#sv drabbles

[endeerling]

I love how arven —who has been introduced as a somewhat douche —has this bright colourful Rotom case that literally has flowers and a flabebe on it

And yet Nemona —who has been introduced as someone who’s meant to be your best friend/rival and someone who is full of joy and has a seemingly endless amount of energy —has the solid colour phone case and it’s literally just plain black with no pattern’s whatsoever

[ridreamir]

Arven, mid mochi-mochi dance as he stalks toward you, eyes glowing and glazed over... he doesn't stop, getting up so close that it's almost uncomfortable:

"M-moch-li-little bud..."

"-m... mo...I..."

"..." He then leans in close, his breath hot and sickly sweet.

"M-mo-ch..." "M..M...ine..."

[writer-by-the-sea]

Can I ask for a gender neutral drabble request about farmer feeling insecure and asking Elliott if he thinks they’re sexy and he admits to thinking about them when he touches himself? 🥺

“Have you ever just felt so unattractive that you don’t even think a turtle would be interested in you?”

Elliot startled beside me, I forgot that we hadn’t spoken in a few minutes… Or was it more than an hour now? I wasn’t sure. We would often hang out at the beach together after Elliott finished his yoga for the day. I’ve even joined him a few times, but honestly I stretch enough getting eggs out from under the chickens little bums that I couldn’t bare to do one more damn ‘triangle downward pose’ even if I wanted to.

“In your defense,” Elliot began. “I don’t believe turtles can be sexually attracted to humans.”

I snorted. Of course he would reply with the facts. And it was a silly question to begin with, the man looked like a bronze god sitting next to me. Shirtless and wearing those god damn red shorts that have me drooling in my sleep. “Never mind,” I replied with a laugh. “It was a dumb question—“

“No, it wasn’t.” Elliott’s voice was firm as he stared at me, his frown actually making me feel bad for even asking. “And, for the record, you’re very good looking.”

Um.

What?

I said nothing and just stared back at him, his eyes soft and caring as he gazed back at me. He had a single elbow propped on his knee, smiling now as he watched me— waiting for me to say something, anything in reply.

“I think about you,” Elliot said before I could manage to mumble out literally anything. “As in, when I’m in bed, or in the shower…” He paused, pressing his lips together as he thought to himself. “In the bathroom at the pub once, it was the day you walked in after being at the mines and the monsters tore half your clothes off...”

Hang on.

WHAT.

I held my hand up, stopping him from continuing and shook my head as I tried to process what the hell he was saying. He thought of me? In the shower? In bed? At the pub? What the hell did that even mean—

“I cum so easily when I think of you.”

Well there’s my answer.

Elliott was so relaxed as he spoke, shrugging after he just dropped a bomb on me as if it was nothing at all. “You’re very good looking, I never saw myself fantasying about the only farmer in town. However, it’s become a daily event now.”

“Elliott,” I paused. How does one even reply to this? Sure, the question I asked may have been a been asinine— but! To reply, and to reply so causally. “Ar you— are you saying to jerk off to me?”

“Everyday, yes.”

I dropped myself into the sand, uncaring anymore about the hot sand as it burned the back of my neck and arms, my hair was going to be a real bitch to wash later but I couldn’t even think about that right now. Elliott, the hottest guy in town, who writes poems and short stories with ease, who does yoga on the beach, who laughs with me at Gus’ pub, who is actually a dork that’s obsessed with Star Wars—

Jerks off to me.

Every. Single. Day.

Elliott laid down beside me on his side, worry painted all over his gorgeous face. “Farmer? Do you want me to stop?”

I laughed, just amazed at the entire situation. “No, you don’t… no.”

“Thank goodness,” Elliot said with a sigh and rolled to his back. “I don’t think I would have been able to stop. Especially after today.”

“Elliott,” I said and sat up, looking down at him with narrowed eyes. “What on earth would have happened today that would make it any harder to stop?”

“Well—“

I gestured down to myself. “I stink like chickens, my jeans were so beat up I cut them into shorts, I’m wearing an old hole filled white tank top— none of this,” I took a beat to gesture to myself one again. “Would give you the material needed to jerk off to.”

“Your shirt is absolutely soaked from the swim you took earlier, I can see your nipples.”

….

I looked down and groaned. “Elliot!”

“They’re very sexy nipples.”

And I could die.

[ruiyuki]

“Then, why don't you claim your own skies?”

