drabble arc

virus-arc-tracer  asked:

((CONGRATS NIKE ON 300 FOLLOWERS, YOU FUCKING DESERVE IT I LOVE YOU CHILD)) Okay for my request, damijon, remember the Let Me love you in the chat? That with Jon as Superboy chasing Damian as Robin around Gotham. The press finds out about it. ((AGAIN CONGRATS *TACKLE HUGS*))

HIIII virus!! Thanks! (And for those of you who don’t know, my sister chases our cat around yelling LET ME LOVE YOU and so we talked about it and it somehow turned into jondami, haha.)

“Goddamnit,” Damian hisses as he swings into an office, already running into the other room.

A crash of metal, and Damian almost squeaks as he jumps out the window, grappling gun connected to a building as far away as he can get.

“Robin!” A voice shouts, and Damian bites back a shiver, because truly, that is the most despicable sound he’s heard all night.

(Who’s chasing him?)

“Let me love you!” That same voice yells for the hundredth time in these twenty-four hours, and Damian scowls as his cheeks heat up for the hundredth time.

(Why, no one other than Jon, of course!)

A body slams into his side, and Damian can’t keep back a yelp as Jon swings him around with a laugh.

“Got you!” He says with that smile, and Damian bristles, quickly escaping from his arms.

“No.” He growls, sending a severe frown towards his friend before melting into the shadows.

And so the chase continues.

(The next day shows Superboy hugging Robin tightly, a grin on his face a stark contrast to Robin’s far grumpier one.

Damian stares down at the article on his phone and clenches his fist at the headline.

Superboy and Robin in love?


Yesterday I saw an anti ironpanther post on my dash and surprise, surprise, spite is a very good motivator for me to start writing again. So have some courting, and arc reactor issues and getting together, since that is what @ir0nshield asked for. Watch out for the cut since this is almost 3k words long.

Dealing with T’Challa after the whole mess with the Accords was easier than Tony would have thought.

Sure, T’Challa, and T’Chaka before him, had been for the Accords in the first place, but T’Challa was also housing the rogue Avengers and Tony wasn’t sure what to expect from him.

But T’Challa was nothing if not polite, and Tony tried to be the same in return. After all, T’Challa was a big force behind the Accords and Tony could need him in his corner if Ross suddenly decided that Tony belonged into the raft as well.

Tony was rubbing at the skin around the arc reactor, the cold always made it hurt, when T’Challa entered the conference room.

“Mr. Stark,” he greeted Tony and Tony almost flinched.

“Let’s stick to Tony, Mr. Stark was my father, King T’Challa,” he said and T’Challa thoughtfully tilted his head.

“Only if you can forget the king,” he gave back and Tony huffed.

“Nothing easier as that, Mufasa.” Tony wasn’t sure if the Lion King was a thing over in Wakanda, but going by the tilt to T’Challa’s mouth it definitely was.

“I think I am more Simba than Mufasa, wouldn’t you agree,” T’Challa said and proved Tony right.

“If you say so, Simba,” Tony replied with a smile and then stilled when T’Challa’s gaze fell onto his chest.

“Is it still hurting from the injury?” he asked and Tony forced himself to lower his hand.

He never liked it when the attention was on the arc reactor.

“Maybe. It just hurts sometimes,” he gave back, not willing to tell T’Challa that it was the injury and the cold and the reactor in general. He didn’t need to know that.

T’Challa obviously noticed Tony’s hesitation in talking about the reactor and thankfully dropped the matter.

They were talking about Rhodey and his recovery when the other members of the Accords came in and from then on it was only business with them.


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

98 please have scully say it to Mulder

98. “Where are your pants?”

(Dear anon, I’m sorry. I’m sure you had something cute and fluffy in your mind when you sent this but I’m not feeling very cute or fluffy today. Hopefully I’ll be able to make it up to you somehow.)

Title: Gnaw
Author: @chileananderson

She can feel it happening but she can’t open her mouth to scream. She’s not sure what they are doing, only that the pain between her eyes is blinding. This isn’t an examination, she thinks wildly to herself.

It’s a vivisection. They’re opening my forehead. They’re taking something out or placing something in. A live animal. Some kind of rodent. A small, sharp-toothed thing that will gnaw at my brain until I go insane. Or die. Hopefully die. I don’t think I can take this much longer. 

She’s drowning now, trying helplessly to inhale, her breaths coming out in gurgling gasps, and she’s not sure if she’s gagging on blood or her own vomit. Blood, probably. She hasn’t been able to keep anything down for days.

The pain is like a shrill wail now, coming in waves over the spot where her cancer is living and pulsing like a foreign creature. Rather than a simple tumour, made solely of herself, the exalted multiplication of cells in her body feels like a gruesome imitation of Christ multiplying bread. This is a communion she has to choke down herself. The doctors say she shouldn’t drink wine because of the treatment but if she’s sick half the time, from swallowing pints of her own blood, she might as well go Catholic on her disease. 

