#Drabble Meme

[alexanders-pokemon-adventure]

Sounds fun

Memory Meme

Past experiences help shape who we are currently, how we see the world. Send in a symbol and I’ll write a drabble of one of my muse’s memories. 

–

❥ - a childhood memory

♣ - a fading memory

✂ - a vivid memory

✖ - a repressed memory

✈ - an eye-opening memory

✤ - a memory that involves romance/love

☤ - a memory of death/loss

✍ - a memory of their mother

☽ - a memory of their father

♘ - a memory of their sibling(s)

✌ - a memory of a relative

↕ - a memory that may or may not have happened

♚ - a memory of something paranormal

✓ - a sexual memory

♬ - a friend/best friend memory

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ build-a-fic 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ chose a line of dialogue, an emotion and a setting (a number, letter, + a creature), and write/request to your heart’s content!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ a piece of dialogue

꒰ 1 ꒱ “i can’t fucking believe this.”

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. is it true?”

꒰ 3 ꒱ “it’s not safe here anymore- we need to leave. now!”

꒰ 4 ꒱ “you know how much i care about you.”

꒰ 5 ꒱ “they’re never going to hurt you again.”

꒰ 6 ꒱ “here, let’s get you warmed up.”

꒰ 7 ꒱ “i didn’t do it. please, you have to believe me!”

꒰ 8 ꒱ “i’m taking you home, and that’s that.”

꒰ 9 ꒱ “do you trust me?”

꒰ 10 ꒱ “i can’t sleep either. mind if i join you?”

꒰ 11 ꒱ “you’re not your worst mistake.”

꒰ 12 ꒱ “try and eat, if you can. it’ll make you feel better.”

꒰ 13 ꒱ “i say this with all the love in my heart, but you look like shit.”

꒰ 14 ꒱ “they’re going to surround us. we need to get ready.”

꒰ 15 ꒱ “i need you to leave.”

꒰ 16 ꒱ “we can’t be seen together like this. not anymore.”

꒰ 17 ꒱ “it’s dangerous. i need you to know that before you agree.”

꒰ 18 ꒱ “it’s just one night- surely sharing a bed for that long won’t kill us.”

꒰ 19 ꒱ “it’s getting dark, we should think about heading back.”

꒰ 20 ꒱ “what have i told you about coming here?!”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ an emotion

꒰ A ꒱ disdain

꒰ B ꒱ grief

꒰ C ꒱ ecstasy

꒰ D ꒱ disbelief

꒰ E ꒱ anxiety

꒰ F ꒱ contentment

꒰ G ꒱ drunkenness

꒰ H ꒱ enjoyment

꒰ I ꒱ confusion

꒰ J ꒱ fear

꒰ K ꒱ hunger

꒰ L ꒱ relief

꒰ M ꒱ distrust

꒰ N ꒱ fondness

꒰ O ꒱ delight

꒰ P ꒱ hurt

꒰ Q ꒱ love

꒰ R ꒱ sickness

꒰ S ꒱ exhaustion

꒰ T ꒱ betrayal

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ a setting

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ the corner bed in a hospital ward

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ a spare bedroom

꒰ ��� ꒱ an alleyway behind a dive bar

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ a mountainside shrouded in fog

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ a skeevy motel just off the highway

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ a barren industrial plant in the middle of nowhere

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ the lush, indulgent foyer of a member’s only club

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ the war room of a military blacksite

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ the produce aisle of a 24/7 supermarket

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ the walk-in fridge of a failing restaurant

꒰ 𓃵 ꒱ a rickety old barn’s hayloft

꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ at work, far later than you should be

꒰ 𓆌 ꒱ a stranger’s bed at dawn

꒰ 𓆏 ꒱ an airplane hanger

꒰ 𓅭 ꒱ a medical bay that stinks of antiseptic and fear

꒰ 𓆗 ꒱ the kitchen of a derelict house

꒰ 𓃢 ꒱ the dressing room of a luxury department store

꒰ 𓆧 ꒱ the place where grassy plains meet desert dunes

꒰ 𓃔 ꒱ a beach at low tide

[catchameme]

Send me a word or theme and " + drabble " and I will write a dabble / one-shot surrounding the given word.

