#random drabble from the

[bakawitch]

Grimm Court: Too Easy

"Hmm." Lady Akeru frowned as she knelt down to asses the odd slash marks left behind on the concrete of the unkept rooftop.

She cautiously ran a finger across the bold indents, trying to gauge what tool could have possibly left it behind. The edges were shockingly smooth and there was very little rubble surrounding the blemishes. It definitely couldn't have been Lüderc, since her lantern was more suited for bludgeoning. Akeru could recall a faint memory of seeing marks hauntingly similar to these before, but she couldn't place exactly where.

"Is something wrong?" Sphinx Noir chimed in after observing his partner in pensive silence for awhile.

Sighing as her train of thought got interrupted, Lady Akeru pushed herself up, her fist unconsciously tightening around the disappointingly small Lucky Charm.

"I'm... not quite sure myself," she admitted, crossing her arms in thought. "Don't you think this felt off? Wasn't this too easy? Hawkmoth is never this easy. His plots are always senselessly convoluted." She muttered, listing of her concerns as she approached Sphinx Noir.

Akeru just knew that this couldn't be it. Something wasn't right. She could feel a sense of unsatisfaction, for lack-thereof a better word.

"I feel you there." Sphinx sympathetically nodded, sensing that Akeru had more to say.

"Right?" She pondered, squinting her eyes at the feeble black spotted glassy item between her fingers. "Usually the Lucky Charm would have summoned a blade, or some other weapon, but I only received a marble this time and I didn't even get the chance to use it."

Sphinx Noir's lips pulled into a slight smile at the sound of that. He couldn't hold it against Lady Akeru for being frustrated with an inadequate mission, his partner always had a particular thought process and her gut feeling tended to be right about things like this.

"You don't think we're finished yet." He concluded.

"I don't." Lady Aketsu reaffirmed, taking the small ball back into the safety of her gloved fist.

Sphinx let out a small huff of air as he took his staff back out of its holster, the reassuring smile never leaving his face.

"Well we still have some time left, and the akuma didn't do any serious damage this time. We can keep patrolling for a little longer if you want. The Cure can wait."

"Thank you, Sphinx." Lady Akeru mumbled, finally lifting her distracted gaze to meet his, a grateful glint in her red tinted eyes.

"No need. I wholeheartedly trust your judgement, Akeru." He guaranteed with a respectful bow of his head.

Assured, Lady Akeru returned the encouraging gesture with a solemn nod, winding up her yo-yo for their imminent departure into the night.

[zephyrchama]

A truly furious Lord Diavolo. It's not something you've ever seen, and it's not something he ever wants to show you.

Just being in the vicinity makes your skin crawl, your ears ring, your throat begins to constrict and it gets hard to breathe. Every cell in your body tells you to run but is too paralyzed to budge.

When he takes an angry step forward, when foot strikes the ground, he causes an earthquake. The floor shatters, the land shakes. Some may get swallowed up. Everyone is brought to their knees before him.

He remains level headed. Even in the throes of rage, Diavolo will remain logical. Even when those around him can't think, when his vast presence overwhelms his surroundings and causes their nervous system to shut down. All that those around him feel is fear, so strongly, as if it's the only feeling they have ever known and will ever know. The dark sky grows darker, a pitch black void of nothing.

Diavolo stands tall. You never really noticed how sharp his fangs are, his nails, his wings, the scathing look in his eye when he is immensely displeased. With his emotions in check, this is still but a fraction of the royal family's power.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

this is loosely based off of @emmyrosee 's messing with sukuna post bc i just love the idea of messing with your whiny baby dramatic boyfriend and i immediately thought about katsuki ! if you want this taken down lmk !

katsuki is hilarious to mess with.

you've only been staring at him for about 5 seconds when he turns to you.

"whaddya want ?" he asks with a raised brow. you're still all smiles, resting your head into your palm

"nothing." you hum, he grumbles a bit but doesn't pay it any mind. until you keep staring. he's trying to focus on his phone but you can tell he's about to snap when he starts squinting at the device.

"what ?" he grumbles, red eyes narrow at your smile widening.

"nothing !"

"yn. don't fuck with me."

"i'm not !" you giggle " i'm just looking at you, am i not allowed to ?"

you know exactly what to say to fluster him without fail every time, it's something you're most proud of when you see the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink.

"..no."

you snort "no ?"

"shaddup." he says through gritted teeth "so what, you're just lookin' at me ?"

"yeah." you shrug "i like lookin' at my pretty boyfriend." you prop your head against the couch and sigh dreamingly to sell the lovesick act. katsuki inhales through his nose, chest puffing like he's upset and he tsks, ears and cheeks beet red.

"weirdo." he scoffs, then grabs the back of your head to pull you in and press his lips to yours roughly.

you're both breathing heavy when you pull away. he looks at you, mouth slightly agape as he heaves lightly, eyeing you from your eyes to your lips. and then he huffs through his nose like a bull and roughly pulls you into in chest, causing you to release an 'oomph !' at the force when he flops down onto the couch, pulling you with him.

"m'not pretty." he mocks your voice and you huff a laugh into his collarbone. you wiggle around and your boyfriend loosens his hold a bit so you can look up at him.

"you so are !" you argue, he won't look at you but narrows his eyes at the tv he'd turned to to distract himself from your gaze.

"nah, that's you, babe." he switches through the channels "thought you said i was handsome last week."

"you can be pretty and handsome at the same time, the proof is right in front of me." you flirt, he looks at your from the corner of his eye and his mouth curls up like he smelled something nasty when you wink at him.

"gross."

"you're blushing~" you sing, closing your eyes and laying your head onto his chest, you sigh happily when he starts rubbing up and down your back instinctively.

"go to sleep. m'tired of listening to you." he pushes your head down into his chest jokingly and you giggle. you can't see the smirk growing on his face from where your being shoved into.

you wrestle out of his hold to look at him to see he's already staring at you, half smirk on his face and he scoffs at your expression, you huff through your nose and your smile widens.

"you love me." you whisper knowingly, katsuki takes the hand off of your back to pinch at your side and he snorts when you squeal.

"unfortunately."

you yelp when he wets his lips and he captures yours in a sloppy wet kiss.