Whatever is inside her brow is crawling towards her temples now, underneath her eyelids too. It no longer feels mammalian in nature but sort of like an oil. She thinks of the black virus and imagines it oozing inside her, sleek yet painful like shards of very small glass. 

She’s trying to open her eyes, she knows she’s half dreaming but it’s hard, each time it’s more difficult to step out of unconsciousness and she can’t help but think, but know, that she will die in her sleep. But not painlessly, not the good death. She will not go gentle. 

The name sounds watery when she tries to say it, but she doesn’t need to. Not really. Mulder is there already. No gun drawn, he knows the devil isn’t lurking in the shadows. The devil is in her, a nasopharengeal mass right under the spot she touches when she crosses herself in prayer.

“Shhh, Scully,” he whispers and she can hear the fear in his voice. She exclaims his name, finally, but all that leaves her mouth is a blurting of blood disguised in a wet sob.

He tenderly wipes her face clean with a damp towel and moves her towards the side of the bed that isn’t stained with rust-coloured blemishes left by those who are dying. 

The pain is only a dull ache now and she can feel herself return to normal. She focuses on Mulder who is laying on her bed over the covers, stilling her, comforting her. Her eyelids feel heavy with exhaustion, but she quirks her lips at his grey cotton boxers, his bare knees, his long feet.

“Mulder, where are your pants?”

He doesn’t answer but strokes her hair and presses his lips on the crown of her head. She closes her eyes. She is cold all the time now and can feel the warmth radiating off his body. God, she doesn’t want to die, but if she has to, this is how. This is with whom. She would never do that to him though, he’s been through enough. Too many losses for one man.

“Mulder, get under the covers with me” she sighs and feels waves of comfort overwhelm her as he crawls in and wraps himself around her, cradling her gently in his arms.

Please God, don’t let me die tonight. Don’t have him try to wake me in the morning and find out that he can’t. 

She drifts back into the darkness and doesn’t know that he’s asking for the same thing.

Let's Talk

As Weiss walked around campus grounds she saw Ruby talking and laughing with Nora and Jaune.

She reluctantly gave a jealous look.

She knows she told Ruby she needed some space to breathe but two days without a single distraction was having her miss the over-eccentric girl.

To add to that, Ruby’s been so distant she’s afraid she might be losing her.

Walking over to the three she sat next to Ruby and she reached for her hand and entwined her fingers with hers.

“Oh hey Weiss”. Juane spoke, unfazed by their contact. The whole school already knew of their relationship. “This is rare, what’s up”?

“Oh nothing, just want to spend some time with Ruby. She is my girlfriend after all”. She looked into Ruby’s eyes and she stared back.

Ruby smiled at her only. And then returned to the conversation. She won’t admit she was disappointed when Ruby didn’t seat her on her lap as usual.

Suddenly the conversation shifted.

“So graduation is in a month! Are you guys ready to be certified as official huntresses” Nora exclaimed to both Weiss and Ruby. “Oh and hunter,” she gave a hard pat on the back to Juane.


“You bet I am”! Weiss witnessed Ruby’s eyes twinkle with excitement as Ruby’s grip tightened a bit. “I can’t wait to be able to go on more missions! Can you believe I would have had to wait two more years if Ozpin hadn’t moved me up! I probably would have never met you guys, but I’m so glad I did and I just can’t wait”!

“That’s right, you’re two years younger than us, I always forget,” Jaune commented.

“It’s pretty amazing if you ask me. Youngest to graduate early. Team leader. And strongest fighter of this class. I’d say you’ve earned your position quite well”. Weiss complemented her girlfriend, leaning into her slightly.

Ruby rubbed the back of her head embarrassed, a sheepish smile on her face. “Well when you put it like that I feel completely flustered. Thanks Weiss, but don’t sell yourself short. You graduated at the top of our class in basically anything school related. You tied with Blake for third in strongest combatant, you did pretty well yourself babe”.

It was Weiss’s turn to become flustered. Not because of her achievements but because of Ruby’s term for herself. She wasn’t used to it just yet.

“Anyways, I’m going to walk around for a bit. I’ll see you guys around,” Ruby got up letting go of Weiss’s hand.

“Okay, see ya”. Nora and Jaune left as well and Weiss walked beside Ruby.

“Are you going to the forest again?” Weiss asked, slight concern in her voice though she knew Ruby could handle herself.

“Yeah”. It was all she said of the topic.

As they neared emerald forest Weiss wrapped her arms around Ruby’s arm. And looked up at her.