The words ring in his head that morning of the ceremony. Thinking on this was unusual, really— the Drayster never mulled over things for long. In the days leading up however, Drayton couldn't help being reminded of the words said to him by that guy many months ago.

— —

Cyrano introduced him as a gym leader of the Galar region, visiting Blueberry Academy to train for a while in the Terarium.

“Yo, name's Raihan. Heard you're a dragon trainer too— care for a battle?”

A fellow dragon specialist, and Duraludon trainer too. They clicked instantly; having so much in common and being so similar in personality, it made League Club members do a double take. It wasn't before long that Drayton spent most of his class-skipping days hanging with Raihan in the Terarium during those few weeks.

They battled, they trained, and sometimes they just chatted over grub. Most of the time it was light-hearted: trading tips on dragon training, or stories of the strong trainers they've encountered. Other times, Raihan ranted off about the online beef he had with that Iono chick

(“The streamer girl? Yeah, we've met; she was invited here from Paldea last year. Girl's a whacky cuckoolander.” “Ugh, got that straight.”)

or jived Drayton about his League Club juniors.

(“Your girl Lacey is real cute.” “Yeah, that's her thing. Don't you think about trying anything though; her old man's Clay.” “The cowboy man? Damn.”)

It was only when the topic of rivals drifted along the daily conversation mill that vibes turned dour. A topic that Drayton avoided taking too seriously. There were feelings that never left him, never spoken aloud at Blueberry Academy. He wanted to keep it away, leave it on the shores of Unova miles from his small ocean sanctuary.

But Raihan never disparaged it. To Drayton's surprise, the other dragon tamer even had his own struggles to share, despite already reaching the status of 8th gym leader. He candidly described the child prodigy in his home region— the undefeated champion ever so popular and praised in the public eye.

It was a story Drayton knew all too well; he could recognize it in the undertone of Raihan's voice as he hit note for note the same emotions Drayton had felt too. So for the very first time since stepping foot upon Blueberry Academy, Drayton shared his own story— of his family, of the Opelucid Gym, of the Unova Champion.

Leon. Drayden. Iris.

These were the names that, although both Raihan and Drayton had much respect for them as pokemon trainers, never really made their smiles reach their eyes. The brighter big lights shine, the larger the shadows are cast behind them they say. Drayton's never found peace in that darkness, but it did make him feel better finding a kindred spirit in Raihan.

That is, until Raihan dropped the most mind-blowing take the Drayster's ever heard.

“It’s the same for you innit?— with Iris, I mean. There's always that someone you can't reach up to no matter how much you give your all— the ultimate rival. 'cept don't you think it could be that way 'cause you're playing the game with different rules?”

“Huh?”

“Leon was the strongest because his Pokemon are strong. Even if he's in a tight spot, he'd always manage to eek out a win because of that insane raw power of his pokemon. Battle instincts just come naturally to him y'know? But if you ask the man about how he uses his pokemon's abilities or setting up his next move? My mate gets lost quicker than Sonia can put a tracker on him, haha!”

“The Pokemon League's standard for single battles is great and all, but doubles is a whole different ball game. Singles is all about strength and endurance; double battles actually uses tactics. Just because a trainer is good at raising Pokemon to be strong doesn't always mean they'll be good at strategy. Honestly, it’s amazing how Leon stayed at the top for a decade 'til the new champ beat him.”

No matter how good Drayton was as Blueberry League Champion, at a school specialized in double battles, beating Iris was always a separate issue. The battle skills he was taught as a child, from his training by his grandfather at Opelucid Gym was all he had ever known when battling her. But truth be told, it never even occurred to him to level the playing field. It never occurred to him to think that he could.

“That's why I choose doubles in my gym. There are different ways to be strong as a trainer, it's just a matter of finding your own. 'sides, this school already specializes in double battles, why not put that to your advantage?”

Challenging Iris in a double battle… might just be the craziest idea Drayton has ever considered.

“The skies are big enough for all of us to fly— you just have to claim your territory, mate.”

— —

“Drayton, there you are!” Lacey's voice snaps him out of his reverie.

They've just finished the graduation ceremony. Long and arduous, the graduating students all decked out in Blueberry's cap and gown stood in the Terarium's Central Plaza waiting to be called up one by one to recieve a fancy sealed up paper. After the final speeches were said, cheers shouted and caps tossed, it was finally time for students to freely mill about in the celebratory energy.

“Yo. Congratulations, Miss Valedictorian.”