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ a hundred assorted prompts

¹⁾ raspberry lip gloss

²⁾ pajama bottoms

³⁾ a silver lighter

⁴⁾ fresh honey

⁵⁾ flushed cheeks

⁶⁾ a fogged-up mirror

⁷⁾ the imprint of a belt buckle on skin

⁸⁾ helium balloons

⁹⁾ a broken cocktail glass

¹⁰⁾ old playing cards

¹¹⁾ chipped green nail polish

¹²⁾ a brown leather wallet

¹³⁾ bullet holes in a wooden wall

¹⁴⁾ seashells lined up along the curve of a spine

¹⁵⁾ beaded curtains

¹⁶⁾ pomegranate seeds

¹⁷⁾ a carabiner heavy with keys

¹⁸⁾ fresh-cut orchids in a pottery vase

¹⁹⁾ vending machine cigarettes

²⁰⁾ an out of date map

²¹⁾ a creaky wooden gate

²²⁾ a minifridge stocked with budweiser and paracetamol

²³⁾ snapdragons growing between pavement slabs

²⁴⁾ smudged yellow eyeshadow

²⁵⁾ slept-in braids

²⁶⁾ library books that’ll never be returned

²⁷⁾ a pink-tiled shower

²⁸⁾ a honeybee on a linen shirtsleeve

²⁹⁾ burnt popcorn

³⁰⁾ watching an eclipse from bed

³¹⁾ a black lace bralette

³²⁾ a tattered patchwork quilt

³³⁾ blue raspberry bubblegum

³⁴⁾ a rusted fishing rod and a dried-up lake

³⁶⁾ the taste of whiskey on someone else’s lips

³⁷⁾ rose-scented candles burned down to the wick

³⁸⁾ crescent-shaped coffee stains on a wooden tabletop 

³⁹⁾ odd socks 

⁴⁰⁾ a loose thread on a jumper sleeve

⁴¹⁾ warm sheets on cold skin

⁴²⁾ amber-tinged perfume

⁴³⁾ gold jewelry 

⁴⁴⁾  a calloused palm against a soft cheek 

⁴⁵⁾ a busted headlight

⁴⁶⁾ sunrise from a jail cell

⁴⁷⁾ hand tattoos that weave around fingers

⁴⁸⁾ coconut shampoo

⁴⁹⁾ a doorbell sounding in the middle of the night

⁵⁰⁾ ladybugs crawling across a headstone

⁵¹⁾ grass stains on blue jeans

⁵²⁾ a loaded saddlebag

⁵³⁾ a dusty wine cellar

⁵⁴⁾ a bikini top draped over a bedpost

⁵⁵⁾ snow in july

⁵⁶⁾ dirt-red mountaintops

⁵⁷⁾ goosebumps in a heatwave

⁵⁸⁾ an empty dinnertable

⁵⁹⁾ a fresh manicure and bruised knuckles

⁶⁰⁾ zombie movies

⁶¹⁾ bitten lips

⁶²⁾ dark eyes full of tears

⁶³⁾ a soft cast in summertime

⁶⁴⁾ stale coffee in paper cups

⁶⁵⁾ frozen peaches on a black eye

⁶⁶⁾ acrid smoke

⁶⁷⁾ bound hands

⁶⁸⁾ animal tracks

⁶⁹⁾ unwound vhs tapes

⁷⁰⁾ cartoon plasters

⁷¹⁾ lipstick marks on shirt collars

⁷²⁾ silver bangles

⁷³⁾ sharing a coat in a downpour

⁷⁴⁾ fields with grass at waist-height

⁷⁵⁾ daisy chains up to your forearm

⁷⁶⁾ rolled-up shirtsleeves

⁷⁷⁾ the smell of bleach in a dark room

⁷⁸⁾ a shared sleeping bag

⁷⁹⁾ a new haircut

⁸⁰⁾ swimsuit tanlines

⁸¹⁾ perfume clinging to a pillow

⁸²⁾ lollipops dangling between lips

⁸³⁾ a badly-timed grin

⁸⁴⁾ old books

⁸⁵⁾ tongues stained from slushies

⁸⁶⁾ waking up in a hailstorm

⁸⁷⁾ dying sunflowers

⁸⁸⁾ colourful sunglasses

⁸⁹⁾ the last pew

⁹⁰⁾ tall, rattling windows in a storm

⁹¹⁾ six missed calls

⁹²⁾ sticks of incense burned down to the last

⁹³⁾ bunk beds

⁹⁴⁾ matching sets

⁹⁵⁾ ruined mascara

⁹⁶⁾ a boxing ring

⁹⁷⁾ stained glass windows

⁹⁸⁾ fairy forts

⁹⁹⁾ a cluttered bedside table

¹⁰⁰⁾ a hangover in the evening

[random-twst-things]

*Leona's room*

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: Hey! It's time to wake up! The suns been up for the last hour!

Leona, waking up groggy and groaning: What do you want me to do? Photosynthesize? 😑

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: I'm surprised you even know what that word means.

Leona: and I'm surprised you don't know what the words "Don't bother me" mean.

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: Says the super senior.

Leona: 😐

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: are you awake now??

Leona: No, part of this feels like a dream and I'm hoping it ends in you leaving.

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: AWWWWW you'd dream of me? 🤭

Leona: Don't flatter yourself herbivore, now get out.

Dividers from @/cafekitsune

[kevinsdsy]

“no matter what i do it won’t go away.” kevin kept scrubbing the stain on his shirt. he couldn’t even remember who dropped the drink over him, he just remembered he had excused himself from the table and jean had followed close behind him.

jean had followed close behind him. it almost felt like they were back in the nest— back to when when the two of them would secretly look out for each other, even when they were not supposed to.

of course it wasn’t the case anymore.

kevin had left the nest after his broken hand and even jean had managed to get out to be part of the USC trojans’ lineup.

they were just together at the banquet for one night.

jean leaned against the wall, looking at his former teammate with a bored expression, watching as kevin desperately scrubbed his shirt with no improvements to show for it.

“i’m pretty sure you’re making it worse,” jean had commented in french, but kevin ignored him— grabbing another paper towel from behind them instead and dapping it under the water, which was just another desperate attempt which only looked like it was doing more damage. “it’s fine. no one will care.” jean said.