As the years had gone by Ruby had grown taller than Weiss. Though height wasn’t the only thing Ruby had managed to increase as the years went by. Her maturity has increased as well. She was still a child in some aspects but she had really grown up to be a great team leader.

Weiss had grown as well. She was especially proud of the growth of her bust.

Weiss looked around and pulled Ruby under a tree.

“What the- Weiss what’s wrong?”

“You’ve been acting quite strange these past few days, what is going on”?

Ruby seemed baffled by Weiss’s confrontation.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about”?

“You haven't ambushed me, you barley touch me, you’ve been … distant”.

“Didn’t you say-

"I know what I said! I just …” She crossed her arms and turned away. Embarrassed and hiding her blush as played with her hair.

Giving Ruby a side glance she spoke, “I never meant you had to stop being with me altogether you know”.

Astonished. Ruby smiled and wrapped her arms around Weiss’s waist and rubbed her cheek up against her partners.

“I’m sorry Weiss. How could I ever make it up to you”? She whispered into her ear.

Weiss turned around facing Ruby and wrapping her arms around her neck.

Blushing, she couldn’t look her in the eye as she said the next words. “We could go to our room and cuddle”. Ruby smile grew, goodness Weiss loved that smile.

“Cuddling it is then.” She gave a chaste kiss to her forehead and walked with her towards the dorms.

Giving a last glance towards emerald forest she shook her head of any thoughts she had and gave Weiss a loving look; with a glint of sorrow in her eyes.

anonymous asked:

I don't know if this is the kind of bitter you are looking for, but some post-civil war, arc reactor angst could be cool. Maybe Tony looking over the damage from when Steve broke it?

I based this sort of on something I saw in SMHC, idk if this is a spoiler or not?? But there was a crate with at least a hundred reactors in it. Why so many reactors???? Here’s my explanation

Tony didn’t try to fix his suit, after Siberia. He didn’t try to fix it because every time he looked at it his hands shook and his heart raced, staring at the laceration running deep in the armor’s chest. 

That could’ve been his chest. 

The arc reactor was broken beyond repair. He normally didn’t keep many on hand, because that increased the likelihood of them being stolen. Now, he built reactors in droves; fifty, one hundred, he lost count. There was no reason for him to have so many, because it’s not like his life depended on them anymore. 

He had to have more surgeries, after Siberia. His artificial sternum was broken – it hurt, it hurt so badly. It still twinges with pain, even now. He wonders, every once in awhile, if he ever actually told Steve that he had gotten the reactor removed. He didn’t think he had. For all he knew Steve thought he was killing him. 

Maybe that was the intention. 

His suit now had failsafes, back ups of back ups. If the suit ever went down, everyone was called – everyone. But he wouldn’t let the suit go down. He worked hard, so hard, to make the reactor even smaller, built back ups that could fit in the shoulders, in the useless space near the joints of the hips. One was in his briefcase at all times, Pepper had one, Happy had one. Hell, he considered giving the kid one, because at least the kid he could trust. Kids didn’t have a good concept of betrayal yet – that would change, but hopefully not soon. He liked Spidey. 

It was dangerous, to have so many, especially when he didn’t need them, but irrational fear refused to let him get rid of them. They would be stolen one day. 

His life would be stolen one day too. 

He thought it would be harder to steal, after he took the reactor out of his chest. Maybe he had just made it easier, instead. 

snowflake-succubus  asked:

Each Step for Arkos? :)

Each Step by Heather Dale || Prompt List

Jaune Arc and Pyrrha Nikos’s first kiss could be translated very simply into four words:

“I love you.”



Luckily, one of those words proved to be unnecessary.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“I’m sure.”

“Because I could help–”

“No. Pyrrha.” Jaune’s hands wrapped around his partner’s and squeezed. “You got shot in the chest by a magic arrow. Not even you can shake that off in a few weeks. My parents’ll take good care of you, and we’ll send an airship your way as soon as we get to Mistral so you can see your family again. But right now, you need to recover.”

“I know.” She extracted her left hand from Jaune’s to push it through his hair; at her touch, he sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into her like some kind of cat. “I just hate to think of you out there risking your life without me,” she continued.

“You of all people should know risking your life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Pyrrha let out a tiny huff of laughter.

“Besides.” Jaune pulled back, crossing his arms petulantly. “I’m not that hopeless… anymore. And, you know, I’ll have Ren and Nora and Ruby to… to save my sorry ass.”

“I have perfect confidence in your ability to save your own ‘sorry ass,’” Pyrrha replied smoothly, stepping closer to him with a glowing smile in her eyes. 

Jaune snorted. “Thanks.”

“But,” she added seriously, “I expect it to come back in perfect condition.” Jaune jumped as he felt her hands slide down to the aforementioned body part. “It’s far too pretty to go to waste.”

