#under 1000 words

[wandering-writing-waffles]

His Most Prized Possession

Rating: E for everyone

Word Count: 819

Relationships: Darth Maul x Reader

Tags/Warnings: Violence, Mentions of blood, implied romance, implied kidnapping

Notes: Hello there! So this is just a quick lil oneshot I wrote a while back but kind of want to make into a full-fledged fic???? Idk, I may continue this and may not. I would certainly like to! But hey! I hope you enjoy what I have so far!

Summary: Maul had only ever loved one thing in his life, and that was you... But one day when he came home and all he could find of you was a small trinket of yours lying dormant in the doorway, he knew there could only be one explanation... You had been taken... Taken right out from under his nose! Heart filled with a newfound rage, he vows to scour the galaxy looking for you wherever he can. He will do anything to get you back.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Maul felt the heat of the blade lightly graze the center of his chest. On a regular occasion, he wouldn’t have paid any mind. His body was littered with scars and scratches after all. Years of fighting for survival had left their mark in the form of nasty raised abrasions all across his body. But this… this was different. It wasn’t just his body that was at stake this time.

He lifted his hand up to examine the area at which the blade seethed his flesh and to his dismay, it was gone. All that was left in its place were burnt, broken tethers from where it once laid.

He quickly tilted his head back upwards, towards this so-called attacker whom he assumed was just some insignificant bounty hunter from some insignificant little planet looking for a quick and easy score. Oh was he mistaken…

Maul seethed at that thought, a newfound, burning rage beginning to build up in his core, ready to burst at any moment. ‘What a pathetic waste of time,’ he thought to himself.

The attacker went rigid. His eyes widened in a fearful stupor as he made contact with Maul’s piercing golden gaze. The sweat at his temple began to pool and drip down his now furrowed brow bone and Maul could see his hands and the pinprick tips of his blue lekku start to tremble.

Maul snarled in response, not feeling the slightest bit of empathy. As far as he was concerned, no one messed with his belongings and no one wastes his time.

Without hesitation, he leaped forward, eyes fixated on the young twi’lek who had unknowingly just sealed his fate.

The man jumped back in response, but it was too late. Lightsaber drawn, Maul slashed right at the center of his torso, effectively severing his cobalt body in half.

Maul’s senses were immediately filled with the smell of burning flesh, followed by a loud shriek and the sound of the assailant’s body plummeting against the floor. His breathing hitched in response, eyes trained on the man’s chest, making sure there was no longer breath in his body.

When he was certain he let out a scoff, quickly sheathing his lightsaber and turning around on the heel of his foot.

‘Where is it?!’ Maul internally cried. He began searching the area, desperate to find what had fallen. But the muck-stained floors of the alley were making it difficult to search. He became more desperate, removing his gloves and falling to his hands and knees to dig through the thick grime. He only found relief when he felt his fingers lightly brush against a small, cold object.

Quickly looping his finger around the base he pulled it out, taking care to brush off the dirt that it had picked up before resting the object in the palm of his hand.

There it was… His prize.

Maul smiled warmly down at the object as it gleamed against the dimmed light. His twin hearts rested, and he felt calm once more. For this trinket sitting in his hand wasn’t just any old thing. No… It was much more than that. It was a ring. But not just any ring. In fact, it didn't even belong to him. Its true owner, although indeed rare, was someone whom Maul had held and still holds in the highest regard…

For it belonged to you… His beloved… His whole world… His starlight…

Maul’s grip tightened as he held the gleaming ring in his hand, memories flooded his mind, a bittersweet reminder of his love for you who had been so cruelly taken from him. The ring symbolized your bond, a promise you had made to each other in happier times. It was a token of your unwavering devotion, an unbreakable vow etched into its delicate design.

Crafted from a metal found only in the deepest crevices of his homeworld, the ring radiated an otherworldly brilliance. Its intricate carvings depicted your intertwined destinies, your love story eternally etched into the precious metal.

To Maul, the ring represented hope in the darkest of times, a tangible connection to the one person who had breathed life into his scarred soul. Whenever he felt lost, his fingers would trace the contours of the ring, seeking solace in its presence. It was a symbol of his unwavering determination to find you and reunite with the one who had captured his hearts.

As he clenched the ring tightly, Maul's resolve solidified. Your trail… His beloved’s trail would not go cold. He would stop at nothing, traverse galaxies, and face any adversary to reclaim what had been stolen from him. With the ring as his guiding light, Maul embarked on a relentless quest, a love-driven odyssey to rescue you and restore your shattered bond.

For you, he would do anything. And that was what he was going to do.

Notes:

Thank you so much for the read! I know it was short but it means so much to me! Let me know if I should continue it and if you have any pointers for where it should go if I do! Thank you again! Chow!

-Waffles XOXO

[lockedlungs]

hey I wrote a tiny drabble about Leliana being emo.