“no matter what i do it won’t go away,” kevin said again, his eyes were glued to the stain, but his breath caught in his throat which finally pushed an alarm button for jean.

“kevin, it’s fine.” he said, pushing himself off the wall and moving towards his former teammate.

“why won’t it go away?” kevin finally turned to look at jean and jean was surprised to find tears caught behind kevin’s eyes.

“stop that.” jean said. “it’s just a shirt. what’s going on with you?” kevin looked up at jean. he didn’t know how to say he didn’t care about the shirt.

it was the guilt which was eating him alive— guilt he had carried ever since he had left the nest. the constant guilt following him around for leaving jean behind in the nest.

they both knew jean would never have followed kevin out of the nest if kevin had asked, but it didn’t make the event easier on either of them.

“it needs to go away. why won’t it go away?” kevin asked again, and suddenly it dawned on him how he wasn’t even making any sense to jean anyway.

how was jean supposed to know he was talking about his guilt? what did it matter anyway? it wouldn’t change anything.

“i’m sorry,” kevin said with a ragged breath. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” kevin repeated.

“stop it,” jean told him firmly. “it’s okay. forget about it.”

[spontaneousful]

"Is this really the world we fought so hard for?"

It was a question that always seemed to be on Blondie's mind lately. It was the only thing she could think to say as she stood in Ashlynn Ella's castle, watching the snow fall atop her fresh grave.

Apple, her friend her once-upon-a-time lover her, Apple White, ruler of Ever After, glanced over at her. "Whatever after do you mean?"

Blondie stared out the window and tried to bite her tongue. This conversation was pointless, nothing she could say would change what was. But that budding investigative journalist inside her, the one who wanted to change the world, the one she thought was stamped out long ago, couldn't leave it alone.

"Did we really fight for a future where our friends drop like flies? And condemn those who didn't agree to death along with them?"

She laughed. "Don't be silly. I haven't sentenced anyone to death."

Blondie turned around to face her. "What about Raven?"

"What about her?" Apple's gaze was piercing.

Blondie stared her down, but Apple didn't falter. Instead, she returned the stare with intensity. Blondie sighed and looked away. She couldn't stand up to Apple, she never had been able to. But the flame of anger in her still burned, and instead, she shifted the conversation.

"How many of our friends have to die for you to admit you were wrong? How many have there already been? Briar, Ashlynn, Ginger, Humphrey, Duchess, Meeshell, we're in our thirties, Apple. And yet, I'm attending a funeral every other week."

For a moment, there was no response. Then, she heard the clacking of Apple walking away. "The Ella estate is sorted out. I believe we're done here."

Blondie wanted to stop her. She wanted to scream at her. To curse the unfairness of it all. How hypocritical of her, when she had played no small part in the war of destiny versus choice.

Why? Why had she ever agreed with the side of destiny? Why had she thought this was better? Why had her own happy ever after been worth setting up her friends for slaughter? Why? Why? Why?

[fidgetspringer-art]

Anyone want some angst? Cause I found some random angst laying around. With the bonus of Martin and Gabe interacting for the first time.

It’s 7am when Gabriel gets the call. The one he’s spent the last ten years dreading, knowing full well that sooner or later it would inevitably come.

-

Gabriel walks through the halls of the large hospital in a daze. Trying his best to follow the directions given by the nurse down at the front desk.

He pauses outside of what is supposed to be Noah’s room, staring at the door. His hand shakes when it comes up to twist the handle.

The figure in the bed at the far end of the room wouldn’t be recognizable if not for the fact that Gabriel could pick Noah out of a crowd with his eyes closed.

His face is so swollen and bruised Gabriel doesn’t think he could open his eyes even if he’d been awake to try.

His lip is split in several places, blood hastily wiped away.

His knuckles must be busted too, if the bandages covering his hands are any indication.

Gabriel sinks down into one of the free chairs in the room. There are two beds in here, separated by a thin curtain. The other bed is empty. Maybe just because it happens to not be needed right now, or maybe intentionally left as such, considering Noah’s case is likely a police matter.

Just a few more hits short of being a murder case.

Gabriel reaches out and rests his hand on Noah’s chest. Feeling the slow and steady beat of his heart against his palm. Just to remind himself that Noah is still alive.

In the countless times he’s imagined getting that call in the past, he’s never once imagined Noah still breathing at the end of it. It just hadn’t seemed likely.

But he’s here. Lungs inflating in his chest, rising up to meet the gentle touch of Gabriel's hand.

Noah is going to survive this, just like he’s survived everything else he’s put himself through. There is no other option.

Gabriel just hopes he won’t be too changed for it.

Gabriel sits with him for a few hours. Just watching him rest. Hands never leaving him for long.

He thinks about the last time Noah was at the studio. How happy and carefree he’d seemed. Gabriel had known from the moment he’d turned up, exactly where he’d come from, could always tell when he’d been spending time with his cowboy.

Gabriel blinks. Martin.

Unlocking Noah’s phone is an easy matter. There are no secrets between them, not even pin codes. The phone is thankfully accounted for in the plastic bag holding Noah’s small collection of items.

Gabriel steps out into the hallway to make the call, he’s not sure why. It’s not like Noah is going to hear him. But he needs a moment to himself anyway. Needs to take a breath.

Finding the right name in the contact list isn’t an issue, there aren’t that many names in there, but actually hitting the call button is harder than Gabriel was expecting.

He rips the band-aid off and brings the phone up to his ear. Cracked screen rough against his cheek.

It rings for a long time, long enough to have him second guessing himself. He’s almost sure no one is going to pick up when finally the line connects.

“Noah?” It’s urgent. Scared. “Noah, where are you, what's wrong?”

Gabriel’s chest aches. He can hear himself in Martin’s voice. Knows that if Noah called him out of the blue like this he’s be saying exactly the same words. Knows that he too would be fearing the worst.

“Noah! Talk to me.”

Gabriel shakes himself. Shuts his eyes. “Martin Hart?”

“No.” Martin’s breath leaves him with the word. “No, no, no, no, please-”

“He’s alive.” Gabriel is quick to clarify. “He’s alive.”

He can practically feel the relief in the silence across the line. He opens his mouth to continue, but no words come out. Martin’s fear for Noah’s life has rocked him. To know that someone else cares as much about Noah as Gabriel does- it’s stunned him.