Bonus: if you include " ft. " and a character or muse name, it will center around an interaction between the two or a group.

[rp-meme-glaceon]

💤 Peek into my Character's Dreams 💤

💭 - An ordinary dream

🎀 - A dream that left them feeling happy

☔ - A dream that left them feeling upset

🌈 - A dream from their childhood

🗯️ - An ordinary nightmare

🐛 - An intense nightmare that made them wake up in a cold sweat

⚰️ - A dream/nightmare that featured someone no longer in their life

🌡️ - A fever dream

📿 - A dream your character believes is prophetic

👁️‍🗨️ - A lucid dream

🛏️ - A dream that made your character want to go back to sleep so they could continue the dream

[memesfortas]

Elvhenan Codex Entries

Inspired by this meme, which was in turn inspired by this meme.

something written about your character by one of the evanuris

something written about your character by fen'harel/solas

something written about your character by evanuris loyalists

something written about your character by fen'harel's rebels

something written about your character found in the vir dirthara

something written on a statue dedicated to your character

something written about your character during the titan war

a memento found in a spot important to your character

a memento of an object important to your character

something written about your character's greatest regrets

something written about your character's proudest achievements

something written about your character after a battle

something a spirit (specify nature) would say about your character

a note/letter found in your character's pocket

propaganda written in support of your character

propaganda written to oppose your character

a recollection/note of your character's first thoughts after the veil's formation'

a recollection/note of your character's first thoughts after waking from uthenera

rebellion-aligned specific

something written about your character by the lighthouse's cooks

a note by your character found in the lighthouse

something written by your character before/after vallaslin removal (or deciding not to remove it)

something written by your character as they are looking to the future

something written by felassan about your character

evanuris-aligned specific

something written by your character about the rebellion

something written by your character expressing doubt in the evanuris

something written by your character expressing faith in the evanuris

a memento expressing your character's faith in their chosen god(s) and what it means to them

[spookiesmausoleum]

𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬

Send a symbol for me to write a drabble about one of my muses dreams! Remember to specify for multi-muse blogs.

General:

💀 - For a nightmare

❣ - For a wet dream

🎇 - For a daydream

😊 - For a happy dream

Specific

🕸 - For a stress dream

👹 - For a strange dream

♟ - For a dream that had a lasting impact

📽 - For a dream my muse didn't want to wake up from

🕯 - For a dream that made my muse cry

👒 - For a dream that was so vivid my muse thought it was real

🎠 - For a dream about childhood

🖼 - For a dream about a good memory

🧿 - For a dream about a bad memory

♠ - For a dream that made them wake up screaming or hyperventilating

✨ - For a dream about a kiss

⛓ - For a dream about my muses family

[melaerotica]

send me ' i need you closer ' for an erotic drabble where our muses are experiencing each other's bodies, or a 'i need you now' for an erotic drabble where our muses are advancing their urges.

[montparnasse]

Scotty and Matei with #23

23. III. Life (The Biggest Troll)

There is an undead monster in Scotty’s house.

Well, technically, it isn’t a house. It’s an apartment. And technically it belongs to the undead monster, whose name is on the lease. Scotty is still technically deceased so it would be difficult to take out an apartment in his name. The monster is also technically deceased, maybe. Ironically they don’t talk much about death.

The undead monster, the Gothic nightmare that haunted the dreams of a generation, twists in Scotty’s lap, his head resting against his thighs. Scotty holds onto him with both hands. Spectral fingers play with undead curls of dark hair, brushing icy fingertips over the side of his neck that had once been adorned in a collar.

“Matei,” whispers the ghost. “What do you drink at happy hour?”

One eye slips open to look at Scotty.

“B-Positive.”

“Oh my god,” groans the vampire, twisting again until his nose hits just above Scotty’s knee.

Scotty laughs softly at his own bad joke, still playing with Matei’s hair. “That or a Bloody Mary.”

“I bet Clarissa doesn’t have to deal with this.”

“Or, wait, a Bloodweiser.”

“I wish you weren’t dead already so that I could kill you.”There is less than zero venom behind the statement. Scotty would be able to take Matei a little more seriously if he couldn’t feel him smiling against his leg. Somewhere in the room Matei’s phone is thudding away quietly, playing some violent song that probably sounds better live. They both stink of weed, but Scotty isn’t high at all— one of the downsides of being dead.