"The Left Hand will always hold the Heart. The Divine Limbs speak with an eloquent silence, after all; the same fingers that can bless a babe, tend a wound or stroke the fires of the faithful, can smash a skull. Strike a match that alights a dry, parched wood. Leliana is more than a Hand (a Nightingale, a Spymaster, a Hero, a Murderer) but it seemed to her that one dull morning she awoke, and found herself changed into naught but a monstrous claw. Her future sticks unto her fingers like tar; a burning and blackened mess, a great beast stalking up behind her on the stairwell.

The candles flicker on her makeshift alter. Around her shifts her ravens, a murderous prayer, a hushed sigh. Leliana feels the silence of the night press in, and does not hold her breath so that she might hear the Maker (Justinia - her Warden - Marjolaine). The letter presses against her clavicle from where she has hastily tucked it inside her shift, fingers trembling. The Left Hand has one more task, wrenched forth from the barely still earth. A final gift; a release; a condemnation."

Here's the link to the rest of it, which you should check out, if you want :)

[leanderqueenie]

As you're about to sit down at the only place you can find on the giant step of the coloseum, you notice the spot is covered by the long free-flowing hair of the dwarven lady sitting infront of the spot. You look around and see how far you'd need to go before deciding it's not worth it and claim the spot, trying to avoid the hair as much as possible. As the band starts to warm up, you see her sqirm a bit, her hair doesn't seem pulled, softly running down her back. Then she turns to you with furrowed brow, "You're sitting on my pubes!" You raise yourself slighty as she stands up, and sure enough, the hair from her head ends at her hind. She mustn't have realized it trailed behind her from under her skirt. As you sort out not pulling the locks, she huffs at you disapprovingly. Then, "I thank my lucky stars, you stod up!" A wizard woman said to her "You've been sitting on my beard this whole time!" The dwarvan lady looks at her surprised, then, a smile forms on her bearded lips as she rolls her eyes at you "Alright, I forgive you." She chuckles with a snear, then she sits down closer to the wizard, careful of their hair, and starts a conversation with her.

[13uswntimagines]

Shorts Masterlist

The masterlist for fics under 1000 Words

Emily

I Had that one

You’re warm, like my own personal blanket

Alex

What Are You Making? 

Tobin

My Avenger 

Alyssa

Keep Calm

[cookiedoughflavoredicecream]

I wrote something! Rated G, gen, no archive warnings apply

Summary:

“I mean this with the utmost respect,” Ahsoka lies, “but how are you so bad at this?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan grits out, “this is much more complicated than it first appeared.”

“It’s really not, sir” says Cody, removing his fifth perfect mug from his wheel.

[mythtakens]

it's really the way I can have optimism and have fun even when it's stupid, except for killing Bobby. like for the most part I can enjoy myself watching what can be a very silly show and after some complaining shelve whatever frustrations I have for later when character threads appear and disappear or get rushed for the sake of spending a bunch of screen time on a no stakes emergency or season long storylines end up having no point. and those things ARE deeply frustrating but it's like. fuck whatever these are still the characters I love better luck on that cohesion next time kiddo. I can complain and then eventually move onto looking forward to what's next. uh except for killing Bobby. and like don't get me wrong I personally me myself will continue to do all of that next season and enjoy what I love about the show. but the cloud over everything is Bobby died and THAT wasn't done well and there's no reset or do over?? and the crazy thing is killing a main character is not even weird. you can do that and do it well, if it works with the tone of your show and your stories and you have a real plan. something like that could have felt designed to work with what was already happening with every character and fit into the things already being done in the overall season and have all of that emotionally pay off together and be a good choice for the story and tie into everyone's personal journey. instead it comes across like an idea Tim Minear had in a dream because he wanted to do Something Crazy and couldn't wait to do it and literally everyone hated it and told him it was bad but he was convinced it was gonna rock anyway. and then it feels like everything in the season became somewhat of an afterthought, including in a large part the story of it HAPPENING?

and like yeah of course there is some great acting and a handful of great moments of grief being portrayed and major kudos to the cast for delivering that. but it... not even derailed. just straight up interrupted? every personal storyline. without necessarily replacing a lot of it with anything BESIDES grief. and we're still being like. almost rushed past a lot of those moments to... get to the next B plot that is supposed to meaningfully parallel what we haven't been allowed to process yet? so we can get to the next big emergency that is fun but also kind of nothing? where it's back to the status quo of yay the team and miracles are real? and well it's like. I can enjoy that, sure! but if you didn't want this to truly reverberate or change the tone of the show even temporarily, then choosing something that alters the core of things in a way the audience will not ever move on from is a mistake? and if you did want it to do that, then it's strange to treat it like it doesn't need space to breathe, and you can give it a few minutes and then just jump back to toilet snorkeling and thong jokes in the next episode as long as people are still sad in separate scenes. it will just forever be a really weird way to execute what should have logically had much more care taken with it than anything thus far (not to mention. a really weird way to execute that guy.) and they did not do that. so if you tell me I should get over Bobby or it's "disrespectful" to not want him dead because of the work people put in portraying it I do feel compelled to swing. sad. oh well. there's always the Government Lab.

