#One is drabble length

[xxvalkyriesxx]

It's been a little bit since I posted anything but I wanted to share some out-of-context snippets for Nessian week that starts tomorrow!

This post was inspired by @kale-theteaqueen, @wishcamper, and @unhealthyfanobsession wip posts!

Day Four - AU: 'Cause We Never Go Out Of Style

Ushers from the event advise the whole family to keep moving up the steps. Nesta and Cassian greeted other guests and reporters. They posed several photos including some with a blush brush Nesta made Cassian have in his pocket. Needless to say, if you knew, you knew.

“Nesta! Oh my gosh you’re literally beaming!” A reporter said as Cassiand Nesta reached the doors of the museum. 

“Thank you, you’re very beautiful tonight.” Nesta watched the young woman blush with a sheepish smile.

“So what can you do with a broken heart?” The reporter asked.

Day Five - Behind Close Doors: Keeping The Summer Nights Away

A small gasp echoed across the room as Nesta’s eyes filled with stars. Flipping back to the front cover she immediately started reading the novel. The premise was everything Nesta loved. A slew of tropes including enemies to lovers, a princess and a rebel leader, forced proximity, and one bed. The sheet laid on her face comfortably.

She was nearing fifteen pages in when the powder room door opened, Cassian standing in the doorway.

“I feel stupid.” He mumbled, a similar looking sheet mask on his own face. It barely fit his entire face as he settled down next to Nesta. She shifted looking up at him.

“Self-care isn’t stupid.” 

“But I look ridiculous right?” Cassian asked.

Day Six - Legends & Destiny: Death's End

NESTA! The voice screamed her name over and over again. The eldest Archeron looked up to the starless night, a single tear dripping down her face.

“From here on out you will not be allowed to use or give the Trove to anyone unless agreed upon. That is the only fair way I can protect you, Nesta. Without having my mate wanting to hurt you, or worse.” Her sister’s words rang through her mind.

If he dies, you can keep me on forever. You will never not have your mate with you.

She blinked the remaining tears away, her hand reaching through the magical weave, grabbing the Mask where she last put it, knowing full well Feyre and Rhysand would be able to feel the shift. A raging fiery sensation shot through her arm. Talons ripped at her shields right as she put the Mask on. The familiar call of power drove through her body. 

Everything went numb.

Day Seven - Free Day: Flying Changes Chapter Six

The door shut as Cassian walked through the threshold. The sound made Nesta’s shoulders tense, her heartbeat beating faster than normal. A sick familiar wave of dread anchored her belly, pinning her to the chair she sat in. Cassian crossed over to his desk speaking, but not a single word could she hear. Not as phantom memories filled her ears like water. Her eyes were casted downwards, afraid. Afraid of what she couldn’t tell. The anxiety of her rotten memories or the anxiety of the what-ifs littering her mind like landfills.

Will I ever break free from this cycle? Or is this the cycle the Mother doomed me to run in through until I’m six feet under, giving my skin and hair back to the world that created me.

Nesta.

Her name was called, but the voice was so distorted was it even real? Air suddenly felt like a right that she couldn’t have. As she breathed, the world around her began to shrink. The walls of the room pushed closer and closer to where she sat. The furintine scratched across the wooden floors. She knew because of the sound.

[starrystevie]

eddie knows his crush on steve harrington is a hopeless cause, okay?

he's somehow been friends with steve long enough to know what he looks like when he's flirting, what he looks like when he has a crush, when his sights are set on someone very non-eddie munson shaped. he also now knows how to hide his jealousy in a fake smirk that he flashes steve's way when yet another pretty girl walks their way with her sights set on him and a smirk of her own.

eddie always watches as steve reaches out a hand just so to gently brush it against a lovely lady's arm with that charming fucking smile and sees how that lovely lady will always melt at the touch. and who could blame her? certainly not eddie, the same eddie who's had his own sights set on steve harrington for what feels like a life time. if anyone knows how painfully a heart can beat when it sees him from across the room and imagines a date and a future and a life with steve, it would be eddie.

but that's where it ends. steve harrington, the ladies man that he is, always stops things there with a smile and a wave thrown in the woman's direction as she walks away. it throws eddie for a loop every time. he would watch the two flirt for minutes that that felt like torturous hours for him only for it to end with a disappointed look on her face and steve turning his attention back to eddie like nothing had happened.

it makes no sense.

"i don't get it, man," he says one day as steve lets yet another girl walk away down to the opposite end of the grocery store aisle they're in. steve's turned back to staring at the shopping list in his hand and is muttering to himself instead of watching her walk away like eddie is, disbelief coloring his face.

"don't get what?" steve asks back, not bothering to look up until the silence goes on for too long. his eyes land on eddie's and he frowns slightly, shaking his head slowly. "... did i miss something?"

eddie reels back, eyebrows furrowing together and motions his arms every which way, from the girl's retreating form to the empty space around them.

"steve, you're just going to let her walk away and not get her number? she was obviously hitting on you, dude."

he watches as steve's face crinkles slightly before smoothing out and shrugs his shoulders, turning back to grab the cat food eddie feeds to the strays off the shelf. he lurches forward and places his hands on steve's shoulders to face him, watching as his eyes go wide.

