#drabblet

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Hey bouncy! Can i get some Geralt being real sweet/tender with Jaskier? Im in a real soft geralt mood so go ham if u so wish!

You sure can, fam.

---

The bard snuggled closer, snuffling and snorting a bit in his sleep. Geralt should have been annoyed. He should have removed Jaskier’s limbs from around him and turned away, letting the bard find his heat with a blanket like a normal person.

But he didn’t.

Instead, as Jaskier slept soundly, Geralt allowed his arm to wind around the bard’s waist. He pulled the other man closer, ever so slowly, careful not to ruin his rest. When Jaskier was close enough, Geralt buried his nose in the dusty brown hair and breathed in deeply. This was heaven.

With the warm weight of his bard against his side and the scent of home surrounding him like a spell of protection, Geralt drifted off to sleep himself. 

[igni-ard-bladeandbard]

But 

Jaskier catching Geralt alone in the courtyard where the stage is. After everyone has gone

and Jaskier is still in his lovely costume and they are poking fun at one another and Jaskier begins to sing to him

it’s a joke at first ...

because it’s a love song and Geralt is no blushing maiden for Jaskier to serenade 

and Geralt laughs and shakes his head but Jaskier’s voice is wonderful even when he’s teasing...

and it’s just teasing like it always is, but then

it becomes 

very

very

serious....

and Jaskier doesn’t look like it’s a joke anymore because the song 

was always about Geralt... 

and he can’t pretend when Geralt is there looking up at him in the flame lit courtyard with his incredible eyes

“..through the darkness

I can see your light,

and you will always shine, 

and I can feel your heart in mine”

Gerlat is helpless against this undivided attention bearing down on him now like the golden heat of summer, has no way to shield himself from it,

“..In my eyes you do no wrong,

I’ve loved you for so long

and after all that said and done

you’re still you..after all..

you’re still you...”

And Geralt hasn’t felt like crying in years but there’s a heat gathering behind his eyes..

“and I believe in you 

           although you never asked me too..”

and they stand there looking down and looking up at one another in the quiet, in the gloaming, and they are both so unmasked in that space, so incredibly naked and obvious to one another in this moment that it’s almost too much for either one of them to take

and Jaskier’s lips quiver as if he needs to say something more, as if he’s going to apologize, as if he’s afraid of the consequence now of having dropped the act.. 

but Geralt doesn’t flee, and his expression doesn’t harden

and there are no more words left between them that need be spoken...

[yaz-the-spaz]

penne a la vodka

Summary: G*gi makes penne a la vodka, so Liam makes penne a la vodka. But better.

a/n: just a short ziam ficlet born from a plotbunny that wiggled its way into my head about how the decision (and ensuing reaction) for the penne a la vodka thing went down in the ziam household lol...enjoy :)

Liam sees her story because of course he does. Try as he might not to see every little thing she does, when it implicates Zayn—which is almost always—he can’t not. Especially considering half of his fanbase is also Zayn’s fanbase and, by extension, now her fanbase as well, so he’s bound to have it circulate back to him eventually anyway. May as well bite the bullet himself and monitor her on his own time first before others can bombard him with her bullshit when he’s least expecting it.

Anyway, she’s always stealing ideas from him and Zayn anyway, and two can play at that game. So, when he gets the opportunity to do a Tik Tok cooking bit, it feels like the obvious choice.

He brandishes his dish to the camera proudly. Unlike hers, his actually has the required amount (well, okay, maybe a lot more if he’s being completely honest) of vodka in it. Because why even bother to go out of your way to make a dish with vodka literally in the name and then make a whole production of cooking it without the vodka when you could’ve just made another dish that doesn’t have vodka in at all. Nothing she does makes a lick of sense when you think about it too hard, but then when has it ever.

When they’re finished filming though, Darren packing up and setting aside his filming stuff for the day, Liam looks up to find that Zayn has walked into the kitchen. He’d been upstairs FaceTiming with the family, but evidently he’s finished now and judging by his knowing face, has either already seen what Liam posted or overheard him talking about it.

“Hey,” Liam starts, flashing a smile, not exactly sure what kind of reaction he’s in for.

Zayn just looks at him.

Liam can’t tell if he’s annoyed or weirded out, or both.

“Babe.” His tone still reveals nothing.

“…Yes?” Liam says warily.