“But he’s hurt?” Martin asks, finally breaking the silence between them.

Gabriel nods before he realizes Martin’s can’t see him. “He’s-” He swallows. “He’s unconscious. Broken a few bones too. They don’t know how long he’ll be out for, or if he’ll be himself when he wakes up, or-” His voice cracks. He hadn’t realized he was crying, but his cheeks are suddenly wet. “Can you-” He’s not really sure what he’s asking for, just knows that this is too much, even for him.

“I’m on my way, Gabriel.” Martin says, he must have assumed who was calling, there aren’t that many people in Noah’s life, after all. “You keep him company, yeah? I’ll be there as soon as I can, just tell me where you are.”

Gabriel rattles off the address. It’s a six hour drive from wherever Martin is, apparently. The thought of sitting in that hospital room alone for six more hours is enough to have Gabriel feeling sick.

He listens to Martin move around on the other end of the line, likely getting some things together before he heads out. The sound is soothing, less lonely, but then Martin tells him he has to hang up, that he only owns a landline, and Gabriel swallows down his dread and lets him go.

A nurse stops by a few hours later to check Noah’s vitals and to make sure he’s comfortable.

Gabriel watches her work with a numb sort of detachment. She’s humming and chatting, seemingly to the both of them, about nothing in particular, and Gabriel doesn’t bother answering her. He just gives her a tight smile when she comes to give him a pat on the shoulder before she leaves.

He can’t help the way he keeps checking his watch. He’s subconsciously counting down the hours until Martin gets here. He feels childish. Like he’s a kid waiting for an adult to come help them through a situation they can’t handle on their own.

He doesn’t even know this guy. Yet he sort of does. Noah is always talking about him, about his farm and his animals and the way Martin cooks for him. Real, actual food when Noah rarely gets to have anything besides junk food.

He remembers how distrustful he’d been towards this Martin guy when Noah had first told him about him. He'd imagined some older creep, manipulative and taking advantage of a young man desperate for his own place in the world.

He’d expected Martin to try to pin Noah down. Or to use him and discard him when he got too much. Wouldn’t have been the first time. But it’s been four years now, since Noah first met him. And every time Noah finds his way back to Gabriel’s studio after having spent time with the guy. He’s happy. Happier than Gabriel ever gets to see him.

Gabriel can always tell when Noah is leaving him to go stay with Martin too, even if he doesn’t let on that that’s where he’s headed. There’s an excitement to him that is unmistakable. Like he can’t wait to let his bike eat up the miles between them.

Of course there are times when Noah comes to him in a bad mood. They have their fights, every now and then. Mostly it’s Noah’s fault, but even so, Gabriel always feels a twinge of anger directed at Martin too, even if it’s almost never warranted. He just can’t help it.

With almost an hour left on the clock, there’s a timid knock on the door.

Gabriel doesn’t bother calling out or standing to open it, and he doesn’t have to, because only seconds later a tall, weathered man steps into the room.

He looks so much like your stereotypical cowboy it almost makes Gabriel want to laugh.

He’s wearing a red plaid shirt with an old work jacket pulled over it. He’s clutching a brown hat to his chest, just as dusty with red dirt as his well worn jeans and boots.

He freezes in the door, eyes going wide at the sight of Noah on the bed. He looks like he’s been physically stuck by the image.

Gabriel wonders then, how often Noah comes to him with bruises on his face. If he reserves that privilege for Gabriel alone, or if it’s just as common of an occurrence for Martin as it is for him.

“Hey.” Gabriel says, his voice comes out hoarse, raspy with disuse.

Martin doesn’t startle exactly, but he snaps out of his shock enough to look over. He blinks. “You Gabriel?” His voice is deep. He almost sounds stern, except Gabriel can tell he isn’t trying to be.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You speed all the way here or what?” He has to have been, to have gotten here this early.

Martin just shrugs. He slips out of his jacket and pulls up a chair, sitting next to Gabriel, facing the bed. He stares at Noah for a long time, silent.

“He woken up at all?”

Gabriel sighs. He reaches over and places his hand back on Noah’s bandaged one. “Not yet. They don’t know how long he’ll need. Something about the swelling on his brain going down first.”

Martin nods. “Do you know what happened?”

He knows Martin must have drawn the same conclusions as him. That he must have assumed Noah had a wreck until he saw his injuries. The way they don’t line up with those of an accident.

“Not really. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Thought he was out your way.”

“He was. Left a few days ago, said he was heading this way but, you know-”

Gabriel does know. Noah has always been bad at keeping him in the loop. He knows he’s even worse about doing so for Martin. “Thank you for coming, by the way.”

Martin smiles at him, and for a second he understands why Noah was drawn to him in the first place. He has a warmth to him, a steadiness that is sorely lacking from Noah’s life. He feels like a rock, sitting beside Gabriel like this, even as he’s clearly going through a lot in his own head, he projects an outward calmness that does a lot to soothe Gabriel’s worries.

“Thank you for calling me. I’m grateful for you letting me know. God knows he’d never call me himself.”

Gabriel huffs. Doesn’t he know it.

“I figured he’d want you close, when he wakes up, even if he would never admit to wanting either of us here.”

The cowboy deflates. “I hope so. I hope I’m not overstepping, I never quite know where I stand in all this.”

Gabriel feels a stab of sadness for the man. He clearly cares so much about Noah, and true to form, Noah is making loving him as difficult a choice as possible.

“He would want you here. I know he would.” It doesn’t feel like enough, so he adds. “He never stops talking about you, you know.”

Martin looks over, eyebrows raised. “That true?”

Gabriel nods. “I think I could name every single one of your chickens by now.”

That makes Martin chuckle. Deep and hearty. “He loves those birds.”

“He sure does.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, just the beeping of the machines filling the room. It’s getting later in the day now. The little bit of sunlight hitting the far wall through the curtains is golden against the stark white of the walls.

Gabriel sighs. The sound drawing Martin’s attention. “I need to go see if I can track down his bike before it gets stolen, if it hasn’t been already.” He stands up, wishing he had thought to bring a jacket with him. “Call me if anything changes, yeah?”