[virescent-v]

Drabble? 🥹

Goldilocks

Summary: Emily looks at you from across the bar. Warnings: none :) Word count: 875

Thirties and Flirties Lesbian night at Goldilocks was either a hit or miss. There could be a smattering of available and “normal” women to mingle with, or it could be a hodgepodge of people who were taken, weird, or timid that just didn’t mesh with the vibe you were after. 

To be fair, you weren’t sure what you were after. 

You just knew that being alone was weighing heavily on you. You were ready to settle down, sure, but you wouldn’t be opposed to a friends with benefits situation either. 

Apparently, it was the company that you were after. 

Sitting at the bar, a cold drink in hand, you did your routine of gazing around the bar. You started at the door, trying to catch anyone new walking in, then made your way to the dance floor, looking at bodies of all shapes and sizes grinding against each other. Shaking your head at some of the desperation oozing from some of them, you cast your eyes to the various tables scattered on the right side of the dance floor. Most people were already coupled or grouped up. 

However, at the last table closest to the bar, and already looking at you, was an absolutely breathtaking brunette. 

Her hair was almost black, eyes just as dark. She was wearing a tight, black dress, the neckline square across her collarbones. It showed just enough cleavage to be tantalizing, but nowhere near as scandalous as some of the other dresses being worn tonight. Her makeup was smokey, bringing out the deep colors of her eyes. She had one hand resting on her hip and the other was toying with the rim of her glass. 

Trailing your eyes from the heels on her feet to her face, you realized that those deep eyes were already watching you. When you finally made eye contact, the brunette tilted her head far to the right, a small smile appearing. 

You felt something warm grow deep in the pit in your stomach. A shiver of excitement rolls up your spine and the hairs on your arms stand up. A way for your body to prepare you for the storm of the woman to (hopefully) approach you. 

Turning back to the bar, you order another drink and get the bartender to make whatever she was drinking. 

When the bartender passed the two drinks to you, you felt a light brush of fingers on your upper arm. “Any chance that’s for me?” 

Looking over your shoulder, you almost gasped. She was even more beautiful up close. You found yourself getting lost in the details of her; long eyelashes, a sculpted nose, full lips. Every trace of your eyes over her skin brought new details that you tried to memorize. 

Cooling yourself, you smiled, turning towards her. “Sure is. How’d you know?” You handed her the drink. 

She smiled as she took a small sip. You were enraptured by how her lips curled around the rim of the glass. You imagined them wrapped around yours, how soft they would feel moving with yours. 

“I had a hope,” Emily said, dragging her eyes up your form. “I haven’t seen you at Goldilocks before.” 

You made a noncommittal noise. “Interesting. I come here often. Do you?” 

Emily smiled, shrugged. “When work allows.” She took another sip of her drink before placing the cup down on the bar. “Excuse me if I’m being a little forward, but would you like to dance?” 

Placing your drink down beside hers, you extend your hand, which she happily takes before dragging you out into the middle of the floor. 

You can feel the deep bass thumping within your chest, instantly drowning out any further conversation. Your heart beat starts to match the pulsating music, the pulsating of bodies around you. 

Emily drags you towards her, bringing your arms around her neck, effectively slotting your hips against hers. It makes your breath catch. 

You both start to move with the beat of the music, keeping eye contact that grows heavier with each passing moment. As the songs blend and mesh into the background of your thoughts, Emily’s hands begin to wander, rubbing up and down your back, around your arms. 

As the sweat builds on your bodies and your quickened breath mingles together, the tension rises and rises. There’s almost no discernable space between you two, your noses brushing. 

Just as the tension almost reaches its zenith, a passerby in the crowd bumps into you, forcing you off balance, making you almost fall to the ground. 

Before you tumble fully, warm, strong arms embrace you, hauling you back upright. Brushing hair out of your face, Emily’s eyes track over you. “Are you alright?” 

You blush deeply, embarrassed at such a moment. “Thanks to you.” 

Emily smiles before her eyes search the crowd for the person responsible. Having lost them in the sea of people, her dark eyes turn to you. “Want to move somewhere more quiet? There’s a late night cafe open next door.” 

You tilt your head down, tucking more hair behind your ear, bashful. Looking up from under your lashes, your cheeks heat again. “Yes, please.” 

Emily smirks, grabs your hand, before dragging you towards the front door of the club. 