"what do you want me to say?" steve shrugs again and eddie can feel the movement under his hands. "i guess i wasn't feeling it."

eddie sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face before returning it back to steve's shoulder. "wasn't feeling it... steve, i'm gay, not blind. you two obviously were hitting it off with your fucking charming lines and flirty eyes. you always do this and it makes zero fucking sense-"

"-you're gay?"

steve says a bit too loud for eddie's liking even if they are currently hidden in the pet food aisle. heat floods his cheeks and he throws a hand cover steve's mouth while shushing him to keep him from saying it again. he sees steve's eyes go even wider and feels warmth spreading under his fingers.

is steve...

"you knew this!" eddie accuses in a whisper and tries to breathe evenly while steve's gaze travels all over his face. "we talked about it with robin that one time!"

... is he blushing?

there's a sudden pressure at his side and he looks down to see steve's fingers curling over his waist. eddie takes in a stuttering breath and brings his own wide eyes up to meet steve's. it's like looking in a fun house mirror, seeing his flush creeping up steve's neck and watching steve blink in time with him. he can feel when steve tries to say something, his lips ghosting over his palm and eddie pulls back like he's been burned, but steve's hand stays right where it is on his side.

"i absolutely would have remembered if you told me that before," he says and his voice is a little breathless. "there's no way i was there when you guys talked about it."

eddie thinks back to the party when he and robin were huddled up on their couch together. argyle and nancy were dancing in their socks on the living room floor, bouncing around to some experimental track that had been badly recorded on a cassette. jonathan was sitting at the coffee table snapping photos of them, joint hanging from his lips and easy smile spreading on his face.

eddie's trying to pinpoint where steve is in this memory and that's usually the easiest thing for him to remember, but he can't...

until suddenly he can, because steve walked in through the sliding door with his shirt over his shoulder and his swim trunks low on his hips and water dripping down his chest and a cigarette behind his ear and the sunset bleeding in through the windows was painting him golden and he was walking over to dance with nancy with a wide grin pulling at his cheeks and-

"god, i'm gay," eddie had breathed out. robin followed his line of sight and nodded because she gets it like she has a steve problem of her own and that was that.

eddie focuses back in on steve while they stand in the fucking pet food aisle, focuses on the shrill jingle pouring out of the grocery store speakers and not on the way he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, focuses on the way steve can look good even in harsh fluorescent lights.

"well, now you know," is all he can breath out.

steve smiles, all white teeth and crinkled eyes, and his fingers curl even tighter around eddie's waist as he takes a half step even further into his personal space.

"you're why," steve says back easily and eddie reminds himself to breathe as the other side of his waist suddenly has a hand covering it, too. "i don't take their numbers, i don't give them mine, i don't go on the stupid dates they ask me out on because..."

the fingers dance up his side and eddie can't breathe.

"... they're not you, so why would i?"

eddie sends up a silent thank you to whoever is listening that they're hidden away from prying eyes in the pet food aisle so he can lean it and learn for the first time what steve's smile tastes like.

[muzzlemouths]

Day 1 — "Best friend"

"Alright, I've got one. How do you make a tissue dance?"

You stifle a snort, smiling ahead of the punchline. "How?"

"You put a little boogie in it!" Sun slaps his knee with a metallic clang that echoes, shoulders bouncing with laughter that mirrors your own. "Get it?"

"Very funny," you answer. "Did you hear about the guy who stole all that soap?"

The kiddie chair groans under his weight as Sun leans closer, his laughter momentarily forgotten. Suddenly he's very, very serious. "I haven't heard a thing," his rays dance a little, shrinking inward. "Did they catch him?"

Humming, your hand digs idly into the tub of pony beads sitting between you, dragging the answer out as long as you can. A theatrically deep sigh escapes you. "I'm afraid not," you tell him. "They say he made a clean getaway."

A smirk slowly creeps onto your face as he twitches in your peripheral vision. The wall clock ticks once. Twice.

"Oh, you sneaky little—" He breaks for laughter, wheezing with an automated grind of rusty levers deep within his chassis that sounds more akin to a deflating balloon. "The set up, the punch line, the drama," his palm lands with a humored thump against the table, bouncing the beads in their tub. "That was a good one. You're going to beat me at my own game, at this rate!"

"Oh, hardly." Your hand swims through the rainbow sea of beads in search of a specific shade of blue. "I'm just repeating what I remember out of my jokes book."

Sun threads a letter bead onto the elastic cord pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "A whole book full of jokes?" His faceplate spins with excitement. "Oh, pinch me! What a thrill!"

"Yeah, it was pretty cool, I guess. The library billed me for its hospital stay, though."

"Hospital—huh?"

"Well I had it so long, I broke the spine," you curb your laughter behind a façade of seriousness, not allowing him enough time to process the first punch line before decking him with the second. "I tried getting an appointment with a good doctor, but they were all booked!"

Sun is doubled over before the last of it is even out of your mouth, having evidently picked up on where the joke was headed, already, and still it has him entirely consumed by glee. He's going to break the kid's table between you if he slams his fist into it any harder.

Having successfully located the correct shade of blue, you slide the last bead to sit beside the rest and finally tie the cord off with a knot, neat and tidy. It's nothing special as far as kandi bracelets go, but you're proud of the effort behind it, regardless. After all, you weren't prepared to do any crafting today in the first place. Sun had asked you to help him sort the new shipment of beads before you went home for the night — one thing led to another and, well, here you are.

