#character snippets

[kitcatling]

Dania is pretty much a Siamese cat in human form. Chatty, loyal and willing to throw down when needed.

@bardic-tales @manorofshepard @lordkingsmith @chickensarentcheap @chinchinwrites @theprincewhowasnt @nightmaricwriter

[heyhay13]

First little EOD thoughts to toss out there--

Io was terrified when they realized they'd been bitten by a vampire too late. Dawn rushed to help them with the cleansing ritual but Io was so far in the process that they nearly died from it. Dawn had to rush to get help, which is how they met Cavity.

Io wouldn't say it out loud, but their opinion of Dawn changed after that night. From a reluctant companion to someone they have started to trust.

Cavity has been busy with his spellbook. Io was wary of it but he offered to teach Io some pieces and the two of them actually had a blast working on weird spells together.

[un-romancible-npc]

Alya Cesaire

Word Count: 700

Alya drove through the torrential downpour, anything and everything Marinette had ever given her stuffed awkwardly into every crook and crevice of her car. She furiously wiped the stray tears off her face with her free hand, her knuckles pale on the steering wheel. She could do this. She had to.

The street lights were the only things visible through the downpour, and the boxes filled with unwanted memories pressed against the back of her seat.

She didn’t want any of this. Something a lot like regret welled up in her chest.

Alya kept driving.

She pulled up to Boulangerie Patisserie, and in a moment her anger was reignited. Alya furiously unbuckled her seat-belt, and reached for one of the boxes—and she paused, staring at the pair of mittens lying neatly, innocently, atop the pile. A twinge in her gut forced her to remember how many times she'd used those, and how Marinette would light up like a Christmas tree whenever she saw Alya wearing them.

Alya gritted her teeth, shook off the feeling, opened the door, and ripped the box out of the passenger-side seat.

In the 10 second walk from her car to the bakery, she was drenched nearly to the bone.

Alya kicked open the door, the bell ringing ominously overhead.

Marinette was working the counter.

Good.

She looked up, a mix of emotions in her eyes as she smiled a little nervously. “Hey Al—”

Wordlessly, Alya marched over, and slammed the box on the counter.

Marinette jerked back, blinking at her in confusion, but something a lot like resignation and regret was in her eyes. She'd been expecting something like this. She didn't want it, either.

Alya clenched her fists. 'No backing down. Think of Lila. Think of the class. Think of who Marinette really is.'

Marinette looked into the box.

Alya found no pleasure Marinette's suddenly pale expression, her shaking hands reaching toward the box, or her huge grey eyes welling up with tears as she looked back up at her.

"A-Alya...?"

"We're done." Why were her insides coiling and twisting like snakes. Why did she want to throw up.

"Alya, I don't understa—"

"You never do, do you?!"she snapped.

Marinette took a step back, her breathing erratic.

The snakes in Alya's stomach multiplied and squirmed and coiled around her throat but she couldn't stop. "You NEVER understand;You NEVER listen. And you go behind everyone's back and—" The words were black tar on her tongue, and the coils turned to knots. "A-AND Y'KNOW WHAT?!" she hiccuped, unsure when her tears started, this time. "You know what?! Bustier was right."

Marinette jerked back as if she'd been slapped, silent tears streaming down her face, her hands shaking more than ever.

Alya had made her like that.

Alya made her best-- No... No. Marinette was not her best friend anymore.

She turned to the door, fists clenched.

"A-Alya p-please, what did I—"

The knots disappeared.

Alya whipped around, droplets of water flying off her soaking wet hair and scattering around the bakery. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” She gasped for breath through the tears. “Y-you don't get to play dumb with me: You know EXACTLY what you did."

Alya didn't look back as she bolted out the door, through the rain, and to her car. She slammed the door, a resounding thud that echoed in her skull moments before thunder boomed in the sky.

Alya couldn't see, couldn't breathe. She'd done the right thing, she knew she'd done the right thing... so why did it hurt so much?