“Oh please, not you too. Crispin and the other League Club members have already said enough.” She pauses, lightly laughs as she approaches him. “And besides, I came here to congratulate you! Congratulations on graduating, Drayton.”

“Thanks, been a long time coming.”

“Yes… To be honest, I'm kinda surprised you made it this year…”

“Heh heh, aren't we all?” He took no offense to that, really. “Guess I just got my muse back this time 'round.”

Indeed, Drayton's change of pace didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the BB Elite Four. Perhaps it was the influence of the whole Kieran drama last year… or after that had cleared up, the subsequent sister school exchange event where the top BB League Club members got invited to Paldea to participate in a team competition. Lacey certainly noticed Drayton went back to skipping class when the Galarian gym leader was here, but at least he was motivated somewhat regularly after.

“I see… well I'm glad to hear that, Drayton. What are you planning to do after graduation?”

“Who knows… but I might have something in mind…”

“Something?”

“Don't worry about it.” He waves it off and ushers her ahead. “C'mon, lets take some photos with the club. It'll be our last ones here afterall.”

.

.

.

“By the way Drayster— if you ever find yourself in Galar, feel free to drop by Hammerlocke Stadium any time. We'll be happy to have ya.”

[f1tasies]

Good luck sex (before a race)

Charles:

One hundred percent. He is in desperate need of an outlet to relieve stress. Too much pent up tension and he WILL spiral. One way for him to focus is either to get you off, or make you get him off (Charles never learns that he can't make you do anything. You do everything of your own volition). Quickies in his room, you jerking him off under the table during a particularly boring briefing, him fingering you as you run simulations... Almost getting caught is half the fun. You're pretty sure the entire garage knows by now but the let you do it just cause it gets Charles in the zone, and now they can't deny their golden boy, il predistinato, anything, can they?

Pierre:

For him, sex is a hobby. You have to put in time and effort if you want it to mean anything. He looks at sex with you as the reward (or punishment, depending how it goes. Regardless, you aren't complaining). When he fucks you, he wants to do it right, so quickies are not his thing. Sometimes, if he's really feeling it, you'll spend the entire night before a race weekend experimenting, fulfilling his deepest darkest desires, but mostly, you get no d on the race weekend. After the race though, you better believe he's on his knees, hands tied behind his back as he services you with his tongue. You grab his hair and push him down on you, letting him work his magic.

George:

Ooh... This is a tricky man, because he never needs encouragement or external motivation before a race. If you want him, you have to seduce him, trick him into thinking it was his idea... And well, everyone likes to be chased, don't they? George thrives on praise, on your validation... If you know exactly what buttons to press, he might even miss the first few minutes of a practice session (because he was too busy doing you.)

Lewis:

The idea of good luck sex has always been appealing to him, but you've tried it out a few times and it doesn't work particularly well for him. It puts him out of focus, because why would he focus on driving when he can replay how soft your thighs feel, how sweet your lips taste, how desperate he can make you with just a touch. When he seduces you, he wants to do it the right way. Even if it's a quickie. (Especially if it's a quickie). While your sex life is never dull throughout the weekend, and he won't say no to a quick oral session (both giving and receiving), the main event happens on a weekday in a different country, where he's planned an entire day for just the two of you. (And maybe Roscoe and Angela)

Carlos:

He's very chill, for a chili but he does have an insane sex drive, and while it isn't always before a race, when it hits him it hits him. You can tell from the glint in his eye you're in for a good time. Sex isn't over until both of you finish, so while the foreplay can be a bit rushed, he makes sure you're well prepped, either by your own slick or the handy dandy lube he carries in his kit (You're surprised how his trainer still doesn't know). He likes it rough, he likes to take complete control, but he hates it when you give it to him. He wants to earn it- so sometimes he'll let you Dom him a bit before wrestling control from right under you (he isn't always successful, you're very good.) The reason you can't sneak around anymore is because your sex is always too loud- whether it's the sound of his balls hitting your skin, his grunts, your moans, or a combination of everything the two of you like is up for debate. His trailer is the only place you can do it without people knowing, but with the way Lando looks at you, you're going to have to find another way...