"All finished!" Sun quells his laughter enough that he can tie off his own bracelet; a parade of pastels in every color with the letter's "BFF" at the center. It hangs on a single finger, dwarfed by his massive hand, as he offers it to you with a big, cheesy grin. "Well? What d'ya think?"

The bracelet slips over your palm and comes to a rest just below the joint like a slipper made to fit. "BFF?"

"Best friends forever!"

"I love it," you tell him, feeling warmed by the notion. "Want to see mine?"

Too impatient to wait for an answer, you hand over your second bracelet of the night — a string of midnight blue with chunky yellow stars in between — and watch as his eyes light up and his voicebox crackles with a certain gravel that isn't quite his.

"Pretty," he says. Too short of a remark to have come from Sun. He slides it along his own wrist to sit above the yellow bracelet already there.

"Well, I should get home." The miniscule chair topples backwards as you stand, hands bracing against the table. "Sorry I couldn't stay longer tonight. There's a concert opening downtown and I want to get back before the traffic gets too bad."

Sun follows your lead and awkwardly squirms his way out of the kid's chair. "You could always stay the night," he says. The giggle in his voice is the only way to know for sure that he's joking. "Let me walk you out, at least."

These moments are your favorite. When the world is quiet, and you can enjoy each other's company without worrying about what tomorrow brings. It makes every goodbye feel like it will last forever. Who would have known that a friend could ever feel so much like home.

Sun opens the door for you, but stands in its path, shifting the weight between his feet with a metallic ring of his bells and a doting expression like he has a thousand things he wishes to say to you. Ultimately, he settles for something simple, yet no less fond.

"See you in the morning."

[peaches2217]

102. "Promise me you'll come back", with Mario and Luigi if could please!

102. Promise me you’ll come back.

"You've got plenty of Mushrooms?"

"More than I know what to do with."

"And your med kit?"

"Yup."

"Now, I mean it, Mario. The second you see blood, stop and patch yourself up. You've gotta keep yourself in one piece. Two pieces max."

"Alright, Mama."

Luigi startled at the sudden tonal shift, and Mario held his eyes for a long moment, his lips set into a firm line. Then, just as quickly, his features brightened; he clasped one of Luigi’s shoulders and patted it a few times, his eyes crinkling, his lips turning upward.

This was the first time he'd smiled — really and truly smiled — in three months’ time. That was almost enough to make Luigi smile too.

If only it weren’t for the quiet voice nestled deep within his brain, whispering that he’d never see that smile again.

His opposite arm clasped Mario’s shoulder in return, and he met his brother’s smile with sincerity, somber and powerful. At least he hoped that came across in his face.

“Remember what you promised,” he implored.

“Come on, Weeg, you know I’ll be okay! They don’t call me ‘Super’ for nothing.”

“No, promise—” Luigi’s voice stuck in his throat, forcing him to whisper the rest of his plea. “Promise me you’ll come back, Mario.”

Mario’s face fell all too quickly again. He would make another wisecrack, Luigi guessed, try to lighten the mood and distract from the topic so he wouldn’t have to make promises that couldn’t be kept. And how would Luigi respond? He wasn’t sure how much more he could take before he dissolved into a blubbering mess. Already his legs trembled beneath him, forcing him to dig his fingers into his brother’s shoulder to stay upright.

He’d always kept Luigi steady on his feet, from the time their feet first touched the ground. Luigi didn’t want to know a world without his fratello— without his gemello.

Once more, Mario’s face shifted… and then he pulled Luigi against him, tightly enough that it knocked the wind from his lungs and drew a startled noise from his throat.

“Ci proverò,” Mario muttered near his brother’s ear, and suddenly he didn’t sound all too confident either. “Prometto.”

I’ll try. Luigi knew that was as good an affirmation as he would get. So he embraced Mario in return, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as his muscles would allow and digging his fingers into thick denim overalls, because once you let go, he’s as good as dead.

The intrusive thought was so sudden and so loud that he pulled away, just to make sure he could still see his twin, just to make sure his premonition hadn’t become reality, not yet. Yes, Mario was still here, looking up at him with uncertain eyes — Luigi clamped his eyes shut and cupped the back of Mario’s head and brought their foreheads together as swiftly and gently as possible, because he’d had plenty enough uncertainty, thank you.

Mario cupped the back of Luigi’s head in turn and pressed deeper into their embrace. Maybe he was thinking the same thoughts. Maybe he’d already made peace with the notion of his demise. The silence that hung between them said far more than words could hope to express.

If he couldn’t stop Mario from getting himself killed, Luigi would at least make sure he died knowing he was loved.

[ok-boomerang]

Zutara 17

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

Zuko jiggled the doorknob for just a moment before he turned to Katara, a frown on his face. "It's locked somehow."

"Huh? It locks from the outside?"

"Yeah, you know the palace. All sorts of weird security measures," said Zuko, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. He sighed. "Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…"

Katara glanced around the little room Zuko had pulled her into, the one he had said he'd been wanting to show her. It was filled with small statues, some created from earthbending, and was meant to serve as a gallery of artwork from around the world. It was quite lovely, and she particularly enjoyed the little statue of the polar bear dog, but their engagement party was going on in the adjacent hall.

