#is this an rps ficlet

[starrystevie]

steve harrington, luxury hotel heir, who wants nothing to do with the family empire. steve who remembers running away from every hotel he was dragged to as early as his memories allow, who stood in the lobbies and screamed until his throat was raw and his mother was so embarrassed she would take him outside.

he grows up knowing it’s in his cards to take everything over once he gets old enough and he despises it. the very idea of being in charge of the hotel chain has his skin crawling, electricity humming through his veins, makes the joint in his jaw constantly tense. rebelling isn’t really an option, not unless he wants to be kicked to the curb, so steve fights back in the smallest ways possible. he grows his hair a little too long, he wears his muddy reebok sneakers with his fancy suits at dinner parties, he snorts out a laugh with a roll of his eyes when his father introduces him as the future of the company.

it all gets to be too much. when steve, freshly 24 and old enough to take on more responsibility, tells his father that he won’t do it, that he won’t be a pawn in their game anymore, he gets cut off. credit cards canceled, fancy loft apartment lease forcibly broken by his father, access to the garages of bmws and mercedes taken away. he could get it all back, return to the ice of luxury he always knew, only if he could prove to his father that he could be a leader the company is proud of.

which is how steve finds himself working at the front desk at a smaller property of theirs in a place that should be named bumfuck, indiana. it’s the only hotel in town, which keeps them steadily busy with a bustling lobby bar and restaurant, as they’re the only lodging for out of town guests. he hates it, hates being confined behind the desks he’d look at with disdain as a kid in uncomfortable slacks and button downs that mirror his uniform now. he has to smile and schmooze and works off upgrade commissions and force himself to not stare off into space during the slow hours, imagining a life that could have been.

he’s been working there a little over a month when summer hours start and the lobby band comes back for the busy nights. it’s nothing exciting, a jazz band of sorts complete with a sax, but their guitarist catches his eye. he’s all long hair and smirks, leather and boots, and exactly the type of person mommy and daddy harrington would lose their minds over. he’s a way of rebelling all on his own in a gorgeously perfect package.

steve catches his eye as they’re setting up next to the bar for the night. the wink he confidently flashes causes the guitarist to stumble a bit before sending back a wave and a shy grin of his own, cheeks flushed the prettiest pink. there’s a phrase rattling around in the back of his head, something about not mixing work and play, but all steve can think of is tangling their fingers and pressing a kiss to the man’s temple before running away wherever together with his father’s angry face fading away behind them.

it’s too tempting of an idea not to try, especially when the guitarist keeps looking at steve with the same look he’s sure to be giving him. especially when they’re both ducking their heads with upturned lips only to glance back up and have their eyes meet again and again. especially when he comes over to the desk after the band's first set and slides a piece of paper with a name and phone number over to steve dotted with x’s and o’s and a smiley face.

and the thing that bothers steve the most is that something amazing could come out of this whole mess and he'd owe it to his father for giving it to him. he's still going to try, though, especially because some hotel band guitarist named eddie is smiling at him like that.

#this may or may not be inspired by one of my fav rp ocs #and I could easily be convinced to turn this into a bigger fic #this also was written very fast and very haphazardly with a lot more that i'd want to expand on so sorry if it makes no sense #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet

[lordsecondsenju]

The air was frigid in the Land of Fire, the wind whipped around long, dark hair. A gloved hand pushed the black hair out of his face, looking over the map that was in his other hand as he held back strands that whipped around his body. How could anyone want to be out here in this? Well, it wasn’t a choice for the man who was bundled up in three layers to try and maintain body heat. The fire nature chakra cycling through his body was helping minimally, but he was still chilly.

With a groan, Madara folded up the map and checked his surroundings as the wind died down for a moment. He was getting close to the last known location of the Three Tailed Beast. He’d been on the hunt for hours now, and it seemed like he was getting nowhere. That the signs of the tailed beast were fading faster than he could find them.

“Curse this stupid mission. The Daimyo had better pay up good for this one, sending me off into the cold to find this beast…” His voice carried and echoed through the forest as he walked. He shuddered at the echo, an eerie emptiness to the voice, as if something not human was taking his voice and twisting it. He had to physically shake that thought from his head.