Seb:

Don't let his recent wholesome persona fool you, he's still a bastard when he wants to be. He's a big fan of edging- so that means you're always on the brink of collapse the whole weekend. Whenever he has a free moment, he'll come by, and make your life a living hell. He's invested in one of those long-range Bluetooth vibrators, so whenever he wants to, he can torture you. It's difficult balancing your job as a journalist, especially when you have to interview the other drivers and your beloved bastard of a boyfriend decides to make even walking unbearable, but it's all worth it. Because when the chase is on, Seb has less time to focus on what he couldn't achieve in his career. During his redbull days, when you were just friends with benefits, it was easy. You'd pull him into a broom cupboard and he'd fuck your brains out. But once he got to Ferrari, and the frustrations began, he just couldn't take it out on you. So you suggested the game. And he smirked at you and questioned if you'd really be able to do it. You never shy from a challenge now, do you?

Mick:

Hey, he's a gentleman through and through, but sometimes, he reminds you that yes, he is a Schumacher, a legacy of hard and fast and dirty. Mick's always been one for privacy, growing up famous, but that means he knows the perfect spots to get down and dirty. He's in love with your lips, especially when you take his dick. So pre-race sex? Of course. He's got decent stamina, which means it takes you quite a bit to get him off, but don't worry. He's a man of his word, and when the weekend is over, he's putty in your hands. He'll do everything you say. (You've even asked to peg him, and he said yes without hesitation.)

Daniel:

Redbull Daniel? Oh he's drowning in pussy 24/7, but when the season is over, he's all yours. You've opened up your relationship because you can't travel around the world with him despite how much you want to, and well, both of you have needs that sometimes can't be satisfied with your fingers. While he isn't there to fuck you every race day, he does send you material. Sometimes audios of him wishing you were there, wishing it was your pussy instead of his flesh light, it was you he was watching online, not a random girl. But sometimes, you get videos, of him in nightclubs, grinding on a girl (you've had the occasional boy, too); of him in a hotel room, making sweet sweet love to a girl who has the same hair as you; of him going down on a woman who was clearly going nuts with the things he did to her. Did it make you jealous? That was an understatement. But it helps knowing that he's always thinking of you, and seeing the shock on the girls' faces when he calls out your name when he cums is definitely hilarious. You always check to make sure the videos are consensual, and sometimes, you send him a little something of yourself too. When he's back in town for your home race, there's an entire week devoted to your body. Not even his sacred car is spared.

[draytonenjoyer]

DRABBLE #1

(not requested, demonstrating writing capabilities)

idk i just kinda wrote this... use this as an example for my work i suppose :) also, for requests i will make them a bit longer than this is, just a heads up. (vague character name mentions, other than carmine and kieran- and fem prons. for reader/mc)

A small knock at the door could be heard, yet she ignored it. Her mind was clouded with feelings of guilt, shame, and anger at her own self for the way things had ended up regarding the events in Kitakami.

The one thing she would never forget was the way Kieran looked at her after he had found out. He looked... broken. Hurt by the choices she made. It almost felt as if the light had completely dissipated from within him, leaving a cruel husk of the boy behind.

The way her heart shattered as she heard him utter 6 words that catastrophically made her truly realize the significance of both hers and Carmine's actions when he walked away. "...Why? Why'd you lie to me?"

After all that, she couldn't bare the thought of what she had done, even if it wasn't her idea. He must hate me, the girl thought, as a slight breeze knocked a pokéball that had been very clearly collecting dust right off of the top shelf of her desk and into her line of sight.

The sight of it made her freeze up for a singular moment, it was as if the universe was trying to tell her something mayhaps. The girl let out a breath that she didn't even know she was holding, as she picked up the pokéball- clutching it tightly in her grasp.

"It's been a while, huh." She murmured, her finger clearing the remaining dust off of the ball. She set it back down, and decided to send a letter. Maybe things could actually work out. This gave her hope.

Unfortunately that hope wouldn't last long, as days, weeks, and months went by and not a single letter or anything in response. Maybe she truly had screwed everything up. She should've told him in the beginning, against Carmine's judgment.

Maybe then, if it went that way, in another time, he wouldn't hate her.

[duskstarshit]

First Pokémon

One of the drabbles of my Omochiri/Geeka drabble collection i have in my AO3 <3

You can see more here :D

-----------

Geeta rose to her knees slowly, the little eleven-month-old girl she was carrying clinging to her like a lifeline.

Meanwhile, Rika held a pokeball in their right hand, they had a sweet smile.

"Look at this, Poppy, we're going to show you something amazing," Geeta whispered to her baby, who just gave a little 'bah'.

Rika gently placed the pokeball on the ground, when they opened it, a beam of blue light came out of it, a small creature appeared when the light dissipated.

"Tinka?" The creature looked like a small baby, with an expression that suggested it was about to cry, in one of its hands it held a miniature mallet made of blue metal.