“I wish you’d killed me instead,” he tries to joke. It feels a bit like when you take moguls wrong and the edge of your ski catches a ridge of ice and you topple over and fall flat on your face. Matei turns over slowly, staring at him with red, reproachful eyes. “Sorry,” Scotty whispers. “Just a joke.”

“Not funny,” Matei whispers back, and gently teases, “B positive.”

“You got it,” Scotty says. “Hey, you know why Clarissa doesn’t like going to the casino?”

“……..”

“Because the stakes are too high.”

“These are getting worse, babe.”

[peekaboo-rp]

SCI-FI Prompts

sci-fi orientated themed prompts— kept vague to serve as a jumping off point and/or establish the ✨vibes✨ for starters or drabbles. use these however you like!

[Containment Breach]: something, or someone, has escaped.

[Uncharted Planet]: an expedition on an unknown planet, who knows what we’ll discover?

[Misplaced In The Multi-Verse]: toto, i’ve a feeling we’re not in kansas anymore.

[A Slip In Time]: GREAT SCOTT! what year is it?!

[First Contact]: i’m sure they’re friendly.

[We Have Liftoff]: it’s time to embark on a new adventure across the cosmos!

[Moon Motel]: a moment of respite.

[Houston]: …we have a problem.

[Mad Science]: your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should.

[Techno-Babble]: who let the robot monologue?

[Cosmic Horror]: you blinked at the face of the unknown and it blinked back.

[ERROR]: ENGINES ARE OFFLINE. HULL INTEGRITY IN CRITICAL CONDITION. STRUCTURAL COLLAPSE EMINENT.

[Abandoned Station]: what… happened here?

[Intergalactic Infection]: space diseases, either mundane or horrific— always infectious.

[Starstruck]: everything led up to this moment, right here, right now.

[coiled-dragon]

Oooohhh for the Hurt Comfort Prompt: 7 and/or 12 for Dracfield.

Hehe this was fun. Admittedly I also just like writing Renfield high,,,

"Look at me."+"Can you talk?" CW: Drugs, Mentioned/implied torture

Renfield was floating. His body felt weightless, his skull a cavern of helium as the world around him seemed to be in slow motion. Part of him ached, somewhere in that distant cloud that made up his body, but he wasn’t worried. Nothing felt like it mattered. It was quite delightful, actually. He wondered how long he had been like this and how long he could stay like this, remembering other aches and stress and anxiety being so normal that they had become his comfort, but only knowing now this sort of peace. It was nice. He could die like this and it would be okay with him.

But something didn’t want him to die.

He could feel that, too. An intruder in the otherwise perfect sanctum of his mind. A shadow moved in front of him, the world blurred by those who moved outside of Renfield. Their movement left smears across his vision, like swaths of paint attached to an invisible brush. It made him smile, the world a canvas of blending colors and paintbrush strokes of people.

“Renfield!” One blurry shadow had taken over the rest of the colors, someone coming close but the details of their face impossible to make out. It was an angry shadow, a noise of frustration at his apparent lack of response. Renfield frowned at it.

He turned his head away from the shadow; the world behind it was so much more red, splatters and smears across beige. It was pretty, so he smiled.

“Look at me,” the shadow snapped, cold fingers capturing his cheek and pulling him back to stare at the darkness. The dark had red, too, and gold, and silver, all attached to the pale grey hand so close to his eyes.

Dracula sighed at the despondent Renfield, the man's eyes blown so wide the only color in them were slivers of sky blue making a halo around the black of his pupil. It seemed the church was getting more creative with its attempts at interrogation, picking up on the current fad of drugging and torturing for information. His fangs grit together in frustration at the fact Renfield had been caught by them at all.

He expected better from his servant.

But he wouldn’t exact punishment now, not when his familiar was too drugged to feel it. Besides, the sheet of blood that covered half his face and blossoms of red that bloomed across his white undershirt meant he would need to recover from all of this first.

No point in beating a dead horse. Or dead familiar.

“Can you talk?” Dracula snapped, dropping his chin and watching Renfield’s head bob down without the support.