[sunnytalks]

alright!! my take on the end of 3.3 and specifically what it means re: who phainon is as a person. keep in mind i am not very smart and did not spend a ton of time editing this or looking for quotes and stuff.

first off: i knewwwwwww phainon wouldn't go through with fulfilling the prophecy. i knew he wouldn't do it. i knew it. he is simply too... idealistic? maybe?

it feels contradictory to say it like this, but imo phainon is both too soft-hearted and too bloodthirsty to accept that everything will just start over during era nova and thus Be Fine.

the issue, i think, is that he wants justice, and that was just. never an option for amphoreus. the story of amphoreus is a tragedy, justice simply is not something he would ever have been able to achieve.

it's so interesting because he's been trained into this specific role of Leadership, and everyone else managed to play their roles and go through with their fate (as unjust and cruel as it might have been) and he just wants things to be better. Now. in this world, not the next. and that just isn't in the cards.

even when they didn't LIKE the prophecies, like cipher, the other chrysos heirs still worked towards a common goal with the knowledge that sacrifices Will be made and it will be Them who makes them. maybe not now, but eventually.

and phainon, who came from tragedy and now wishes to be a hero to make things better for everyone, can not accept that there IS no ideal outcome in this that gives him what he wants. that allows everyone to be happy and safe, together.

i truly think that anaxa revealing that everything is a cycle - that this has happened before and that it will happen again, next time with every current demigod as a new god of the new world - made everything soooo much worse for phainon.

because before, he was able to believe that if he just goes through with it, if he just holds on and does what is prophesized, what he is told, everything will turn out fine...

and suddenly he was faced with the reality that, no, if he plays by the rules, this is as good as it gets.

i'm fascinated by the dichotomy of like. phainon's selfishness, because he is straight up throwing away over a thousand years of work and sacrifice because it doesnt net him the outcome that he wants... and his bone-deep hope for something better, because surely, surely this isn't it? surely all this suffering was not for nothing? they went through so much... for a world they will not will not even know each other in?

as for what i said about bloodthirstiness and softheartedness earlier...

he wants things to be Good, and as it stands, right now Everything Sucks, so he will force things to be Good. the way everyone has tried before clearly doesn't work, so now he's taking matters into his own hands. it's like what he said to mydei way back when we first entered castrum kremnos, when he was like "well, idk, i dont think there's a difference between death by battle and death by scheming". (heavily paraphrasing, obv.) he has always been an "the ends justify the means" type of guy, it's just that he is now in a position where that mentality can really shine through.

i 100% believe that at this point in the story, phainon doesn't care about what he does to get there, he is hyperfocused on his goal of Everything Is Fine For Everyone Forever.

[ihni]

