the world with your presence this morning. He’d actually managed to wake up in a half-decent mood, bearing peace offerings of espresso and a few of your favorite pastries from a bakery nestled in the heart of the bustling city, hoping they would smooth over your past (and very frequent) disagreements. 

But when his rare acknowledgment of ‘good morning’ fell flat to your grumbled, dismissive ‘what’s so great about it?’—it knocked him straight onto his bruised ego and set the tone for the day. It wasn’t often he looked forward to being partnered with someone, but it didn’t take long for you to remind him why.

He scoffs lowly, but his feet slow to heed your warning. “That’s a little aggressive. If only you’d channel that kind of energy into watching your own back, I wouldn’t have to do it for you.”

That stops you in your tracks and he stumbles to a halt to keep from knocking into you. 

“Do it for me���?!” You face him, eyes narrowed and blazing with frustration at the blatant audacity. “You’re kidding, right? You’re like fucking velcro to my hip the minute you spot guns. Not only does it slow me down, it makes you a lousy shot! So do us both the favor and save your trust issues for Raynor. I can handle myself.”

His jaw set, the intensity of his glare enough to make anyone else think twice about their tone—but never you.

When you move to take off again, he stays put, the gentle whirring of his metallic arm reaching out to lightly grasp yours. 

“Because God forbid someone actually gives a damn about you, right?” he mutters, his voice low and strained like the words were clawing their way out.

He doesn’t let your surprise settle into silence. Taking a step closer, his grip remains loose, offering you the option to break free. Frustration still ghosts his features, but it’s softer—teetering desperation. 

“It’s not about trust,” he continues, voice rough. “You’re… infuriatingly headstrong. You fight like you calculate for everything—like you’re invincible. But you’re not. And I can’t—“ He cuts himself off, jaw ticking. “If something happened to you, and I could’ve stopped it…” He trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavy between you.

Your expression remains unreadable—even to someone who has spent lifetimes dissecting human vulnerability, often at his own hands.

Then, a smile—satisfied and sheltered by the strategic turn of your head. “Oh Sarge, you really do care.”

Bucky exhales sharply, stepping around you and continuing to the interception point.

“Yeah, don’t read too much into it, sweetheart.”

[more-better-words]

Day 1!

Not a single line, but an exchange that has amused me deeply ever since I wrote it. From Chapter 6 of For the Duration:

“So why did she marry you?” Karveth asked. “One of these days, I’m gonna tie your antennae in a knot,” Trip said calmly. “Please try.”

😁

Anybody who wants to play along with this challenge, feel free! @deadheaddaisy, @talshiargirlfriend, @pearlypairings, @1lostsoul0fishbowl, no pressure (just?getting your attention lol)

[talshiargirlfriend]

Day Seventeen of the 30 Day Writing Challenge

(I’m so tired, but here it is, and on time!)

A green shirt

“Take a load off a minute. You want a drink?” Trip offered.

Malcolm declined with a yawn as he sat on the edge of his friend’s bed. “If I get too comfortable I’m not going to be able to get back up.”

“I hear ya. All right. Let me just get you these designs and you can be on your merry way. And then I can spend the next few hours blissfully unconscious.”

“Hear, hear.”

Trip sat down and quickly perused the information on the datapadd.

“What’s this?” Malcolm asked, pulling a sage green garment out from its place of safety beneath Trip’s pillow.

“Huh? It’s a T-shirt, Malcolm.” In that moment, Trip’s inner monologue consisted mostly of many repetitions of a single four letter word.

“Looks a little small for you, mate,” Malcolm added with a smirk as he held the shirt up before him.

“It’s stretchy,” Trip replied testily, heat rising in his cheeks as he reached out to take it.

“It kind of looks like something T’Pol would wear…” Malcolm continued with a false air of innocence.

Oh god, she was gonna kill him. Well, at least it wasn’t anything even more incriminating.

“Malcolm, it’s just a T-shirt I forgot to put in the laundry. Okay?” Trip said firmly with a meaningful look.

Malcolm raised his hands placatingly. “Your commitment to not kissing and yelling is admirable. And honestly, after being stuck in a room working with you and T’Pol for basically the last two days straight I would have no idea there was anything going on.”

Trip pursed his lips, slightly mollified, but… “I didn’t say there was anything going on,” he pointed out.

“Of course not. Perhaps someone else has been leaving shirts in your bed. Or a whole string of someones.” Malcolm added with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.

Trip was way too tired for that kind of joke. “What the hell kind of guy do you think I am?” he barked.

“An easy mark,” his friend grinned.

Trip sighed and handed over the datapadd. A headache was starting at his temples, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Go to bed, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Shall I send T’Pol around to tuck you in?” the cheeky bastard tossed back as he made his way out the door.

Trip glared and flashed him a rude gesture.

Inspo:

[bakuliwrites]

Day One- Gale of Waterdeep

500 Follower Event, 30 Day Writing Prompts Prompt: Relic, Tender, Petrichor, Gale (BG3) Pairing: Gale x Reader Tags: Fluff, Kisses, Cuddling, Slightly Suggestive, Gale Route Spoilers, BG3 Spoilers Word Count: 741

Gale’s dark eyes sweep languidly across the page, no doubt committing to memory the poetic verses written within. You watch from the doorway, comfortably warm in the threshold between cozy library and chilly balcony, a mug of tea slowly cooling in your hands. It brings joy to your heart to see Gale this relaxed. He’s reclined in a loveseat, dressed in his usual soft sleeping clothes and donning a pair of new slippers. The book he’s absorbed in is tome-like in appearance: leather-bound, some sort of ancient relic etched in gold leaf on the cover, a hefty clasp hanging loosely on the edges. You smile to yourself as Gale cautiously turns an onion-skin page, brows furrowed in concentration as he scans the next verse. 