He gives Martin the pin code to Noah’s phone and shows him how to find his name in the contact list. It’s obvious the guy has never held a smartphone before, but he figures it out quickly.

“Go.” He says, when Gabriel hesitates in the doorway. “That bike is his whole damn life.”

And isn’t that the truth.

Gabriel spends the next two hours scouring the streets of the downtown area for any sign of the bike.

He knows from the nurses where abouts Noah was found, but it was down a back-alley in an industrial area. Far from the usual kind of place Noah might haunt. And not an easy area to get a motorcycle into. He opts to rule out the more likely places first before trying his luck there.

He checks the streets around every single bar and pub and club he can find, peering into alleys and side streets with no luck.

Next he checks the local motel parking lots. No bike.

Every time he sees a parked motorcycle on the street his heart skips a beat. But it's never Noah's.

He’s about ready to give up and head back to the hospital when he decides to finally go look at the area Noah was found in. He just feels the need to see it for himself. Like maybe it will clear things up somehow. Give him some answers.

Finding the exact alleyway isn’t hard.

There’s police tape all around it. It’s a full on crime scene.

Gabriel doesn’t go beyond the tape. Scared to disturb anything that might be important to finding whoever did this to him. Even if he knows the investigation will inevitably end up closed before anything comes up. It’s not worth the resources. Not for some homeless biker with a track record of petty crime and picking fights.

Standing at the mouth of the alley, leaning over the tape, Gabriel looks down into the darkness between the old buildings.

He doesn’t even need to bring his phone’s flashlight up to see the pool of blood on the ground.

There’s a pallet by the wall that’s splintered, like something impacted it. Fell on it maybe, or was pushed. Between it and the pool of blood lays a rusty old steel pipe.

It paints a picture well enough.

Gabriel turns away before he makes himself sick. He knows he should head back to the hospital, but he can’t bring himself to go just yet. He feels like a failure, both for not having found the bike, but also for not doing more to prevent this from happening in the first place.

He should have been a better friend. Should have talked Noah out of this kind of lifestyle, kept him safe.

Not that it would have done anything except push Noah further away from him.

He walks down towards where he knows the river will be. The old docks are silent around him. The only sound the humming of the lights illuminating the area, and the occasional seagull looking for a place to hunker down for the night.

He’s getting dangerously cold. He’s been walking around for hours, having left his car back at the hospital so he could ride the bike back if he found it. Now it’s looking like he’ll be walking back too. He’s not dressed for this. He should go before-

He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s following the river back into town when he passes underneath a bridge. The rumble of traffic above him loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

It’s pure chance that he glances up and into the darkness underneath the cover of the overhanging structure.

It’s Tansy.

She’s tucked up against a massive support beam, half covered by Noah’s trusty old tent haphazardly pitched against her side on the asphalt.

Noah’s things are all there, by some miracle. His backpack is hidden inside the tent along with his helmet, and upon closer inspection, his saddle bags are untouched.

Gabriel shakes his head at Noah’s luck. It’s always a theme with him, luck. He seems to have endless amounts of it, always working in his favor. Even now, stuck in a hospital bed with injuries bordering on incompatible with life, yet he’s facing decent odds, if the doctors are to be believed.

Pure luck, they’d said, that he wasn’t worse off.

Gabriel swallows down the bile in his throat and starts taking the tent down to pack it away.

Noah’s keys feel good in his hand when he pulls them out of his pocket, and he feels a surge of pride and relief when he turns it in the ignition and kicks the bike to life.

Tansy starts up just as willingly as she always does.

Gabriel lets her idle while he puts Noah’s helmet on. It’s far too tight on him, and he can already tell he’s going to have a banging headache by the time he makes it back to the hospital.

“Did you find her?” Martin asks as soon as Gabriel comes through the door. He’s sitting in Gabriel’s chair now, pushed up close to Noah’s side.

Gabriel holds the helmet up in answer. “Pure luck. But I did, in the end.”

“Good. Here, I’ll-” He goes to stand up, but Gabriel stops him.

“Sit. It’s alright. I’ve been with him all day.” Martin looks unsure, but he nods and sits back down. The way he takes Noah’s injured hand in his own is so achingly tender Gabriel has to look away to keep himself from letting his already worn thin walls crumble.

He’s exhausted, emotionally and physically drained, but he can do this. He can hold it together for a while longer.

[secretobsessionstuff]

A Fantasy Drabble?

An EMETO fantasy drabble!

------

"Jonathan, come in. Have a seat."

"What can I do for you, your Highness?"

"Keene has informed me that you are feeling unwell this evening. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thank you, sir. It is only a small matter, though I wanted to inform you, considering our later plans."

"What troubles you?"

A blush rose to Jonathan's cheeks as he placed his palm above his navel. "Supper is not sitting well with me, your Highness. It is quite bothersome to be honest."

King Rowyn frowned. "I apologize on behalf of the kitchen staff. I shall have the chef look over his ingredients for the future, seeing as you will be supping with me for quite some time I hope."

"I hold the same hopes, your Highness." A loud gurgle emanated from Jonathan's middle. He winced from the pain and embarrassment. "However, I understand if you wish to postpone our nightly plans. I fear I would not perform to my usual standard."

Rowan chuckled deeply in his throat. The hand he had placed on Jonathan's leg rose higher towards the man's crotch. "It seems to me that you are performing just fine."

"Not even a blade to the abdomen could douse the fire I feel for you, let alone a mere stomach ache. I always look forward to our nights together, your Highness. I'm sorry we cannot have our time today."

"Says who? Did I say your condition has changed my mind about our plans?"

"Oh sir." Jonathan swallowed thickly. "I would gladly suffer through this nausea if it means we can go through with our nightly ritual. I should warn you though, I do not know how long this meal will stay down. Is that acceptable, my king?"

"Jonathan," King Rowan began as he rose from his chair. He traced his hand up the consort's stomach and chest. "I would just as soon have you bent over this desk and fuck you while you whimper and moan about your poor constitution."

"Sir--"

"You think so little of me, Jon. How could I keep my hands off your body when you come into my study, so apologetic and weak? The sweat on your brow makes me want to tear your clothes away right now."

"Then do so, your Highness. I am yours to do with as you will."