He burst out laughing. “You know, I’m really gonna miss you.” And then, somehow, the shaking of his body twisted and shifted, and then he was crying into her shoulder, and she was wrapping her arms around his torso and trying not to cry herself.

“Write to me?” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Every day,” he agreed.. “I mean, I won’t be able to send them,” he added, drawing back to look at her, “but I’ll do it anyway. I’ll keep a notebook. You can read the letters when we’re back together in Mistral.”

“Good.” She stood on the tiptoes of her bare feet, and laid a soft kiss on his nose. “I can’t wait.”

When he tilted his head upwards and pushed his lips against hers, it was a promise – a promise that, no matter what, this wasn’t goodbye. Every step he took away from her was one step less until they were reunited, and he was going to do whatever it took to make sure they saw each other again.

And when she melted into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, her side of the kiss could easily be translated into three little words.

“Yes. I know.”

takes place sometime between stolen century 1 and 2.  [ao3]

Weird, Lup thinks.  She always figured when she died, Taako would be there.

Sweat pours down her face, trickling into her eyes and soaking through the collar of her robes.  She’s been calling up blasts of flame for what feels like hours, until her arms ached and the edges of her sleeves were charred.  “That all you got, dipshits?” she yells at the Hunger’s minions as she fries another line, but her voice chokes on the last word–she’s been yelling and breathing smoke for too long.

“Four o’clock!” Barry yells, and Lup turns on reflex, taking out a minion before it could sink a spearlike arm into her ribs.

There’s no point, she knows.  They’re fucking doomed–they didn’t find the light of creation; that was what they were trying to do, but Davenport and Merle kicked it on the way, maybe three months ago.  Since then it’s been Lup and that nerd, and it was all for fucking nothing.

“Hey, listen,” she says between blasts of fire.  Barry just nods, jaw set, and swipes out with a blast of–something.  She doesn’t know what kind of magic he’s on, but it’s some dark shit.

There’s a lull in the hunger’s advance, a few seconds between one wave and the next, and Lup extinguishes her fists.  “Listen, Barry,” she says, and holds out a hand, “I’m tired, okay?”

Because–shit.  The others can go down fighting, and maybe someday she will too, but right now there’s no point.  Some minion will get her and then the hunger will destroy this planet, and she’ll wake up back on the Star-Blaster with her brother and the rest.

She has a choice, and she wants to choose how it’s going to end.

Barry looks at her hand and slumps, for a second, as he realizes what she’s saying.  And then he nods.  “Alright.”  He meets her eyes, oddly intense, and grabs her hand.  Only the force of his grip shows that he’s just as scared as she is–what if it doesn’t work?  What if no one else made it out?

It doesn’t matter.  She feels his hand go slack in hers seconds later when he’s taken out by a minion, and then–

An approaching blur of darkness, a sharp pain in her sternum, and she’s on the Star-Blaster.

“Lulu,” Taako says, voice shrill, “you’re alright?”

She flexes her hand.  “I’m fine,” she says, and meets Barry’s eyes over Taako’s shoulder, staring down at the hand that had held hers.  He glances up, blushes when he sees she’s staring.

Oh, Lup thinks, and then, shit. 

Chink in the Armor

[inspired by this post]

When Qrow hands Jaune the spare pieces of armor he managed to grab when he got his niece, he says three words.

I’m sorry, kid.

He recognizes that vacant stare in the younger boy’s eyes. He pretends not to notice the way he shakes, his hands slowly closing around the cold metal as if it might burn him. As if it physically pains him. Qrow feels like he should say more, but there aren’t any ‘right words’ for him to say. Qrow should know. He’s been through this enough times before.

He catches the kid as soon as he sees his knees start to buckle. Two slender but strong hands gripping the teenager’s shoulders to keep him from pitching into the dirt. Qrow chances a glance at the armor in the boy’s hands and he sees that his knuckles are white. His blonde hair is streaked with dirt and dust and grime and it’s so long that Qrow can’t see his eyes, but if the kid’s grip is anything to go by, Jaune is hanging by a thread.

It reminds him, for just a moment, of another blonde-haired-blue-eyed kid who nearly fell apart when the girl he loved died.

“I just…” the kid speaks, his voice low and rough with sandpaper grief, “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

There’s any number of things that Qrow can say—she’s never really gone or she’d want you to keep going being the two he heard most often when Summer died—but he isn’t a man fond of platitudes. In his experience, they only really comfort the one speaking them. This kid deserves more than that. More than… this.

They all do.

In Case You Missed It pt. 2

Hey guys.  This is Part 2 of a master post of fic y’all might have missed.  Some of it’s older, some newer, some never even posted to Tumblr.  Take a gander, click on some links, and support your fellow fandom writers.  

If anyone would like to be included on a list, or if I missed you, please feel free to message me and I’ll draw up another list in a few days or so.  

