#random gt drabble

[marydublinauthor]

Random gt drabbles: Mother

Characters: Markus (ft. Jane briefly)

Safe for work • @smol-smoggie

———————

The commotion near the entrance had been growing more unorderly as the night deepened. Usually, it didn’t bother him much. That kind of thing was almost a lullaby at a haunt like this. But when shouts of protest joined the laughter, he knew someone had past their limit.

Jane elbowed his forearm, giving Markus a meaningful look over her tiny glass of mead. Markus sighed, tipping back the rest of his drink before standing. Being big was a dumb fucking responsibility sometimes.

Luckily, this crowd required minimal effort. The drunken travelers were searching through a couple’s luggage at their protests, tugging at the carpet bags. The couple looked older, too — easy targets. Markus’ shadow fell over the group, and everyone forgot how to speak.

“Time to pay your tab,” he said, leaning down to pluck a mug of ale out of one’s hand. “And get out.”

He downed the pint like a sip and let the mug clatter to the stone floor. It bounced on the flagstone several times, rolling to the boots of the offending drunk. Without hesitation, the men fled. Markus eyed the old couple, already gathering their belongings to make their way towards the barkeep.

“Thank you, young man,” the old lady said.

“You ought to pick your inns more carefully,” he grunted back.

In the edge of his vision, he saw her give a start, the way most people did when a giant acknowledged them directly. He was starting back for Jane when he heard her call after him. “M-Markus?”

He stopped short and whirled on them. They were brittle-looking humans. Older, dressed in clean, modest clothes. The man was still gathering spilt belongings, but the woman was edging closer to Markus’ boots.

Too old to have fucked — he was pretty sure.

How could she possibly know his name?

“Markus, sweetheart, it’s…” She swallowed hard. “It’s you, isn’t it? Do you remember me?”

His jaw went slack. “You,” he breathed. He knelt down, trancelike as she rushed at him. He could see her face under her traveling hat now. The woman who had briefly taken him in. The closest thing to a mother he’d had after his own had passed away.

After all this time, he’d imagined they’d forgotten about that bizarre chapter in their life.

“Look at you,” she crooned. “You’ve grown so much. And so handsome.” Shakily, she touched the hand he had resting on the floor. The last time he’d held her, she’d fit across the whole of his hand. Now, she’d be able to sit in his palm with room to spare.

“You remember me?” Markus couldn’t help but ask.

“Oh, Markus,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. Crying. “I missed you every day. Darling—” She spun, seizing her husband’s arm and yanking him forward. “It’s him.”

The man’s weathered face looked up and up. His brows nearly lifted right off his face when recognition dawned. He gave another once-over, as though growing nervous in light of their less-than-mutual parting those many years ago.

“You got bigger, boy,” he greeted, voice taut.

Markus barked a small laugh, remembering the coarse nature. “You didn’t.”

“Hmm.”

Mother rushed at him again, like she couldn’t contain herself. She gathered her skirts. “Don’t leave an old lady on the floor. Pick me up, let me get a better look at you.”

Hesitantly, Markus scooped her into his palm and brought her to his face. He grunted to keep her from falling as she lunged at his face, touching his chin and the short beard peppering his square jaw. Her hands were still cool and soft, the way he remembered.

“It’s like you’ve never seen a giant before,” he muttered, muscling down the flush in his cheeks. The prickle of wetness in his eyes.

[creatorofuniverses]

Gt July Day 20 – Exhausted

Went back to the newest characters for this one, since they’re already on the brain! Very fun to be establishing parts of their relationship through random drabbles like this.

––––––––––––––––––

They were spending the night at an inn, for once. The Wayward Gull was the closest thing most of the professional hunters had to a home. The innkeeper gave them special rates, since all of them breezed through fairly regularly, and it gave the hunters some time on a real bed.

Ember was making the most of it.

She was laid out flat on her stomach in only her tank top and trousers, her stockinged feet hanging off the end of the bed. The blankets lay beneath her, still mostly folded- seeing as it was only mid-afternoon, she shouldn’t actually fall asleep, though her body sure as hell wanted to. One arm was curled up by her shoulder and the other sprawled limply across the side of the bed. Her face was buried in the pillow, though one tired brown eye peeked out.

It was staring at Rowan, who was doing his very best to climb up the nearby nightstand. Seeing as the wooden nightstand was carved rather elaborately into floral designs, he was actually doing fairly well. Better than she’d expected, anyhow, though he was always boasting about such things. She watched him idly as he reached up and found another handhold, hauling his lanky little body up another drawer.

“I can’t believe you have the energy for this,” she mumbled, her voice mostly muffled into the pillow. “We were on the hunt for nearly a week, and the first thing you do is clamber around the furniture.”

Rowan huffed, though he didn’t risk looking back up at her. Climbing giant furniture was surprisingly harder than climbing a normal-sized building- if he lost his concentration too much he could fall, and it would hurt, badly. Still, he couldn’t quite keep from slinging back a reply as he worked on climbing up and across the drawer. “You were the one hunting, I was stuck in your pocket for the majority of the trip,” he irritably pointed out. “Being exceptionally quiet and still, I might add, because if I so much as moved you told me off for being too loud while you all were stalking that… whatever it was.” Something big with lots of teeth- Rowan had admittedly hid in said pocket when they actually found the damn thing they were hunting, because he didn’t really want to see it. “So yes, now that I have the opportunity, I want to actually do something.”