Introductions

For @harringrovemicroficandart, November prompt "Moon", 965 words

~~~

”That was so cool! Do you, like, howl at the moon at midnight too?”

Billy didn’t even try to resist the urge to roll his eyes over this stupid kid’s stupid question. He did resist growling though, due to the fact that the kid had just seen him transform back to human after his monthly Change. Wouldn’t want to freak out Max’s new classmate on their first week in town, after all.

Speaking of Max, she was the one to answer (since Billy sure as hell wasn't going to); “What? No, of course he doesn’t!”

Since it was Billy’s first Change in a new territory, she’d offered to stay in the car to keep an eye out in case the cops or curious locals passed by and got suspicious about a strange car on a random road in the middle of the night. So she’d been there when Billy got back after his Run – and unfortunately, she hadn’t been alone. One of her new classmates – a curly-haired kid with weird teeth – had apparently been biking past and seen her and decided to strike up a conversation, and she hadn’t been able to get rid of him before Billy showed up, still half wolfed-out.

Honestly, the kid had taken it pretty well. Anyone else would have screamed and made a run for it at the sight of a naked teen with claws and glowing eyes stumbling out of the woods.

God, Billy wished the kid had just screamed and made a run for it. It would have sucked to have been outed so soon, but at least it would have beat the kid excitedly trailing after him and blabbering, even as Billy walked around the car and putting his clothes back on.

“That’s good actually, that would be suspicious, there hasn’t been wolves in Indiana since, like, 1908. There are deer, though. Do you eat deer? Do you hunt deer?” An excited gasp, then, “Ohmygod, do you turn into a wolf and hunt deer?”

Billy didn’t deign that with a reply. He had Maxine for that.

“What the fuck, Dustin?!” Oh, so that was the kid’s name. “He doesn’t ‘turn into a wolf and hunt deer’ –” Billy pointedly didn’t say anything about the dead rabbit, “– why would you think that?”

The kid made a duh-face that made Billy want to punch him. “I’ve read it in comic books!”

“Oh, and I guess you believe everything you read in a comic book?”

“No,” the kid replied, drawing the word out and sounding way too sassy for his own good, “but I learned about werewolves from them and since that proved to be real, maybe the rest is true too. But if I got it wrong, feel free to correct me. In fact,” and here he shrugged off his backpack and reached in for – a notebook and a pen? “Please tell me everything.”

God help him, Billy was gonna strangle this kid.

Before he got a chance to, though, the rumble of a car engine caught his attention, and soon after the headlights of a car bathed the road in light. All three of them – Billy, Max and the annoying kid – turned to look as the car rolled to a stop next to the parked Camaro. The door on the driver’s side opened and someone stepped out, and Billy realized two things simultaneously:

The guy was his age, and really handsome.

The guy was a werewolf.

The guy must have realized the same about Billy, because his eyes didn’t leave Billy’s even as he addressed the kid. “Dustin, what are you doing here? Claudia sent me to pick you up at the Byers’ house but when I got there, Joyce said you’d already left. You know your mom doesn’t like you biking in the dark by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself though!” the kid said, breathless, “I’m with Max, this is Max, she goes to my school. I found here out here and I thought she’d been kidnapped or something because, like, a girl sitting in an abandoned car in the middle of the night –“

“It obviously wasn’t abandoned,” Max snarked, oblivious to the newcomer’s status since she hadn’t had her first Change yet, “since I was sitting in it!”

“– but it turned out she was just waiting for her brother, and Steve, you’re not gonna believe this –“

Billy and the newcomer – Steve – had been standing stock still since their eyes met, tensed and waiting for the other to make a move, but as soon as the kid began gesturing wildly towards Billy, Steve reached out to pull him behind him.

“Dustin, get in the car.”

Smart – you shouldn’t trust strange werewolves around kids. Which was precisely why Billy had subtly placed himself in front of Maxine.

Dustin protested, loudly. “No but Steve you don’t understand –“

A glance at Steve’s perfect hair, and Billy felt the sudden urge to ruffle some feathers.

“He already knows, kid,” he therefore said, and got to see the kid’s head whirl around and stare at first him, then Steve, then Max, and then back to Steve again.

“What? Have you met already? I thought you were home sick from school these last few days?”

Which must be why Billy hadn’t seen him around yet. He grinned, showing a hint of fang. “A wolf always recognizes another wolf. We can smell each other.” He nodded not-so-subtly to the notebook the kid was still holding. “You can note that down.” He looked up at Steve’s face, and let his tongue run over his teeth.

“You can?” the kid said, and then seemed to realize the implications of what Billy just said. “Wait – Does that mean –?” A gasp, and then a shriek, loud enough for birds to flee the nearby trees. “You’re a werewolf, Steve?!”

[lilacthebooklover]

Shadowvanilla with prompt 35

35. “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“You heard me!” Shadow Milk smiles sharply. His voice is playful as ever, but the glint in his eyes is deadly serious. Pure Vanilla listens closely as the mirth in his tone evaporates, that unearthly stare boring into him more intensely than ever before. “Take. It. Off.”

Subconsciously, the healer feels his hand drift towards his Soul Jam. It thrums with power beneath his fingers, simultaneous reassurance and warning pulsating through the azure jewel. It clings to his robes like it knows what will happen if it is removed, and Pure Vanilla finds himself shaking his head before he even realises what he’s doing.

“No,” he says, voice definite. Shadow Milk is capable of putting him through torture beyond comprehension, but Pure Vanilla will not falter. He can’t afford to, not when so much is at stake. He steels his gaze, tightens his grip, and offers a denial that can only be met with fury.

