Hello!! How about Shimmer for Maggy and Wyll for the micro prompts?
So I'd said I'm not writing shimmer this time around(bc I always get it and wanted a change lol), which means you get a twofer svelte/crave from right above and below on the list
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Maggy was supposed to be reading.
That was what she'd set herself up to do; pillow against the rock, snack and a drink, adventure novel she'd only half finished. Urgent as things were it was good to take a break so she--they--didn't burn out.
Unfortunately for her plans, Maggy's chosen spot had a good view of the meadow where Wyll was running through combat paces. No book could be more tantalizng than watching his lean, graceful form sun warm on his skin, movements fluid from one stance to the next. Rapier held as an extension of his arm.
It made her want to ask for another dance. To be part of that grace. To--
"Maggy, have you seen--" Shadowheart cut herself off when she caught on Maggy was only seeing one thing right now. "Oh."
"Sorry, hm?" Maggy pulled her attention off Wyll's muscles to look up at her friend. "What're looking for?"
"My amulet," Shadowheart reflexively touched her breastbone as she sat, legs cris-crossed, next to Maggy. "I took it off to clean and set it down, and I think Scratch absconded with it."
Maggy snickered. "Well, hopefully, if it was him, we can just ask him to bring it back."
"I hope so. Being a gift from a friend, it has sentimental value. I'd hate to lose it." She brushed silvery hair behind her ear and gave Maggy a meaningful look before tipping her head toward the meadow. "You're very lucky, you know."
"I do," Maggy nodded, discarding the book entirely to watch Wylll with chin braced in her palm.
"He's very graceful," Shadowheart commented, mirroing her pose. "Like a dancer."
"Oh, he's a very good dancer," Maggy said with a laugh, her fingers intching, again, with the urge to repeat the memory. "And very considerate." Their first dance, he'd been the one to make all the adjustments--seamlessly--for their height difference, never making it awkward for her.
"And he trusts you." Shadowheart played with her braid. "Implicitly, if what I've seen is any indication."
Maggy nodded, lump in her throat from the implication. "Something I strive to deserve."
"You're good to the people you care about, Maggy. Some of us may appreciate it more than others, but we all see it," she said. "I'm glad you two have each other, in case things... get bad."
"Me, too," Maggy said softly. The tadpole hummed in her thoughts and she pushed it away.
Further conversation was cut off by the subject of their ogling catching them in the act. Wyll grinned and turned their way with a flourished bow. "Can I help you, ladies?"
Shadowheart's ears pinked. "I should go track down Scratch," she said, scrambling to her feet and away in search of the dog.
"I'll take a kiss, if you're offering," Maggy said with a playful wink. She pushed ot her feet and walked his way.
"Easily given," he said with a warm smile, offering her his hand. When she took it, he helped her mount a nearby boulder, putting them more or less eye level for the kiss.
Much as it made her weak at the knees when he knelt to kiss her, this had its merits as well, she had to admit.
Wyll was flushed from the sun and exercise, a faint tang of salt on his lips that made her want more. When the first kiss ended, Maggy went for a second, her hands sliding from his chest to curve the sides of his face.
He chuckled and leaned into it. "Anything else, love?"
Maggy bit her lip. "One more kiss" --which she claimed, arms now around his neck--"and, if it's not too much trouble, a dance. It's been too long since our last one."
"You'll hear no argument from me on that count. But are you certain you wish to dance with no music? In the daylight we're much more likely to wind up with an audience."
"When you have the right partner, maybe that doesn't matter as much," Maggy said, tracing her fingers along one of the scarred ridges on his cheek.
He didn't flinch away from the soft touch this time. "Then as my lady wishes."
His arm around her waist tightened to swing her back to the ground, humming the tune of a simple, widely known, waltz. Maggy was such a country girl her grasp of even that was rusty, but she remembered the steps well enough to not embarrass herself. And her heart may have melted a little when Wyll ended the dance as last time, twirling down to take a knee in front of her.
"I'm sorry for staring before," she murmured, gaze locked with his.
Wyll shook his head and kissed his way across her knuckles. "I don't mind an audience, Mags." Leaned in for a gentle kiss. "Especially when it includes you."
"Noted." Maggy kissed him back, deeper, like he was the only thing she wanted in life, because maybe he was. Thay had already established they didn't mind distracting each other. And this was far, far better than her book."Maybe I'll stare more often."
"And you'll hear no arguments from me," he said softly, running a knuckle down her cheek to pair with one last kiss.
“Shit, shit, shit, you’re okay, it’s okay…” Tommy says as Evan loses what little he ate for breakfast over the side of the bed. It's not much, so it isn't long until Evan's painfully dry-heaving. "I know. I know baby, I know it hurts. It's okay. It'll be over soon."
Luckily, the world doesn't make Tommy Kinard a liar.
"Here's some water, sweetheart, here you go. It's okay."