She fumbled for her keys, still choking on sobs. She couldn't go to that place anymore. Couldn't hear that bell over the door. Couldn't smell their pastries... Ever. Never. Never again.

She was 6 blocks out before she remembered the rest of the stuff in her car. She couldn't go back. No, she'd keep it. She'd shove the boxes in the attic and forget about them and when she felt like the snakes in her belly had disappeared for good, she'd burn the boxes or give them to charity and finally let go.

Alya texted Lila that she'd cut things off with Marinette. Lila said she was sorry.

Alya believed her.

[writerofscribbles]

Can you do a lil blurb for sensory prompt 25 with Ronan pleeeeeease? 🥰🥰🥰

oooh girl, you ready for a little bit angst? (okay it became more than a blurb but oh well)

25.  calloused palm

fingers, unusually soft brushed against his shoulder. “what is this from?” alara asked, her dark lashes fluttering as she gazed at him, eyes dark and reflective, pools of moonlight gathering in her irises. moments ago they had been making love for the first time, sweat still cooled in the hollows of his throat, at his temples. she curled the white linen around her, gazing at his body, hungry and wanting. 

“sword, I believe. struck right in the meat luckily,” he said, watching her fingers trail to the back of his neck, her thumb brushing against the top of his spine before finding the branded bondmark that connected him with his brothers-in-arms. 

she flattened her palm against the raised scar, her skin warm and slightly damp. she was smooth, silken, almost too much on his overheated and sensitive skin. he shuddered. it was so different than his male lover’s hand, which was roughened with callouses. tough from a life of fighting. similar to his own. 

alara had never fought with swords, rather with tongues and desire. 

“is it sensitive?” she murmured, her perfect hand running around the outside of it. 

“no. nerves are burned away.” 

“too bad,” she murmured. her fingers found the raised scars from the whip and ronan stiffened. 

“don’t,” he breathed and her hand jerked back. the soft velvet of her skin was gone, leaving only a lingering kiss of cool air. 

“can I hold you?” she whispered, no, breathed. 

when he looked at her, she was not looking at him as a monster covered in scars, but rather a boy to be soothed. 

slowly ronan shook his head and slid out of bed, the covers too silky against his thighs. he didn’t look back, he couldn’t see the hurt on her face as he left her in the marriage bed. 

The Wrath King could not be weak.

(especially not for the soft palms of his wife).

[trailshome]

“Wishing upon stars”

//Next update is taking longer than I thought-- So have this Finlay fluff [unedited and spur of the moment], instead! [hnnng, maybe I’ll post a teaser of some romance scenes?? idk-- I should be finishing the next update tbh]

Warnings: Cheese and fluff, tired writing, unedited, learned something new about stars while writing this, finlay

You remember a time when you had learned that there were 100 billion stars in the sky around you -- You remember that there are 10 billion galaxies and more potential planets than you could even imagine. You remember a time when you hadn’t worried about whether or not your lover would return from the forest safe and sound.

You remember a time when you never had a lover. That was all so long ago... so very long a go.

Now here you are, present in this moment with your lover Finlay, pressed against the floor with their head resting on your chest. They hum every so often at the peacefulness of your situation. The wind howls outside, rain falling upon the world in thick globs of translucent white.

Finlay runs a hand through their flaming red hair, then tucks the hand against your chest, above your heart and smiles. You can rarely tell what they’re thinking but for the briefest moment, you think they are thinking of you. Their shining green eyes shoot up towards your face as their smile relaxes and they hum [or maybe you’d rather call it a purr].

“Can you believe that it’s only been four years since we first met? Since you first arrived here and since you first decided that this world, that I, was your home?” They take a moment to roll over onto their back, taking care not to press their larger form too heavily upon you as they do, “And all that time before you, I was wishing upon stars to send me someone who cared?”

“Maybe I should wish upon stars more often...”