“Like climb the furniture,” Ember reiterated, sounding less than sold on his logic. She watched him make progress for a few minutes, somewhat entranced. It was all too strange to watch a little man climb up the nightstand on his own. She recalled that he apparently hadn’t left his city of wee folk until just before she met him, and couldn’t help but ask, “Where’d you learn how to do that, anyways? That thing’s pretty tall compared to you, and I didn’t think you’d come across any human stuff before now.”

A tiny scoff was her only reply for a moment, until Rowan found a more stable position. “Of course not,” he replied. “I used to climb up the sides of buildings sometimes, back in Arturium. Ones even taller than this thing, I’ll have you know.” Sure, it was a shock to go from entire buildings to a two-drawer nightstand, but he’d already filled his quota of feeling bitter at giant things for the day. It didn’t actually help anything, and that only fueled his bitterness, and so on and so forth. He was tired of it.

Ember’s brow furrowed slightly over the edge of the pillow. “Why?”

“Oh, you know…” Rowan focused for a moment at the lip bordering the very top of the nightstand, before pushing off firmly and easily catching the edge with his hands. Having a long frame was still an advantage, even if he couldn’t really qualify as “tall” anymore. “Sometimes I needed to be inside places, and walking through the front door wasn’t really an option.”

A quiet, muffled chuckle told Rowan that Ember had understood exactly what he meant. “Guess those sticky fingers of yours help you with climbing too,” she teased.

Rowan finally made it to the very top of the nightstand and he sat for a while, breathing heavily with his legs dangling over the edge. He looked over at Ember where she lay sprawled on the bed and appraised her for a moment. “You reallydon’t care that I’m a thief, do you?” This wasn’t a new revelation, by any means, but sometimes it struck him as odd all over again.

Ember just shrugged, her muscular shoulders meeting her ears before relaxing again. “You can’t carry off anything I care about,” she easily replied.

Rowan frowned and tilted his head slightly, affecting a sort of half-shrug. “Fair enough.” He stood up and brushed himself off, gauging the distance between the nightstand and the bed with a calculating look. He broke into a jog and neatly leapt over the few-inch gap. His grace then ran out as his feet hit the uneven, giving surface of the bed and he stumbled, pinwheeling his arms and pitching forward. He wound up sprawled across most of Ember’s face.

Her laughter shook through him from this close and he hastily pushed himself away, finding the sensation disconcerting. He sat back, only for her hand to come up behind him and cover him up to his shoulders, effectively pinning him to the bed by the weight of it alone. “Hey!” he protested, wiggling fervently. All his pushing and kicking did nothing at all in regards to freeing him from his impromptu prison. “What gives?”

“Settle down,” Ember said, her voice a solid mix of sleepy and amused. “You’re fine. I just… need to rest, and I don’t want you running off and getting hurt…” Her voice was fading, her eyes closed and her face still mostly buried in the pillow.

Rowan squirmed, but it was as hopeless as it had ever been. The dead weight of Ember’s hand might as well be a block of stone. Cursing quietly, he resigned himself to finding a comfortable way to lay down- as if that could be achieved under a giant’s hand. He frowned at Ember’s face, though his expression softened slightly as he noticed the dark bags under her eyes, the slow, even breaths coming through her nose. She was exhausted.

“This is stupid,” he said, for the sake of declaring it now, and settled in for the wait. Ember just smiled slightly, already half asleep.

[ramskulls-archive]

a compilation of random snippets n trivia i’ve written over the years, most unfinished, mostly leocasey

hope this helps some of u looking for more lc content lmao 

closed spaces (me, to inky: it gets worse as time goes on so imagine you are also dying from oxygen deprivation as you read it) 

notes on closed spaces

broken toes (leoshinirai?)

notes on broken toes

purple dragons au 

three years (what if leo was in a coma for three years, not three months?)

__________________________________

green thumbs

background: hamato

background: jones

characters & setting

gt notes (warning, LONG bc this is where i dump everything... i think about GT a lot more than i realize.....)

gt drabbles

__________________________________

leocasey drabbles:

victorious

practice (like victorious, but with dancing)

unnamed (drabble challenge)

we need to talk about casey (this never went anywhere)

__________________________________

misc snippets:

and surely he would die of embarrassment but, "I love you" tumbles smoothly from his lips and he makes no motion to take it back like he did before.

It lingers in the air between them, humming past their ears.

Leo's resolve strengthens and

(and????? ) 

___________

Casey was deep in thought. He'd always thought of himself as a straight guy. He didn't know when the transition began, he thought pensively, as he watched TV next to his favorite person, whose head lay nestled in his bony shoulder.

"It doesn't bother me," he once said, as Casey contested its pillowability, "I'm more worried my fat heavy head would make it numb." And Casey would reply in kind.

"It doesn't bother me."

And when did this start? [gestures vaguely in the air] Casey glances to his left, where the light from the television lit up his face with a hazy glow, dancing shadows on his face making him look like many different things at once. All beautiful.

When did he start calling men beautiful?

This man (turtle), was beautiful for sure. 