As the day dragged on, Madara would find himself having to backtrack, turn around, or completely go off path to get closer to the lake that was the last known location of the Three Tails. And as he did, it began to rain. At first, it was just a light drizzle. But as Madara found himself walking further, the drizzle turned into rain, then the rain turned into sleet. It was a pretty heavy downpour as Madara reached the lakeshore and he stuffed the drenched map away in a pouch on his belt.

“Finally…”

He looked around the shore, before casting his gaze over the water. He was barely able to make out the form of an island in the middle of the lake, hidden by the sleet and rain pouring down on the lone man. “I cannot be expected to get out there, right?” He asked as he pulled out the notes on his mission. No, he was definitely expected to get to the island.

With a curse, Madara shoved the paper back into the pouch it had come from, before his hand moved to grab a kunai from a different pouch on his belt. He had to be prepared for anything.

As if it were second nature, Madara channeled chakra into the soles of his feet and took a few steps onto the water. He knew it would be a long walk, the lake was huge! Better get to it.

He began to run towards the island, trying to make up for the time he had lost by getting turned around on his way to the lake. After a few minutes of running, he swore he was hearing a second set of steps tapping along the surface of the lake to his left. He brought himself to a stop and looked over in that direction, pushing his bangs back from his face to see clearly.

The rain was not helping, though, and Madara could barely see a few meters in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he activated his sharingan, allowing it to focus in the direction of the second footsteps. While he had anticipated seeing someone standing there, he hadn’t expected the absolute density of the chakra signature they radiated.

Tensing, Madara knew this was about to be a fight. But he had the upper hand. Gripping his kunai tighter, he ran at the figure in the rain, relying on his sharingan to navigate. The figure in the rain also lunged at him, reaching behind themselves to draw a short sword from a sheathe attached at their lower back.

Tension filled Madara’s body as he finally got close enough to see the person he was about to cross blades with. A man. A man dressed in surprisingly light clothing. Only one layer of flowing, green and tan fabrics. As their blades clashed, sparks flew, and Madara was able to actually take in the man before him.

White hair, plastered to his forehead in wispy strands, sharp red eyes with long pupils that were nothing more than slits that were focused on Madara with the intent to kill, and three red markings on his face, one on each cheek and one on his chin. The notes on the mission hadn’t included any details of a person guarding the lake or the Three Tails.

“I’m not here for you. I just want the Three Tails.” Madara warned. He really didn’t want to fight someone if he could help it. He didn’t like the thought of hurting others. Not when the capturing of the Tailed Beasts was simple. The beasts didn’t think, they were all action. They were easily controlled by his sharingan, it’s why he’d been chosen.

“That’s a shame. You can’t have him. Turn around and leave before I kill you.” The man spoke in a gravelly voice. Madara was surprised at his words. Was this man really acting as a guard for the Tailed Beast?

Madara pushed the other man back, and he jumped back as well so he could gather himself and assess the situation. The man’s chakra was dense, strong, and oppressive. He didn’t know why it felt familiar, though…

As he was thinking, he noticed that the man was very still, his hands pressed together, palm to palm with the sword pressed between them, in front of him. Madara could physically feel the energy around them change as the seconds ticked on. He couldn’t let this get out of hand. He launched himself at the man, only to be blocked by the sword. As the sparks settled, Madara was able to see just what he was facing.

The man’s eyes were now surrounded by a light blue coloring in the pattern of scales which fed down across his cheeks, as well. A sage! Madara let out a determined grunt. There was only one family he knew of that openly shared that they carried the blood of sages and could achieve sage arts with enough training in solitude.

“You’re a Senju!”

#not rp related #ficlet #I got inspired #and this came from it #I might write more I might not #au: dragon king tobirama #tobirama senju #madara uchiha #sage tobirama #tailed beast hunter Madara #uh if you have any feedback please share #comments are accepted and appreciated and might motivate more writing if you like this

[cybernetic-asset]

Is it Worth It?- [Small drabble / open prompt]

This is a small drabble/ficlet/whatever-- Could also double as a starter or prompt if anyone feels so inspired<3 Notes at the end!

He sat alone in the dimly lit room; knees pulled to his chest, with his arms resting on his knees. He rested his head against the concrete wall of the cell, staring down at his hands-- The bloodstains on his left arm giving off an eerie sheen. The bloodstains on his hands meant nothing to the Soldier, they were just another layer of the life he'd been conditioned to live.