"Maybe if we shouted, someone could hear us?" Katara suggested, walking toward the locked door herself.

Zuko turned back toward her, sliding in front of the door. "I don't think so, they're pretty far away—"

She attempted to edge around him to try the door herself, but Zuko took one step to the side again. "And maybe it would be best if we weren't found right away," he said, a smirk unfolding on his face as he blocked access to the door.

Understanding washed over Katara, and she slapped a hand to her forehead. "Zuko!"

He was unabashed. "What, so I want to spend some alone time with my betrothed?"

She couldn't be annoyed with him. Not really. She was getting tired of the constant meet and greets at the hours-long party, and perhaps that's why Zuko had pulled her in here all along.

"You made sure it's locked?" she breathed out. "From the inside, that is?"

"Yeah...from the inside."

"Fine," Katara sighed, smirking herself, as she reached toward him.

[rush-the-stars]

cielo i NEED ur wolfwood content specifically... ill take even a crumb ILL TAKE AN UNFINISHED SCREENSHOT EVEN !!! im so thristy...,

ask and ye shall receive…….

an unfinished screenshot for you!!!!

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: cisfem!reader Character: Silvers Rayleigh Kink: #8 Breeding Kink Prompt: #16 "Scream my name when you cum, and I'll reward you." Gift Giver: @thepokemaniac

Summary: If you want Rayleigh to screw you stupid, you have to ask for it.

Content Notes: breeding, cream pie, vaginal sex, use of "young lady", dirty talk, begging, praise.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

Your body shivered, and your arms were getting tired, but you held onto the back of your knees almost desperately. On your back with your feet in the air, both of your needy holes on display for the man before you. Your own pleasure was sliding from your slit and making your ass twitch as it dribbled down your skin.

This bastard of an old man had made you cum so many times you were nearly exhausted, dizzy with pleasure, and desperate. He hadn’t put so much as a finger below your waist or above your knees and your body seemed to ache with every climax instead of finding relief.

“Please.” You beg in defeat, pulling your own legs wide and watching a pleased grin slide across his face.

“Please, what, young lady?” He muses eyes moving from your face to your thighs. Those intent eyes on your most intimate places made your body flinch despite your efforts.

“P-please,” you feel embarrassment wash over you at the sound of your voice shivering. “Fill… fill me up.”

The low chuckle almost makes you weep. “There are quite a few ways for me to do that. You’ll need to be more specific.”

“Hnnngh, fuck!” You curse. You’re almost tempted to close your legs and storm out of the room. It won’t be as satisfying, but you can take care of yourself and be done with it. Hot, sun cracked hands are on your thighs, caressing your skin and nearly bringing you to the edge again.

Damn him and his skills.

You can’t take your eyes off him as he kisses the inside of your thigh. “You can do it.” He urges.

“I… I want your cock inside… my… puh-pussy. Please!”

“That’s my good girl.” He purrs, and then moves so fast you only know that one second he was kissing your thigh, and the next he was buried balls-deep in your cunt. You’re fluttering against him, your body catching up with the idea that it’s been filled so easily. The sloppy wet sound reaches your ears on a delay and your back arches.

He’s still as your body catches up, hands losing their grip on the back of your knees, your insides almost screaming as they accommodate this sudden intrusion. Surprise gives way to a twinge of pain, and the pain is followed by a rush of pleasure as your toes twitch and your body tenses and you nearly orgasm.

He finally moves, shifting slowly inside you. It feels like metal and not flesh, he’s so unbelievably hard inside you. His hands grip the backs of your knees as your hands slip away, and he pushes your legs back, nearly bringing your knees to your shoulders. He pushes against you, letting his body weight press you into the mattress and you’re struggling to breathe a little from the pressure.

“Focus on breathing,” he says softly as he moves in long, slow strokes. “Scream my name when you cum, in that sweet voice of yours, and I’ll reward you.”

His pace picks up a little and the sharp look he gives you nearly makes you cum then and there. “Every time you cum, young lady.” He commands, and you nod desperately, trying to conserve your oxygen.

Every time you came, you’d cry out his name into the air. Every time you cried his name you’d feel him fill you up with his cum. He’d slow, for just a few moments, pressing heavy into you, before picking up his pace again. Hips smacking into yours, rough, pube-covered abs teasing your throbbing clit with every thrust.

Soft praises and tender fingers would wipe the tears at the edges of your eyes as the pleasure melted your brain and the sensation nearly overwhelmed you.

By the fourth time, you were exhausted, shivering, unable to barely whimper let alone cry his name out sweetly. The frothy mess between your thighs had dripped into the bed, mingling with the sweat and musk of your bodies.

“You did so well.” Rayleigh praises, bringing your legs down slowly and brushing sweat-heavy hair from your face tenderly. He hands you a pillow before helping you to lay on your stomach, hands pressing into your back and massage your trembling body. After a moment his hands wander further down.

“I need to reward you properly.” He whispers in your ear, fingers pushing into your tender pussy for a moment before the wet digits push against the tight ring of your ass. “Shall I fill you up here now, young lady?”

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

[magnusmodig]

@clxscdeyes / following (x.)