As expected, the world twists and warps around him, the warm, fuzzy edges of his dreamlike prison distorting into a tangle of blackened tendrils, creeping and twisting and grabbing. Pure Vanilla is safe when he’s awake. That doesn’t stop Shadow Milk from trying to convince him to surrender when unconscious. The Dark Side of the Moon is an otherworldly place; in a sense, Pure Vanilla wonders if he ever sleeps at all, anymore. He certainly doesn’t feel rested just then.

“No?” The jester echoes finally, head tilting eerily to the side. Pure Vanilla does his best not to shudder at the anger he feels emanating from Shadow Milk in waves. “Hmm. You know,” His voice dips into something between a purr and a growl, tracing his finger down Pure Vanilla’s jaw. The Beast is a master of deception, and Pure Vanilla knows as much. That doesn’t stop the urge he feels to lean into the first warm touch he’s felt in what feels like centuries. “This would be so much easier if you stopped resisting. So stubborn, Vanilly! I’d be impressed if it wasn’t so infuriating.” 

The grip on his jaw tightens, and Pure Vanilla desperately hopes that determination masks the fear in his eyes as they’re wrenched towards Shadow Milk’s own. He’s too close, Pure Vanilla thinks distantly, sickening anxiety slithering under his skin. The scorching, gentle touch he provides is something the healer both despises and craves, and he hates himself for the latter.

“No matter,” Shadow Milk softens again, stroking against Pure Vanilla’s cheek. He should fight back. He doesn’t. “You’ll come around eventually.” The steady tick of a clock begins to echo in Pure Vanilla’s ears, unnatural and loud and far too damning.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

[fatuismooches]

I think it should be known that i finished a whole 1 out of 31 flufftober fics already, the progress is HAPPENING.

Regardless, there's this other one i've been working on and wanted to finish before sharing it, but i am Lazy and wanted to show anyway. It's all over the place right now but the premise is basically Akademiya Dottore secretly having a fear of fire due to his childhood, but of course, he always hid it extremely well until Reader makes an actually big (camp)fire. And then some talking and gentle fluff ensues. It's also surprising for Reader to see him vulnerable like this, and also shows he can be scared of things unlike how other people paint him as a monster. :3

[shellem15]

Thinking about the Dawnfather. A god of light, a god of harvest, a god of the sun itself. Good but not nice, kind but not soft. Life-giving but also scorching. Protective, warm, and kind, but also stern, harsh, and abrasive. His light can foster growth, can protect and guide, but it can also scorch and burn. The sun is warm and nurturing but don’t stare at it too long, child, it’ll blind you.

Was he always so hard? Did he always hide his face with the harsh light of the sun? Or was there a time when he smiled and laughed, let others see him as he truly was?

Thinking about the Schism. Was the Dawnfather close to the Betrayer Gods before they turned? He must have been, Asmodeus wouldn’t be so hung up on him if he wasn’t. Speaking of Asmodeus, he was once a being of light, like the Dawnfather and the Everlight are now. Were they closer than the others? When the Gods came to Exandria, did they come from the same place or were they scattered, a ragtag group of survivors fleeing from predators seeking to devour them? And if the latter is true, did these three beings of light come from the same place? Siblings, born from the same stuff, forever tied to one another?

If this was the case, then, what was their relationship before the Schism? Did they call each other “Brother” and “Sister”? Did they hold each other when they were scared, dry each other’s tears, laugh and joke and tease and fight and make up because they were siblings and they’d always be together, and they loved each other with every fiber of their being and they only had each other. When Predathos came, when it devoured two of their newfound siblings, did the Dawnfather hold them both and promise them that everything was going to be okay because he was their brother and he was going to protect them, all of them. The gods, mortals, the world itself, they would not be devoured, they would not be destroyed, because he was there and would fight until his very last breath to keep them safe.

Wondering then, was that the moment when Asmodeus truly grew to hate their creations? Seeing his brother and sister and siblings risk their lives just to protect some mewling mortal wretches when they could just leave it all behind and start somewhere new. Was that the moment when he realized that mortals had done something to them, changed them when they were not supposed to change. Why else would they risk being devoured by Predathos, why else would they suffer through war with the Primordials? Why else would they choose them over him!? Was this the moment when he decided to conspire with the Primordials and the other Betrayer Gods? To destroy this world and the mortals on it so they could finally leave. And they would leave, of course, because the Dawnfather was his brother and the Everlight was his sister and the Gods were a family, and at the end of the day, they would always be together, and once the corrupting influence of those mortals was gone, they would surely all see reason.

And when the Dawnfather discovered this betrayal, when all the Prime Deities did, he must have been furious. How could they!? His kin, his brother, who had always been by his side through everything, how could they turn around and destroy their creations, their children. And so he and the other Primes took up arms and fought against their own family to protect this world they had created, and their children who inhabited it. Those battles must have been brutal, bonds of comradery broken, kin clashing against kin, screaming curses as they tore each other apart.