[hiddendreamer67]

If more than one is okay, maybe "You're a horrible liar. I've known you for far too long to be able to tell" (not sure if I got it word for word correct) Maybe Analogical? Or maybe Prinxiety :) You can decide who's tol and smol

Idea: human Virgil who works with giant aliens on a spaceship. 

send me sentences from here with a sanders sides pairing and I’ll write a gt drabble!

Virgil sat on the edge of the console, trying to stay out of Logan’s way as the engineer typed away on the foreign device. Instead the human gazed out the window, watching various planets and stars seem to float by. Even though it had been years since he had accidentally joined this astral crew, Virgil still found the vast emptiness of space to be terrifying. It didn’t help that so many of the alien members were vastly larger than himself, Logan included. It just helped to drive home that feeling of being inferior.

“Uh oh.” Logan grimaced as he looked at the screen before him.

“What is it?” Virgil quickly turned away from the window to look up at the screen, but Logan was frantically closing out of the notification already.

“Oh, ah nothing.” Logan waved him off, clearly lying. “Just a glitch in the system.”

“You’re a horrible liar.” Virgil noted, getting anxious. “I’ve known you for far too long to be able to tell.”

“…alright.” Logan admitted, sighing. “I know you humanoids are easily stressed, so let me begin with stating that everything is relatively fine.”

“What. is. It.” Virgil repeated, his unease increasing slightly.

“You don’t need to worry about any of the engines malfunctioning or a lack of fuel-”

“Well I wasn’t worried about those until you mentioned it!” Virgil interrupted.

“My apologies.” Logan winced. “I just received notice that there’s another ship in our vicinity and they’ve requested access to board.”

“Well who is it?” Virgil’s mind began racing with possibilities. “Is it, like, space pirates? Or-”

“It’s not ‘space pirates’, don’t be ridiculous Virgil.” Logan sighed. “It’s… my ex.”

Virgil paused. “Your ex.”

“My ex rival.” Logan said, as though that cleared things up.

“Your… Logan, that just raises so many questions.” Virgil couldn’t help but feel frustrated that Logan had made him get all stressed over Logan’s personal drama. “You had a rival?” Was that just an alien thing?

“Yes, although we’ve since grown to be on more civil terms.” Logan explained. Another notification popped up on the screen, which Logan promptly closed.

“Well, then what’s the problem?” Virgil asked. “I mean, I thought we were supposed to trade with other ships.”

“I’d rather not interact with this particular vessel.” Logan said, giving the screen a dirty look. “This man is far too extravagant for me to deal with when our caffeine supplies are still so dangerously low.”

“Oh come on.” Virgil groaned. “You’re always forcing me to interact with random aliens I don’t want to see. And it’s, like, a thousand times harder for me because you’re all so huge and intimidating to begin with.”

“I’m not sure your calculation is correct.” Logan pointed out, but Virgil refused to let him sidetrack this conversation.

“Plus, you already know him.” Virgil pointed out. “ And he might have something we need. How hard could it be? Just let him on, do the trade, and then reevaluate your conversation late into the night as you wonder why you said something awkward again.”

There was a third ping on the screen as a more insistent notification arrived. Logan moved to close out of it, but he paused. He looked down at Virgil before moving over to accept the notification.

“Fine.” Logan conceded. “But I did warn you.”

[bellringermal]

Hello! I have been scouring the Internet for any Gehrmaria fanfics and can't seem to find, well, anything! I honestly just got into this ship but I have Disproportionally Strong Feelings(tm) and I NEEEED IT smut is completely welcomed, should you so graciously help an Anon out :D

First things first: is always a pleasure to see someone else embrace the Dark Side get into this ship.  So… welcome :DSadly there isn’t a lot of fan content for it and the ONLY fic that I ever found outside of Tumblr (it was 1 year ago) was an Italian one in which: 1) Gehrman was a complete monster 2) Maria was an absolute idiot and 3) it was poorly written from a language standpoint.

So yeah, not exactly a fulgid example of literature but I still hold it dear because it was what convinced me to write my own story of which you can read a few translated bits here on my blog.

Winter Solstice - extract from chapter 2 (Gehrman talks about his past to Maria. They’re not a couple at this point so this barely qualifies as Gehrmaria but still ;P)

Winter Solstice - another extract from chapter 2

Gehrmariaoneshot (not part of my fanfic. just random cuteness)

“Not so unaware” (short comic illustrated by me and based on @nightmaredaisy ‘s fanfic)

I know that’s not much but it’s pretty difficult for me to translate it and Italian is not a language you can just paste in Google Translate and get something readable out of it. Pronouns get swapped all the time for whatever reason and GT doesn’t recognize article abbreviations and many verb conjugations. So yeah, is a mess.

Here you can read some oneshots/drabbles by @blooddrownedhunter and @nightmaredaisy :

Bite ft. Gehrmaria by Blooddrownedhunter

Kiss ft. Gehrmaria  by Blooddrownedhunter 

Short angsty drabble by Nightmaredaisy

What I can say is that as shippers, most of us have a different take on Gehrman and Maria’s story because of how vague the lore and timeline are. @nightmaredaisy and I are on the same page because we developed the characters together and he wrote entire scenes that the characters mention in my chapters.

Some shippers like the age gap while others don’t,  some put great emphasis on Maria’s vampiric nature, Gehrman’s “curious mania” gets various interpretations and even the reasons behind the creation of the Doll can be different depending on who you ask. The general idea, I would say, is that we all create a “what if” scenario in which at some point Maria isn’t unaware of his attraction to her anymore and she deals with it in different ways according to our take on the characters.