But, as he sat, doubt began to creep into his mind. A strange, foreign emotion. 'You're changing the world,' They told him, 'shaping the century' Was it worth it? The Winter Soldier, a weapon of destruction for the highest bidder. Being contracted traded out to other organizations for whatever objective they needed him to complete didn't feel much like he was changing anything.

But there the Soldier sat, head down, letting his bloodstained hands stain the fabric of his pants. <><><><><

NOTES <- If you want to use this as a starter Under the cut

-HYDRA!Verse -This is before the existence of the Winter Soldier // that Bucky is the Soldier, is widely known

#whispered echoes #The Soldier Speaks #The Soldier #bucky barnes #winter soldier #open #prompt #drabble #ficlet #roleplay #rp #quwu #angst #marvel roleplay #avengers roleplay #avengers rp

[blindsighted]

Their camp sat at the edge of the sandbank, against the tree line, and beyond the reach of the waves. A black cloak with red cloud patterns llaid open on the sand; another tidily rigged up to block the weather with a simple and sturdy wooden frame. One wide rimmed hat hung at the left and right side, while belts, bags, pouches, knives, and clothes were alternatively set in neat piles or tossed casually around the area. In front of this refuge, wood was stacked, ready to be burned, while a significantly larger pile sat tidily off to the side.

An open flame might normally attract enemies, but there was little chance of any other person coming out this way. In the event that some poor soul did wander in, it was still less likely that they would be strong enough to pose a threat to this deadly duo, if they were stupid enough to approach at all.

White sand glittered under his feet, as he walked along the shore, pressing pleasantly between toes decorated with purple painted nails. The great blue ocean stretched out on his right side, as far as the eye could see. Tall rocky ledges surrounded the bay, framing pale sandy shores of pebbles, jagged rocks, and hardy corals. Delicate little waves rippled across the surface of the water, glistening in the golden glow of the setting sun, before dissipating into soft foam at his feet.

Itachi marveled, taking in the scene with reverence, while a bittersweet nostalgic bliss washed over him- carried along by the salty sea breeze. The rhythmic churning of the tides set a soothing tone, easing the pain of days past with every push and pull. Truly, few in the world really got what they deserved, Itachi pondered, or else he would never have found himself walking in such tranquility, able to forget his woes for a time. Relief and joy coursed through him, earning a little shudder. He smiled to himself, looking out over the waves, towards the darkened shape of his partner, swimming through sparkling waves.

Piercing crimson eyes dart swiftly from the horizon, pulled down to the shore by a flash of motion. At once, he brings down a simple wooden skewer with swift efficiency. The crab struggles, flailing madly at the end of the sharpened stick, but its agony is of little concern to Itachi. Its suffering needed. "Thank you for your sacrifice," he offers in apathetic prayer, before continuing down his route, in search of other unfortunate and edible creatures.

#kisaita #itachi ficlet #itachi rp #not open #writing example #worked hard enough on this to post it i think #free to reblog

[the-bar-sinister]

At Wendy’s wedding in Kensington Garden, Captain James Hook attends.

After the ceremony, he corners the handsome young groom alone with a cigar, and a wedding gift.

Surprised– but certainly unwilling to be rude– the groom opens the box to find a small but significant collection of shining gold coins, Spanish in origin.

He looks up at the captain, quite stunned.

Hook gives the man a rather paternal smirk in answer, and taps him on the chest with the curved back of his hook.

“No long hours at the bank, understood?”

#captain hook #captain james hook #ficlet #james hook #peter pan #😼🔪 #wendy darling #this is not an rp starter #this is not an invitation to riff

[mantleoflight]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Everything || Pt 2

The Vex tunnel shone like a distorted Warp space, neon latices forming and shattering, pieces of half-manifest Vex debris appearing and vanishing in an instant. Echo gripped the dual helm sticks she used to steer for all they were worth, desperately trying to keep on course while praying she wouldn’t burst into splinters.

“Echo! I see an end!” Whisper shouted, her guardian barely hearing her over the turbulence. “Keep holding on, we’re almost out!!!”

The cockpit shook violently as turbulence intensified, and for a moment, Echo thought she was going to be crushed by the sheer g forces pushing on her. Then, like the snap of a rubber band, they were out, the light of the Vex net vanishing as they escaped into real space.

The Velocimancer wobbled its wings, it's nose dipping as Echo throttled back and tried to regain her bearings. “We’re not dead?” She asked, blinking stars from her dazzled optics.

