kass tries to write

Green Eyes

Her eyes were poetry she would share with the world.

Although it could only be felt and not seen, they danced through the hues with exhilarating ease, from the dullest grey, to a serene jade, to the brightest green. They were hot and fierce, and oh, how they burned, the poet would see. Burned with passion, for her kingdom and research – and burned with grace, as befitting of a princess blessed by the Goddess herself. Her fire was contagious and inspiring, so much that he had written about it more times than he could count.

But one day, the Sheikah saw in her eyes a different type of flame.

It didn’t burn the same way – his soul didn’t bathe in its warmth the way it could before. The mysterious fire plagued his mind for a while. What could it possibly be?

A thought would cross his mind from time to time, and he would shoot it down just as fast as it appeared, as to avoid possibly feeding it. He couldn’t get… hopeful.

He expected to find some answers in his own writing, desperately looking for anything remotely similar to the unfamiliar fire in those green eyes. That writing was different from the one he would show to the Royal Family – it was raw and emotional, and featured the Princess’s eyes to an almost uncomfortable degree.

But despite his numerous accounts on her piercing gaze, he couldn’t find anything that helped with his issue. He allowed himself to sit back and think.

The same thought came to him, and this time, he reluctantly allowed it to flourish, seemingly out of options. Could it be…?

There weren’t many people around her age in the castle, let alone the ones who would actually interact with her. The only two he could think of was himself, and…


He laughed at the thought, foolish at it was – the boy wasn’t even nobility, and clearly didn’t look like a sensible man of the arts like himself. Could that Hylian write his feelings onto paper as well as he did? Could he speak in a manner as refined and enthralling as the Sheikah had learned with the years living in the better parts of the castle?

No, scrap that – could that kid even speak? He probably had chosen not to after realizing how much more eloquent and wise the Princess was. What a ridiculous idea that was.

And yet, quick as lightning, the Sheikah’s chest tightened as he imagined the two lying on a grassy field and staring at the clouds, with the boy casually calling the Princess by her first name.


He quickly got up from his desk, his heart heavy. He paced around in his room, staring at the floor with a wide-eyed stare. He wouldn’t even call her that in his dreams.

The poet’s imagination got increasingly vile, depicting the pair sitting together in front of a fire in a small cave. The two stared deeply into each other’s eyes, fingers intertwined. The Princess pulled the knight’s face closer until their lips crashed into a passionate kiss, quickly being followed by—

No, no, no.

He took a deep breath, and a reassuring laugh as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Preposterous. Not just the bizarre scenarios his mind had brewed, but the whole idea of the Princess having feelings for her appointed knight. His breathing felt less heavy now, and he shook his head with a smile as he stared to the ceiling, as if silently making fun of himself for having such fanciful thoughts.

He recalled the Princess seemingly despising the knight, judging by the cold stares she would give him each day as they were to leave the Castle. The Sheikah had barely seen them lately, being occupied with his own art, but nothing could have changed that drastically, right?

But then… what could possibly explain the foreign warmth in her eyes as he passed by her earlier in the evening? What else could it possibly be, if not that?

His chest tightened again. It was futile to fight against the increasingly real possibility that the Princess was in love – and not with him, a sensible talented artist – but with an awkward boy with a sword that seemed too big for him. With Link.

The poet caught his reflection in the mirror – he looked distressed. His hair was disheveled, his face was paler and his eyes… he saw them green. Not a beautiful, blooming green like the Princess’s, but a sick, spiteful shade that he would never want her to lay eyes upon, lest she find out about his true feelings. 

He looked away from the repulsive image in the mirror. His eyes were before full of love and admiration, but now… now they were this. Dancing between shades as swiftly as hers, but picking the wrong colors. He sighed, slowly making his way back to the desk.

His eyes were poetry he would keep to himself.

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and you are currently waiting for your best bro Sollux to come over. It’s a really cold day and you are determined to get him to snuggle and watch shitty romcoms with you. You even bought hot chocolate for the occasion. Padding into your kitchen to start the water, you shoot him a quick text.


The response you get is a knock on the door before he invites himself in. When the drinks are finished and you head into the living room, he’s already draped over your too-short couch.


You mumble (mostly to yourself) and set the drinks on the also too-short coffee table. Sollux scoots over and tucks in his legs as you plop down beside him. There’s barely enough room for the two of you and you’re (no complaints) forced to press against him. He grabs the remote and switches the movie on because you’ve already set it up on the main menu. Haphazardly placing his arm around you, he relaxes a bit.

“Oh yeah, hi KK.”


You forgot to mention that you’re kind of flushed for him and have been for a while. Sollux of course doesn’t know this and you plan to keep it that way. At least for now… holy shit when did his face get so close to your and why was his hand on your thigh?

“Um, Sollux. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t worry about it KK. It’ll be jutht fine.”

You’re face began to heat up as he was leaning in closer. You blink and suddenly his lips are on yours, massaging them gently. Before you have time to respond he’s pulling back and that ever present smirk is on his face. You must have looked confused because Sollux is chuckling and raising an eyebrow.

“I’m fluthed for you, moron.”

You look up at him, certain your face is as red as it feels hot.

“I’m flushed for you too, asshat.”

With that he leans down to kiss you again, and this time you’re able to respond. You feel the corners of your mouth curl up into what could be a smile.

Let’s just say that Sollux didn’t end up going home that evening.

i tried okay… hopefully its fluffy enough!

untitled johndave drabble (rated k or something cause its just fluff)

Your name is DAVE STRIDER and you’re waiting on the park bench for your best bro, John Egbert. You two had agreed to meet up here today to hang out and get away from the boredom and summer heat at your respectable homes. Let me remind you that you’ve been crushing on this boy since 5th grade, six years ago. Now why do you get butterflies whenever he smiles at you or does something cute? You really have no idea. This kid is a dork. With his buck teeth and messy black  hair, his ungodly obsession with ghostbusters and Nic Cage. But those eyes. Those big, bright blue, clear eyes that are now blinking at you confused as you stare off into space thinking about them. “Dave?” he asks, poking your shoulder. You shake your head, brought back to reality. You give him a cool nod and scoot over on the bench so he can sit. He does. Very close to you, I might add. You’re used to this: him sitting a little too close, being a bit too touchy-feely. You know it doesn’t mean anything. He’s too innocent and is constantly insisting that he is, and I quote, “Not a homosexual.” Anyways, he is sitting way too close, and while you usually wouldn’t mind, it’s about 90 out. You scoot even further down the already-too-small bench. Weird thing is, he follows you. This continues, you moving away, and he’s right there again. You reach the end of the bench and finally give in. “John, move over. It’s too hot.” He gives you the cutest pout you’ve ever seen and replies with a whiney voice. “But Daaaaaaaaaaaaave!” You quirk an eyebrow at him and he just replies with a goofy smile. He’s up to something. He’s been far more quiet than normal and is beginning to look at you strangely. Why is he leaning forward and… oh. Now he’s kissing you. Your best friend of six years (the one who’s ‘not gay’) is kissing you. And you’re okay with it. You exhale through your nose, corners of your lips quirked upward, and kiss back with all you’ve got.  You’ve been waiting six years for this, remember? He pulls back all too quickly with a timid smile on his face, refusing to look you in the eye (well if you weren’t wearing these shades). You yourself are grinning (wait no that’s a smirk!) as you tilt his chin and give one last peck to his lips. He just blinks up at you with those gorgeous eyes. “So are we like, boyfriends now?” he asks, nibbling on his bottom lip. You chuckle and lean in for another kiss, hoping it will be answer enough.