[un-romancible-npc]

Chance: [Sneak] Character Peek

*slides you a mini-fic* So... how’s about we forget I didn’t post yesterday, and just focus on the positives here...

Chloe Bourgeois:

494 words

Approx. 2.25 hours of writing time (including edits/rewrites)

Chloe Bourgeois was not one to be trifled with.

Even without the myriad of recent developments regarding her career and new physical capabilities, she was perfectly willing and capable to murder you socially--or literally, but no one had pushed her that far...yet--if you got on her hit list.

And anyone who messed with Marinette Dupain-Cheng or Adrien Agreste was at the very top of that list.

Chloe’s best friend--Adrien was on equal ground with Mari, but saying that made everyone assume they were dating, which just… ew. Gross. He’s practically her brother--was a ray of sunshine who seemed to believe her entire purpose was to make other people shine, and not to light up the room, even at the cost of her own happiness; and if you contributed one iota to her misconception, then you were about seven seconds away from being burned at the stake.

Chloe’s other best friend--people who assumed they were twins were almost as amusing as the people who assumed Marinette was their adopted sister--was yet another ray of sunshine, who thought it was his life mission to make everyone around him laugh, even at the cost of his own happiness; and if you contributed even one iota to this misconception, you were approximately seven seconds from being beheaded.

Chloe was a girl who took everything that was said about her and wore the title with pride, but if anything was said of ill toward the two people she loved more than anything else in the world: If anything of ill was said toward the two people in her life who didn’t call her a ‘lost cause’ or a ‘stupid rich kid’, regardless of the validity of those claims: If anything of ill was said toward the two people who lit up her life brighter than a child’s eyes on Christmas morning because for once things would be alright, well…

Suffice it to say that even running for the hills wouldn’t protect you, because the hills have your secrets, your skeletons, your monsters. And Chloe Bourgeois can pull every single one of them from the earth, look you dead in the eyes and ask you if you’d dropped something.

Her tactics had changed over the years.

Her appetite for violence was dulled by the encouraging of people who were far kinder than she felt she could ever be, and her insatiable desire to be cruel was instead changed from a blunt, stone ax, to a diamond drill; perfectly designed to get straight to the point without any side-tracking--Sharp, direct, to-the-point, and valuable, as her best friends had said.

But regardless of how much she’d changed, Chloe Bourgeois was a woman of war, and if you set foot on her territory and spat on her people, she was more than happy to wage it.

The fact simply remained: Don’t mess with Adrien Agreste or Marinette Dupain-Cheng unless you wanted to die a slow and painful death by the hands of the most ruthless 18 year old this millennium had ever seen.

[trailshome]

"my dearest”

technically I should be working on finishing chapter one... but i wanna share a [horribly written] Nanami and MC moment. 

Warnings; Cliche, cheesy, spur of the moment writing

Her hands always had lingered a little too long on your shoulder and her face a little to close to your neck when she had first gotten to hug you -- but now it seems normal, with her nose buried in the junction of your shoulder as she hums pleasantly. Her shorter fingers tracing invisible shapes along your spine.

You can feel her shift and press closer into your side, her left arm cradling your head when she spares you the smallest of smiles. Her aquamarine orbs glazing over ever-so-slightly with utter admiration. “My dearest...” She trails off, re-positioning herself to hover slightly above you, “Do you know what I love the most about you?”

She giggles sweetly at your lazy hum of recognition, prompting her to press her forehead to your own. “I love how warm you are despite the cold, I love how tenderly you hold my hand, and how kindly you’ve treated my family. I love the color of your eyes, the complexion of your skin, and all your cute imperfections--” 

She trails off momentarily to drop a kiss upon the bridge of your nose, right between your eyes. She flushes a vibrant yellow, her skin glowing even brighter than usual,  “Thank you for staying even when you didn’t have to... I know it was a tough decision to make --”

“And I love you, my dearest.”