As for the NSFW bits, I wrote 4 (for now eheheh) and all I can say is: it’s hot, it’s tender and even rough when it needs to be >///v///

[hypergraphia16]

klasifikasi

So, been keeping myself busy this afternoon to tidy up this tumblr (yeah right basically doing everything to procastinate studying for exam).

Been sorting some post to categories.

First thing first, #gonreadthisdrabblelater

That’s for my drabbles. Beberapa curhatan JIJIQUE sok estetis,

beberapa drabble yang kepikiran aja tiba tiba, beberapa rants about everything just like how I always did in my head but got some urge and time to write that, beberapa tulisan utk beberapa orang

(ceilah, padahal orangnya ga minta yha gausah mkseh mb),

beberapa depresif -_-. Ya dikumpulin aja siapa tau bsk mau baca baca lagi atau mau dijadiin apa gitu kan (apa memangnya mbaknyahh)

Yang keduaaa

Solat malam dirikanlaaah

Yha

Yg kedua #dramaaftermath

Biasanya sebagai bentuk ketidakmoveon an dari drama, ada juga yang novel ada juga yang film ya gt lah kan anaknya random.

Yang ketiga #fidolsrandomplaylist

Biasanya isinya kebucinan oppa oppa dan dd dd dari berbagai mv dan juga beberapa playlist yang tentu saja random.

Ya diinget ya dol siapa tau mau walk down in (alay) memory line gt kan.

[marydublinauthor]

Random gt drabbles: Tackle

Short #1 Request from my SITD prompt!

Requested by: @kendsleyauthor

Request: Cliff and Oliver, dark future AU, fluffy + steamy, lush forest

A/N: the amount of Cliff and Oliver that was requested omg THANK you 🥹 they are the moment rn

——————-

As the sun set behind the distant mountains, the forest became drenched in amber hues. Cliff had ventured out to forage with six of the safehouse fairies, hoping to maximize a harvest of wild parsnips that grew nearby. The rest of the crew had flown inside ahead, but Cliff was taking his time on the rugged terrain, still nursing an ugly bruise on his left leg from a recent mission. Zia had healed the worst of it, but bruises were particularly tricky to resolve, even for advanced healers.

One fairy remained, keeping pace in flight beside him.

In a month’s time, Oliver had already adjusted well to life with the Safehouse community. Still, Cliff couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to stay bonded to him after their trial in the wilderness. Generally speaking, Oliver’s discretion wasn’t exactly his strongest quality. Cliff had caught him staring at him a number of times over the past weeks, always averting his gaze like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone who hates parsnips,” Oliver was berating.

“I think it’s because everyone you know grew up eating moss, and it shows,” Cliff said, smirking at his own joke.

A small, playful jolt of electricity zinged through his leather jacket.

“We did not have moss in my home village,” Oliver grumbled. “For your information, it was a dried algae, and it was delicious.”

“Serve that with some fries, and I’m set.”

“Listen,” Oliver said. “I know you’re joking, but that would actually taste really…”

He sucked in a sharp breath as a shadow crossed over their path. They paused to observe a hawk gliding through the trees overhead, on the hunt as dusk strengthened.

Oliver cursed, blood draining from his face.

“Come on, we should get a move on,” he said, flying faster. His flight pattern became erratic — obviously spooked.

Cliff quickened his pace to match. “You want a pocket?”

“It’s fine. Let’s just hurry.”

But as he spoke, the adorable dumbass flew straight through a spiderweb strung in a bush, tangling his wings in the thick, dew-covered threads. His flight immediately began to falter, dropping him closer to the ground with every dialed wing beat.

“Should’ve taken me up on the pocket,” Cliff called.

He was still catching up when a shrill scream came from above. For a moment, it felt like time slowed down, and horror gripped Cliff’s insides. Oliver’s frantic flapping had caught the hawk’s eye.

It dove down.

Cliff sprinted, closing the distance and putting his body between the bird and Oliver. Momentum barreled him forward. Instinct took over. He clapped his hands around Oliver’s fragile body and crushed him to his chest, rolling to land hard on his side.

Panting, Cliff watched the hawk veer off to another part of the forest in search of an easier meal. He released Oliver onto the forest floor and rolled over top of him.

“You okay?” Cliff demanded.

Oliver’s small body shuffled against the fallen leaves as he gasped for air, making sense of his surroundings. His blue eyes widened when he looked up at the new source of the shadow over him.

“Y-yeah.”

“Damn birds. Never realized what a menace they were until I started rooming with fairies.” Cliff brushed out some of the spiderweb out of Oliver’s hair with his thumb. Little broken pieces of leaves and dirt were scattered across his clothes.

The way Oliver’s little head whipped around to follow the path of Cliff’s hand, up to his wide shoulders and chest and the rest of him walling him in… Cliff clenched his jaw. He felt the familiar urge to apologize for being so impsosing and too big for their world.

But the way Oliver’s chest was heaving wasn’t from fear. His expression was so precious, and he was safe, and there was something magnetic in the air now.

He didn’t know why— why here? why now?—but it was as tangible as the forest around them. Like a gentle, guiding hand, it pulled Cliff down slowly until he shut his eyes and Oliver’s stunned expression vanished.