With a small sigh, you lean against the doorframe, looking out to the churning sea beyond. There is something deeply nourishing about your days in Waterdeep. Perhaps it’s the way light rushes across the surface of the sea on clear days, sun glinting brilliantly in the sky, seagulls calling out to one another on the drifting ocean breeze. Maybe it’s the twinkling stars mirrored on the water at night, waves crashing gently to shore and the world silent as can be. It could be the hustle and bustle of the town around you, the familiar sounds of a peaceful life you’d almost forgotten in your adventuring days. Or perhaps it’s the unwavering gentility, the steadfast adoration of the wizard before you. 

Gale catches you staring, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight at the sight of you. 

“Care to join me?” his voice breaks through your silent musing, eyes softening when you meet his gaze, “Books are always better with company.” 

“Of course,” you return, for how could you refuse such an invitation? You abandon your mug on the coffee table, shivering when a gust of wind brushes through the balcony. With it comes a pleasant whiff of petrichor and brine, a scent you’ll probably forever associate this tranquil afternoon with. 

“Darling, you’re freezing,” Gale worries, shifting in his spot to give you room to lay next to him. The loveseat is hardly big enough for two, but all the more reason to cuddle, you think to yourself. And that was most certainly Gale’s plan, for as soon as you sit down, he draws you into his warm embrace. He’s quick to take one of your freezing hands in his, drawing it to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles. He warms it with his breath before sneaking in another kiss to your palm.

“Better?” he ventures, a gentle beam breaking through the gloomy grey of the afternoon. 

“Much,” you softly chuckle, letting your forehead rest against his. This moment is suspended in time, the balcony suddenly a realm of its own. Beyond the soft sound of Gale’s exhales, you can hear a drizzle of rain pitter-pattering on the rooftop, droplets bouncing off the railing and landing in tiny ripples on the water’s surface below. Gale holds your hand to his chest, his other arm drawing you close. Beneath your fingertips is the velvety texture of his shirt, the gentle thrum of his heart. This is nourishment in its purest form: Gale Dekarios, his love silently enveloping you, body and soul. 

You angle yourself to better reach his lips, pressing a tender kiss to them, lingering for a long while. Gale’s tongue softly traces the part in your lips as your fingers tangle in his hair. He moves to press tiny kiss after kiss against your cheeks, eyelids, and jawline. 

“Hmmm,” you hum, when he dips to give some much needed attention to your neck, “You can keep reading if you’d like. I don’t want to interrupt you.”

Gale’s book is long abandoned somewhere on the loveseat. You suspect he might be sitting on it, far too engrossed in you to pay attention to the tome digging into his leg. 

A small chuckle reverberates through Gale’s chest when you inadvertently gasp, his lips ghosting down to your collarbone.

“You’ve well and thoroughly distracted me, my darling,” he admits, “I’d much rather you be the subject of my studies this dreary afternoon.”

“Then you are easily distractible,” you return with an impish smirk. Gale quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Or is it that you and your irresistible charm are incredibly distracting?” he teasingly returns, laughing as he pulls you closer and lays his lips to yours once again.

A/N: I adore Gale. Honestly, I adore all of the companions in BG3. And many of the NPC's haha. I want to write more for him, so maybe a fic in the future? Time permitting, of course. Thank you for reading! Up next in this event will be Portia Devorak from The Arcana!

[stripedgrace]

30 Days of Flowers

Thank you @thepromptfoundry for the inspiration on this challenge! This is my way of getting back into writing STL stuff. Each prompt will feature a different pairing between Vox Machina and the Bad Kids. I don’t have all the pairs confirmed yet, so requests are open in that regard! Please enjoy my drabbles and look forward to chapter 6 (hopefully) soon!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64286689/chapters/165015052

Bluebell: Humility, gratitude, the fey

Thistle: Intrusion

Orchid: Refinement

Camellia: My heart bleeds for you

Marigold: Grief, cruelty

Nightshade: Truth

Snapdragon: Presumption

Rosemary: Remembrance

Dandelion: Faith, happiness, wishes

Magnolia: Perseverance, Nobility

Wisteria: Honor, resiliency

Primrose: I can't live without you

Lavendar: Distrust

Iris: I have a message for you

Azalea: Take care of yourself for me

Carnation: Pure love, Motherhood

Hydrangea: Boastfulness, heartlessness

Belladonna: Silence

Sunflower: Haughtiness, sunshine

Crocus: Cheerfulness, youthful glee

Daffodil: Unrequited love, rebirth

Morning Glory: Extinguished hopes, uncertainty

Lilacs: Innocence, first love

Lily of the Valley: Return of happiness

Violet: Modesty

Zinnia: Absence, memory

Forget me not: Eternal love

Oleander: Beware

Snowdrop: Hope

Poppy: Eternal sleep, oblivion, death

[regaliasonata]

Hunter/Dustin - Day 3: Storming Pink

30 Day Writing Challenge❤️💛

Chapter 1🩷

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63815713

Of all the days...when not dealing with Blake and Tori's flirting, or evil space ninjas, Hunter didn't expect this.