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐄'𝐒 shores was to remain each day suffocating in the wake of his own absence within the nine realms. his dreams , if they could ever be called that , recalled their sunken faces covered in dirt , blood , grime and ash. then recalled still how hands had clung to his cape , soiling the the fabric as he'd tolled the names of the dead , the lost , and those who had survived. perhaps another all-father might rave , beside himself at the audacity of commoner's dirtied hands and rivers of tears. but all thor had seen then was the grief of his people. cold and dark and heavy. he felt in himself the weight of every loss as though it were his own. ( if he was asgard's molten gold , his cape the same red of asgard's once-proud banners , then thor felt that the dust and dirt to stain his royal hem was fitting . asgard the people wept for their legion dead. it was thor's burden to bear the striking lash of each name he added to it. )

each day was counted in mortal months , weeks , days and hours. and for each sorry , sordid day spent far away from his people thor could only rue the moment they had looked up and found in him their golden child.

he couldn't escape this planet. even as it fell ill all around him he could do nothing to sway the tide of the "nightmare moss'" infestation. still , thor would not rest contented with that. the aevum realm was hardly one of his own , but he had alighted upon it all the same. and so he would toil against the tides of reckoning that consumed the isle beneath the light of the blue moon.

his work had led him first to the archives with his brother. then deep into the decrepit ruins with his flame-haired friend. but thor would not rest with such little known and such little done , and carved out in himself the WILL to continue as exhaustion foxed the edges of his mind. ( he felt them. his people . like shadows lingering just outside his vision . like hands clawing and clinging to his boots / pants / cape — ) he turned a corner on his return to the guild headquarters. behind the trunk of one tree and slumped against the next , the mangled corpse of an asgardian child , befelled by surtur's infernal flames , eyes accusatory and wide open and mouth agape with the whisper of asgard's scorn upon her lips – leering at him. the mighty thor faltered. blinked.

there was no asgardian girl. there was— another.

❝  — ᛒᚬᚴᚴᛁᚱ . ❞ ( damn . ) one foot fell before the other. in a rush of movement he had snapped mossy tendrils from his boot and crouched at her side in an instant. ❝  child, ❞ he called. then , placed a hand upon her shoulder. ( shook it as lightly as he could - aware of a primordial strength within his fingertips that could move mountains . ) ❝  luna. this is no place to rest. not at this time , young one. ❞

[password-door-lock]

“Surprise!” 

Unknown nearly jumps out of his skin. What are you doing yelling like that? Hasn’t he told you a hundred times by now to stay quiet while he’s working? But when he turns around to tell you as much, he stops in his tracks. “What do you think you’re doing?” becomes a much more pressing question. 

You’re walking at an awkward angle, propping the door open with one leg while you hop on the other and drag some long rectangle through the doorway with both hands. “I got you a present!” You announce. “Happy early birthday! Or… late birthday? I don’t know, man, you seem like a Gemini, so I’m gonna guess it’s close enough to your birthday that it’s not weird for me to give you a gift.”

Unknown is too busy being bothered by the fact that you’re bringing some unauthorized thing into the intelligence room to be bothered by the fact that you’re trying to guess when his birthday is. You’re not necessarily wrong, either… but he’ll worry about that later. Right now, he has to worry about whatever “gift” it is that you’re trying to give him. You’ve managed to get it inside, and you kick the door shut before tucking the rectangle under your arm and bringing it over to his desk. “What is it?”

You grin at him, flipping the item around so he’s confronted with his own reflection. “A full-length mirror! Tada!” You look proud of yourself.

“Why would you get me something like that?” Unknown demands, “And who said you were allowed to order things?” Truth be told, he has no idea how you even managed to procure such a thing. It’s not as if he lets you roam around Magenta unsupervised, and you certainly don’t have any way to access the internet without him looming over your shoulder. He does occasionally write shopping lists for you to give to the believer in charge of weekly grocery runs, but C3170 would know better than to just take your word for it if you asked for something that wasn’t on the list.

Your lips form an amusing o-shape before you respond. “Yeah, about that. I sort of… forged your handwriting? Okay, no need to reach for any weapons.” You hold up your hands, showing your palms, as if you think you can anticipate his next course of action. “I didn’t expect it to work either. I honestly thought the grocery guy would be like, ‘that’s not his writing’ and send me packing. But I figured, hey, it’s worth a shot! So I spent like, an hour copying the font from the real grocery list to make a fake one, and I brought it to the guy like normal, and he was like, ‘yeah, okay, this checks out; this seems like your boss wrote it; don’t worry, I won’t keep him waiting; for eternal paradise,’ so, here we are with a brand-new mirror!” 

“You forged my handwriting,” Unknown grumbles, “And then you manipulated a believer into spending the Savior’s money on… this.” 

“Yes.” You confirm, “When you put it like that it sounds a lot worse than it is, though. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to, like, get things around here?” 

“I made it that way on purpose.” Unknown rubs his temples, and his reflection in the mirror does the same. Who would have thought that having an assistant would be this much trouble? “Did you at least put the shit I actually needed on your made-up list?” If you didn’t, you’ll be spending the rest of the day sitting in the corner, staring at the wall, and thinking about your bad decisions. Unknown has half a mind to send you over there anyway, considering you had the nerve to forge his handwriting. Why would you risk so much on something so utterly stupid? 