He let his lips fall against Oliver’s face with the gentlest pressure he could manage. Cliff lingered there for a moment, enthralled with the sensation of those delicate features against his skin.

He pulled back, scrutinizing any emotion in those tiny blue eyes carefully.

“Thank you,” Oliver finally said, flushed like a spring tomato. They gaped at each other for a while longer before he added, “You could do that again, if you wanted.”

Cliff shifted on his knees, his shadow dancing over Oliver’s prone body. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes. Please.”

Cliff arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You look like you’ve barely caught your breath.”

“Breathing is overrated,” Oliver said with a flippant gesture.

Cliff grinned and dove down.

[marydublinauthor]

Random gt drabbles: Nightshade

Characters: Tyrant!Cliff and Zia

Universe: Tyrant!Cliff AU

——————

“You fucker! Let me out of here!”

Sylvia had been screaming at Cliff for fifteen minutes, but her voice was weakening. Her beating at the gilded bars of the cage embedded in his study shelf was a waste of energy. Every other fairy in the room could only politely avert their gazes to spare her the shame of their pity.

Cliff was marking off several areas on a digital map for some of his crew members. Nesting areas for possible chenoos in Alaska. It made Zia’s stomach roil to look at the eager men hanging on his expertise. Eager for blood.

“Everyone’s dismissed,” Cliff finally said in a louder voice. “Except for one of you,” he gestured vaguely towards the fairies lounging on the desk furniture. “One of you shut her up. I can’t hear myself think.”

Sylvia spat towards Cliff’s back. “When I get these cuffs off — and I will —I’m going to freeze your heart. You’re going to choke on your own fluids.”

“I’ll do it,” Zia offered casually.

She kept her eyes on the laces of her velvet slippers, but she saw how Cliff looked abruptly in her direction, his lips parted in surprise. He was cemented in place as the room emptied.

The stillness felt dangerous. She met his gaze unflinchingly before flying to the cage. Sylvia’s face was worn and red from crying. Cliff’s betrayal seemed to poison her a little more each day — cuffs or no. Her emerald eyes were dull as she begged Zia quietly to help her.

Cliff’s footsteps thudded quietly as he neared. Zia squared her jaw and waved her hand, pulling at the small amount of magic the cuffs allowed her. Sylvia’s eyes fluttered, a plea dying on her lips as she fell into a gentle sleep, forehead resting against the bars.

“I thought you two were close. What changed?” His deep voice was calm, but laced with suspicion.

“She’s yelling herself hoarse. Besides… You did give her a chance to apologize for wounding you.”

He frowned, but intrigue glimmered there, too. They hadn’t interacted much since that night in his bed, when he’d kissed her.

When she’d kissed him, too.

“You’re wearing the necklace,” he noticed. The effort to maintain a casual air would have been adorable from anyone else.

Zia touched it, grinning wryly. “It does pain me to admit you have good taste. It matches everything.” Her delicate touch trailed from the gemstone, over her cleavage. She pushed off from the cage and flew back over to the desk. Cliff followed. After fluttering indecisively, she pointedly lowered herself to a seat on Cliff’s crystal bourbon glass. There was still a little of the harsh drink inside, mingling with melted ice.

“I’m glad you’re not going with them,” Zia said, smiling primly as she watched the hunger build in his expression. The way he fought so desperately to maintain the upper hand.

“Why?”

“You’d get hurt,” she said, smirking. “And that would mean more work for me.”

He chuckled softly, fondness flooding his face. Cliff braced his hands on the desk, leaning over her. She had to arch her back to maintain eye contact.

“Maybe I’ll bring you with me next time,” he said in that low voice that made her stomach flutter. He grabbed hold of the glass. She let her legs dangle in the bourbon, kicking carefree. “There are always vampires in Italy. And Greece. You’d love it there.”

“Do we need monsters to travel together?” She scoffed. “Am I not enough of an excuse?”

Her teasing grin faltered when Cliff lifted up the glass. His handsome face loomed so close she could feel his soft breaths against her skin.

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

She swallowed hard. “You offered to prove yourself. Right?”

She touched the side of his hand, hoping he could not feel how hers trembled. Cliff’s other hand cupped against her side, grazing the gauzy fabric of her short dress. His thumb pushed under her chin, guiding her face as he leaned in to kiss her.

He was tender and skilled — but hungry. He pressed against the softness of her thigh, the curve of her waist, claiming her.

She giggled shrilly as he paused in his affections only to gulp down the last of the liquor, sucking on her arms in the process when she fell forward against his full lips.

He pulled away, catching his breath with a dizzied smile.

“Zia, I…”

He trailed off.

His pause drew out as he stood there, and he frowned deeply.

“What is it, darling?” Zia asked.

His eyes bulged with realization and he bucked forward. He tried to set the glass down gently, but she was nearly crushed by it as he seized and dropped it on its side. Rolling out of the way, Zia watched with wide eyes as Cliff struggled to stay alert. His eyelids suddenly seemed leaden.

He managed a murmur of betrayal before collapsing to the floor in a heap.

Zia wrung out her long hair, counting the seconds of silence. She sighed, looking down at her wet clothes. She would smell of nightshade for ages.

She glided down to the floor and landed on Cliff’s chest. She crawled in his jacket pockets for a few minutes before emerging victorious with her prize — the master key fob.