-----

It was eleven in the morning, and speeding here when trying to sleep in on his free day was already ticking Hunter off.

Whatever Cameron had for him today better be important; the crimson ranger hated the absence of his duvet, so hopefully, that'll be fast.

"Here, better be worth my time." Shouted Hunter as he arrived at Ninja Ops, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets of baggy crimson jeans. He even put on one of his thunder jerseys just because.

He considered stopping by a cafe for a bite to eat after this; he might as well show off his arms, y'know flex and flirt for a free meal before going home...plus he felt stylish from all the new clothes and lifting here and there. Not to mention letting his hair grow a little longer, the people love

"Nice of you to join us." Called Cam sarcastically.

"Look, if Shane is trying that leadership meeting crap again, then count me out; you're not getting me to do that shit again," Hunter remarked quickly, hearing a sigh form around the corner.

"Watch it," Cameron warned.

"Don't start with me greenie, you're the one who woke me up this early so-" As Hunter entered the room, he was greeted by the sight of Cameron at his desk along with two women.

Both brunettes, one with more casual clothing and a relaxed expression while the other stood with purpose and a set of stern eyes gazing at Hunter critically...the latter looking like a Sarah Conner ripoff, though Hunter did have to admit there was style to the fit.

"So this is him?" Sarah Conner asked bluntly.

"Yes.".Cam admitted begrudgingly, a tone that ticked the tired crimson ranger off even more. Hunter rolled his eyes; something about their guests seemed off, though, at the same time, it sparked familiarity within the crimson ranger's head... but why though?

"You seem to lack a basic hold on your team's dynamic. I was expecting a more decent display upon arrival, but this is...ugh." The Sarah Conner-looking woman grumbled before taking out something holographic, a tablet of sorts chiming in effects and other noises as she typed.

"You sure you're in any position to be criticizing how I oversee them?" Cam bit back before waving his hand, directing Hunter to join them even closer.

"I think he's adorable; I mean, look at how he dresses." The casual one chuckled; Hunter cringed at the compliment...not that it wasn't kind or anything; he hated being labeled as anything "cute."

"Thought non-ninjas had no place here." Crimson pouted, eying the visitors carefully.

"Mouthy and informal, more to add to the list."

"Oh, lighten up, Jen, this is a moment of celebration; where's your hospitality?" Casual smiled, so Sarah Conner has a name.

"Kimberly this is serious." And so does the chirpy one...

"You wanna fill me in or are we going to be here all day..." Hunter grumbled, gaining a glare from Jen.

"Hunter, there's been a bit of a mishap." The slow tone from Cam set Hunter off, he adjusted his glasses and looked back to the ladies.

"You couldn't call Shane? He's practically here all the time; I'm sure you'd prefer his company for any of your "mishaps."" A blush stirred through Cam's face as he let out an annoyed cough, he pouted at Hunter's insinuation...and from the concerned glances sensed from Jen and Kimberly.

"Uncoordinated." Jen deadpanned.

"Reminds me of Tommy." Kimberly thought internally, she crossed her arms.

"J-Just-Okay look, Ninja Ops has been acting up lately; the sensors and power lines rely on the grid, and well, I needed some help." Cam rubbed his forehead; he got up to check some of the cords in the corner, along with a few TVs heled up on the walls for surveillance in various locations.

"You're not really elaborating here." Crimson yawned, He closed his eyes, hearing footsteps as Jen walked into his space. Typing quickly through her tablet, logging constantly, to Hunter's dismay.

"Father and I power the base through the Morphin Grid, fluctuating different energies from ranger colors corresponding with the team. We thought things were going smoothly but then-" One of the TVs flickered loudly with crimson sparks short-circuiting, an emerald-colored flash rushed over as Cam slashed the device down with his sword.

"-Turns out, we miscalculated when a surge of power decided to unveil itself." Cam sighed as if this was happening all day, Kimberly picked the device up and threw it into a huge bin in the corner with other destroyed surveillance items.

"Annnd." Hunter waited; a confused gaze befell the trash when he noticed his signature color.

"Weelll...sometimes a ranger-"

"Jesus Christ, you're terrible at this." Jen interrupted, annoyed with the sugar-coating, yanked Hunter around by the shoulder, and held up her tablet in front of his face.

"Your "crimson" might shine and blend in with red, but that thunder of yours tells a different story. I've been getting alerts all over the damn grid because somebody doesn't know how to control his true powers." Hunter cringed at all the energy waves glitching around through the charts, red and pink seemed to be overlapping and zapping every other color like crazy.

"Honestly...I thought discovering a male ranger with the same color would be surprising, but this is like babysitting a younger Eric." Wait...What? Hunter blinked with confusion as he backed up.

"23 is still a young age, Jen; he's just figuring this out. Hunter, was it? Do you like sweaters, I can make a rosé one for you!" Kimberly offered kindly, she leaned in and pulled Jen in by the shoulder.

"H-Hold on, I'm really lost-" And that's when he noticed it, the stripes along Kimberly's jacket, the rings, and the rich material-based hair ties through Jen's hair...the color...

Wait...no

No...

No, No, NO NO N-

"Congratulations Hunter Bradley, you're now classified as a pink ranger." Jen crossed her arms, staring at the "crimson" ranger with judgment in her eyes.

"Welcome to the team!" Kimberly cheered, Hunter's eyes widened in rage while gritting his teeth towards Cam.