“You’re petty and I love you.”

Liam breaks out into a grin. “Love you, too. Wanna get drunk on pasta with me?”

[arysthaeniru]

He hasn't asked them to call him Father, and Murky is grateful. There are plenty of things to love about Artemy, but he's not her Father yet, even if he acts like one. She perches on the counter in their new house, swinging her legs back and forth. The new skirt that she'd been given by Miss Lara makes a pleasant swishy sound, and even though it's heavier than her old dress, Murky likes it a whole bunch. Artemy is cooking next to her, chopping some mushrooms to throw into the pan, humming under his breath.

He stirs the pan, pulls up a spoon to taste, and smiles. It pulls at his face, makes him look almost unfamiliar. Murky's used to the resting scowl on Artemy's face. But she could get used to the smile.

"Want to try some, Mishka?" He asks, holding up a spoon. She nods, but before she can take a sip, he pulls his hand back, blows on the soup a few times, before offering the spoon back to her. Murky stares at him for a moment, before taking a sip.

It's creamy, smooth and just the right temperature, and Murky shuts her eyes, for a moment. Nobody had ever blowed on hot food to cool it down for her. Nobody's ever really made her much hot food, honestly.

"It's good." She says, knowing that he'll be expecting an answer.

"Good." Artemy says, softly. He brushes a hand across her hair, smoothing it away from her cheeks, before going back to the soup.

Murky watches him work, carefully, cautiously, to make something new. She'd first seen him use a knife to kill. Now, he's using his knife to make food, for her and her new brother. A killer could change after all, huh? And became the best person in the world.

The Plague was wrong. Clara was wrong. Nobody was evil. Everybody could change, with enough time.

[shiftylinguini]

aHHHHH witchy harry checking on all his succulents each day to see how his friends are doing. i love this concept, would love to hear more about him sometime :)

Yessss, witchy Harry, right??? In a sweet little cottage, herbs drying in the windows and jars of miscellaneous things everywhere, fancy old books and what looks like parchment scattered around and pretty symbols on the wall.

He’s got fifty different kinds of tea and always offers Niall a brew when he stops by, and always serves it in tiny tiny floral tea cups that make Niall think of Hyacinth Bouquet terrorising the Vicar’s wife with periwinkle china.

Harry’s house is a bit weird and stuffy but not the worst Niall’s been in - the swans out the front are slightly terrifying but that’s just swans, they’re basically elegant dinosaurs and Niall’s not scared of them (even when they nip him on the bum). The busts and statues are a bit much, Niall has to admit, those do kind of give him the willies. How can something that has no pupils, just blank alabaster eyes, seem like it’s paying so much attention to the conversations he and Harry have? He always feels like they’re tilting their heads, ears pricked like attentive dogs, when Harry reads Niall’s tea leaves.

Niall’s imagining it though, he imagines things when he visits Harry’s, that’s all it is. Harry house is cluttered and friendly and sort of benevolently mad, and it puts Niall on a weird edge, but not one he doesn’t like. Niall’s house is so clean and ordered (it needs to be, he can’t have it any other way) and that’s good, but Harry’s is such controlled chaos, stuff everywhere, and stuff on the stuff, and Harry in the middle of it all wearing too many rings and velvet slippers and chattering about swan poo.  

And there are soooooo, so many lovely plump succulents on the sill, and all leaning towards the sun  - except when Harry talks to them and they look like they’re leaning towards him, but that’s not right, plants don’t do that, do they?

Niall doesn’t know, he’s just a fucking butcher’s kid, working for his dad on weekends now he’s moved back home. He has one houseplant himself, a big fiddle leaf fig by the telly but that’s been looking peaky for weeks. He certainly doesn’t look after it like Harry does his plants, calling them his ‘old friends I don’t get to see so much anymore’ and cancelling whole plans with Niall because one of them fell off the sill and Harry fell into a panic. 

It wasn’t a date anyway, that night, although Niall was thinking they could get dinner after Harry took him to see ‘this amazing pond I found which has all these mushrooms nearby and just, like, really lush mud. Satisfying to stand in at night and look at the stars, you know? I’d love to show it to you’ which, who knows. Maybe that actually was Harry’s idea of a date?

Turns out Harry’s mate broke his leg that night, so good thing Harry was already freaking out about broken terracotta pots and bruised sedum leaves. They’d’ve had to cancel anyway. 