“We have to hurry,” Zia said, flying to the cage. Sylvia was on her feet, wings tensed. “I didn’t have enough nightshade to kill him.”

[marydublinauthor]

Random gt drabbles: Desired

Characters: Cliff and Zia

*NEW* Shot in the Dark/Tyrant!Cliff AU

“Why shouldn’t I have everything I want?” It’s this simple question that inspires Cliff to rejoin his family, who is now involved prominently in a supernatural black market organization, making millions. Leaving Jon and Sylvia, Cliff takes the helm of this organization with merciless focus. He takes captive for himself the fairies and creatures that aren’t monetized or killed, giving them a life of luxury — under his control.

@bittykimmy13 @kendsleyauthor

——————————-

“You - green hair. He needs you.”

Zia lifted her head, a coldness snaking through her body. Not tonight. She didn’t have the energy tonight.

Cliff’s assistant looked up from her phone, giving an impatient sneer. “Am I speaking French? Let’s go.”

Zia withdrew from Oliver and Sylvia, setting down her beads on the game board. “Finish without me,” she murmured.

“Just her?” Oliver called over.

The assistant shrugged. “It’s a healing thing.”

Sylvia shook her head, massaging her temples.

“What?” Oliver asked. “I was just clarifying.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Oli? Why would you want to give him any more than he’s already taken from you?”

“He’s not all bad. No one is.”

Zia left their bickering as she flew behind the human woman. There was no cage in the room, but it always felt like crossing a threshold when she lingered in the entryway. The impossible passage to freedom. The assistant barely looked up from her phone as she pressed a button on a small remote. Zia’s cuffs snapped together. The assistant clipped a fine gold chain to the side and led her up the spiral stairs.

Cliff was lounged on his California King nursing two fingers of bourbon when Zia was all but thrust into the room. The arched window was cracked open, letting a whisper of crisp autumn air into the vast space. He sat up when she made herself known, and his black button-up fell open further. Claw marks glinted across his chest.

“Was it a gasher?” Zia asked quietly, landing on the bed and waiting for him to unfasten the chain.

“A wendigo from Oregon. The sedation in transit wasn’t strong enough, apparently.” Cliff said, tossing the chain onto the nightstand next to his drink. “But nothing we couldn’t handle. Thank you for coming, Zia.”

“You’re welcome.”

It really was remarkable how he insisted on the illusion that they had any agency whatsoever.

Cliff laid back into the pillows with a pained sigh and set her onto his chest. She familiarize herself with the gentle heat of his bare skin, the ebb and flow of his breaths. The unbearable weight of his gaze on her, begging her to look back at him.

Zia began to heal him, keeping her eyes lowered only upon her work. She hoped to finish quickly, and that he would grow bored soonafter. She was sealing up the second claw mark when his hand dropped around her. She stiffened, magic flickering out as Cliff tucked some of her long hair back behind her ear.

“You know, I’ve never seen a fairy with green hair like yours before? It’s beautiful.”

She made the mistake of glancing at his face. Cliff smiled, finally having gotten what he wanted. Her attention.

“I’m starting to think you put yourself in harm’s way just so you have an excuse to call me in here at all hours of the night,” she said cooly. She returned to healing, but it was hard to form the words when he was still playing with her hair like that.

He chuckled softly. “Would that be so terrible?”

[marydublinauthor]

Pick my next random short story!! shot in the dark edition 🥰 DM me or reply with circled answers via screenshot reblog.

[marydublinauthor]

Random gt drabbles: Vanity

Characters: Markus & Jane

Safe for work • trade with @smol-smoggie

—————————

“Keep an eye on her,” Markus grunted, pushing a bronze coin to the bartender. “Drop a glass over her if she tries to run off.”

The other giant arched a brow, pocketing the money.Jane didn’t bother to protest any further than a nasty look at Markus, unable to muster up the energy to explain that she was too grateful for a cool beverage and food that didn’t come from the rations in the giant’s bag. The bar doubled as an inn on the second floor, and Jane found herself desperately hoping she’d have a soft quilt and pillow tonight - even if her captivity continued.

Markus exchanged a few more words with the man, booking a room. The bartender insisted on a steep discount. It was interesting, which people they came across that seemed to adore Markus or want him dead.

“I’ll be ten minutes,” Markus said, eying her with weariness that insulted Jane to her core. “Stay. Put.”

Jane flipped him off, glaring at his retreating back.

The reprieve from him was a relief - though she immediately noticed how other patrons looked at her more openly with Markus absent. Jane lowered her gaze and guzzled her water, requesting a human menu from the barkeep.

Her pumpkin soup had just arrived when she heard — or rather felt — Markus’ return. She’d recognize his heavy, self-assured gait anywhere. She looked up and felt her own body go rigid.

He’d cleaned himself up, and she barely recognized him. The unruly golden scruff he sported had been neatly trimmed, accentuating his strong jaw. It made his green eyes somehow look brightly — gods, they were practically sparkling in the firelight as he crossed the room. Something wet dribbled onto her chest. Jane looked down with a start, realizing her next sip of water had missed her mouth completely.

Markus was well aware of the dozen or so eyes tracking his approach — transformed from the grimy bouncer Hunter that had entered the establishment. One human walked into a wall, spilling his mug of ale. Markus caught the eye of a shy giant woman serving a corner table and smiled — the kind of smile that made one wish they’d been the one to arrive with him, or had a chance of leaving by his side.