"Surprise." Cam held his arms up in defeat; a slight smirk of enjoyment crept along his face. Staring back at the crimson glare flickering through Hunter's dark expression.

This sucks...

TO BE CONTINUED

-----

@augment-techs @lordkingsmith @eve6rangers @mahi-wayy @azurezfiction

[duplicityvn]

O B S E S S I O N :: 30 Fics in 30 Days

11387 / 30000 words. 38% done!

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This challenge is something I made based off the 30k November challenge. I plan on writing one short story per day every day of November, and since I know I'll probably blow past the 30k mark, I changed the name.

──────────────────⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆──────────────────

"Obsession" is a look into the mind of 'Griffin', how his thoughts work, and what he feels for Y/N.

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WC: 869 (shorter fic) :: CW: general yandere tendencies/thoughts

──────────────────⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆──────────────────

He could see you through the window of the café, working and chatting with that co-worker of yours. That awful, pathetic snake of a man that couldn’t stop staring at you every time you turned your back. His fists clenched in the pockets of his sweater as he continued to observe.

He was sitting on a bench across the street, his eyes trained on you through the window. There was no way you wouldn’t be his. He just had to play his cards right, get you to trust him, get you to rely on him. To not need anyone else other than him.

He glanced around the empty street again before subtly lifting his camera, zooming in on you in a way that was practiced. Clearly, he’d done this before. He’d done it almost every day since the day he first walked into the café, when he saw your bright welcoming smile and heard your voice. A melody to his ears.

He was just taking pictures for your scrapbook, that was all. Pictures that you’ll put in an album together, showing off his devotion and love to you. Your future children together will appreciate it, won’t they? Or, even if you didn’t want children, it would be something to look back on. Something to remember.

Because his love was always going to be one hell of a memory.

He felt the phone in his pocket buzz, pulling it out eagerly only to be met with a message that made him clench his jaw tightly.

Alex: Where are you? I thought you were coming today.

Of course, they would reach out to him, now of all times. Interrupting his time with you—even if you didn’t know it, this was your time together. Where he was watching over you, protecting you, mentally filing away every little touch and look that snake gave you.

He was only trying to protect you! You can’t see the evil that you work with. How could you? That snake’s manipulation rivaled his own. He was scared that your co-worker would have you wrapped around his stupid little finger in no time if you weren’t careful enough.

Christ, already he had to save you from him. Walking behind you and accidentally bumping into you. Those chance meetings? They weren’t chance, little owl.

He ignored the text and shoved the phone back into his pocket, looking up at the café again. He was wearing a hooded sweater, not his usual style, but then again… You only saw what he wanted you to see. You weren’t ready to see him yet, no.

You’d be scared if he wasn’t so charming and friendly with you. You couldn’t handle the dark miasma swirling inside of him, not yet, no. Not until you were truly his.

He’d planned so much for you together. Everything from the way you met, to the way you’ll get married in the near-future. Because he’ll have you loving him so much, you wouldn’t know what to do without him. You wouldn’t be able to stand not having him near you. Not having him by your side, protecting you, reminding you how precious and delicate you really were. What a sweet little bird you were, his Pidge.

His eyes zeroed in on the way that snake orchestrated bumping into you, accidentally burning you with black coffee. How dare he harm you, even if for a chance to take care of you. He didn’t love you, Pidge.

Of course he didn’t.

Not like he did. He would never harm you, little owl, not ever. He wouldn’t plan these stupid little moments that cause you physical harm in order just to have your attention for two fucking seconds.

His hands curled into tight fists, his fingers digging into the skin of his palms painfully. That pain was a reminder for him to keep calm, keep his cool and definitely do not storm into the café right now. That wouldn’t do.

That would give him away. You weren’t ready for him, pigeon. You weren’t ready to see just how much he loved and c h e r i s h e d you.

The snake, however, was already on thin ice. He’d know soon enough. He’d know that you belong to him. That he already claimed you long before this asshole showed up.

His phone buzzed once more and he let out a noise of frustration, pulling it out of his pocket again. As much as he wanted to ignore it, there was only one other person worthy of his attention other than you. Sorry, Pidge. He had family obligations.

Alex: Seriously?? I really needed you today, man. I’m already having a tough time.

He bit his lip, drawing blood. Now he was conflicted. On one hand, he needed to stay here and make sure the snake didn’t bite you when he wasn’t supposed to. On the other hand, he did make previous plans.

He glanced up again and located you coming from the back room, a bandage around your hand and your co-worker walking behind you with a self-satisfied smile. What a fucking prick.

He sighed when he looked at his messages again.

He’d see you again soon.

Don’t you worry about that.

[alchemiasart]

30-day writing challenges?

I know it's a little after the fact, but for the first time ever, I got all the badges for NaNoWriMo in 2023. AND, it was a complete cycle of 30 related short stories, set in a cryptid universe.

So, here's where it might get interesting.

I wrote between 2100 and 7000 words every single day for all of November, and I loved every second of it. More than that, all my test readers adored it and I'm being pressured to figure out how to publish it. Not sure if I'm going the self-publishing route or if I'm going to try to get some in magazines or whatever.

The exciting part was the 30-day challenge, I think. And I might want to do it again during every month that has 30 days, which means April, June, September, and November. Maybe I'll write more cryptid stories, maybe I'll work in one of my other universes.

My big question is (and I know this is a super-low-traffic blog right now), who wants to watch that journey? And how do you support your writer/author friends when they're doing a challenge?