“Of course,” you grin, “I know you can’t get along without your caffeine pills and candy bars. Anyway, please enjoy your full-length mirror.” 

Unknown scowls at his reflection, which scowls right back at him. As if he needs a mirror to tell him how annoyed he is. It was a mistake to leave you unsupervised, and one he won’t ever make again. “Why did you waste money on this? There’s already a mirror in the bathroom.” He should know. He uses it to check his eyeliner, his hair, and (though he’d never breathe a word about it to anyone) the careful placement of his jacket. 

“Man, please don’t take this the wrong way,” you cringe, “Because the top half of your look is great, and it’s really hard to do black skinny jeans wrong, so all things considered, the bottom half is also… mostly great. Um, however… the thing is… it’s just…” 

“Spit it out.” All this talking, and now you can’t even tell him whatever it is you wanted to say? Why bother digging yourself into this hole in the first place if you won’t do anything interesting now that you’re down there?

“I just thought you might benefit from being able to see your whole, entire outfit at one time.” You allow him a long pause to study himself in the mirror. What’s wrong with his outfit? “Shoes included,” you add eventually. 

Unknown glances down at his shoes. They look fine. They’re just shoes, and they serve their purpose well enough— he’s kicked out windows with them and never gotten a single splinter. They fit him, so he never gets blisters, and his feet don’t get cold from the unforgiving floors of the intelligence room. Isn’t that what shoes are supposed to be for? Then he redirects his attention to the mirror and… wow, his shoes really stand out. Now that you’ve pointed out that there’s something wrong with them, they’re all he can focus on. “It doesn’t match,” he realizes. And the untied laces don’t look as cool as he thought they did, but he won’t give you the satisfaction of hearing him admit it.

“No, it doesn’t match!” You sound much too enthusiastic about this conclusion, “It has never matched. They look great on their own, but just… with the outfit…” 

“Why didn’t you say something about this sooner?” Unknown demands. He can’t believe that this is even a conversation he has to have with you. He doesn’t like that you’ve been plotting in secret, lying to believers, and even impersonating him by way of forgery just to make a point about his boots. What an inconsequential little hill to die on. “How long have you been laughing at my shoes behind my back?” 

You’re bold enough to giggle at his words. “To be honest? Months? But I didn’t want to upset you, and for a while I thought it was, like, intentional, or maybe you didn’t have access to other shoes, and I didn’t want to be rude. But then you told me you were gonna tie a rope to something on the roof and climb down to break into an apartment and I was like, ‘okay, well, then he definitely knows how to tie his shoes, so why is he leaving them like that?’ And, you know, now that I’ve been seeing more of this place… I’ve been here a long time, and I’ve never seen one full-length mirror anywhere. Until today.” You place your hand over your heart in a pantomime of solemnity. 

“Mhm,” Unknown hums. He’s going to have to do something about your behavior before this treachery of yours becomes a regular thing. “You won’t get to see any more of this place after today.” 

“I’m grounded?” You demand. You seem to understand what he’s telling you, at least. “That is not fair! I helped you!” You’re starting to whine at him, like you couldn’t have possibly seen this coming when you were copying his handwriting and tricking a believer into buying some useless thing that’s only going to get thrown away. 

“I don’t care what my shoes look like.” It’s the truth. Unknown could not give less of a shit about his footwear outside of its practical purpose-- but you seem to care quite a bit, and he enjoys the knowledge that he can get under your skin like this. “You can stay in the intelligence room with me from now on. The believers can bring us food, since I can’t let you out of my sight again if I know you’re going to be off causing trouble every time I take my eyes off you.” 

“I’ve only caused trouble one time,” you protest, “And it was for a good cause.” 

“Set that thing down,” is Unknown’s only response. He doesn’t have time to try to reason with you, and since you’re his assistant, you should just be listening on your own, anyway. 

“Set that thing down,” you mock him, but comply with his instructions before he can even shoot you a warning look. You gently set the mirror on the floor, and as soon as it’s out of your hands, Unknown scoops you up, pulling you onto his lap. 

“Now, stay here. Don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong again or you’ll regret it, little assistant.” 

“All this coming from a guy with untied, mismatched shoes,” you grumble. 

Unknown ruffles your hair. What exactly is he going to do with you? 

[letgraysonsheart]

im gonna be crazy and try to write drabbles for every song on my spotify wrapped

[twcwheeler]

Freed from a golden cage - drabble

" Aaah!" With a crash, Arcee landed over her pede, grasping it. Others turned towards the noise.

Past them all, the director made his way towards her with haste.

" What is going on? Arcee... what happened?"

Quickly, Arcee got up, briefly supporting the left pede with both of her hands. Grunting, as putting weight solely on the left felt like she could loose balance anytime. Different position, and optics shut in response of pain.

She could hear some whispering in the room. While some were clearly showing empathy, she knew on the other side of the coin - many saw an opportunity. Hadn't she herself, fought so hard to get where she was today. And now, her opportunity was slipping away into servos of other dancers. Arcee knew, they were both friends, but also, all aiming for certain roles and visibility.

She couldn't give up now. Not now... she could fake it. Somehow.

" I just... ah, It's nothing... just a tricky bolt. Just little bit of rest and self-maintenance and I will do just fine... " Carefully, she let go of the pede. Looking down at it as she huffed and tried again.