“Ruining my painting,” he slurred, his own voice sounding like the visual of melting colors that dazzled him. The features of the shadow were growing sharper, clearer. “Master?”

The vampire sighed.

“Didn’t tell them anything,” Renfield said slowly, his brows coming together in a comical look of fear as though everything had finally dawned on him. It probably was. His gaze dropped, looking around the room in confusion. A shudder ran through him and he looked back up at Dracula. “Can we go home? I feel dizzy…”

“We can go home, Renfield,” Dracula said, anger dissipating as he pulled the man into his arms. He could be angry at him later.

[snowbryneich]

I know you already did a 10 nights Rhaena and Jace one but…..shoulder rubs for them? I can’t stop thinking about them 💜💜💜

Jace had been in the yard when Rhaena rode in. He'd been sparring with the king's guard which was ankercise in being allowed to win." I will be better prepared to defend myself if I can have a real bout." he'd said. They remained of the opinion it was their job to defend him and his words fell on deaf ears.

So it was not a hardship to go and greet Rhaena instead of being allowed to win again. She'd have been at the dragon pit. As she had every day since Morning took flight. At first he and Baela had tried to find time to go with her but there was reason she could not fly alone. That she should rely on anyone else’s schedule. Baela on the other hand had not yet reached the point she could not fly but it was getting close.

He went to Rhaena's side at once concerned at the look on her face. She was in pain.

"Is something amiss," he asked "Did something happen in the city? Rhaena shook her head and Jace glanced at Ser Robin, the Kinsgguard who had accompanied her. The man looked startled.

"Nothing, Your Grace," he said. "Queen Rhaena is very popular in the city." 

Both she and Baela were the darlings of the city. Many of the ordinary folk of King's Landing seemed very done with King's but very keen on both of their Queens. The best thing Jace had done for his popularity was marry both of them.

Rhaena went to dismount with a grimace and Jace reached up to help her down. He had helped Rhaena off a horse dozens of times on the beaches of Dragonstone when they rode. His hand settled on her slender waist as he set her on her feet. She made a small noise of protest and leaned against him her whole body stiff. His arms went around her to hold her steady rubbing at her back a little which made her shiver. And then Jace understood - they had all had that moment - those who had rode dragons anyway. 

"Ah hāedar, how long were you aloft?" he said as the groom took her horse off.

"A while," she said, she looked shifty and the look was so entirely like her sister it nearly made him laugh. He might have laughed if she was not in pain.

"We went to the pit an hour after dawn, Your Grace," Ser Robin said. Rhaena glared. 

"That will be all Ser Robin," Jale glancing at Rhaena's furious face. He wanted to talk to his wife not hear tales from her guard. 

"Sit down," he said steering her towards the mounting block and encouraging her sit. He brushed her hair off her shoulders, and encouraged her to lean forward. His hands rested on her shoulders and he rubbed hard, feeling the stiffness in her muscles and feeling like his touch was doing very little for her tension except she sighed a little and he knew it was helping. 

"You cannot spend half the day aloft when you have only just begun." he said.

"You and Baela would think nothing of it," she said.

Jace paused. There was no way to say it that would not upset her. But he and Baela had years of dragonriding experience. 

"Not now we wouldn’t," he acknowledged."But when we were new riders?"

"Baela did," Rhaena said softly. “She spent hours on Moondancer the instant she could carry her.”

“Baela is a great inventor,” Jace said. “I watched your father teach Luke,” she stiffened, “and Joffrey and prepare Aegon.” It was rare to mention their brothers. Rarer still to mention Luke to her. “It was an hour aloft for a week, then two for two weeks. It was gradual. He would not have taken less care with Baela.” Baela had always been his favourite, he managed not to say that.  “She might have spent hours with Moondancer. She did not spend hours aloft. If nothing else it is a lot for the dragon.” It was probably less so for Morning, Jace thought the dragon had grown at tremendous pace and would have been ready for a flight sometime ago but Rhaena had waited until she was in King’s Landing with other riders with her sister. And of course, she had needed a saddle  from what Dragon Keepers had remained. 

“I am already so behind,” Rhaena said. 

“You are not,” he said. “Vermax was eight when I rode him. Moondancer was seven. Morning is only a year hatched. And there is peace. There is no rush. You have all the time in the world to perfect dragonriding Rhaena.” 