[starsoverbrooklyn]

just the headline, doll: "don't look at me like that" (#1/30) starring... Late-1940s!Loverboy!Husband!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader storm ahead, sweetheart: n/a. fluff(?), domestic life(??), non-canon 'cause what train/what w.s. program(???) inked just for you: 505 a word from yours truly: my first crack at tumblr after years of yearning to post something. taking the pressure off pouring my soul into a full-fledged fic, and taking it a day at a time with a personal 30-day drabble challenge. The mind is a cage when writing for some people & I'm setting mine free for the first time since 2012. hope you enjoy! ♡⋆｡°✩ -rrinnie

“C’mon, darlin’, don’t look at me like that.” The big eyes that stare back up at him glistened with unshed tears, and he could feel his heart melting like it was carved out of ice. He whistles out for you, “Sweetheart, would you take a look at this? L’il one’s perfected the look of angels.”

You gather from the kitchen, oven mitts snug over each hand, and a casserole steaming just in front of your chest. You smile when you unpack the scene in front of you: your husband upping the shelving placement of a pair of priceless military tags, while your daughter looked on like she’d been stung by a hornet. He dusts his hands off once the task is finished, scooping your daughter into his arms before turning to you like you were a sight for the sorest of eyes. “She might’ve got my eye color, but the way she wields them is all her mother.”

His hand secures its place on the curve of your back, coiling you to him like a ribbon pulled tight. 

“James,” you scold, setting the hot meal down, but the gentle amusement in your tone only sends a twinkle to his smile. You don’t look for your own sake, his effortless charm having its way of flustering you the way it had when he’d first introduced himself. In your defense, it wasn’t as if any normal man had ever dove off the Staten Island Ferry merely for the opportunity to chat you up—but he quickly wiggled his way into becoming your normal.

“Tell me again,” he requests expectantly, rounding you to grab plates from the hutch. 

You feign ignorance as if he doesn’t throw you the same line everyday, “And what could I possibly tell you, that you don’t already know?”

“How I wound up being the luckiest son of a—“ 

The raise of an eyebrow from you is enough to redirect him. He kisses your daughter’s temple, a silent acknowledgment to her innocent ears. “Biscuit, to walk this earth.”

“Haven’t the foggiest idea,” you tease, the subtle quirk of your lips sending a palpitation to the ol’ ticker. “You suppose it’s a study worthy of Howard Stark’s time?” 

He gave you a lopsided smile, the kind that said so funny I forgot to laugh, betrayed by the enamor filling his dilated pupils. He sets the last plate. “Stark’s a no-go, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want him finding out about the love serum.”

“Oh?” You laugh at the incredulous idea. “You’re saying I’m not here on behalf of my own free will? How torturous.”

When your daughter is secured in the high chair, he’s by your side like a magnet pulled to its polar opposite. His hand raises gently to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing across your lips. God forbid his eyes ever manifest into the oceans they mirror, or you’d be drowning—but unable to breathe in the best way. “I’m sayin’ that’s the only plausible explanation as to why I’m so out of my mind about you.”

[more-better-words]

Day 21!

🤍

"The second I laid eyes on you," Trip whispered, "I knew I was gonna love you for the rest of my life. And I will. I promise."

Elizabeth looked up at him through the incubator glass, blue eyes solemn, like she understood.

[talshiargirlfriend]

Day Eighteen!

This scene burst into my head this morning so I think maybe this challenge is doing its job cracking this writer’s block 🤞 and we’re jumping back in at the deep end with a Mom!T’Pol POV

Saying no

It would be euphemistic to describe the circumstances of Elizabeth’s entrance into their lives as unusual. Appalling would be more accurate. Because of this, T’Pol and Trip considered it of utmost importance that their home be a place of safety and acceptance. They could not alter her origin, but they could ensure she had no cause to doubt that she was wanted and loved as she grew up.

T’Pol sometimes found balancing the emotional needs of her mate and child with her own need to maintain equilibrium challenging, but Trip and Elizabeth were very dear to her and worth any difficulty.

Supporting Elizabeth’s developing sense of autonomy presented its own challenges. Several weeks after Elizabeth’s second birthday, utterances of “All done!” and “Play Lana?” and “Lizbet do it!” frequently resounded, as did exclamations of the word most favoured by toddlers throughout the known universe: no.

For unknown reasons, Trip seemed to find it amusing that Elizabeth’s first friend in the Starfleet Childcare Program was Lana, an exuberant little Andorian girl. T’Pol of course found it unremarkable that a child belonging to her Trip would gravitate to the person in any room who seemed most in need of a friend.

Elizabeth’s eyes were anatomically typically Vulcan. However, as T’Pol watched her daughter explore art materials, she considered the possibility that those eyes perceived color more closely to the way humans did. Or, she reflected, perhaps Elizabeth had simply inherited her father’s aesthetic taste.

As Trip joined T’Pol and Elizabeth at the table, a vibrant smile lit his face. He was back early, maximising their time together before T’Pol had to leave for an afternoon meeting. His joy in their presence seemed to fill the room with warmth.

Until he picked up a blue crayon to join Elizabeth in her artistic endeavours.

“No!” Elizabeth said emphatically, shaking her head. A wispy strand of light brown hair pulled free of the barrette restraining it and curled against her cheek. She reached over and thrust a green crayon at her father insistently.