The baby in Geeta's arms opened her eyes with a twinkle, giggles coming out of her mouth.

"Poké!"

Rika giggled, "yes, kiddo, it's a Pokémon."

"Poke!" Poppy raised her arms towards the creature, who just looked at her curiously.

"Tinka?"

"Careful, love," Rika whispered to their wife.

Geeta nodded, moving closer to the pokémon.

"Look," Geeta whispered to Poppy, with one of her gloved hands she gently stroked the pokemon's head, who cooed happily, "you should be gentle with it, do it like mamá does."

When the champion felt ready, she brought her baby even closer to the Pokémon, waiting Poppy would replicate the action.

Both parents watched with joy as Poppy began petting the Tinkatink just as Geeta did.

[peerlessscowl]

minimize the valor of your heroes. extinguish them altogether.

hero mastery; word count - 866

"...and Roland raised the great Blazing Blade high over his head -" Papa lifted his arms high, then plunged down into the pile of blankets, Raymond and Priscilla shrieking and dodging his grasping hands and reaching fingers, "and slew the mighty dragons!"

He caught them, as he always did, tickling the two children until all three gasped for breath and collapsed into a pile on the four poster bed.

Snuggling closer to his father's side, Raymond reached over, prodding gently a teasing finger into his sister's belly until she swatted him away, and he looked up, delighted, into his father's face, red from exertion. "Papa, can I one day be just like Roland? Can I one day slay dragons, too?"

It was dreadful boring, he thought, in Cornwell, where it often rained, and they were surrounded by trees but none of the excitement that seemed to thrive in the larger cities. Perhaps if he'd the chance, when he grew up, he'd set out on his own adventure, make his own name.

Papa was thoughtful for a moment. "There aren't dragons anymore, dear boy, didn't you hear the story?" He tickled his son's sides once more before settling back comfortably. "But Roland went onto be the first Marquess Ostia."

"But we're of his blood, aren't we, father?" Raymond insisted, his brow pinching with a gravity that made his father laugh. "I can be Marquess Ostia if I wanted to."

"No, dear boy – that role is already taken. But you'll be Marquess Cornwell after me – wouldn't that be lovely?" He tweaked Raymond's nose, and the boy swatted the hand away in irritation.

"I don't wanna be stuck in Cornwell all my life!" He declared, hopping up to his feet on the top of the bed, striking a pose that made his sister giggle. So encouraged, he swung his arms about in a facsimile of swordplay, clumsy in his seven-year-old body. "I wanna be a Little Hero, just like he was!"

"Little Hero!" Priscilla parroted, dropping back into the intense giggles that had wracked her body moments ago.

The giggles turned to shrieks, turned to screams, echoing off of the cavern walls as he felt the crunch of his bones, over, over, over and over and over -

Even now, though he knew he had been revived, healed by some primordial sorcery, if he reached up a hand to rub at his sternum, he could feel the gentle crackling of his lungs splitting underneath the shards of bone, his heart beating furiously in rebellion of the inevitable.

Every time he woke since returning, every waking gasp felt like the death rattle shaking in his ears, but it wasn't. The sun continued to shine, the wind continued to blow, and the residents of Garreg Mach monastery continued to smile and laugh and live.

And so, too, it seemed, must he live. Must he continue to walk these halls, eyes glazed over as he moved from one hall to another, unfocused as he drowned himself in sweat in the training hall, running the same drills over and over, dissatisfied with the results, needed to be stronger, needed to be faster -

His efforts had not gone unnoticed. Where before there had been those who had approached him with caution, hesitant and watching from a distance before greeting him, now he was greeted with warm smiles, easy requests for his assistance, and he helped, for what else could he have done?

The helmet stared at him from across the room, nestled as it was in the linens of his dormitory bed, its black, hollow eyes expectant as they watched him from where he leaned against the desk.

I wanna be a Little Hero!

He felt the crack of his bones as the debris continued to crumble down, the strike of great stone paws against his gut, the shearing of flesh against the acrid burning lance, the claws raking across his arms, his shoulders, the top of his head. He felt the heaviness of his comrades' stares as he spoke, offered himself, supplicated for something they all sought, they all wanted for their own reasons, but he was the only one stupid enough to ask...

Just like he was!

Raven cocked his head. The gaze followed his, dark and empty and feline and hateful and naïve and hopeful. He cocked his head in the other direction, and the gaze yet followed, crimson and emerald and shining and laughing, ringing brightly in his ears.