Rhaena no doubt thought about what would have happened in the war if she had had a dragon earlier. But the dragon that would made a difference had been taken from her. Morning had had hatched for her and was meant to be hers. He tightened his grip on her shoulders rubbing in a way that would ache but help when he let go, her breath settled. 

“Go and have the hottest bath you can stand,” he said. “And tell your maids to keep it hot for at least an hour. Then we’ll do this again, I promise it will help.”

“You don’t have to,” Rhaena said. 

“I do,” Jace said. It had to be someone who knew what they were doing. He decided to chance a tease. “Your chances of getting a backrub off Baela are currently higher than mine but I still would not bank on it.” It did not make her laugh at all. 

“It’s hardly a job for the King,” she said colour high on her cheeks. “You are meant to meet with the master of ships,” Rhaena always knew his schedule. 

“Nothing he has to say is as important as the health of the Queen,” Jace said firmly. Rhaena stood stretched a little - her shoulders clearly a little better and then she kissed him on the cheek. 

[anotherhumanpet]

🎀 - A dream that left them feeling happy

💤 Peek into my Character's Dreams 💤

The grass waves and flows like open waters against the wind, shimmering brilliantly with golden hues that would otherwise look stark and lifeless in stagnant air. The seeds feel soft and feathery against his fingers despite their dryness, and he can't help weaving his hands through the stalk heads as though he's petting an animal rather than an open, empty desert field.

The sun is warm on his face, inviting and invigorating all at once. He turns his face skyward, admiring the brilliant blue sea and gargantuan sized clouds that float above. He wants to touch them.

He reaches out for them and floats on up and up and up and up--

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ one hundred paired prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ a pot of fresh coffee and split knuckles