Rowan hummed lowly, his hand creeping up towards the soft skin of Jonathan's neck. "In that case, I'd have you retching over my desk with each thrust until you came with the same force."

Jonathan's eyes fluttered with anticipation. "As you wish, my king."

[atimesfeeler]

Wade feeling insecure and missing his hair.

“Do you think people with hair are funnier?”

Logan sighed and tore his action away from Friends that was playing on the TV.

“Like pretty privilege. Would we laugh at Phoebe’s jokes if she was bald? Or is it less annoying because she’s blonde and pretty?” Wade mused.

“Hair doesn’t have anything to do with it. She’d be annoying either way,” Logan said.

Wade gasped, “You take that back!” but he fell silent after that, watching with a far away look.

After a few minutes of mulling the words around his mouth, Logan spoke up without taking his eyes off the TV.

“You were just as annoying with hair as you are without, bub,” Logan said, “Trust me.”

In his peripheral vision he could see Wade perk up and a tentative smile stretch across his face. He heard what Logan really meant.

[kimmie2me]

A Little Warmth in the Cold

It’s a late, snowy Friday evening, and campus is finally winding down for winter break. Bakugou insisted on walking you to your dorm, even though he’d rather faceplant into a pillow after back-to-back exams. His hands are shoved deep into his jacket pockets, shoulders tense against the cold, but he’s keeping up with your lighter, excited steps. You’re rambling, barely noticing his sharp exhale every time the wind bites. As you get closer to the Height's Alliance building, you stop, eyes lighting up at the little convenience store just outside the school. Through the frosted windows, you spot a small Sanrio gacha machine by the counter, each little capsule promising a random character charm. You can’t help it—you smile and pull him toward it with a little tug of his sleeve. Bakugou grumbles, “Aren’t you gonna freeze out here?” But he doesn’t move an inch from where you’re tugging him, his eyes trailing over the machine. You pull out a few coins and turn the crank, your face scrunched in concentration. When the capsule pops out, you gasp: it’s the little Cinnamoroll charm you wanted. Bakugou just gives you a look as you hold it up, triumphant. “Dunno why you’re so excited,” he mutters, but then quietly asks, “They got any more of those?” You raise a brow, holding up your prize. “You want one too?” He scoffs, heat prickling his cheeks. “Not f'me, dumbass,” he grumbles, practically snatching the coins you offer. The machine spits out another capsule. He rolls it in his hand, giving it a quick, unreadable look before slipping it deep into his coat pocket. For a second, you almost ask what he got, but he’s already started walking again, muttering about finally getting you somewhere warm. Little do you know, the next time you open your backpack, the charm will be dangling from the zipper.

The exact one he pulled from the machine that night.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

it's the quiet days sanemi enjoys the most. quite on contrary to his normal behavior, he finds that the moments spent in silence are the ones he finds the most solace in. yes, he would never pass off for days full of chaos and nights lost in the roads, but if he had to choose, his favorites were the ones where he lay on his bed, gazing at the ceiling. sometimes it was purely to find time to relax, and to let everything that had happened that day process. sometimes it was to let his mind draw blank—allow every thought to seep out of him and into the air. most of the time, he ends up drifting into semi-consciousness, partially aware that he's on the verge of sleep but letting that knowledge balance him on the edge. on the few times he remains wide awake, his thoughts racing, he turns and focuses on the window, or something in the room. watching the lights from outside flicker, and wondering where they're coming from on times he can't tell in his position. he pretends he's a pencil on his desk, or a pillow against the sheets. lives his life doodling on notebooks or providing comfort at night. often, he comes to the conclusion that it would be so much easier to live without living. to simply exist, without a conscience. without consequence. thoughts as such seem to lull him to sleep, eventually, and he dreams of being a stop sign in the sidewalk, or a car along the streets. there's never sound in dreams like these. they're always quiet, nestled into his mind and allowing him to rest, away from the noise of existence. his dreams like the quiet days, too.

[that-daddy-domme]

Morning thoughts

Cockwarming. Just sitting on my knees between her legs, not worrying about things, not thinking. While she relaxes occasionally pressing my head closer listening to me gag around her cock.

Domme fucking me nice and gentle and slow. Listening to me whimper, and brushing the tears off my cheeks. Finding every sensetive spot and leaving nips and bites all over my neck and shoulders.

Using her girl cock or stap and praising me for how well I take it. Wrapping her hand around my throat.

Mmmm seeing her smile at the subspacey look on my face. Just totally out of it, and submissive for her.

I'm so out of it and sensetive and she keeps calling me pretty boy, or darling. Making me come around her cock.

[spotaus]

So i had another new age thought. Also yes hi i am back again and i just like sending you asks lmao.

Anyway. Remember how we agreed that once nightmare trusted and knighted killer he would be send on a mission to get more info/stuff/reminders of ccino's past life?

And how before we agreed he would find it boring?

Now with the whole crush and in love situation

Killer would be EXCITED for this mission

Finding stuff about ccino?! His family?! Sign him the fuck up- wait.what will you do with that information?

Nightmare: safeguard it obviously?

Killer: okay cool! When do i leave?

Because if nightmare was gonna destroy it killer would have 100% hidden the info away and reconsider those running away fantasies- I MEAN! plans again.

That was all. That was the thought lmao.

Ohoho- Killer would be SO pumped for it- I can't believe I forgot that with the crush plot line he'd be super curious... the him abd Ccino not getting along plotting is definitely more of a farce now, so ofc he'd be invested!

And... you can't tell me this man didn't immediately snoop. Like, he knows it's bad, he knows he shouldn't, but Ccino is one big mystery to him so of course he's going to try and find out more! And he gets a peek at the names of his parents, the old bakery they used to run, where he used to live, the whole nine yards. Do you think he found the death certificates of his parents and saw the cause of death was a housefire? He's pretty sure Ccino would've been really young when it happened, too. Do you think he went to the address out of curiosity and saw that the lot was still empty? (Taboo to rebuild atop the ashes of sonething burnt by the King, you know) Do you think he got a sense of what happened, even if he really doesn't know at all?

I think we've discussed it before, but Killer is all the more protective over Ccino and even more curious after this mission. He has no right, he knows that, but he can't help but try to look after him. Just!!! These guys!!!!