“Not yet,” Whisper answered quickly, “but we’ve got hostiles! Dog fighters ahead!”

The shapes of round, black ships with wings like twisted candy wrappers roared and twisted as long, more conventional shaped ships chased and were chased by the black candy fighters.

"What in the absolute-" Echo began when Whisper cut her off. "FIGHTERS UP TOP, DIVE 90-0-23!"

Echo pushed her flight sticks forward and down, sending her ship into a sharp nose dive as two fighters roared passed, swerving to avoid hitting her. Blue light trailed in the wake behind her as she went, but as she looked up from the front, she saw her position had revealed a whole space battle happening above her.

Two huge ships glided through space, trading canon fire like ketches of the Old Crews but bigger. Part of her thought of the large war freighters the Cabal had stationed protectively over the Last City, Psion star fighters ready to launch in their hanger bays, or that the Shadow Legion had stationed on Neomuna with their destructive Nighthawks and tanks.

Around one flew the black, candy-shaped ships, their engines roaring like angry ascendant hive knights. Meanwhile around another flew the white, needle-nosed ships trading red laser fire for green with the black ones. But with them were also odd ships that looked something like an Arcadian jump ship but with no wings and only its engines secured to the main body. What kind of ship was that?

Echo shook her head and glanced at her ghost. "Oh boy, Whisper triangulate our current position and get us the heck away from these guys. I don't want to be part of whatever party these guys are having."

Whisper chirped and extended her scanning reach. "Got it - ECHO!"

"HOLY--" Echo hauled on her helm sticks, maneuvering her ship as she threaded through a knot of fighting forces. In the moments the hunter had looked at the battle and glanced at her ghost, her ship had soared down and around the main part of the conflict only to find herself in the other half of it! Unbeknownst to her, she had come in at a split vector, right through the middle of the main forces of fighting and unfortunately like all dog fights, forces move.

"Hang on!" she shouted and shifted in her seat, weaving and juking as she tried to thread her way out of the battle. Finally, she saw an opening and took it and a whole planet opened up to her.

A planet! Her ship was made for interplanetary travel! If she could get down there, she could do a warp snap perpendicular to it, allowing her to get past the atmosphere and get to cover before she ended up mince meat for these dog fighters.

With that in mind, the long nosed jumpship wove its way through the fray, dodging red and green laser blasts as Echo tried to escape from the battle. With any luck, the other fighters would be too busy to worry about a blueberry like her. After all, from the looks of the war carriers, they had much bigger problems to deal with.

#star wars rp #star wars crossover rp #crossover rp #destiny rp #Wrong time wrong place wrong everything #starwars verse #crossover verse #//THE CROSSOVER CONTINUES #drabble #ficlet #into the known universe #destiny crossover rp #destiny x star wars #d2 x sw

[cndian]

Skinny Gollum Dipping

with the coolest Steve to my Eddie, @batty4steddie 😎

written for ‘pool’ wc: #442 - rated: t - cw: none

~

One perk of dating a lifeguard at Hawkins Community Pool was free access to the pool after hours. Not that Eddie was much of a swimmer.

This summer had been too hot to handle, though, and after an afternoon jamming with Corroded Coffin where it felt like his skin was melting off, the idea of jumping into a cold pool (and Steve’s arms) was dream-worthy.

Eddie climbed the fence and hopped down, grinning like a fool when he saw Steve approaching him in his cute little lifeguard outfit.

Steve knew that Eddie was coming, so he wasn’t amused when he climbed the fence to get in.

He had spent the whole day blowing his whistle and yelling at kids. He was exhausted, but he knew his tan was looking really good, and Eddie would love to see his tan lines. He couldn’t be mad, because he was excited to see him.

“Hey,” Eddie said, leaning in close and greeting Steve with a kiss on the cheek since nobody was around. His skin was toasty warm from being outside all day, yet tacky with sunscreen.

Steve didn’t say anything about how he got in. He just smiled from the sweet and gentle kiss.

“Missed you, Eddie bear,” Steve told him and gave him a proper kiss before breaking it to tug his shirt up and off. “Gotta get your clothes off, so we can take a dip.”

If Eddie’s friends ever found out about the Eddie bear thing, they would never let him live it down. Especially since it made his chest go all goopy and his face visibly happy.