²⁾ orange peels and a car battery

³⁾ sand dunes and leather boots

⁴⁾ a printer and a knife

⁵⁾ incense and handcuffs

⁶⁾ a crushed velvet sofa and a video camera

⁷⁾ stale cigarettes and cotton candy

⁸⁾ loose change and headlights

⁹⁾ grey hairs and a gold belt buckle

¹⁰⁾ burnt coffee and grass stains

¹¹⁾ cherry cola and blue jeans

¹²⁾ chipped green nail polish and an empty dinner table

¹³⁾ a stack of paperwork and metal music

¹⁴⁾ a patchwork quilt and sweet tea

¹⁵⁾ a hockey sweater and a two-seater sofa

¹⁶⁾ perfume oil and rolled up shirtsleeves

¹⁷⁾ fallen leaves and guilt

¹⁸⁾ radio channels and a birthday card

¹⁹⁾ ravens and meadowsweet

²⁰⁾ apologies and bitter red wine

²¹⁾ library books and pouring rain

²²⁾ a breathalyser and popcorn

²³⁾ princess plasters and iodine

²⁴⁾ a tote bag with one broken strap and a winding staircase

²⁵⁾ a parasol and a tumbler of straight whiskey

²⁶⁾ fresh honey and a cult

²⁷⁾ wisdom teeth and blue eyes

²⁸⁾ sour cherries and a stolen hoodie

²⁹⁾ the flu and a heatwave

³⁰⁾ a boonie hat and a sunset

³¹⁾ vanilla perfume and a kitchen counter

³²⁾ a buffalo skull and a leather armchair

³³⁾ a throw pillow and a doorway

³⁴⁾ pink fluffy handcuffs and an unexpected guest

³⁶⁾ a package and a divorce

³⁷⁾ a stripper pole and a hangover

³⁸⁾ familiar cologne and a black eye

³⁹⁾ a lit candle and a snowstorm

⁴⁰⁾ an unsealed letter and a fallen pine tree

⁴¹⁾ headlights and footprints

⁴²⁾ a blocked number and traffic lights

⁴³⁾ a racesuit and a countdown

⁴⁴⁾ a butcher’s apron and a phonecall

⁴⁵⁾ battered comic books and a broken window

⁴⁶⁾ cold floorboards and a roommate

⁴⁷⁾ smooth vermouth and gold rings

⁴⁸⁾ a lip piercing and a rough hand

⁴⁹⁾ someone’s spare room and an eclipse

⁵⁰⁾ a game of mahjong and bad jazz music

⁵¹⁾ a jigsaw puzzle and a mortuary

⁵²⁾ a broke-up sidewalk and a knitted scarf

⁵³⁾ a poundshop wig and broken glass

⁵⁴⁾ a bunk bed and a crush

⁵⁵⁾ a red ink tattoo and a dinner gone cold

⁵⁶⁾ a warm palm and a flannel shirt

⁵⁷⁾ fresh basil and a half-empty bottle of arrack

⁵⁸⁾ a nightclub bathroom and smeared eyeliner

⁵⁹⁾ a busted lip and strawberry icecream

⁶⁰⁾ a floral-patterned dress and a looming balcony

⁶¹⁾ peach pits and a pressed shirt collar

⁶²⁾ a white mercedes and cheap perfume

⁶³⁾ a fwb and a housekey

⁶⁴⁾ a blue sarong and a fingertip tracing over a scar

⁶⁵⁾ a sauna room and a terse exchange

⁶⁶⁾ fried plantains and a briefcase

⁶⁷⁾ dried lavender and a tiled bathtub

⁶⁸⁾ a hotel room and a bouquet of lilies

⁶⁹⁾ sweet mango lassi and a suitcase

⁷⁰⁾ orange streetlights and a nightmare

⁷¹⁾ a crucifix and a thigh tattoo

⁷²⁾ a palm tattoo and the thrum of a heartbeat

⁷³⁾ a champagne room and a police siren

⁷⁴⁾ blue nitrile gloves and a hickey

⁷⁵⁾ a double-wide trailer and shotgun shells

⁷⁶⁾ stitches and pyjama shorts

⁷⁷⁾ karaoke and a snowdrift

⁷⁸⁾ an older man and a twin bed

⁷⁹⁾ chinese takeout and a graveyard

⁸⁰⁾ wet clothes and ambulance sirens

⁸¹⁾ carbolic soap and a creaking staircase

⁸²⁾ an undercover assignment and wrung hands

⁸³⁾ the back seat of a limousine and bustling night streets

⁸⁴⁾ a steamed-up bathroom and cold floorboards

⁸⁵⁾ a grand prix and a breakup

⁸⁶⁾ a third place trophy and a picture frame

⁸⁷⁾ the last slice of birthday cake and crossed legs

⁸⁸⁾ squashed raspberries and heated cheeks

⁸⁹⁾ pink lipgloss and brass knuckles

⁹⁰⁾ a ghost mask and a late visit

⁹¹⁾ loose bullets and slashed tires

⁹²⁾ a tactical belt and patterned bedsheets

⁹³⁾ a goaltender’s stick and a lonely walk home

⁹⁴⁾ a dog bed and a migraine

⁹⁵⁾ lit billboards and a floor-length gown

⁹⁶⁾ a divebar negroni and a game of pool

⁹⁷⁾ olive trees at harvest time and divorce papers

⁹⁸⁾ a caviar bump and vanilla coke

⁹⁹⁾ a whale tail and pantsuit

¹⁰⁰⁾ legs thrown into a lap and calloused hands

[eggsmemesandicons]

Send "Dear ____" and a Muse or Character and I will Write a Drabble of My Muse Writing to Them!

Please Remember to Specify Muses for Multis 🤍

[townofcadence]

FORGED, for Caelan please!

Glimpses of the Past (Headcanon meme) FORGED: a scene from my muse's past that they think made them stronger in the long run

Power was a word synonymous with his family.

He never knew a moment without it's presence looming over him. His parents lorded it over their vassals and the lower-born of his cousins. It was the unspoken advantage that garnered equal parts respect and fear of his father and mother, the king and queen. It was the whispered words of any who saw his father with a blade, his mother with her hammer and her silver tongue. A force to be reckoned with, it was an aspect of nobility in his court that was never questioned. If you reached a rank to hold council with his family, you had shed blood enough to paint your seat at the table crimson.

It was him, embodied. The black that bled from his eyes and left his hands and feet numb and spiking with pins and needles. The blood in his veins, tarnished and corrupted beyond salvage, and his sightless gaze, stolen by magic so potent it made him a font of destruction nothing compared to. Barely contained, exponential, unquenchable and excruciating power.