The room held its breath as he selected his seat at the bar behind Jane.

“You stayed. Good girl,” he grunted. Then, he frowned. Jane was gaping slightly when he reached out and pinched her chin between a finger and thumb. She was pinned under his scrutiny. His touch was gentle. His skin smelled like the forest and something cleaner and spicier. It was like another giant had been traveling with her.

His thumb touched the water on her chin.

“You’re making a mess of yourself,” he murmured. She wondered if he was toying with her, knowing the power he wielded when he let his voice drop to such a low, resonate timbre.

“You smell good,” Jane replied, not bothering to hide her shock.

Markus’ expression twitched with humor. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“Yes,” she said, pushing his hand away. Hating how she was acutely aware of the memory of those digits on her burning cheeks. “Yes, I think I do. You like the attention, don’t you?”

Markus leaned back in his seat, his muscles pulling at the sleeves of his simple shirt as he surveyed the room. “Doesn’t hurt anyone,” he drawled.

[marydublinauthor]

Random gt drabbles: Flight

Requested by: @smolgloves

Request: Size shifter AU / Jon and Sylv/ pure fluff/ elegant mansion

A/N: thank you guys for all the wonderful prompts on my “choose my next Shot in the Dark short” — I’m so excited to write them all! ✨✨✨✨

—————-

Before Jon could shut the door, Sylvia had already launched from his shoulder and was excitedly flying about the interior of the first floor. He couldn’t blame her curiosity for spiking here; compared to his humble house, the velvety curtains, ornate light fixtures, and sparking surfaces must’ve felt like a castle to her.

“Don’t get stuck anywhere,” Jon called out.

He was mostly joking.

As he approached the winding, well-lit staircase, her wings buzzed back into earshot. She was breathless as she plopped back onto his shoulder as though she had struggled to make a full lap around the apartment. “This place is huge! Cliff lives here alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Seems like a waste.”

“Honestly, Cliff would probably agree with you,” Jon said, taking care to climb the stairs slowly while she adjusted her perch. “A lot of this stuff was handed down to him.”

He felt her stare at the framed family heirlooms adorning the wall that led to the second floor. It was a timeline of the Everett empire triumph, complete with old newspaper clippings, family photos, and crystalline awards in shadow boxes. It wasn’t until the landing of the second floor that Cliff showed up in any photos at all.

Without warning, Sylvia tensed on Jon’s shoulder. This was the only warning he got before she threw herself into the air again, making Jon flinch as she flew right past his face. Recovering, he followed to see what had caught her eye. She had her face pressed to the glass of an antique plate that was displayed on an open shelf. He snorted fondly. Though its colored panes, she must’ve seeing how the first floor looked in hues of blues and greens.

“Is he a prince or something?” She asks. “Look at all this stuff! Why does he keep it all?”

She landed on the shelf, walking between other heirlooms. As she turned, her flared wings knocked a vintage fountain pen from its place. Jon dove to catch it, breathless as he returned it delicately to the wood holster. Sylvia had not even noticed his plight, too transfixed now on a mirrored figurine. It was twice her height, and she was playing with her hair in the reflection.

Jon chewed his lip. He forgot sometimes, how adorable she was at her true size — or rather, his true size. He could’ve watched her toy with her reflection all afternoon.

He cleared his throat. “Listen, you mind if I hold you? I promised to grab his computer for him, not break his valuables.”

To his surprise, she walked to the edge of the shelf without argument. Jon nearly had to cross his eyes as she hovered closely before his face. She reached out and gave the tip of his nose a playful pat. “I never mind when you hold me,” she said, sinking down to seat herself in his cupped hand.

Jon felt his cheeks pinkening, but he knew it was a fruitless battle to conceal the effect she had on him. It took him a moment to tear his gaze off her impish smile and remember where Cliff’s bedroom was.

[marydublinauthor]

Random gt drabbles: Warm Sheets

Characters: Lana and Ben

A/N: he broke her 😭

———————-

His steady breathing was the only sound in the room - a peaceful rhythm. The evening’s excitement should have had her sleeping long past sunrise, but an uncertain fluttering in her belly kept her tossing and turning. And she liked sitting inthe peace and quiet, watching him sleep. His face looked so different when he was relaxed - almost innocent. Not so long ago, she would have taken any opportunity to get him drunk and find an escape in the night.

Funny, what a little time and perspective did.

As sunlight crept into the room, his eyes fluttered open, long lashes sending slight tremors in the air. Lana arched her back as he spotted her on his pillow, all of five inches tall, and frowned.

“You’re still here,” he breathed, voice raspy from sleep.

Lana smiled, crawling closer. “I wanted to be the first thing you saw when you woke up.”

She receives a small smirk, and his hand - comparably massive - clumsily drops around her. “I almost forgot about you. How’d you sleep?”

“Okay.”

“You slept like this?”

Lana hesitated. “I did.”

The look on his face was indiscernible, but something undeniably proud was there.

The glint in his eyes shifted to something she knew, making her even breathing catch. He rolled over on the linens so he was looming above her on the pillow. His toned arms walled her in as he sank down to press his lips to her skin.