“And so we can fool around, huh, big boy?” Eddie clicked his tongue and winked before kicking off his Reeboks and shimmying out of his too-tight jeans.

He dropped his boxers too, and he was sure he looked like a pale, sweaty Gollum compared to Steve’s tanned glory. He didn’t let himself dwell on comparisons, though, or what Steve potentially thought of him because Steve had seen him naked more than a few times now and seemed to enjoy pale, sweaty Gollums.

Once Steve was out of his uniform, Eddie was struck for a moment admiring him, and that’s when the little fucker took his chance, wrapping his arms around Eddie and picking him up, tossing him scream laughing into the pool.

Eddie had it coming for breaking the rules. Of course, he was dramatic. Flailing around, dick flopping. Steve still found him sexy.

He dove into the deep end and hunted for Eddie like he was Jaws.

“Dunn-uh, dunn-uh, dunnnn-uh…” Steve wrapped Eddie up from behind and playfully chomped on his neck.

#steddiemicroficjuly #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #batty4steddie #stranger things #writing prompt #drabble #ficlet #🦈 #pool date #fluffy #roleplay #rp

[draculas-curse]

It had been so long since he’d last stepped foot here. Arikado looked up at the ivory walls, the sprawling patterns across marble, the elegant high roof that coalesced into a glassy top. Pillars stood high, seeming to support the weight of the very heavens, built smooth and unyielding, carved with the utmost skill and accented with a golden flare. From the ceiling hung sheer curtains, lavender, surely of what would be a most coveted material were he to reach high enough to touch them. He sighed, footsteps ghosting soundlessly across the floor, and considered it. Would anyone see him here, were he to indulge himself in such a way? It would be so childish of him, a long-forgotten urge he’d left behind along with his twisted innocence.

No, nobody would see it. He was alone in this room. Shielded, perhaps. Chaos thrummed through his veins with a steady hum, warm, permeating his senses. If he reached out, spread his fingers just a little, he could feel it, how the Castle shifted, the monsters dazed and stupefied and the people grouped around the entrance waiting in terse suspension. He did not recall having such a connection in his youth. Was it the Castle’s desperation for a lord, any lord at all, that lended it such lenience, the ability to open itself back up to a traitor? Or could it sense his compliance? He had no directly harmful inclinations. His own activities would not be ill-intentioned. Whatever it was, he was left to himself, just for a moment, for a fragment of time. Until Jones appeared, until Soma appeared, Arikado could do what he liked.

Carefully, he ascended the steps to the throne, and lowered himself into the lonely seat. It sat elevated, unaccompanied, a place reserved for the Castle’s most beloved monster – the one that would be its master. Yet, it did not complain when the disgraced prince settled back into the ruby cushioning, the colour of the pocket square against his breast, the colour of the blood beneath his shoes. He could overlook the throne room in its entirety like this. The beauty of its construction, he could see, was marred by the inescapability of its inner monstrosity. On the stairs, blood sat wet and thick, pooling forever fresh. It was where Dracula had bled, years ago. But his blood had been black, and sticky, and more like tar than not. Arikado remembered that very well. He had been soaked in it. It was the same blood as that which ran in his own veins. Leaning back, he rested his head. The throne was too tall for him, too wide. His eyes gazed half-lidded at the farthest corners of the walls, where the marble was strewn with cracks. Behind him was a face that curled in agony, letting loose with eternal tears.

When he was young, he had often entertained the idea of sitting in this very position. A whimsical desire to do naught but tease his father, he thought, though the memories blurred at the edges. He tried not to think of those times. Now, this throne was bereft and cold. There was no king to rule over the hordes of ghouls that clamoured aimlessly for direction. The only person Arikado teased by sitting here was himself. Was Death here? They’d caught sight of one another. Perhaps Soma had already dealt with him, and held his soul under command. He doubted the old man would mind such a thing. The shinigami had always lived to be used. Arikado did not.