If he reached out his hand, his fingertips might have brushed against the burnished metal, felt the grain as intensely as each rippling heartbeat in his chest.

If he lifted it over his head, he might have felt the tip of its crest slant forward, the weight of it secure around his skull, gripping, muffling the sounds of the world around him.

He averted his gaze, couldn't stand to look at the thing any longer.

When next he stepped onto the field of battle, he needed no ostentatious display, no pomp or flourish to let the enemy know that he was the danger, and he was there for them. He would let his sword say that for him.

[fivveweeks]

oh my god fr... fr FRRRRRR god would it be bad if i want to fold him in half and (unintentionally) remind him of doing that to his wife

ITS GOOD this is like the subplot in my hassel brassius x reader pwp again where you don’t mind being a placeholder as long as your partner is enjoying themselves EXCEPT this is like:

“Does this remind you of your late partner, Larry?”

Larry flinches, a little cut-off gasp from his shudder. His fingers dig harder into the pillows, and you can’t help but appreciate the little bruises and bite marks on the insides of his wrists from his attempts to stifle his noises, the way it frames his wide-eyed, flushed stare he’s giving you now.

“I-” He starts, stops. Bites on his chapped lips, full and swollen and red now. Something vulnerable and raw and open swims in the dark of his eyes, pupils blown-wide and shaking.

“It’s ok. As long as you’re enjoying it.” His hair is sweaty as you card your fingers through them, trailing down his ear and cupping the side of his cheek. “Just tell me if it’s too much?”

And Larry inhales, watches you carefully. Nine seconds akin to an eternity, but you have no doubts about the magnitude- the significance of his decision, even, when he relaxes and presses into your palm, a chaste warm kiss on the open space of your wrist where your pulse resides.

“…thank you,” he finally says, soft against your skin, glancing back up at you. A little wet, a little afraid, but his next words are firm, resolute. “But I’m… I’m not replacing you with them. Not when we’re doing this.”

“You know I don’t mind, yeah?”

“No,” he tells you. His hand comes cupping the back of yours, holding it tight. “It’s- it’s unfair to you for carrying my expectations. And it has been years- I enjoy spending time with you because it’s you, not because you came after- not because you stand in as a cheap imitation for them.”

That’s… really sweet of him. “I mean, yeah, I know that. But like, I’m not gonna blame you if you still sometimes slip, y’know? It’s not like you’re using me- don’t look at me like that, I know you. Just that it’s not easy to get over something like… that. Yeah.”

A gentle pressure over your hips and ass, and Larry draws you closer to him with a firm hook of his leg, and you yelp, pressing even tighter against his chest, a mess of open buttons and shirt. When you steady yourself again, Larry’s watching you, the crease of his brows softer somehow in the dim of the light, free hand reaching out to warmly cup your cheek in a mirror of yours.

“…You’re too nice for your own good,” he sighs, and pulls you down to him, pressing a lingering kiss to the space where your lips meet your cheek, murmuring. “But don’t worry over little ol’ me, pigeon. I’ll get over it. And I know they’d want me to be happy.”

“I want you to be happy too,” you grin, and pull yourself upward to press a quick kiss onto his forehead. “And now that we’ve established this, how do you want me?”

And Larry chuckles, trailing his fingers until it’s loosely cupping the back of your neck as he relaxes into his pillow, soft eyes looking up at you, holding you in his gaze. “…Continuing where you’ve left off would be nice.”

[comfort-reads]

𝗦𝗲𝗯𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗩𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗹

𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

five for five | @internetgremlin-writes

levels | @internetgremlin-writes

sickly confessions | @internetgremlin-writes

hey! i was looking for that! | @libraryofloveletters

how'd you get in my house? | @libraryofloveletters

[endeerling]

So weird question to everyone I suppose, but who could you see playing the characters of scarvio? Like actors/actresses

Arven:

Nemona:

Penny:

Clavell:

Mela:

Giacomo:

Atticus:

Ortega:

Eri:

Brassius:

Katy:

lono:

Kofu:

Larry:

Rhyme:

Tulip:

Grusha:

Geeta:

& bonus for the elite four? I’m curious lol, leave any ideas in the comments!

[justices-blade]

18. A memory they’d love to change

✧ meme-ories! | closed :)

The sound of a paper bag falling in an alley. A dead-end nook, awkwardly shaped, sculpted further by old crates, now smashed and overturned. A dingy hammock dangles from one end.

Why is it empty.