Part 1 is here, in case you missed it (ba dum tssssssst)

Wonderful You by @contrivedcoincidences6

*Oh my God, THE FEELS.  This cancer arc drabble melts your damn heart. BRB, I’m gonna go read literally everything else by this author because clearly I need a good cry today. 

Waiting For You by @alexkryceks –

*An AU set during and after the Pilot.  Seriously, we need more Pilot fic in this fandom.  I can’t get enough of it. 

In Utero by @nnyyssssaa –

*This one is a pregnant!Scully doozy.  Sheesh.  More feels for you.  So many beautiful feels.

N+1 by @scienceandmysticism –

*The best answer for the “one lonely night” bit that CC threw at us.  This is now my headcanon, and it should be yours as well.  

The Eternal Return by @storybycorey

*HOO boy, Revival smut.  Smutty smut.  (insert eyebrow waggle gif here)

Together by @sunshinetoday

*A beautiful little post Founder’s Mutation fic.  Ugh, we so need more of these.  For real.  This is lovely. 

Under a Wide Sky by @frangipanidownunder

*Wooooot an update to this crazily interesting casefile.  We actually featured this a while back on @txf-fic-chicks so obviously it’s a must read WIP!

Leaving or Waiting by @crossedbeams

*What’s this? A post Chinga fic??  Some serious goodness in here. 

#65 by @bohoartist

* *fans self* pheeeeew ok.  This baby is def NSFW.  Deliciously so. 

We Are Disfigured by the Things We Do to Cope by @chileananderson

*Sorry @chileananderson I gave it a title (a line from your poem).  This beauty is far too gorgeous to be 1. untitled, and 2. not read by every single one of you right now. 

Days in the Unremarkable House pt. 4 by @scully-loves-ruthie

*Holy hell, this part starts out with a gut punch, and then continues to just hurt you in all the right ways.  Freaking awesome, man.  

Bubbles in the Wind by @piecesofscully

*uh, of course I’m going to include this.  LOL ain’t no shame in my self promotion game, folks.  I write for you to read.  So read. 

Coming Home by @kateyes224

*Look, do you ever find an AU that you just want to curl into bed with and live in it forever?  Because that’s this fic for me.  It’s perfection. 

Guys, thank you all for writing for the fandom.  I’m sure I can speak for every reader on here when I say you and your efforts are appreciated. <3

@versailles-fairytale asked: Milo/Camus with #24 “Will I ever see you again?”

It’s a stolen moment. They don’t have much time. Milo stares at Camus, beaten up and battered in that glimmering dark armor and a million questions are caught in his throat. Camus catches his eyes and he can’t look away.

“Camus,” he mutters, soft and broken. Camus smiles, a tiny, sweet expression that Milo has seen all-too-rarely from his stoic friend and secret love.

“Milo,” he says, and if he weren’t so battered, the way he walks over would be a stride, or maybe a sashay. Camus has never walked with that much confidence, and it confuses Milo, because Milo has always been the confident one, and Camus the shy. To have the tables turned like this… well, Milo is out of his depth. Camus reaches out, and Milo opens his arms, expecting a normal embrace. Camus leans into him, slipping his arms around his neck. Milo’s arms settle around his waist, just a little away from those tempting curvy hips, but just as he’s about to rest his head against the redhead’s shoulder, Camus pushes up and kisses him. Tears prick at his eyes, and he presses into it, tangling their tongues in an ancient dance. This is the first kiss they’ve shared - both of them thought, maybe, that they had more time. They should have had more time, they’re only twenty. The threatening tears spill from his eyes at the injustice of it.

They’re both breathless when they break the kiss, and Camus gently wipes the tears from Milo’s face with chilly fingers. Milo swallows thickly.

“Will I ever see you again?” He manages to say.

“Sooner than I’d like, I think,” Camus whispers, and the weight of war is heavy upon them. Milo is likely to die, and that is the only way they’ll be together now. Unshed tears gleam in Camus’s eyes, and Milo kisses him again, licking into his mouth and dominating the lithe redhead, who moans sweetly into his mouth before pushing him away.

“I have to go,” he gasps, regretful.

“I know,” Milo chokes, and lets him walk away.


I have no idea when this actually takes place in the whirlwind of people arriving and leaving Sanctuary in the Hades arc, I really don’t.

Please leave me a prompt from the list I reblogged with a pairing or a character!

Physically he hardly stands out from the other thirteen sacrifices.  While a tad taller than the rest, there’s barely any muscle on his body.  Far stronger and faster sacrifices have graced their labyrinths, and those have all shared the same fate: death.  What chance should he possess?

Still there’s a startling clever in his eyes.  While he is slow to speak, his eyes are always darting around, as if studying every scrap of inspiration that his eyes caught.  There’s something reliable about that gaze, so when it comes time to walk each of the sacrifices to the labyrinth one by one, Serena makes sure to take her time with him.