But the director's expression showed no confidence, as if he wasn't convinced, at all. He listened her explanation without a word. Gave her time to gather herself. Then, watched her once more try to balance, only to collapse down on both of her pedes again. Slightly, he shook his head.

Arcee was adamant, if not stubborn to try to get up again. Despite obvious pain flashing over her face plates. Gently, the director placed hand over her shoulder, guiding her back down as he knelt beside her.

" Tricky bolt? Arcee. I have seen enough. What comes to your pede... You, nor I shall have an opinion on that. I suggest you are free of duty, until you have it resolved."

Shocked, the respond was quick. " Wait. No. Please... Give me a chance to rest it for tomorrow... then try again. I worked so hard for this role. I passed all the quality checks!"

" And you can barely walk or balance after that fall... Look. It happens! And that kindle, that strong will to go on despite pain and injury. Admirable, what we look for... when it is only case of a tricky bolt." Helm shook, as he let down a deep breath. He knew too well how hard working and passionate she was about her duty. How they all, aspired to be the next star. Seen and loved by the audience. But he also knew, how quickly one would fall when reaching the greatest hEights, and never climb again. " However. Understand. Letting you on the stage would bring disgrace to you. I cannot let that happen. Our patreons and guests expect to see talent and art. To think you wouldn't show your best..." He got up and straightened his back, optics still directed downwards at the defeated femme. Offering his hand to help her up. Silent, she carefully got up with his help, back to balance with her both pedes. " You cannot risk it to get worse... What is a dancer without functioning pede? Within these walls... Nothing. "He began to walk towards the remaining cast. Few steps later, he glanced over his shoulder. "There is no point to push a broken frame. As I said. you are dismissed until you get it professionally fixed. Once you are ready to return, I expect documentation from a proper medical professional. Take your time, and worry not. We will find you a replacement till the end of this run and recast you once you are better. All clear?"

She frowned, then nodded reluctantly. "Clear..." She couldn't believe after receiving a notable role, she would bring this upon herself. She wasn't angry to the director, nor anyone coming to her place. It wasn't anything pre-planned. Rather, her luck. Her own mistake that cost her now a role.

Stupid pede. She cursed, picking her belongings as she carefully walked with careful steps. What is a dancer without a pede... and what if it wasn't a little thing? Thoughts cross her mind as she makes her way out. Standing on top of the grand stairs of a building that invited even the high-class. Great sight at the city, at the busiest hour.

Iacon. So vast and large. Busy with all kinds of function. And among them, she is dismissed, waiting for judgement and time. What is she even supposed to do, should it take longer than one adjustment?

Well, time to make searches and find a medic and get it dealt with. The quicker the better... the more experienced with frames... the better. The least she wants is some crowded hospital with who knows what kind of doctors at hand.

With search open, the small femme walks among larger frames - subconsciously dodging and moving through narrow openings surprisingly well, even though she couldn't glide or transform. She stops by a stop, ready to pick a train.

Somewhere peaceful. She just has to digest these news, somehow. Maybe, a park and fresh air...

[faynthearted]

in a bit of a writing slump! send a prompt (either one sentence long or a dialogue one-liner) and I’ll write a drabble <3

[iobartach]

He always hated the cold, loathed the way it seeped through every layer of clothing, bypassing any barrier that he attempted to put. It wasn't just a passing chill; it was penetrating, in a bone-deep sort of way, that gnawed at a frail belief he clung desperately to. It declared that he was fine, fit and healthy by measures that purposefully excluded a large swathe of determining factors, such as the glaring truth of what he had become. But the lie peddled was quickly bought, digested and believed, so that he didn't have to confront the truth; that the cold was punishing him in ways that a regular human couldn't conceive of, let alone comprehend.

Caught out in below-zero temperatures, the frost clung to him, refusing to let up. It gnawed at him more severely than it would anyone else caught in below-zero temperatures. Strangers could thaw themselves by a fire in minutes, reclaiming a sense of warmth and relief. But not him. For every second he sought comfort, the ache refused to relent, as though the cold had conspired with the other miseries that already riddled his body, multiplying his ailments instead of alleviating them.

But not him. In seeking the same comforting glow, the clawing aches that riddled his joints persisted, the cold finding a co-conspirator, that nefariously added to his list of physical ailments, rather than detract from them.

And it only got worse from there.

Gooseflesh pricked across his arms and neck, raising fine hairs that prickled constantly, agitating his perceptions of his surroundings. His clawed fingers too ached in a similar fashion, each digit requiring more focus than needed to move. His height, too, devolved into a disadvantage, that left him fully exposed to the brunt of every polar gust faced, the icy breeze carving through him like knives, relentless and unyielding. His muscles, always taut with a readiness that bordered on instinctual, also began to ache under the strain of simply keeping warm, one more complaint to add to a symphony of unspoken troubles.

Changing positions elicited fresh soreness, but he did so anyway, to flex and test the sharpness of his numbed talons against the cold steel of a nearby railing. Metal that was still faintly covered in a layer of early morning frost as he easily pierced and sliced off a section of the railing with a single swipe, a fast motion that shook off the sluggish that the near arctic temperatures imposed upon him.