He bore his burden with pride, like a good soldier is meant to.

And that was all he was meant to be. A dagger and a spell and the arm of his monarchs, meant to sever those very limbs of any who opposed them. To cut them at the knees until they bowed. He was a weapon, nothing more.

A tool to be wielded, and discarded once the dust returned to the earth.

He remembered them saying he was lucky for the war. For blood to shed in their name with his unyielding, unfeeling strength. The gratitude they wanted him to proffer at their feet for the sentiment was cold and lifeless. Like him. There was nothing about him that wasn't what they had raised him to be, all sharp edges, and overlapping, impenetrable metals. Their sharpest spellblade, wrapped in silks to conceal what monstrous work it was capable of, hidden until it was time to raze their enemies to ash.

He was power to the point it beat through his veins, and he felt nothing.

Maybe the universe thought it the cruelest joke for all of their hubris, for him to tumble down into the darkest depths, with the greatest enemy at his side.

The first few moments made sense, even in a place like that. He was disoriented, blinded beyond what his usual limited sight already was, but he knew his duty. It was without hesitation that his Damascus blade plunged into the enemy prince, a violently precise wrench of steel to his throat that ended him with ferocious practicality.

He did not walk the caverns long, alone. Threads caught on him like gossamer and it was only when spiders' legs pinned his wings and spiders teeth found his own throat, that he realized the dangers they posed. Poison flooded his veins and burned like something real, and for a beat, he felt true fear. He died with it, the power locked in his body worth nothing but another resource for the thing that killed him to sup on.

And then he woke up.

It was still dark, but he knew the place by the way his shoulder ached like he'd fallen all over again. He recognized the identical groan, from the enemy prince. His knife came out again, ready for a repeat despite the confusion. He needed to do something familiar, something tied to his duty and his very existence. He didn't want to remember the paralyzing fear. The blood.

There was no wound, but the feelings of dying still sat like hot needles in his lungs.

The prince stopped him, begged him not to. He only hesitated when the Prince said he'd seen the spider. The fae that had pulled them down. The prince knew what it looked like, and he knew the two of them were nothing more than a meal to it. The prince remembered last time, what little he survived for, and knew that if they were both here, both remembering that, then he doubted either survived. They both could feel how this place brimmed with magic. And maybe, perhaps, it was more constructive, to collaborate.

He promised the enemy prince a knife in the back once this was over. The man grinned, and agreed. The whole exchange left him with another feeling to contend with; Bafflement.

And he continued to baffle. It seemed almost a game to him, the way he'd laugh at their hopeless situation. He was good only for his strength, and here it was nothing, moot. He almost felt more lost inside than he did in the labyrinth of stone tunnels, spun white from spiders' silk he could hardly see, that dampened any echo. What was his worth if he could not survive? He had tried, more than his fair share of times, to fell the spider. And when inevitably he failed from the advantage it had in its home, it learned; it discovered his strengths, and used them against him, or accounted for them, each time it cast whatever it did to reset him and the enemy prince.

If the thing that hunted them slaughtered them for food on repeat, and all his power wasn't enough to escape this place, then he was...lost. What was he, without his strength? All his life was devoted to this one purpose. What was he worth, now that his only purpose seemed to be to serve as a meal?

And here the enemy prince-- Kiran, still found reasons to smile. He was weak, a flirtatious little romeo bound to die with his impulsive antics. He was foolish, carefree, whimsical, and none of his charms or his playful nature saved him when the spider found him. Even if he could admit Kiran did have some skill with a sword, he was still dead.

A useless man, so hoplessly hopeful.

And yet, when compared to an equally useless man with nothing left to define him, wasn't that something?

The night Kiran touched his face, so many deaths later that no sense of time stuck with him, was something... .new. It was a gentle touch, a soft one. He felt that palm crease against his cheek and wipe at streaks of black. The compliments meant nothing, but the hand was warm against his porcelain skin. How could such a small thing shake him so?

He was offered the same action to Kiran, and refused. For a fortnite, he maintained that resistance, before yielding...asking, to do the same. Kiran had smiled, he felt it on his lips when he brushed them. His fingers tingled with it, along the curve of his jaw.