During those final battles of the Schism, when the Dawnfather clashed against Asmodeus, did they scream at each other in rage? A twisted reflection of previous squabbles, different because this time it was real, this time there is no forgiveness, no making up. When the Dawnfather knocked Asmodeus down, crushed his throat under his foot and banished him to the Hells, was he yelling when he disowned him? Or was he quiet when he did it, his voice going into a low growl, deadly calm as he told him that he was not his brother anymore. And moments previously, when the Dawnfather could have easily killed him, did he look into Asmodeus’s eyes and see his brother? Scared and hurt by his hands, hands that once held him and swore to protect him. In that moment, did the Dawnfather realize he couldn’t kill him? Because that was his brother and despite everything, he still loved him, and hurting him brought him more grief and pain than he could ever imagine. So instead, he banished him, locked him and all the other Betrayers away because he and the other Primes couldn’t bring themselves to kill their family, but they also couldn’t let them free.

Was this when the Dawnfather obscured his face? Hardened his heart because otherwise he would break, and he cannot break, because the other gods need him to be strong, because Exandria needs him to be strong. And so he stayed strong, despite the grief, despite the guilt, despite the pain of heartbreak, of hurting the ones he loved to protect the ones he loved. And this hardening must have continued, running himself ragged during Calamity, beating back Tharizdun, protecting Ioun after she almost died, sheltering the Everlight after Asmodeus once again betrayed her, stabbed her in the back and left her broken and weak when all she wanted was to do was get her brother back, to save him from his own wrath. Failure after failure after failure to protect those he cared about, to protect his siblings and mortals and Exandria itself. The guilt of his failures must be overwhelming, and these are his failures: Predathos devoured his siblings under his watch, his siblings betrayed them under his watch, Calamity ravaged Exandria under his watch, and even now, the threat of Predathos has once again returned under his watch.

No wonder he is so harsh now, so controlling now: because every time he has failed in his vigilance the world has suffered for it. He can’t fail again; he can’t lose any more siblings. And so, he continues hardening his heart, continues fighting, because the sun must always rise again in the morning, no matter what.

[julesdaydreams]

@wolfstarmicrofic I april prompt 4: Airport AU I word count: 996

Remus came to a screeching halt at the gate, huffing from having run through the airport.

Usually, Remus prided himself in his ability to be on time. Today though, everything went wrong the moment he woke up in his hotel room, causing him now to stand sweating in front of an empty gate.

“You're too late, mate. Plane left like… ten minutes ago? They just told me.”, came a smooth voice from behind him and Remus turned around to come face to face with silver eyes looking up at him.

The man belonging to them was pretty. The kind of pretty that Remus wanted to write in one of his books about. Long black waves framing his pale face, high cheek bones, lips that Remus wanted to study the shape of, trace them with his tongue, map them out with his teeth-

And fuck. Remus really shouldn't be thinking such things about a stranger. He shouldn't be thinking such things at all considering that he was about to get married tomorrow.

“Cat got your tongue?”, the stranger said and Remus was ripped from his thoughts, blinking himself out of his trance and focusing back to the man's face smirking at him as if he knew exactly the type of thoughts Remus was having.

“Shit, sorry. That's just… really fucking inconvenient.”, he said, unsure of why he was engaging in a conversation at all, when he should do anything in his power to get on the next plane to London.

“Well, same here. Unfortunately the next plane doesn't go until tomorrow at ten, so we're in for a long night.”

And that? That was absolutely fucking grand. Trust Remus to manage to be on time for the stupidest things but not make it to his own wedding.

“Fucking hell. Marc will kill me.”, he couldn't help but blurt out, walking the few steps over to some chairs and slumping down in one of them with a deep sigh.

“Who is Marc?”, came the voice again and Remus looked up at the stranger who had sat down in the chair next to Remus.

“My fiancé. We're supposed to get married tomorrow. He was already annoyed because I had this book reading yesterday and had to leave the country just a few days before the wedding and if I tell him that I won't be back in time… let's just say I'm not sure I'll have a fiancé to marry anymore tomorrow.”

He winced at the thought, feeling guilty about the whole thing and he hadn't even called Marc yet. He really should get to that…

“Hmm, that sucks. But I'm sure if he loves you, he'll understand. Sure, he won't be happy about it, but you can always postbone the wedding?”, Sirius said kindly, giving him a small smile that should've made Remus feel better but didn't really do that much.

“Yeah… totally. Sorry, I'll call him real quick.”, he said half-heartedly before standing up and walking a few steps to give himself some privacy.

He dialled his fiancé's phone number and Marc was on the line instantly.

“Remus? What's wrong, shouldn't you be on the plane by now?”, came a worried voice and Remus wanted to kick himself to cause it.

“Hey, yeah, sorry. Uhm… listen I didn't catch my flight, there were these problems the whole day and…”, Remus began to explain the situation and the next twenty minutes where spent on the phone with a very angry Marc, calling him all kinds of names and cursing at how stupid Remus' book thing was in the first place and how he should've just stayed at home. The call ended with a gruffly said “Don't expect me to wait for you at the altar”, and Remus was left staring dumbly at his phone screen, feeling like the worst human being on the planet.

He turned around and his eyes snapped back to the stranger who was still sitting in the same place he had before, looking at Remus with a slight frown that told him that he heard the whole thing.

He sighed before walking back to his seat, slumping down with a sigh for the second time in the last hour.

“He sounds like a dick.”, came the stranger's voice and Remus’ eyes snapped towards silver ones that looked displeased.

“What? No, he isn't. If anyone is a dick, it's me! I can't even be there for my own wedding!”, Remus exclaimed. He felt the need to defend Marc. Clearly, Remus was the one who had fucked up and it was only natural to be angry at that.