And right there, for a brief, crucial moment, he carved out a crucial victory, shaking off the effects of the persisting frost that seemed less like an external force now, and more like a reminder. A constant, corrosive whisper of what he was; something both more than human and less. A contradiction, tied together by sinew and mutation, left to grapple with complexities he had never conceived of, in all of his time spent working in a laboratory, in the past.

But for now, he could rend steel like paper, he could move, he could endure. And if that was all that he could manage for now, then it would simply have to be enough.

[excelsiorfics]

I Hold You Here, Root and All...

Date: 4 Nov 2022 Author: LongestArms Rating: General Word Count/Status: 100, completed Dynamic: Wanda Maximoff/Janet Van Dyne Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Edwin Jarvis Tags: Drabble, Pining

Summary: Wanda finds unexpected disappointment on her return home.

Set after Avengers (1963) #76

[evilhasnever]

Hi! If you still want to do prompts, is there anything meryao or ghostyao that you are inspired by lately? From your fic universes or new, I think everything you write is really neat!

Thank you anon! <3

visitor

A visitor is often seen walking up the mountain and towards the deepest forest of the Cloud Recesses, towards a hidden home nobody should know of. 

He wears rags and gold, and walks unhindered by even the strongest barriers. He stops for nothing, talks to no-one. When he crosses the gentian meadow he does not bend the flowers, and when snow covers the mountain he does not leave footprints into the soil.

Simple exorcisms do not get rid of it, and the Sect Leader has forbidden further attempts. 

The disciples wonder if it will ever reach the one he is seeking and finally go away. They started following it when they spot it drifting across the forest, each of them hoping to be the one to witness the day it does. What a story it would be!

But every time, when the ghost puts its hand on the door of the little cottage, he vanishes without a trace. 

[liroyalty]

The silence is long & draw, as a pair of onyx eyes stared out onto open lands Jailiam before the cliffsides. Wide open spaces for as long as one could see, tents filled with shoulders that celebrate the day's victory away before open fires & shared drinks. The joys of men & women for fought hard, their returns were to play hard, as much as they wanted, & their lords provided.

It was still but a sampling of what it was Sue wanted to make. A place where those worked the hardest got the spoils they deserved, where those with power treated those below them as their own, & worked their labors to keep them well. And for once she had a alley with her.

Of charcoal black hair, a man beside her watched the same screen, coffee brown eyes absorbed the sights of his men mingling with that of the Lareryth Queen's beside him. Ears graced with the distant signs of life & joy. This... were the delights of a conquer. To wage war, fight a great battle, gain victory & celebrate it with drink, feast & a warm body. Pleasures Arthur Rogue had come to know overly well, the beautiful Suzanne being no small part in such.

How graced he is, to just simple be able to live this dream as he wished in full, but to do so with such a gorgeous & power queen in his services as well. Yet, there's a hollow he sees in her eyes, finally turning them towards her from the screens of their camp.

"Troubled?" Rogue questioned finally.

Eyebrow raises at the question, but she doesn't turn to face him. "Troubled? After a victory? You're joking."

The warlord chuckles at her. Of course, she would word things like that.

"I am merely thinking."

"You are always thinking, my dear." His responses sounds sassy, but he speaks it as if it was fact. He knows the queen a little too well. "I am a man of many talents, but mind reading is yet one I do not have." It is Arthur's way of saying that he wants to know just what it is she's thinking of.

"..." The pause & silence of her is only broken by the sounds of the celebration below. "... I thought... a long time ago, I would have been happy, simply taking Lareryth from Seth." She begins, sighing at the memory of her dead ex-husband, she did tell Arthur of truth of that instance, & they swore to each other they would never speak of her killing the ex-ruler of the Lareryth Empire. He has gained her trust in such a high regard over the years of fighting together. "I knew he would be unfit to be a king, & I thought gaining the largest empire in the world under my wings would sate me."

"And yet, here you are." The warlord scooted closer to her, a tiny smirk peeling at the edge of his mouth. "Still hungering & fighting for more, you ambition is powerful, my dear."

"Perhaps I am simply greedy." She restores with a low snort.

"To have ambition is to be greedy, my dear." Arthur responses quickly. A single hand of his moving slowly, finding it's way under her chin, where but a thumb & finger would lift & turn it to have Sue face him. "Ambition is to want, to need, to have a desire so great the bound of normal means can not contain it. Something that makes the world bend & change & only those with the courage & strength to chase their ambitions will see it done."

"And I have boundless strength for a boundless ambition." Suzanne thought when she was young she'd be happy with just the empire, but she wants more. Not just for herself, but to take ill & ailing people under her wing, so she can see them thrive. No one may live in a worse situation then she ever has. No one will have to know pain & blame as she.

Her response only made the man smirk fully spread across his face. A daughter of the great king, the man who won the old war, was not like any other mere woman. "So, what is your grand desire? How much of this world do you want?"

"I want an empire... that is the likes no one on this world has seen before. And to have that... I will want, need, more then what Jailiam will give me, Arthur."

Finger flex just a bit, gripping her chin just a tad tighter, & the warlord bites his bottom lip, hearing just how sure she knows what she wants now. If this lovely queen wanted to wage world to claim the world, Arthur would do so with an eagerness. To make a Queen in an Empress, & with he as Emperor beside her. Only he can be such a fitting partner for such a wild & ambitious beauty.

"As you wish."