Very symmetrical, was the highest compliment he offered. Kiran seemed to enjoy it. Something about that felt like he was betraying all he knew. And yet it was warm.

The first time Kiran died without him after their truce was....difficult. Anywhere he managed to hide away from the spider was empty, forlorn and so so silent. Kiran, that annoying little man, could do nothing but talk and talk and talk. All he could think in his absence was how silent it was. The light Kiran glittered with gave him some semblance of sight, no matter how minuscule. Being without him was being plunged into nothingness. It was being home, in a way that made his heart shake and shrivel.

He didn't want home. He--- what did he want?

He knew. He knew. He knew and for all his power he didn't have the words to say it.

He fed himself to the spider to see his light again, because Kiran's presence was better than being alone. When Kiran discovered his choice, hearing the spider jeer of his 'giving up', he asked him why, and he still lacked any true answer. Kiran.... gave him something. Something strange and warm and different from anything his life had ever given him. Something that made the sacrifice worth the sorrow.

Kiran behaved as if he had sung sweet nothings in his name, and he's shoved him away at that, but the laughter stuck with him, as did the song of apology Kiran offered. What was it, he was feeling, more and more around this enemy prince that...was not such an enemy? He hated it and yearned for it and hated that he did. But still he couldn't help himself. Maybe it was Kiran's light.

Kiran figured it out, a thousand deaths later, before he did. Hope, he'd called it. A death worth dying for a chance for a better tomorrow. That maybe, the antics gave him something to hold on to, when a maze like this was liable to drain any life that set foot inside.

He didn't agree, said nothing. Kiran's ego hardly needed nursing. Kiran hung on his shoulders as he said it, and whispered it between them. It was warm, a body laying against his back, and he sat still as stone, frown carved to his features unbending. He did not nod, he did nothing, until Kiran slipped off to find food. But he sat there still, even after the light was dim and faded, unmoving.

The pieces were in place. He couldn't look away.

Kiran was....special. Kiran was light. And Kiran was his hope. He knew the word, but didn't know it---felt like this. A space he belonged to, that was not in his family's hand. He was--- powerless, to it. To the warmth. But he yearned for it when it left him. Yearned for that foolish man's joy. It sapped his strength, but it was worth more than he lost. And he.... didn't want to lose it.

How strange. To want something. But Kiran was soft, and he was warm, and it was almost a kinder world down here with him than any other he'd walked through.

He would say he cared for him, perhaps, if he was capable of that. But he was pragmatic. Kiran had value, beyond words, beyond skill.

He was still a weapon, still forged and sharp. But the hand that once cut Kiran down, would--- he would protect him. They would leave together, somehow, or he would deliver Kiran from this place with his final breath.

Caelan had sworn himself to that.

[urfriendlywriter]

what will your character do..

(reblog and brainstorm, lovelies! u can also write drabbles with theseee )

if they're met face to face with their plot, with no warning?

if they're stressed?

if they're happy? who will they want to share it with?

if they're sad? will they go to anyone for comfort? if yes, who?

if they're forced into a life of death situation?

if they're being threatened?

if they're kissed by their ex?

if they're confessed to by someone who they had no clue liked them? (given, they're single or not)

if their lover betrays them?

if they're coughing up blood out of the blue?

if there's a strange presence in the room, and it feels ominous?

if they discovered a dead body?

^ if the dead body is their best friend? (great question to start and develop a plot)

if their enemy is at their doorstep, bruised and injured?

if they had to share a bed with someone they don't particularly hate? ahem

if they had to be fed by someone they didn't like/their crush?

if their partner-to-be? enemy? pulls them into a secluded and shushes them? (their bodies pressing and all that!!)

when asked to choose between their family and their lover? (given the circumstances of ur story)

when kissed on their head by their enemy after a near death experience?

if they're dancing with a stranger, and the stranger says 'stop dancing, sweetheart and you'll hunted. do u wanna die?' ?

if they find out the food that served to them has glass dust on it? (who is it served by?)

when being pulled into a hug when they most need it by someone they least expect?

when they have to hold someone they loved at a gun point? why would it even occur?

when they have to choose between their own life and their lover's?

when they've to give up something (of great importance to the character) to save their lover?