“Yeah, sure. But that's no reason to call you all those nasty things. It's not like you planned on missing your plane, did you? From what I've heard it sounds more like the universe did everything in it's power to make sure you wouldn't get on that plane in time to marry him tomorrow.’

Remus didn't know what to respond to that, but whether Marc's reaction was justified or not really didn't matter anymore.

“Either way. It definitely sounded like he was done so… I guess I don't have a wedding to get to after all.”, he sighed, thinking about how disappointed his mother would be when he told her.

“You never know, maybe it's for the better.”, answered the man and Remus was about to call him out on the sad attempt of making him feel better, but something in the silver of his eyes made him come up short.

“Yeah, maybe.”, he said dumbly, voice soft for some unknown reason.

The man gave him a bright smile before extending his hand.

“I'm Sirius, by the way.”

Remus took it.

“Remus, nice to meet you.”

[celestial-castiel]

im gonna have to make a destiel fanfic recommendations post soon, omg I keep finding ones I love soooo much

immediately I recommend @thekingslover's fics, I've read so many of their's and I love them.

[starres-stuff]

Day 1-Steer FFXIV Writes 2024

Steer: a piece of advice or information concerning the development of a situation

The whole way home Vi had fumed, there were even points where it sounded like she was stomping her feet and others where rocks could be heard bouncing off every surface, one clipping her right in the arm which resulted in her yelping so loud that flocks of birds scattered thinking they were in danger. 

What had started the mood was Xixa making a snide remark as they locked up the Bakery for the night. “Maybe tomorrow you'll remember that we start baking at five in the morning and be here on time so I don't have to do it all alone?” Just thinking about it again made Vi grit her teeth. It was her bakery after all and she could start when she wanted! She was well aware that the Viera was trying to steer her down the path of responsibility and she was grateful that the woman came to help her bake, but Vi paid her to work for her, which was a handsome sum. 

Thankfully once she made it home her husbands’ managed to whisk away Xixa's burst, replacing it with good food, lovely conversation, and an early bedtime, which was often one of her favorite things when work had been trying; though sleep would not be on the dossier for hours to come yet. Eventually, they would wear each other out and sleep would become a must. This particular night before Vi drifted off to sleep she set the alarm on her Chronometer for four and a half bells believing the noise alone would get her out of bed and at the bakery on time. 

It was such a sound plan to the Elezen that she fell asleep rather easily on this specific night, and she slept through it without a single awakening, a true rarity for her, and just as was expected the alarm on her Chronometer sounded at four and a half bell. It was terrible to wake up that early, though she did have a few protests in her mind about pulling back the warm blankets and getting out of the comfortable bed where one of her husbands was still sleeping, and for a long moment, she stared at his face, a small smile appearing on her own at how adorable he looked. Vi hated leaving him this early in the morning but eventually, she forced herself to move, her feet just about to touch the floor when she felt strong arms go around her waist. 

“Not yet” a sleepy voice murmured, still rich with the accent of the Corethas Highlands but tempered by Gridania undertones from the time he had spent living there. “Too early.” 

Vi felt her heart sink, this was what she was weak to. Both of her husbands had this sway with her and she found herself looking back over her shoulder hoping that this one would fall back to sleep. Alas, she would find a pair of mismatched eyes, one as bright as the sun and the other as bright as the moon, gazing back at her with an impish grin on her face. The impish grin he wore told her he was wide awake and likely woke up with her alarm. 

“You are such a brat, Clement.” she couldn’t help but laugh at the second tug that came at her waist. 

“Come back to bed, it is too early for work.” He protested, his arms growing tighter around her “I haven’t even had a proper chance to bid you a good morning yet.” Those stunning eyes of his took on the look of what Xixa called ‘puppy dog eyes’ and Vi felt her resolve melt away a little bit more. 

“I have to go beloved” She shook her head and tried to pull away from his arms, but he tightened them again this time succeeding in moving her backward when he tugged at her waist. 

“No, you don’t it is too early” He protested again, placing a few kisses on her back rising upwards to leave further kisses on her shoulder, her neck, and then finally her lips. 

At this point, Vi had lost the ‘get out of bed early’ battle, and all the work she had put into being to the bakery on time to help Xixa with the list they had made before closing was lost to Clement’s eyes and his kisses. The next thing she knew her normal eight bells alarm went off, and Clement gave her a wink. 

“It is time to get up beloved, you will be late for work.” This was one of those mornings that Vi punched him in the shoulder and rightfully so. 

[glittercorvid]

i'm not anti gen ai because it's deteriorating literacy or bc it's intellectual property theft or bc it's replacing entry level jobs and putting even more strain on the working class or bc of its implicit biases as a product created to mirror techbro scumbags or any of that. fuck all that too but my number one argument against ai is now and will always be that it's fucking killing people. the pollution is poisoning people RIGHT NOW. increased demand for rare earth minerals is getting miners killed RIGHT NOW. the energy demands are exacerbating the climate crisis RIGHT NOW. people are already starving, drowning, dying of heat stroke, suffering bc of climate collapse RIGHT NOW and gen ai is throwing gasoline onto that fire. stop with the theoreticals. plant your feet firmly in the material realities. there are counterarguments for all of these philosophical arguments against it. the only counterargument against 'it is killing people' is that you are a fucking ghoul