The silence between them is overwhelming.  After all she’s walking him to his certain death.  Still if there’s a moment to act, it’s now so eventually she blurts out,

“I can help you.”

More silence, the sacrifice seems to barely react.  For a minute Serena began to wonder if she really spoke out after all, but eventually he replies,

“You can help?”

Relief floods through her veins.  Quickly she nods her head.  “I can help you slay the Minotaur.”  It feels caustic to refer to Yuri so caustically, but she doubted there was any of him left in that monster.  “But will you help me in return?”

“I can’t make a decision until I know just what you’re suggesting.”

Discretely, she pulls out a ball of thread and a sword.  “The first will make sure you don’t get lost, and the second will give you the means to fight.  Once you’ve slayed him, find your friends, follow the string back out, and depart for Athens at midnight.  If you do this then my father will be unable to stop you.”

He trains that analytical gaze to study her now, picking and probing for any cracks in her plans or signs of deceit.

“Very well,”  He diverts his attention back to the items, and Serena remembers how to breathe again.  “How do I help you then?”

“Promise to take me with you.”  Green eyes bear into him, demanding nothing but honesty; however the sacrifice remains as cool and collected as always.

“Then you have my word.”  With that, he steps in the dark maze, his figure lost in the matter of seconds.

anonymous asked:

22 - MSR

Set during late season 4.

22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

The bar was nearly empty, which wasn’t surprising given that the population of the small town in Oklahoma probably wouldn’t even put the place at capacity.  Its proximity to a truck stop down the street led Scully to believe the clientele was rarely local.  The interior reminded her of a log cabin, converted into a business just by installing a counter and a mishmash of tables and chairs.  The floor was covered in peanut shells, and she didn’t have to stop to wonder why since her and Mulder’s beers were presented to them with a large bowl of nuts.  The only other two patrons at the counter were cracking nuts from their own bowls and tossing the shells over their shoulders.

“Cheers,” Mulder said, tapping a peanut against one Scully took out of the bowl and split it open with his thumb and index finger.  She took her beer by the neck and tapped the bottom against Mulder’s bottle.

The jukebox in the corner was playing All Shook Up when they walked in and Don’t Be Cruel started up after it finished, followed by Blue Suede Shoes.  If Scully hadn’t been the one that suggested they take a walk over to the bar after wrapping up their case, she would’ve thought Mulder had snuck over with a bag of quarters and loaded all the Elvis songs he could find.

Mulder was a contemplative drinker.  He scratched at the label of his bottle, watched the room around him, and cracked peanuts with one hand.  Scully let him have his silence and waited for the right time to talk to him about why she asked him to come out.  The opportunity came when he ordered his second beer.

“Want another?” Mulder asked.

“Not yet.”

The bartender swapped Mulder’s empty bottle for a new one and Mulder took a drink.  He dumped a scoop of peanuts into their waning bowl before he walked away and Mulder leaned over the counter in curiosity.

“There’s a big barrel of nuts down there,” he said.

“Mulder, I want to talk to you about something.”


Scully dragged her finger through a ring of condensation on the counter, left behind from her beer bottle, painting another ring surrounding it.  “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“Look at you how?”

“Like I might break at any moment.  Like you’re waiting for it to happen.”

“Scully, I…”

“It’s okay.”  She gently laid her hand over his forearm.  “But, I need you to understand that what’s going to happen is inevitable.  Neither one of us is going to be able to stop it, and when the time comes, I need you to remember that you did everything you could.”

Mulder put his hand over his face, propping his head up with his elbow.  He shook his head slightly.  “I don’t believe that.  There has to be something.  I’m not giving up.”

“I’m not asking you to.  I know it won’t stop you anyway, but I’m just telling you, when the time comes…please promise me you won’t blame yourself.”

“How could I not?” he whispered.


“This is too morbid.  I don’t want to talk about this.”  Suddenly he stood, shaking his arms and hands out.  He took her hand and tried to tug her to her feet.

“What are you doing?”


“Oh, come on,” she protested, shaking her head.  She tuned her ear to the music and blushed.  I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You was playing.


Reluctantly, Scully got to her feet and Mulder pulled her close, sliding one hand around her waist while she put her hand on his shoulder.  He squeezed her hand as they swayed awkwardly for a few moments, and then they both had to chuckle as peanut shells crunched under their feet.  

“How romantic,” he said, and she smiled up at him.  He pressed his hand to her back and encouraged her to lay her head on his chest.  Their joined hands came to rest against his shoulder.  Her other hand slipped down his spine to his lower back.  

Before the song ended, Scully abruptly pulled away from Mulder, searching the counter for a napkin with her hand cupped under her chin.  It was a very unfortunate moment for a nosebleed.