They can always go another time. Niall really kind of does want to stand in mud and look at the stars with Harry. 

[luvsavos]

“shortie” shangchi drabblet bc reasons

“Chiiiiiiii,” the sorcerer whines, looking up at the necromancer, who's hunched over a desk.

“Yes, Shang, what is it.” Quan Chi's voice is monotone; it's clear he's only half listening, apparently absorbed in whatever he's working on. Shang is draped across a chair, one leg splayed out upon the arm of the chair, the other propped up on the back. The rest of his body hangs off the edge of the chair; he's looking up at Quan Chi upside-down. 

“Chiiiiiiiiii,” he whines once again, this time in a more demanding, notice-me-dammit sort of manner.

Chi glances over finally, raising a brow.

“I won't even ask the point of you sitting like that.”

Shang shoots Chi a snarky grin.

Chi rolls his crimson eyes before letting out a huff. “So. What is it you demand my explicit attention for?”

Shang stretches his arms out for a moment, grunting.

“Why are you so tall? It's like... Prejudice against short people like me.”

“You aren't too terribly short,” Chi points out. “The average human male grows to at least five foot nine.”

Shang whines stubbornly. “Yeah? Well I'm only two inches taller than than, and pretty much every guy I've seen has been at least six foot. Usually six three.”

“Your point?”

Shang grumbles something in Chinese, sliding off of the chair and onto the floor. Chi looks down at him with a blank expression.

“You're only, metaphorically, making yourself even shorter by doing that, you know.”

Shang glares half-heartedly at Chi.

Chi merely chuckles. 

Shang rolls onto his back, crossing his arms and staring up at Chi through narrowed eyes.

“I'm becoming one with my people.”

“Your people-?”

“Ants. Because they're tiny too.”

This causes Chi to legitamately snort. “They are also quite strong for their size.”

​​​​​​“Exactly,” Shang responds, a smug undertone to his voice, “I'm tiny and all, but I can kick ass.”

Chi smiles a little, crouching and looking down at Shang.

“Alright, get up; you'll mess your hair up.” Of course he would use the hair against Shang. Anything but the hair.

Shang quickly sits up, scooting over to Chi and pressing his face against the necromantic sorcerer's arm. He then looks up at Chi snd offers him a smile. He then leans over, thankful that Chi isn't wearing the spiked part of his armour, and presses a light kiss to his cheek before returning his face to where it was, cheek pressed against Chi's arm.

Chi gently curls an arm around Shang's waist for a moment before seeming to perk up.

“You seem to... Strongly dislike being short, yes?” he asks. 

Shang nods. “Well, of course I do. Why else would I complain so much?”

He, too, then perks up a little, grinning up at Chi.

“You should lift me up. Let me sit on your shoulders, or something. You're tall, and strong, it would be win-win.”

Chi arches a brow. “Mm?”

Shang has already stood up, grinning like an idiot, which is oddly endearing to Chi. He settles himself on Chi's shoulders, seeming incredibly happy.

​​​​​​“Do you trust yourself to not fall?” Chi asks.

Shang nods, smiling.

“Of course I trust myself! Why wouldn't I?” he responds.

“You do realize you will be quite high up, yes?” Chi asks.

Shang nods, still smiling. 

“Yes,” he purrs, clearly happy, “I am well aware.”

Chi waits a moment, before shrugging simply and standing up. Shang lets out a surprised squeak, clinging to Chi. Apparently he had not anticipated just how high up he would be.

“Do you need me to set you back down-?” Chi asks uncertainly.

“No-!” Shang says quickly. “No, no, I'm just...” he trails off, slowly straightening back up and looking around. It is interesting to him how different things look.

“I'm fine. This is... Wow-...”

Chi chuckles. “You make it seem as if you have just traversed a mountain peek and are looking upon the vast forest below.”

Shang sticks his tongue out, though he knows Chi can't see it.

“Oh, whatever. Things are different up here, you know. It's like... I've transcended.”

Chi merely smiles in response to this, glancing up at Shang, who looks very happy.

Shang leans down, gently cuddling Chi as best he can, a serene smile on his face.

“You can set me down, now,” he murmurs, sounding content.

Chi sits, and Shang rolls off his shoulders and crawls to his side, curling up and resting his face against his shoulder, a happy expression clear.