“All right. If it’s that important to you, Daddy’ll start with the green crayon,” Trip said amiably, shooting T’Pol an amused glance.

After a few minutes of drawing, he asked, “Lizbeth honey, do you think there’s any chance you’ll say something other than ‘no’ to Daddy today?”

Elizabeth regarded him seriously for a moment with her wide blue eyes, and then at last she tilted her head and said, “Nirsh, Daddy.”

Trip laughed, “ All right, that’s fair.” He shifted his gaze and raised his eyebrows, “T’Pol, your daughter is a bilingual smartass.”

“In spite of my best efforts, she does strongly favour her father,” T’Pol agreed.

“Ass?” repeated Elizabeth.

A look of panic crossed Trip’s face and he scrambled to recover, “Uh, ass-tro-physicist! Maybe you’ll study stars and planets someday. Like Mama. You like looking at the stars.” He carefully avoided eye contact with T’Pol.

Elizabeth frowned. “Stars,” she considered, “…no.”

Trip burst out laughing.

T’Pol inhaled deeply through her nose and allowed her own amusement to pass over her. They were both very dear to her, but they were also very taxing on her composure.

[destinytober]

2023 prompt list is here! Take a trip through Destiny history starting Oct. 1 with a daily piece of art, writing or other creative expressions. Use #destinytober or #destinytober23 to have your work shared here.

Don't have time or ability to do a full 30 Day challenge? Use this list a chose one prompt for each five-day period instead.

✅ All skill levels welcome! ✅ Digital, traditional, 3D & crafts ✅ Writing ✅ Screenshot photography

Please don't: 🚫 A/I genned art 🚫 Gameplay S/treams 🚫 Fashion (Use #Driptober)

Previous years lists. Feel free to use one of these instead or mix and match between them all!

[cinderswrites]

S A C R I F I C E :: 30 Fics in 30 Days

8560 / 30000 words. 29% done!

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

This challenge is something I made based off the 30k November challenge. I plan on writing one short story per day every day of November, and since I know I'll probably blow past the 30k mark, I changed the name.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

"Sacrifice" is a story about sisterly love, and the lengths one sister will do for the others. It's also a story about needing to recognize your boundaries.

It is also, in part, a small fanfic since it features the character Viktor from @yga-vn, an upcoming dark/horror romance visual novel by @kuruchyo.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

WC: 2,286 :: CW: I don't think there are any, but there's a demon, so lmao.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

“Ugh, Nova, you always take everything from me!”

Verity’s shrill voice carried through the corridor, ringing in the ears of the housemaids as she shouted at her older sister. Ariadne flinched and sighed softly from the sitting room just a few feet away from the main hall where her sisters were arguing. She was the middle one of the three of them, the beautiful and sought after Greywind sisters from House Greywind. A family name as old as time itself and the very definition of “old money family”.

The short woman stood up, pulling the velvet purple cloak tight around her shoulders again and setting down her book. Just one evening of quiet is all I asked for… her thoughts were bitter as she went to find her sisters.

Nova was standing with her hand on her hip, her other hand holding a bag high out of Verity’s reach. Nova’s impressive height was something she used to her advantage often. Verity’s face was flushed red in anger and she looked like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, the way she was stomping her foot and crossing her arms.

When her gray eyes spotted Ariadne’s form, she stomped over and grabbed her older sister’s wrist and tugged on it, pointing at Nova. “Ariii,” Verity whined, using her doe-like eyes to plead with the short woman. “Nova stole my new clutch.”

“I did not!” Nova said fiercely. “I just bought this one, today.”

“Since when have you ever had a lick of fashion sense?!” Verity shot back.

Ariadne wanted to smack both of them upside the head for being so loud and disruptive. They knew better. It was quiet hours in the manor, for their father suffered chronic migraines in the evening. “Both of you knock it off, now!” she snapped quietly.

Both sisters straightened up and looked at her with apologetic expressions. “Sorry,” Nova mumbled, looking down and fidgeting with the zipper on the bag.

“Yeah, me too,” Verity said, letting go of her arm and sighing.

Ariadne ushered them both to sit on the couch, herself taking a seat between them. “Verity, when was the last time you saw your purse?” she asked.

“A week ago when I went out with that Scarsbee man,” Verity said, brushing back her short pale blue hair. “I came home and went to my room and left it on my vanity table and haven’t been able to find it ever since.”

Ariadne turned to Nova then, whose long indigo waves were drawn like a curtain around her features. “Nova, do you have the receipt for the bag you bought today?”

“Of course I do,” she snorted, opening the bag and pulling out a slip of white paper. She handed it to the middle sister, who looked it over.

“Mm, yeah, Verity,” she showed the receipt to her. “The date of sale is listed as today. This bag isn’t yours.”

Verity’s gray eyes squinted at the receipt, as if trying to find hints of forgery or tampering. Then she let out a long-suffering groan and fell back against the couch. “Okay, fine! But that still doesn’t solve my issue.”

“Your issue is that you’re a lawless spoiled brat,” Nova muttered, earning herself a painful nudge in the ribs by Ariadne.

“Enough, both of you. Nova, why don’t you go find something to do? I’ll help Ver find her purse.”

“Fine by me. Oh, and when you have the time, could you call the Dorsby house and let him know I’m not attending his banquet tonight?” Nova stood, pulling her own black cloak around herself and walking away without another word.

Ariadne reached up and rubbed her temple for a few seconds before turning to her younger sister. “Come on, let’s go to your room.”