The curse in his genes was one with the curse in the Castle’s walls. It bolstered him. Somehow, he knew already that Graham Jones was making haste to claim this very throne, rushing up flights upon flights of stairs, wrenching himself through the mindless undead he would soon make his subjects. Yoko’s scheme had failed. Their scheme, even. He should not cleanse himself of culpability for allowing her to come to harm. In the end, it had proven convenient, of course. The mistake had allowed for an unseen benefit, in that it had simply incentivised Soma to hurry. Arikado couldn’t afford him going too far off-track. Not if he wanted this to end according to plan. Of course, he always could have stayed using the girl for motivation. The Castle loved nothing more than to chip away at the guileless young ladies of her ilk. Her sanity was wavering, proven every time he returned to renew his barrier, the barest measure of protection keeping the skeletons from inviting her to join them. Yoko didn’t have to get hurt. The scent of her blood didn’t have to intoxicate him, and had no occasion to swarm his senses like that. It was senseless. But weren't two responsibilities more pressing than one?

If Jones was soon to arrive, then Soma would be right after. Things could still go well. Jones would still be dealt with, and then he could continue to proceed with his own goals. Yoko would still be freed of her problem. He owed her that much, for helping him like this. Arikado rose, slipping away from the throne. A spot of black in a sea of white, he moved like a shadow, heading for the balcony just ahead. He didn’t need to be inside the room to know what would happen, and like this, it would be easier to mask his presence, at least from an inexperienced sovereign. Him and the Castle, twin creatures of Chaos, beholden to their roles; Arikado felt the rabbit hops of Jones’ hurrying up the stairs as if he was walking over the dhampir’s own flesh. Soma moved more like a wolf on the hunt.

One of them was going to die tonight, if he was lucky. Two if he was less lucky. No matter what, there would be death. He had enough cards left up his sleeves to guarantee that, at least.

#cv ficlet #this was an audition for rp

[apoapsis]

stalemate // [sigma/siebren, pre-talon ficlet]

sigma and siebren use chess as an enrichment and bonding activity

#Sigma overwatch #Siebren de Kuiper #mission records + ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴇᴇɴ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ; ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟᴇᴅ sᴏ ғᴀʀ + #++|| PIP WRITES #<- new fic tag for actual lore fics or fics for my rp partners #since those are the only two reasons i would write a ficlet #i have another one of these half-written #but its 100% ns.fw bc you know how i am #so idk how Good i feel abt posting That One

[hermitblurbs]

ATLA au

——————

He’s been allowed a small table in the quarters of the castle, separate from the other imperial firebenders. The door shuts behind him with a silent click, and the incense is lit without even a bending gesture as he kneels in front of the makeshift shrine. Pine smoke curls around an old, worn theatre mask, and Cub breathes.

The servants know better than to disturb him at sunset.

Cub sits vigil as the sky slinks from glorious day to quiet night and then some, losing himself in the space between sun rays. He’s only brought out of it at the sound of footsteps outside his door, unmonitored and militaristic on the wood lined stone floor.

The servants know better. Bravo, on the other hand, seems to know nothing.

He’s accompanied as always by the feather-light steps of a dozen servants. There’s at least a beat of hesitance from them to open his door for the crown prince, so Cub makes sure there’s enough time to escape before he reaches for the lamps bordering the door, tightening his grip until they explode outwards into cerulean flame.

Bravo must learn something, because he cuts through it. Cub can feel how it left the line of his pinky singed through, never mind at how the embers smolder into his overdecorated robes.

“Come on, that’s not fair,” comes the grating lilt of the prince’s voice, then accompanied by the puffs of dusting ash. “You’re usually done by now.”

Cub opens his eyes to stars outside his window. He doesn’t have it in him to be properly surprised. He’s sat vigil from sun down to sunrise before, though that’s always been after the Fire Lord sent him to do something that left blood stuck beneath his nails.

Finally, he turns to look at the prince.

“Do you have a reason to be bothering me?” he asks, because Bravo never asks to spar this late. The answer is, as expected,

“I don’t, but father does. He’s called for us.”

“Us, or me?” Cub asks just to watch the smarmy look fall from his face. That in and of itself would be answer enough.

Except it doesn’t, because his grin only widens.

“Us.”

Cub sits up straighter. There’s next to nothing that would require both of them, not unless the Fire Lord wants another demonstration on how lessons have been going. Not at night though—night is for missions.

“Let’s go, then.”

#blurb #just a little snippet i wrote for an rp! #cubfan135 #ficlet #know that i see your messages and i love you all dearly #im not coming off hietus tho <3 #might answer some questions about my aus if anyone has any though

[consult-sherlockholmes]

Art made by @wolfcharm back in 2015 that I particularly like. What do you think of it?