The End

Portrait - A 5 Min MSR Drabble

A thought I had - written within a 5 minute window with no edit or beta. Because I hate myself.

He’ll remember these twilight moments. He promises himself that; that the giddy highs and devastating lows won’t wash the sweet inbetweens from his album of memories.

He wonders how the biggest part of his life can be so small a person, how the universe packed the energy and wonder of a thousand sunrises into one petite package and delivered it into his life when he needed it most. He will always need her the most. Even after she is gone.

She tells him not to thinks of it, not with words but with her eyes, bright still in the deepening canyons of her face and he smiles and nods as if he is not falling into those same dark places, following her into the night after which there will be no more sunrises. No more twilights.

He sketches her in his mind. Memorising the tender curve of her cheek and the petulance of her lips. In sickness and in health all of his favourite sounds begin on the tip of her tongue, moulded by the firmness of her resolve and are sent to him on a kiss of air. She told him once that she hated her nose, the hard lines of it pointing straight back to unkind words in the schoolroom and the sudden plateau at its end. He thought to himself that she shouldn’t blame her nose for wanting to be closer to her lips, to curve achingly towards them as he had for so many years. As he did still.

A flutter signals she is awake again. For how long he can’t be sure but for now he stops cataloguing her freckles, stops recording her breaths for the years to come. He drowns his sorrow in her blue, takes her hand in his and paints on his bedside smile.

For now he will be near her. Surround himself in all that she is.

And when the time comes, this is how he will remember her.

Wall Ball

okay, i decided to type up and finish the abandoned drabble. it is very fluffy and platonic and set after the uprising arc. it’s short and g rated so i’m not putting it behind a cut

Over the past few months, Levi had learned that his entire team had secret talents. Not that you would guess them on first impression. Jean drew amazing portraits with a piece of charcoal he hid, Mikasa embroidered beautiful pieces, Armin made maps and small models of the entire Shiganshina district, Christa sang like a bird to the horses and Eren…

Eren didn’t have any hidden talents.

Well except for being a titan. And that was a very well hidden talent. But Eren didn’t have anything to call his own. He was a teenager with a very focused goal. Levi had always known this from the first time he’d laid eyes on him behind bars. A child with a singular purpose. A soldier with a solemn duty. He and Eren were made for one thing only: Killing titans. Levi had always been jealous of those who found joy in the small things in life like Oluo playing his mouth harp or Petra’s quick two step.

Eren didn’t have anything he could call his own.

Or so Levi thought until he found the orphanage scarily abandoned one day. When he located the group they were in the burnt and salted grass near the edge of the walls. Eren was holding a flat and polished stick and the children were lobbing stones at him underhand. The stones went up and then CRACKED! against the stick. Levi heard the familiar sound of rock against rock as the projectile bounced off the wall.

“Again! Again!” they shouted.

“Captain, sir!” Eren stammered, dropping the bat and going into a rigid salute.

It turns out Eren was very talented at what the children called, “Wall Ball.” You throw a ball, the other person hits it with a bat and whoever hits the highest up on the wall wins. It was sacrilege to willfully throw rocks at the wall. It was blasphemy. It was completely subversive.

“Can I try?” Levi asked, motioning to the stick.

Eren handed him the bat uncertainly. Levi squared up and waited as a freckly boy with missing front teeth aimed a throw. Levi hit it as hard as he could sending it soaring up and up, smack into the wall.

“Wow, sir! Good shot!” Eren said. “That’s higher than any mark I’ve ever gotten.”

They met like that every day to play Wall Ball with the kids from the orphanage.

“You know, as your Commander, I cannot approve of this game,” Erwin said solemnly, approaching the group.

The game had started to attract more and more of the Survey Corps. The highest scores belonged to Levi and Mikasa naturally. Hanji technically had the highest score but was told hitting a rock with a lightning spear was not within the rules of Wall Ball so their score was scratched. Eren and Jean trailed behind with Marlowe rounding out the top five.

“It is an affront to our Queen—“

“Oh I don’t mind,” Historia waved off but was ignored.

“—To the great Walls, to the faith, and to everything humanity stands for,” Erwin said.

“Oi Erwin, what’s your point?” Levi said, taking a few good practice swings.

“…Can I play?” Erwin asked sheepishly.

ep 1: first meeting

Mornings classes weren’t really his thing, it was way too obvious to the other students. That was probably why the other students left him alone in his back area with all the seats.

See, when Yoongi decided to take Graphic Design, there were only morning classes. Stupid, he thinks, knowing that the trope of “dying sleep-deprived art students” were rampant throughout the entire world. But really, all his night timetables were full, so this morning class is a plus this time.