…

“I’ve looked everywhere, Ari, it’s just not here!” Verity was whining again a few minutes later as she threw herself on her bed.

Ariadne ignored the younger woman’s whining and searched the area where her vanity table sat. “If you let the maids come in here, you’d be more organized and could find things better,” she chided. “Look at this mess on the table. You’re wasting makeup by letting it spill out everywhere!”

Verity just hugged a cylindrical pillow and pouted.

The middle sister’s keen yellow eyes swept over the surface, her hands picking through the items, checking behind and underneath things. When it was clear that the bag wasn’t in the heaping pile of feminine products, she checked the drawer. She thought it was ironic how clean and spotless the empty drawer was compared to the surface of the vanity.

She stood back a moment, planting her hands on her hips and glancing around the area. Her eye caught the glint of a gold chain slung over the mirror and disappeared behind it. As she walked up to it, she thought she’d caught a glimpse of a pair of glowing purple eyes in the mirror, hiding in the shadows of Verity’s bed canopy. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards and when she blinked, the eyes were gone.

Ariadne grabbed the thick gold chain, pulling it off the mirror. Lo and behold, on the other end of it was the exact bag the woman had been looking for. With one hand remaining on her hip, she turned and gave her sister a look. “It’s been here the whole time, Ver,” she said.

Verity’s face flushed in embarrassment, her pout lingering as her gray eyes flicked away. “Guess I forgot I changed the strap…” she mumbled.

Ari sighed and rolled her eyes, slinging the bag forward and tossing it onto the bed. “Use your brain next time. You know you’re not supposed to get Nova all worked up like that,” she chastised. “Come to me if you need help.”

Verity finally sat up on the bed and held the purse in her hands, fiddling with the zipper. Despite how often her sisters were at each other’s throats, the resemblance between them was plain as day to anyone else but them. It still shocked Ariadne when Verity would display the same little quirks Nova often had.

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “I’m sorry I made a scene.”

Ariadne’s expression softened. She walked over to the young woman and reached out with slender fingers, preening her hair and brushing it to the side. Something she always did out of habit, ever since they were young. She was the middle sister, the one that had to look after her younger sister since Nova made it very clear she wasn’t going to. But Nova had always been that way, and not in a selfish sense. She just couldn’t care for other people as well as Ariadne did.

And that was fine with Ari. She loved taking care of and helping her sisters, even if it was mentally and sometimes physically exhausting, always having to be the middle woman, the messenger, the one that smoothed things over. “Don’t worry about it,” she pulled her hand away. “I need to go take care of Nova’s thing now.”

“You’re always so helpful, you know?” Verity’s fond tone carried out the door after Ariadne had left.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

“Yes… Mr. Dorsby? Good evening,” Ariadne stood at the manor’s house phone, twirling her finger around the chord. Her parents were always fond of vintage aesthetics and this rotary phone that still worked even now, in 2024, was a favorite item of theirs. “It’s Ariadne Greywind from House Greywind calling.”

“Ah, Miss Greywind. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” Mr. Dorsby was a middle-aged man with average looks and a wealth that almost rivaled theirs.

“I regret to inform you that Nova will not be attending your banquet this evening,” she said. “She’s down with an illness tonight.”

There was a heavy sigh that breathed in her ear, and she knew what was coming next. “What a shame… I was looking forward to having one of the prestigious Greywind daughters. I even bragged about it to my friends, you know. I planned a wonderful evening for her.”

Ariadne’s lower eyelid twitched, and she pursed her lips. “I do sincerely apologize, Mr. Dorsby. Perhaps-“

“Say, are you doing anything tonight?” he asked suddenly.

She slumped against the wall, “… I am not.”

“Why don’t you come in her place? You said you’re Ariadne, right? The middle daughter?”

“Yes, that’s correct, Mr. Dorsby.”

“Join me. I’ll have my driver come pick you up in, oh, say… Two hours? Is that plenty of time for you to get ready, Miss Greywind?” Dorsby’s voice sounded delighted.

Ariadne pinched the bridge of her nose, “That’s plenty of time. Thank you, Mr. Dorsby. I’ll see you in two hours’ time, then.”

“See you soon, dear.”

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

It was almost midnight by the time Ariadne was walking back up to House Greywind, her feet throbbing with pain and smelling like expensive colognes and cigar smoke. The banquet had been… alright, if not a bit stuffy. Many influential men and women were in attendance, and Ariadne herself was seated next to Mr. Dorsby the entire night. He had gotten loose-lipped and flattering with every scotch he drank as the night went on, but he was thirty years her senior.

She did her duties as best as she could, avoiding casual touches and questions with hidden implications. Not just from Mr. Dorsby, but from a whole slew of “eligible” bachelors that were in attendance. At the end of the night, when Dorsby had bid her farewell, he had expressed his appreciation for her attendance and apologized if anyone had made her uncomfortable, including himself.

Overall, it had been a good time, she thought. Not that she wanted to repeat the experience anytime soon, but she was glad she went in Nova’s place now. Nova wouldn’t have been able to stand so many people sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at a long table. At least with Ariadne there, she could continue to keep House Greywind’s reputation to high standards with her maturity and grace.

Once she was in her bedroom, she kicked off the heels that had been pinching her feet all night. She undressed completely and pulled on a pair of soft cotton pajamas. Ariadne sat at her vanity and removed the makeup she had applied earlier. Staring at herself in the mirror, with every swipe of the makeup wipe, she revealed pale patches that starkly contrasted her otherwise warm brown tone.