Is that a french kiss then? My hair should be more curly.

#sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #sherlock roleplay #roleplay #johnlock #sherlock fandom #sherlock rp #john watson #sherlock #french kiss #johnlock roleplay #johnlock ficlet #johnlock art #fanart #art #johnlock fanart #sherlock art #artwork #sherlock x watson #sherlock x john

[flyingpotstickers]

💯

Send me 💯 and I will write 100 words in my current project, and share my favorite sentence/section.

-- no current project found. writing: WAF;WAH snippet! --

"She's the one going to college, mama. You don't have to hug me this tight." Lukas -- six years to the month -- complained lightly as he tried to struggle away from Lena's grasp. That didn't work very well. Fiddlesticks. He tried something else, "mama don't you want to be hugging Charlie instead? Please--" Lukas wheedled.

"No, because then you'll leave me too. Won't you?" Lena whined, wrapping her arms around the two of her present children.

Well, present was a funny word when she used it to describe Charlie.

Charlie Luthor Danvers was from the future. An alternate future that no longer exists, but one nonetheless.

It's fine. Everything about their lives was already complicated, so why not add a future child to the present timeline?

Why not, right?

Except! Now this child was "All Growned Up" as Jude puts it. Now Charlotte, their baby-- she was still just their baby--- was going to college.

Lena started to cry again.

"I'm getting Jeju, Lukey. Stay still. Jeju will save you." Charlie grinned.

"Nah, Kenziecorn to the rescue!" Kenzie --eight and a half, thank you very much --- spoke up as she came into the room. "Mama why are you not hugging me? Am I not your favourite unicorn?"

"You're my most favourite unicorn." Lena assured, immediately going to hug her adopted daughter, tears still streaming down her face.

It's a good thing they hadn't left for the college dorm yet.

#we are family we are heroes #based on a tumblr rp #supercorp fic #supercorp ficlet #lukas luthor danvers #charlie luthor danvers #kara luthor danvers #lena luthor danvers #kenzie luthor danvers #jude adams luthor danvers

[cabinseventheaterchick]

About two years ago:

A rainbow shimmers in front of me. I glance around: to the right, to the left. Thankfully, abandoned alleyways aren’t very popular tourist destinations: that is, unless you’re trying to hide from demigods while scouting out New York.

Which I am.

Which I was, that is, until this Iris Message.

I accept the collect call, throwing a drachma at the rainbow. It shimmers and disappears. “What,” I snap, but stop when I see Alabaster. He’s near the railing of the Princess Andromeda, sheathed in the sea spray. His expression is dead serious.

This is clearly big.

I open my mouth to ask questions, but he beats me to it. “Percy Jackson is on the ship, and I’m positive he won’t leave until it’s destroyed. We’re all probably going to die. I needed to let you know so someone could know what’s going on. But I need you to promise me something.”

“Alabaster! What? How is this happening? You have to find a way to—”

“Kat,” he says firmly. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” I whisper, too stunned to think clearly about anything.

“Don’t let our memories die. All the kids on here—Jesus—I’m sorry. I thought it was safe. Burn a shroud for them. Please.”

“Alabaster—I—I—” I think I’m starting to cry now. No weakness in the Titan army, but—good Lord. He’s starting to cry too.

“One final thing.” His green eyes flash with fury. “I won’t be around to do it. Find Percy Jackson and kill him. Do you understand?”

I open my mouth again. I don’t even know what I’m going to say, but all of a sudden, the message disconnects—no, explodes. The rainbow and Alabaster disappear in a cloud of rainbow-tinted smoke, and I’m left in the alleyway. Alone.

A tear slips down my cheek. Is it really that easy? A puff of a rainbow, and I’ve witnessed someone’s death? Well, seen one person disappear with my own eyes—but Alabaster said there were more on the ship.

I remember Leila, the bubbly twelve-year old whose older sister had brought her to the Princess Andromeda.

‘She’ll be safer here,’ Leila’s sister had said.

“Yes,” I whisper to the empty alleyway. “I promise, Alabaster.”

#kat carter on the case #from the desk of kat carter #percy jackson rp #alabaster c torrington #alabaster torrington #princess andromeda #my writing #creative writing #writing #fanfic #my fic #ficlet #fanfiction #pjo fanfic #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson oc

[ghostlyrps]

"Think you're so fucking smart. I kill bitches before they get away."