Also, I didn't get around to doodling them properly, but since I don't want to constantly draw Killer's armor? Here's his and Ccino's comfy/general clothes, as well as the front of Ccino's uniform! (Poorly sketched as always, haha-)

Killer likes to wear loose clothes, especially jackets. (I forgor to add the gold clasps on the jacket...) Tighter clothes feel like they confine him too much, almost like claustrophobia. For meta-story? The long jackets + oversized clothes are just a habit from his days in the temple, and then later when he and Chara had to steal clothes sizes too large so they could grow into them. I also think that Killer, later in the story, really only has his soul circular when he's in public/training, anytime he's comfy with his family (or ofc Ccino is near) it leans towards soul-shaped. His eyelight likes to pop into place when he's with Ccino :] (<- I WILL forget to draw/write like this. So like. Nbd.)

Ccino's casual fit is usually only for his days off, market shopping, and when he's alone in his cottage. He always keeps his apron and work shirt the same (honestly Nightmare wouldn't mind, but Ccino still worries about being punished for stuff like uniform screw-ups) and he wears a more casual pair of pants and a white shawl which fits him like a scarf now. (Maybe, if I wanted to be angsty, then it was given to him shortly after Nightmare came to power, and back then he was so stick thin it wrapped around his shoulders? Now he wears it as a sign of his healing <3) also!! Decided Ccino inherited hid mother's 'sleepy' eyeshape, where his sockets curve like he's sad, but that's just how he looks. Gives him a calm and gentle appearance.

Ignore that they're missing their shoes 🙏 I'm very close to convincing myself to let Ccino stay barefoot/sandals because tbh if I were him I'd be wearing the least shoes possible, but he's also very sensible so like. Probably sandals for him. Killer probably wears short boots or his sturdy armor boots? I couldn't see him taking the time to lace up any sort of complex sandals lmao-

[sutherlins]

In November I wrote 'it was night when you died (my firefly)' - a mostly canon compliant fic following Sydney and Mikey's friendship prior to his death. I intended to rewrite the first episode with the added context of that fic but it's not working out so for anyone who liked that fic, this is a scene of how Sydney came to own the beaded Thom Browne shirt she wears the day she meets Carmy.

Sydney had set out her clothes the night before, her hand softly caressing over the beaded fish on the Thom Browne shirt she had chosen for her first day at The Beef. Sydney slid it on like an armour, each button a reminder that this was a second chance, for her and for Mikey. 

They’d just left Gino’s, the sun was high in the sky but neither of them were in a particularly good mood. Emmanuel and Donna both applying pressure to them from opposite ends of the loving scale. Sydney’s dad, so worried, so concerned, desperate to make up for the hurt he had caused her. Donna, lashing out, blaming everyone but in the absence of Carmy and with Nat pulling away with encouragement from Pete, it was Mikey who was receiving all of the fall out. They didn’t know the exact details of course. Those boundaries were maintained, but they both knew that neither of them wanted to return home. They’d just kept walking and talking instead, not stopping until they stumbled across a vintage store called Mathain. Mikey was holding the door open before Sydney had even had time to look in the window but when she stepped inside she was in awe. The brass tin tile ceiling stood in contrast against the black walls, and the rails were lined with the most beautiful fabrics. Mannequins stood flanking the cash register with vintage designer gowns. Mikey weaved through the racks heading for the jackets and Sydney made her way over the shirts. White button downs were a staple of her wardrobe and she expected that to be the case until she could one day save enough to get herself a really good quality chefs jacket.  The metal squeaked a little as she pushed the hangers along the rail but she froze when the fifth shirt appeared. The shirt looked simple at first, a basic but luxurious feeling white oxford weave short sleeve shirt. The point collar was sharp and the short sleeves had a little cut out detail pointing towards the buttons.  The beaded detail was what caught her attention though. Fish and floral designs had been embroidered across the shirt. Sydney flipped the shirt, the signature grosgrain tab and the square patch on the lower left of the shirt confirmed her suspicions. It was a Thom Browne.  The very worst part was that it was in her size. Had it been too big or too small she could have walked away happy but knowing the most perfect shirt was out of her price range made her bad mood worse.  “Shit, that’s fucking dope, Syd.” “For $200 it’s not.” “$200 is a fucking steal.” He whispered, taking it off the rack and inspected it. “What’s your budget?” “$2 plus, uh, I guess if I move some money around and pull from my savings I could add an extra dollar.” “I’m being serious.” “Fifty. I doubt you can get it down to fifty.” Mikey held his hand out and Sydney pulled out some notes and he snatched them from her, walking away with the shirt in his hand and a smirk on his face. Sydney watched from the accessories section as he leaned across the counter, tipping his head just right at the blushing cashier. At one point he leaned across and moved her hair from her face, tucking it behind the woman’s ear and the giggles in response filled the entire room.  Sydney tried not to roll her eyes, having to fake a cough to cover her laughter over the ridiculousness of Mikey. Ten minutes later he rejoined her, a bag in his hand and holding the door open, a final wave given back to the woman at the cash register.  “You’re shameless.” “The opposite in fact, you’ve not been paying attention in group. I'm filled with that bitch.” “Shut up. What did you get it down to?” “I don’t think that’s what’s important. The Mikey charm got the shirt and-” He held out the business card of the store, the number scratched out and the name and number of the woman written instead. “A date.” “Lovely. How much was the Mikey charm worth?”

She took fifty off.” “Only fifty?” Sydney sputtered out. “That’s $100 more than I can afford.” “Syd, consider it $100 I can no longer put up my nose.” Sydney blinked and them rubbed her temple, his jokes about his addiction always taking her by surprise. “Jesus, why are you like this?” “Lot’s of reasons and I think you know them all.”

“Thank you, Mikey. I don’t know how to pay you back.” “I know how…” “How?” “Get me a table at your fancy spot for the date I just promised her.” “Ugh, fine. I’ll ask when I’m back in tomorrow.”

[siamesefightingpiano]

Are you guys ready for some utter sap because this is what it is also it is yet again 1k+ words

Capitano x Guthred

Somewhere in the Night Kingdom

The first thing Capitano- Thrain- does in the Night Kingdom, after seeing off his soldiers' souls, is to pull Guthred into his arms. He buries his head into the smaller man's shoulder and just... breathes. Or as close an approximation to breathing as a soul can achieve. Familiar arms wrap around him and he lets out a sigh of exhaustion. "I missed you." He mumbles into Guthred's shoulder.