It’s not that she was ashamed of them, no. She only covered them up with makeup to avoid being stared at and being asked question after question of what afflicted her. It was Dorsby’s banquet, after all. Not Ariadne’s.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she told herself as she continued cleaning her face, frowning.

A little while later, she had turned out the lights and settled into her large plush bed, her yellow eyes glancing out her window. She could see a strip of night sky just barely, and she focused on that as her eyelids became heavier and heavier.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

Some few minutes after she’d fallen asleep, she was woken up abruptly by feeling a presence plop onto her side and stomach, covering her legs as well. “Ari,” a voice whispered like smoke, wrapping around her and pulling her out of sleep. “Wake up, I’m lonely.”

Ariadne groaned and reached up to rub her eyes, shifting to lay on her back. The presence on top of her practically purred and laid its head on her soft stomach area. “Viktor?” she mumbled, blinking several times.

Those glowing purple eyes gazed up at her in an almost innocent manner, before flashing a set of pearly pointed teeth. “Mornin’, starshine,” he said.

She could see his tail lazily flicking back and forth beyond the purple horns on his head. Her hand went up to stroke through his dark tresses at the top of his head, being careful to not touch his horns. The action was instinctual at this point, since she’d done it so many nights before. “You couldn’t let me sleep a little longer?” she huffed quietly.

The demon pouted a little, “I was bored.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her lips, “You’re so troublesome, you know that?”

“Mm, I could be more troublesome if it’ll make you feel better,” he teased, lifting his head off her stomach and resting his cheek against one of his fists. He watched her expressions with those striking violet eyes of his.

“Don’t you dare,” she scolded lightly, a soft laugh escaping her.

He grinned again before speaking, “So, where’d you go tonight? I tried to follow but I lost the car you were in.”

His tail whipped through the air, smacking against the bed with a thump, indicating his frustration. Viktor had gotten… quite attached to her in the months after she’d finally caught him trying to torment her like a pest. He didn’t like not knowing where she was, or when she left her house.

Ariadne tugged on a strand of his hair lightly, making him pout again. “I went to a banquet in Nova’s place,” she explained. “I didn’t get home until a little while ago.”

He wrinkled his nose in distaste, folding his hands over her stomach and resting his chin on them. His eyes looked away. “No wonder you smell funny,” he grumbled, still clearly displeased.

“I smell fine,” she protested, “I was too tired to bathe tonight.”

“Why couldn’t Nova go? Or that little brat of yours,” he huffed.

“Because Nova can’t handle large crowds, and that little brat—“ she tugged on his hair again, “—would probably embarrass us.”

“You’re always doing something to help out your sisters,” he looked at her then, his expression rather serious. “When do you ever do anything for yourself?”

Ariadne hummed softly. Her eyes traced over the similar light patches on his own skin. He had been the only one she’d ever seen like herself before. Maybe that was part of the reason she put up with his presence. After all, not many people would welcome a demon to come back every night. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a few beats.

Viktor’s tail lashed again, angrier this time. “You’re going to burn out one of these days, you know? And who’s going to help you, then?”

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. Instead, she sighed and looked away. “I’m fine…” she didn’t even sound convincing.

Her hand was still playing with his hair, and his tail came up to wrap around her wrist, pulling her hand away. He pinned it to the bed as he suddenly lifted himself up onto his hands, hovering over her now, his face just above hers. “You’re not fine,” he murmured. “I can see it in your face. You’re tired and wearing thin.”

She clenched her jaw for a moment, before relaxing and meeting his eyes once more. “I’ll… try to not be…” she trailed off again, struggling to find a suitable word.

“A pushover? A doormat?”

Her eyes narrowed before she rolled them, “Compliant.”

Viktor hummed thoughtfully in response, settling his taller frame on top of hers. His clawed hand came up to brush through her hair as he looked down at her, only inches away from her. “I can find other ways for you to fill that… need to ‘comply’, as you put it,” he teased, his other hand stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Ariadne laughed softly, her face heating up with his implication, “You’re too much sometimes.”

He placed a soft kiss on her chin, trailing them along her jawline. She let out a relaxed sigh this time, a soft hum of her own emitting from her lips. “On the contrary,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her cheek, taking in her sweet scent of jasmine and shea butter. “I like to think I’m just what you need, my little lamb.”

“Little lamb?”

“Mm. Because you can’t stop sacrificing yourself for those ungrateful sisters of yours.”

“… and here I thought you were just being cute.”

Another wicked grin from him as he lifted his head and nuzzled his nose against hers. “I’m also being that,” he added.

His tail had let her wrist go finally, and Ariadne drew her arms up, wrapping them around his neck. She pulled him closer in an embrace, hiding her face against his shoulder. “I promise I’ll try harder to be less of a pushover,” she whispered, her tone almost vulnerable.

“Sweet lamb,” he crooned softly, and suddenly he had her pulled against his side, laying on his back with her nestled into him. “I’ll take care of you since you can’t be bothered to do it yourself.”

“How do you make that sound so sweet and infuriating at the same time?” she huffed as she snuggled up to him more, almost clinging onto him at this point.

“It’s just one of my charms, darling,” he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Sleep now.”

“Mm,” she hummed, resting her head on his warm chest and letting herself be lulled to sleep by the soft touches of his hand stroking through her hair.