"Finch?" One step, then another. Hands pull a crate upright, only to find it empty. "I brought lunch."

Silence. The torn hammock sways in the spring breeze. But that's fine: They're good at hide-and-seek. Took to it even better when those Crimean freaks got into Nevassa. All the better to use against those Begnion dogs prowling every main street. They don't even want to touch commoners half the time if it isn't to push 'em around.

So no way they got into a dingy little alley like theirs. Lips tug into a frown, pushing past the wreckage to the hole in the wall, poking his head under a tarp into the reoccupied shell of a house.

"Oi! Ollie-ollie oxenfree!" He steps in to push another crate aside, nothing spilling out save two old waterskins. The odd shape under another tarp doesn't greet the world with a mop of brown hair and a gap-toothed smile, just their misshapen leather ball and a spare cushion of hay. Another tarp, another miss. He stops and listens, for raspy breathing, for quiet giggling.

Nothing. A kick to another crate. It splinters further.

"Finch! It's me. This really isn't funny."

The words echo off wood and stone. Has his voice always been so loud?

"Finch!"

So why isn't it loud enough?

"I got the flaky pastries! Your favorite! They're still warm, and if you don't come out right now, you big lug, I'll eat it all myself!"

The words are steady, but the hands fumble the tarp back out. Wind and sunlight hits skin again, but the silence doesn't change. Grey eyes turn upwards, towards the roofs, towards the debris, towards the other side of the walls. Finch would have never managed to scale much of anything in his state, was the slower of the two even when he wasn't sick as a dog. Still, shaking hands grasp for anything, anything: Clamber up to the rooftops, feet a-skittering along crumbling tiling, peering down for anything, anything —

Anything that isn't a wake of debris. It's all just debris. No sign of a charge, a brother, of Finch. Why had he even left that morning? How many hours was he even away? The fabric of the hammock is long-cold, even in temperate spring. Armored footfalls hammer in the distance, a new constant made stark in the absence of another.

"You little twerp!" He yells, anyways, carelessly sending slate to break against cobblestone. "Who said you can make camp on your own?"

A leap, diagonal, wind at his back, through his hair, dingy scabbard hitting his thigh painfully as he lands. "When I get my hands on you, it'll be over for you!" Tile changes to wood, then tile, then wood again. "I'm captain this time," he cries, voice choked by the sun in his eyes. "so I'm gonna tickle you so bad you throw up, and, and —"

A crack. There is something beneath his feet, and then there is nothing. Rotten wood splinters with a cacophonous crash, and Edward falls with it in abrupt silence. Dust rises in the emptiness of another house left unattended, stinging his eyes, wrapping 'round his throat. It's just the dust. Finch is fine. Finch is smart. Finch probably juked 'em. He's slippery like that.

"So come back!"

Only the walls to hear him. A fist pounds, wood creaks, voice breaks into air, barely over a whisper.

"... We haven't even decided on dinner yet."

[inkstaindusk]

I don't have the energy or investment to write another full-length fic for this series but I CAN still write drabbles so here's a snippet of keep your friends 'verse lbh in scum villain post-canon

"So where can I find Shang-shishu?" Luo Binghe asks.

The other him and Not-Shizun exchange glances. "He's likely in the Northern Desert," Not-Shizun said, "with his husband."

"His," Luo Binghe says. "His... husband."

"Mobei-Jun."

Of course.

Of course.

Shang Qinghua only acknowledges so many people in the North, but hearing it still feels like a hammer to his head. It's just--wrong. Like his best friend married his uncle. It practically is that! He has, in fact, made fun of Mobei-Jun's unfortunate crush for this exact reason! But he never wanted anything to actually come from it!

Plus, Luo Binghe has had a lot riding on Shang Qinghua marrying Mu Qingfang ever since he became aware of the inter-realm betting ring and he refuses to let his own best friend be the reason why he goes into debt.

When he gets home, he'll have to keep them far away from each other.

[thefastestaround]

Spotify Wrapped 2023 31 - Heart Attack (Rock Version) by Demi Lovato @vulpuslunae

Putting my defenses up 'Cause I don't wanna fall in love If I ever did that, I think I'd have a heart attack

Pietro knew it was getting there. He had to put a bigger wall between him and Miharu. He had to find a way to push her away. For it to be her choice to walk away.

He knew what being in love was like. He knew what it was to fall in love and he knew the pain that it meant. It didn't matter how good it was at first, he knew it would fall apart. And that was why he had to put up the defenses. He couldn't let her see how happy he was.