Ghost knew Valentino wasn't lying when he said that.

They sat at their desk, bloody, ruined clothes discarded, dressed in only their binder and a pair of shorts. They'd relocated their arm, which had been a bitch and a half to do, patched themself up, and now sat at their desk. Their half-finished commission- or, rather trade- was shoved off in the corner to keep the blood off it, and while for a moment they pondered working on it, they decided not to.

They weren't in any space to be working right now. When Alastor gave Rosie her gift, she would receive high-quality items, not bloody scraps of yarn stuck together.

So instead, they stared out their window, head in their hand, pondering the events of the night.

"I kill bitches before they get away."

Ghost let out a sigh through their nose, closing their eyes for a moment, letting themself voice the question they knew they would not get an answer to.

"…so why didn't you?"

#[This takes place after the Valentino RP] #[I'm eventually going to make a short comic based on it but I am Tired and have been drawing too much today working on refs] #[I still need to draw full demon Ghost. That's gonna be fun. Can't wait to use them lmao] #[This is definitely one idea. I just had a thought and needed to get it down] #[Anyway Ghost is very confused and conflicted] #FICLET #GHOST [HH] #WRITING

[blindsighted]

“There's no easy way to say this, Itachi…” The old woman spoke gravely. “You're dying.”

“Everyone is dying,” Itachi replied coolly, showing no sign of his discomfort.

“Tch-” She shakes her head. “You sooner than most,” she gruffs, before pressing a bottle of pills into his steely hands. “This will help with the symptoms. I'm afraid there's nothing we can do to cure you… I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.” It's a command and reassurance wrapped into one. Charcoal eyes stare unflinchingly ahead, having accepted this path long ago. “Thank you, for the medicine. Your payment will be wired to you.” He stands abruptly and turns away to stalk quietly and quickly from the compound, leaving the old woman and her cats far behind.

Even once he's clear of the premises, he doesn't stop. His feet move of their own accord, taking him far away, as far as he might go. Kisame catches up after a moment, flanking him with a little huff and a curious stare, but he doesn't voice the question on his mind.

“Let's go to the beach,” Itachi offers suddenly. He turns dark and tired eyes up to stare mournfully through a set of thick black eyelashes, beseeching.

#itachi ficlet #the one where he finds out he's terminal #as if it matters #Itachi #naruto rp

[marsmulti]

The firelight flickered over Sessomaru's impassive mask, casting half his face in shadow, save for those sharp golden eyes which reflected and shimmered in the light. He was lounging, with his back to a tree trunk and one knee drawn up, his arm rested over. His thoughts swirled through the muck and mire of the past, circling over and over around his clashes with that wretched brother of his, Inuyasha. Even his name was an insult; a declaration of acceptance and falsehood from the honorable father they unfortunately shared.

How had that bastard, born of treachery and betrayal, have bested him, not once, nor twice, but thrice?! And what could have possessed his dear father to bestow upon the whelp his most powerful weapon? Was it true that his own father could have possibly discarded his eldest son? Did he truly detest him to such an extent? Or… was it possible there was a benign reasoning behind his father's insane actions..?

Perhaps, Inuyasha needed it more… Perhaps, it was not an action borne of malice, but… He looked up, regarding the human girl he'd come to cherish so, and had to wonder… Was there wisdom in this? Had his father known all along something which remained enshrouded to Sessomaru's piercing gaze..? He ran his fingers idly over his long fluffy tail, draped elegantly over one shoulder, watching as his vassals bickered by the fire.

Something in his heart had already begun to shift, long before this moment. When he first looked upon this lowly human girl, and found her smile… uplifting; genuine in a way he'd never known before. It spread warmth through otherwise chilly veins, and caused his heart to tremble; for to love meant to accept the possibility of loss, and with the death of his beloved father a mere sixty-odd years past, he had yet to find it within himself to take such a risk. That is, until Rin.

With this shift, he now felt compelled to examine other aspects of his life. This obsessive hatred for Inuyasha for one, no longer held the same visceral heat as it once had. He wondered now, if he ever truly hated him to begin with, or if this malice and rage might not have been… misplaced. A soft hum escapes from his lips, the only outward sign of his introspection.

#inuyasha rp #ficlet #about sessomaru #growth #he needs it #here is the start of that #sessomaru | wicked bitch of the west #ic