[marydublinauthor]

All my love to the other g/t weirdos like me 🫡😂❤️❤️❤️

And self plug - follow me on tiktok ✨

@ marydublin_author

[marydublinauthor]

Random gt drabbles: Chained

Characters: NEW! Joseph and Lucette

(Just brainstorming for fun, not big story in mind just yet really✨) @smol-smoggie

—————-

Metal clunked and clattered heavily in the otherwise still night. Only crickets in the wild grass growing around the ranch seemed unperturbed by the monumental movements. Lucette’s breath caught as she peered around the side of the barn. The giant was chained up behind - the thickest chains in town donated from every merchant and farmer to fix their uninvited guest in place.

At least, while they figured out what to do with him. Lucette watched him struggle uselessly with the metal with quiet, wide eyes. He sounded close to tears as he tried tearing the binds apart and attempted to kick the very tree out of the earth to which they were secured, to no avail. He slumped back against the barn, making a horse faintly whinny in protest. His chin slumped to his chest.

Lucette stepped back - snapping crisp hay. The giant lifted his head urgently and their eyes caught. Lucette screamed and dove behind the nearest bale of hale to conceal herself.

“Wait, don’t go!” His voice rattled her.

Her chest heaved. “I shouldn’t be here. They warned us all to stay away from you.”

“But I won’t hurt you!” He was so earnest, Lucette found it impossible to unroot herself entirely. She peeked out.“I won’t hurt you, it’s okay.” His mighty shoulders relaxed somewhat as she slowly stood before him in plain sight. “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?” she blurted, eyes narrowed.

“Joseph. Or Joe, if you want.”

She pressed her lips together. A perfectly normal, not-a-monster name. “I’m Lucette.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “You… you found me on the beach, didn’t you? I remember you.” She swallowed, nodded. This titan, god, whatever he was remembered her. It was incredibly difficult to hold a proper conversation with someone so much larger than herself, as it turned out.

Joseph sighed, gaze flighty before he held up his hands weakly. “Can you let me go?”

Pitt washed through her. “I don’t have the key. And anyway, they’d kill me if they found out.”

He slumped back again. “It was worth a shot.”

[marydublinauthor]

Random gt drabbles: Collapse

Characters: Markus and Jane

@smol-smoggie

—————————

When Markus arrived, the smoke was billowing black. A fire - unlucky from a strike of lightning in their dry spell. The shoppes had been damaged little, the fire quenched. But the apothecary was less lucky. The fire roared like a sinister beast, ravaging the old building.

Everyone stood around, horror seeming to mute them. It was too vicious for any pails of water to quench.

“Who’s inside?” Markus demanded. The townsfolk near his ankles looked up at him with wide eyes. They looked afraid to answer him, which could only mean…

“No, no, no…” He stepped over a line of gawkers and rushed towards the building. The old wood shivered when he dropped onto hands and knees, peering desperately inside the tiny windows.

“Jane? JANE!”

Something tapped against the basement window. Markus lowered all the way onto his stomach to look inside. Jane’s little face was pressed to the glass. Too small to crawl through - it would scarcely fit her head and shoulder.

He whipped his head toward the basement entrance at the side of the building. It was built to withstand storms, with a walkway winding down through a pair of shutter doors. One of the upper floors was already in ruins, and the wreckage blocked the passageway.

His wide eyes traveled back to the window. Fear flooded her little face as she looked out at him. He could see the sweat on her skin, the smoke clouding in the room. She could barely breathe in there.

“Hang on,” he boomed urgently. “Hang on.”

He tore himself away from her. Markus paced around the building, looking desperately for another exit and hoping that his footfalls wouldn’t bring the fragile structure down. The heat was awful, lapping at his clothes.

The second floor groaned. Another flooring section shattered and caved down. Glass shattered, making nearby civilians shudder and whimper fearfully. There might be only a minute before the entire place buried Jane alive.

“Stand back,” he barked at the crowd.

Markus gave Jane a look through the window and he knelt down. She vanished, pulling someone else backwards with her as Markus grabbed hold of the boards resting over the litter foundation. He gave a testing pull, wincing at the whine of the burning wood.

It was fucking heavy. He pulled, and at first, the building didn’t rise more than a few inches. He grit his teeth. He had pulled out entire trees, he could lift a fucking house. He had to.

Markus groaned and pulled, digging his heels into the ground. Slowly but surely, the entire west side of the house lifted under his hands. He looked down: the basement was in shambles. His smart girl didn’t waste any time. She grabbed the others trapped with her and together, they pushed over a bookshelf to climb towards the opening.

Markus’ arms burned from the weight. His skin grew slick from the blistering heat. It slipped in his grasp, and the crowd gasped in horror. His hands shook. He couldn’t hold it long.

“Is that everyone?” he barked back at Jane.

“Yes!”

He stepped back, releasing his grip. The building slammed into the earth with an impact that rippled silence through most of the crowd. The impact caused the building to collapse in on itself. He tried not to stare at the wreckage, knowing how close Jane had been to becoming nothing more than a smoldering corpse beneath.

Something tugged on his trouser leg insistently.

“Jane,” he breathed, bending down to snatch her off the ground. He held her aloft, brushing her hair off her face as she coughed into her arm. He spotted multiple bruises forming, and a gash in her sleeve of her dress. But she was breathing, and the playful light in her blue eyes was strong as ever.

“You’re such a show off,” she rasped.

Markus kissed her head, tucking her against his cheek.

She’d be just fine.