His second-in-command settles a hand on the back of his head and he all but melts into the touch. Guthred rests his cheek against Thrain's head. "I have always been with you." At Thrain's groan, he amends with a smile pressed into black hair, "I missed you too."

Capitano takes a deep breath and before he raises his head, mourns a soul's lack of smell. He mourns not being able to smell what is distinctly Guthred, medical grade disinfectant and hair wax, forever lost to time and relegated to memory. The hand on his head slips down to rest on his nape as he lifts his head. He leans his forehead against Guthred's and relishes the ability to do so. Disembodied souls they may be, but they possess presence of mind and a distinct form.

It has taken five hundred long years for him to get to this point. He has toiled, suffered torment, persevered and now he can claim his reward. He has earned this. There are no more voices in his mind, echoing, screaming, trying to shred his sanity. He is himself, and he has Guthred in his arms. They are reunited in death, even if it may only be temporary. He'll take what he can get. He deserves it.

Guthred looks up at him and oh, how he has missed this sight. "I thought you wanted to rest, Commander?"

Capitano hums but does not move. "I do, and I will." He takes a moment to luxuriate in being able to see and touch his second-in-command, his most trusted person. He sighs. "I have missed you very much."

Guthred huffs in amusement. "Are you so addled that you've resorted to repeating yourself?"

"It deserves to be repeated, and you deserve to hear it." Capitano brushes his lips against Guthred's temple. He finally takes a step back so he can properly look at the other man. "It's been five hundred years. I can spare a few more moments."

"Well," the doctor studies his face with a discerning eye, "It seems like the corruption is only limited to your physical body. You look the same as you used to."

Capitano grunts. "Hm. Unexpected."

Guthred rests his hands on his hips. "When do you have to go back?"

"Eventually." The Captain allows. "But for the meantime, this is where I will stay."

His second-in-command nods. "This time, make sure you take care of yourself. You should have a much easier time sleeping now that you're not carrying any more souls in your heart. Your goal should be eight hours every night, but I know how you are, so aim for at least five. And make sure you drink lots of water. Adequate hydration is important to staying healthy. Who knows, it might even do something for the corruption. And you need to eat more balanced meals. Your Snezhnayan rations are fine in the short run, but you should really try to get more fruits and vegetables in your diet. And also- why are you laughing?"

Capitano chuckles and shakes his head. "Nothing. It's just- I've missed this, very much." He looks at Guthred fondly. "It's been five hundred years since anyone's talked to me this way. It's... refreshing. And nostalgic."

Guthred sniffs and crosses his arms. "You mean it's been five hundred years since anyone's tried to talk sense into you. I know you, Thrain. There's not an ounce of sensibility in that head of yours."

Capitano doesn't stop the soft smile that spreads across his face. As soon as Guthred uncrosses his arms, he reaches out to take the other man's hand. "I take it that's your professional opinion, Doctor?"

Guthred scowls performatively. "My professional opinion is that you should listen to your doctor for once and do as he says. I swear, if you go back to the world of the living and still don't take care of yourself I'm going to find another hapless soul to possess and hunt you down."

The smile on Capitano's face grows indulgent. "I'll try my best, Doctor."

The shorter man sighs and rolls his eyes. "I suppose that's the best I'll get out of you."

Capitano squeezes Guthred's hand. "There is something I would like to say. I never got to tell you this when you were still alive, but..." He sighs. "Thank you for staying by my side all these years. I know we always argued and often didn't see eye to eye, but you still gave me your full support. You went above and beyond to fulfill our mutual goals, even though I wish you didn't go to those lengths. I think that... without you there, I would not have become who I am today. So, thank you, Guthred."

His second-in-command presses a tender hand to Capitano's cheek. "I pledged myself to you all those years ago in Khaenri'ah, and I'll continue to uphold that vow in any capacity. Even if I have to traverse the ley lines, even if I have to tear through the veil of death, I will do my utmost to support you."

His hand begins to slip away but Thrain holds it in place, pressing his cheek firmly into his palm.

Guthred smiles at him, soft and sad. "But next time, I will not be with you. I know you'll stay true to your ideals, but please, try to not to be too thickheaded."

Capitano- Thrain coughs out a laugh.

Guthred's smile twitches. "And find a competent doctor, will you? You know how hard I was cringing at all the incompetency. I had to bear witness to them all, it was horrible. It's been five hundred years, you'd think there'd be some advancement in the field. And that brat, the one with half a soul. Make sure he supplies you with more vegetables, you hear? Those are some quality vegetables! How many times do I have to lecture you on getting your daily servings of vitamins and fiber? And-"

Laughing, Thrain loops an arm around Guthred's shoulders, reels him in, and kisses him silly. Eventually, the other man pulls away and Thrain grins into his hair. "I've missed you so much."

"Yes, yes." Guthred complains into the fabric of Thrain's uniform. "This is the third time you've said that. But you've interrupted me multiple times now, and as the certified medical professional here I say that kissing someone while they're talking is a highly inappropriate method of shutting them up."

Thrain plants an unapologetic kiss on Guthred's cheekbone. "I've only interrupted you twice, Doctor. So you're saying I should kiss you when you're not talking?"

"Wh-" And yes, there was the slightest flush to Guthred's ears. "You're twisting my words on purpose. Why is that the conclusion you've come to? You always do this when you don't want to listen to me. This is a terrible habit. Do I need to remind you about that time where you nearly kissed me in front of all our soldiers? The multiple times? You really need to stop undermining your authority and the respect people have for you."

Thrain is having trouble controlling the slant of his mouth. "But they were tired of hearing us bicker. I think they would've welcomed any sort of distraction. And this is another thing I never told you, but you become so animated when you nag at me. I tend to find it.... invigorating."

The red is starting to creep down Guthred's neck. "Is that what goes through your mind every time I lecture you? No wonder you don't listen to a word I say. What are you, a teenager? You are the daftest man I've ever met, not including the brat-"

"Guthred." Thrain says with unabashed joy, holding his most beloved person's face in his hands. "I am going to kiss you now."

"What have I said about- mrph!"