A different plus was… Jeon Jungkook. Double major, Graphic Design and Dance – he heard from Jimin – with a building reputation among the art campus. Rabbit-like, a headstrong and open personality that was opposite from his quiet self. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fond of the boy.

One morning that he decided to lug his sleepless self to class early – how unexpected – with nowhere enough coffee. God damn his projects, there never was enough of his liquid consciousness. Nevertheless, Yoongi still settled down in his seat. It wasn’t long before the other students filed in, or it seemed like so since he wasn’t paying attention to the time.

Like always, they filled the front rows, leaving Yoongi by his own company. Until someone in a large hat barged in the room, looked around before heading to his area. Maybe their seat was taken? Otherwise no one would bother to sit at the back. The person seemed contemplative – maybe, he wasn’t too sure since he couldn’t see their face properly – before heading towards him. Yoongi decided to leave them be to wherever they want to sit, that was until-

“Is this seat taken?” 

Jeon Jungkook, in all his bunny-faced glory, asking Yoongi face-to-face if the seat next to the architect was available. His face shamelessly warmed up and jaw hang loose for a moment before he stuttered out a “No it isn’t, you can take it.”

Jeon Jungkook took it. Suddenly Yoongi’s senses were more aware of how the boy next to him breathed and how his clothes shuffled and the hand that reached up to take his hat off- 

“I never got your name?” 

Yoongi snapped out of his little trance at the voice.

“Yoongi. Min Yoongi. 21.” Just like he practiced.

“Oh, pardon, Yoongi-ssi then. I’m Jeon Jungkook, 19.” Like I don’t know that, kid, you’re the talk of the town.

“Nice to meet you too.”

Yoongi’s eyes skittered over to the coffee cup on Jungkook’s area, and his eyes lit up slightly. It seems to be the same café that he frequents, they have something in common after all.

He finally has a chance.

(finally got it done!)

(thanks to @ask-jungshook for the opening prompt! this surely pulled me out of my writer’s block haha)

(this will mark the start of the yoonkook romance arc! i will allow asks inbetween, and when the time comes i will allow command inputs (eg. //greet jungkook, //ask jungkook to a date) but they need to be appropriate, and i will choose them. but that is not now!!! you can ask about this situation or not, but please include “(arc)” at the start of your ask! thank you, and please look forward to this!!!)

Truth and Lies Series, 1:Frisson

So, I’m gonna try something a little different. I got a prompt from an anon WAY back when and finally decided to fulfill it, albeit in a non-traditional format. I’m going to write it in a series of interconnected drabbles, all of which will derive, chapter by chapter, from @rivamika-drabbles​ prompts.

This current arc shall be dubbed the Truth and Lies Series  (Lame, i know).  T&L Series Summary: The lies they tell cannot dispel the truth (Mikasa uses Levi to make her ex jealous, but things don’t go as planned).

Also, ill be posting this series on Ao3 as well, prob in a more organized manner lol, so check that out. Anyways, Enjoy!

74. Frisson: The thrill runs deep in his bones.

Their lips crash together like tidal waves- powerful and unrelenting, two forces pitted against each other until one of them finally gives- but the way her mouth moves against his- harsh, demanding, and desperate- nearly sets his insides aflame with want.

He grips her hips with near bruising force, knuckles turning white as he ravages her with equal brutality. She sighs and bites sharply at his lips, hands threading through his hair with a languid ease that contradicts her zealous kisses. Her fingers trace down his shoulders and grasp the lapels of his coat, jerking him infinitely closer to her body, until their fronts are pressed together and he can’t tell where he ends and she begins- and for a moment, he finds rapture in the storm between her lips, feeling fractured and complete all at once.

It makes it all the more bitter when she pulls away, murmuring softly in his ear, “Eren’s watching.” She drags her hands up his torso, feigning affection in her caresses even as her eyes are as hard as steel, “Let’s make it convincing.”

This kind of sets the theme for everything haha. Hope you guys like it, lets see how this turns out!

And lastly, thank you @die-forellex for convincing me to try something outside my comfort zone. You’re the best!!

he’s not a siren

Chapter 6: Impromptu - A short piano piece, often improvisational and intimate in character

Summary: Merman AU. Their meeting is orchestrated by fate, conducting them one at a time to step on the stage. With the flick of the baton, in time, they will sing the same song, but only if they aren’t swept away by the ocean’s mighty waves.

All Ladybug wishes is to have a Chat Noir by her side, but what Marinette finds is that maybe she just needs a more aquatic companion.

Pairing: Ladynoir/Adrinette

WC: 4.1K

Parts: 1/2/3/4/5

Also: AO3//FF.net

All good dreams lead back to the sea, lead him back to colors and life’s vitality. Happy dreams, better memories pulled apart and twisted until only just joy remains. Slightly fictitious and fantastical dreams dripping with magic at the seams.

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