Which was all the harder to do when they were just eating takeout in the hotel bed, some nonsense she wanted to watch on the TV. But it didn't bother him. Even with how things had started between them, the longer it went on, the easier it was to fall into places like this. Comfort.

Comfort was bad. Comfort meant he was vulnerable. His walls lowered. She could attack his heart. She could hurt him. But he couldn't get away. He didn't want to. But he had to find a way to get her to leave. Leave it all up to her.

The blame would have been easy to place on her. She would be the one to walk away. She would be the one who gave up. Not him. It was easy. He had ruined enough relationships to know how to do it.

Just not that night. He would wait for them to be back. He would enjoy being with her one more night until he decided to break it down. Before she would give him a reason to run away.

That was the only way he knew how to protect himself.

[sparkykitsune]

Iono's livestream gone wrong but it's a crack drabble instead of a skit

Iono was currently standing on top of Glaseado Mountain's summit, with Grusha making an appearance on her with her livestream that day.

"Ello, 'ello, hola! Ciao and bonjour!" Iono greeted on stream. "On today's stream, we will bust a myth that people have asked many time! Does a cat always land on their feet or not?"

"I'm pretty sure this isn't going to end well..." Grusha groaned, his voice muffled by his scarf.

"A cat always lands on her feet, watch!" Iono exclaimed as she intentionally fell down from the summit to the base of the mountain.

Grusha was flabbergasted by Iono's recklessness, but he sighed in defeat. He knew the type of person Iono was, and there was no stopping her.

"Don't say I didn't warn her..." Grusha sighed, staring at the stream. "Also, I'm a dog, not a cat. How am I supposed to know that cats always land on their feet? Especially that cat."

Iono's Rotom Phone then floated away from the mountain to follow her down. Grusha rolled his eyes and observed the mess of a situation he got involved in.

Elsewhere, Geeta finished checking up on Larry in Medali (much to both of their displeasure). She was about to call a Flying Taxi to head up to Glaseado Mountain to check up on Ryme and Grusha, but a loud thud interrupted her actions. Geeta rushed to check up on the commotion. She was greeted to the sight of Iono sitting down on the ground, smiling, with her ankles looking out of shape.

"And ta da! This proves a cat always lands on her feet!" Iono determined.

The chat sent mixed reactions, with most of them being concerned about the massive fall and not caring about the end results.

"Iono! What were you thinking?!" Geeta gasped.

"For the stream!" Iono answered. "People asked me if cats always land on their feet, and I decided to test that theory today on stream!"

"Y-Y-You've dislocated both of your ankles..." Geeta sputtered, trying to remain calm. "Besides, that's just a myth spread by dogs."

Iono attempted to get up back onto her toes but they were obviously unable to support her body in a state like this.

"Just one second-" Iono heaved.

Grusha was still at the top of the summit, he could faintly see the commotion between Iono and Geeta. A Flying Taxi showed up and the husky watched the tortie cat carry the calico cat into the taxi, and presumably to the hospital, with the latter screaming.

Grusha could only sigh in despair as he returned to his gym to pretend he never saw that. Fortunately, Geeta didn't see the stream nor did she suspect Grusha accompanied Iono there.

And that's how Iono attempted to bust the myth that cats always land on their feet, and she only got away with two dislocated ankles and plently of recovery time in a wheelchair.

[neyumiko]

blue heart sunglasses | stardew valley

Sebastian sees pastel blue sunglasses on the ground. He allows ten seconds to pass, casually glances around, and the playground gravel crunches under his shoes.

Slowly, he kneels and reaches for the item. His nails tap against the plastic lens as he picks it up. He raises a brow as he observes the rimless, heart-shaped sunglasses with metal frames in his hands.

It’s tacky, he thinks, with a grimace. It gives city-pop and bubblegum girl vibes.  

It could belong to Haley, but he’s never seen her wear it. It could belong to her sister Emily, with her unique fashion sense and colorful accessories.  

He could leave the item on the ground by the playground. The owner can search for the item here. Even so, he’s never seen anyone in town visit the saloon with a glitzy accessory.

It must have been from the recent fall festival, he thinks. Someone forgot it.

Against common sense, he holds onto the sunglasses and his reflection mutely stares back.

Maybe the owner will return.

Sebastian decides to wait. For the next few days, he strolls in the direction of the park and loiters along the fringes watching brown birds hop on the ground. He’ll wait until he can see the person the sunglasses belong to.