A cat jumps up and curls up by Shang's leg with a soft 'meow,' nuzzling it's face against his thigh.

Chi curls an arm around Shang's waist gently, tilting his head back and sighing softly, though it is a happy sigh.

Shang presses his lips to Chi's shoulder gently, giving a soft, content sigh as well.

“I love you,” he says softly, his voice tender and quiet.

Chi simply smiles and leans over, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to the sorcerer's forehead.

His way of telling him that he loves him, too.

[wistsandmagic]

In the beginning, there was Time. Of course, Time as we know it had not been born yet, that birth would not come for another eon. But Time was there, and she was tired. Things had only just begun, but she was weary of it already. There were too many stars being born or dying all in the same instant, too many planets forming, too many collisions, too much stardust floating around to let her breathe. She would have said overseeing this fledgling universe was like herding cats when she herself was a cat, but cats had not been invented yet, and while she knew where they were coming from, no one else would have understood.

There is a problem, sometimes, with being Time when you have ADHD.

[colour-me-robot]

“Looks like I’m not going to get to see you for about two weeks, love.”

The silence on the other end of the line told Shockwave a lot, and he hurried on, before Pax could ask the questions he could feel thrumming through the air. “We’re basically going to be on lockdown here in the lab, working on a highly contagious strain of rustrot, and while we’re isolating it and developing the vaccine, we can’t really leave. The lab’s going to be under negative pressure, yes, but we can’t risk carrying anything out on our gear. Primus forbid we let anything loose in the city.” “I understand, but what about you?”

“I’ll be fine, dear. I’m going to be swathed head to toe in containment gear. It’ll be burned when we’re done, before we leave, so there will be no risk of me catching anything. I promise. ...it just...means I’m not going to be able to see you until we are done. Two weeks is the max. I’m hoping we get everything settled before then, though.” Shockwave put a smile in his voice, doing his best to not let body language look pained, since he lacked a face to hide it. “So it’s going to have to be comm-calls for a bit. I’m so sorry.”

He listened to the quiet on the other end of the line, watching Op’s face on video, trying to re-memorize him as usual, seeing the stress, the faint lines of worry. “...as long as you don’t get sick, Bug. I guess I can’t really complain, then.” A soft chuckle was Shockwave’s answer. “I won’t get sick, I promise. You might not hear from me for the first couple of days, though. It’s going to be the most intense period, while we get everything isolated. There’s only three of us working on it, so things are going to be a bit...long.” He watched Op nod in seeming understanding, then sighed, putting his hand to the holo that held his Endura’s face, longing to touch him. “So I’ll see you when it’s over?”

“Of course. I’ll be waiting for your call to come pick you up.” The smile on Optimus’s face was genuine, at least.

“I’ll be waiting to call you,” Shockwave countered softly, pretending already. “I love you, Pax.” “I love you too, Bug. Goodbye?” “Bye.” The holo went dark, and Shockwave took a deep breath, looking up at Chromedome standing in the corner of his hospital room. “...okay, let’s do this.”

*********

Thankfully, it hadn’t taken two weeks for the swelling and pain to go down. It had taken a week and two days. The first two days Shockwave didn’t remember, as Chromedome had kept him sedated to prevent pain, but after that, he’d been awake. Off and on, at least. Enough to remember calling Pax and talking to him without the holo on, for all the coherency he managed.

Pax had taken it to mean that he was working too hard, admonishing him to rest...and Shockwave had consistently reassured him that he was, being tired was just a state of life at the moment.

Until today. One week and two days after Chromedome and Brainstorm ‘bullied’ him into being admitted to the hospital. One week and two days since Chromedome had performed surgery. The swelling was down, and while his new skin was still a bit tender, his new eyes still a bit sensitive to broad daylight, Shockwave was being released, and he wasn’t calling Op. He was heading to the Ark himself, to surprise his Endura.

He found Pax talking to Ironhide at one of the observation windows. Normally he would have held back, waiting until the much larger bot moved on -- as Shockwave was still a bit fearful of the sparring master -- but not today. Today he just couldn’t wait.

So there was a small bot timidly creeping up to the Prime and reaching to put his hand on his elbow, a smile already quirking at the corners of his lips. “Sir, I really need to talk to you.”

The look on Pax’s face when he turned to see who needed him was worth the week of no contact.

“...Bug. You have a face.”