Time looked down at his broken reflection in the thrashing waves of the sea. It was either pull out his Zora mask to save their healer, or watch as he drowned. The decision should’ve been obvious, but his thoughts made him second-guess himself. He made up his mind, holding up the mask to his face. It was time for a sea change.
I want to drabble, so lemme drabble for you! Gimme a characters(s), or a quote, or just a few words-- or all of those. A 5+1. Whatever you like. Let's see what we can do with it.
thank u sm kate!! this ended up being a joseph/isolde prompt because i started vibing on her bride!au SO i am sorry for that but. getting something written was refreshing, to be sure : ' )
silent fury + isolde (feat. joseph ig he's there too) from this list! no warnings; just not proofread, and it was excruciating for me to keep it short so who knows what's going on in there !
there is nobody, joseph thinks, that does it quite like isolde. she is particularly talented at weaponizing her silence--especially with john, especially with him. the silent treatment doesn't work on jacob, and faith is never the victim of it, so she wouldn't know, but isolde keeps her target demographic tight. there is nothing that john hates more than isolde keeping herself from him, and there is nothing that gets under joseph's skin more than the way she looks at him when she is wielding that silent fury: wretched, and unyielding.
"are you going to do this all night?" joseph asks her, keeping his voice light, serene; she hates it when he does that, and he can tell by the annoyed uptick of her eyebrow, the indignation flaring red-hot in those dark eyes for just a second before she stamps it out. she is furious about one thing, irritated by another; it is a constant laundry list, with her, and while her meticulous eye for detail is something he loves deeply, and which the project only benefits from, it is not unlike a double-edged sword.
she is furious with john's treatment of the deputy. she is irritated by joseph's willingness to let john try. if you want something done right, she will say, you've got to do the bloody thing yourself, joseph.
isolde rolls onto her side, yanking the blanket up to her shoulder, wrenching the sight of all of that warm, exposed skin from him--another tactic, to make her untouchable. to take from him the chance to touch all that skin.
"soli," joseph rumbles, leaning over. "come here."
the brunette does exactly the opposite of it. when he leans to her, reaching across the small space between them in their bed, (my wife, he thinks, with no absence of exasperation, god has picked you for me, and every day i think you might be my test,) she leans away from him, shutting the lamp off on her side of the bed with a definitive click.
and then, speaking for the first time in what might be four hours: "goodnight, joseph."
she will hold it against him, he knows; every perceived misstep. she doesn't see it like he does, doesn't see that every instance of give and take has already been planned, has already been laid out for them, is intentional. and she will be furious. but in the morning, as always, she will have satisfied her desire for punishing him--at least enough to yield. a little.
and he will endure the silence until then. there is no greater test of his love, after all.
Reciprocity is easy for Mason. The art of equitable give and take is ingrained in him, part of some baser nature that he can’t explain. Something he must have learned before the abrupt edge of his memory--something human, maybe.
Fighting, fucking, being a part of a team: these things require him to hand over pieces of himself in exchange for a piece of someone else. Sometimes the exchange is temporary. Other times (like with his unit) it’s irrevocable and constant, jigsaw parts of them jumbling together until there’s no use keeping score.
He doesn’t mind with them. After all these years, he hardly even notices.
He notices with Alma; the annoying checking in, the reassuring glances, how each one of her smiles has a different meaning and she just expects him to know which is which.
But something about her touch gets to him the most. A hand on his arm or his knee; the gentle, almost weightless way she leans into him; the stroke of her thumb on his neck when they kiss, like she knows there’s some unfathomable pain to soothe.
Mason takes these pieces of her, given willingly and with some degree of permanence, and before long he’s memorized the seven versions of her smile.
He walks her home without giving (much of) a thought to sex. He throws a resolute look when her heart rate turns frantic. Things he offers with reluctance, but exchanging them feels right. Necessary.
When the millstone of his senses threatens to grind him to dust, her delicate touch on his wrist clears the worst of it away.
And when Alma thinks her fear is hidden, even though her hands shake, he reaches for her wrist and covers the faint crescent scar. Each time, her body stills at his touch and, each time, he gives her another piece.
Writing prompt: #14. overgrown - for Charolette x Adam?🤗❤️
Oooh, thank you!!! (From: Micro prompts.)
Charlotte is humming as they push off from the bank. He has never heard her sing the words, but the tune is familiar. She has hummed it from time to time over the past eight decades. She has hummed it since they left Wayhaven.
It is like travelling back in time. The mist on the lake and the call of the loon - is this the present? Or just a vivid dream? Adam feels the compulsion to look back, to check that it is Charlotte in the stern and not her shade. But they drift up to the island, and the dock is gone, the stairs are completely overgrown with foliage. It is different enough from his memory, Charlotte’s hand in his as he helps her onto the shore is real enough, to dispel that particular fear.
Hi Cor! May I suggest 13 “too loud” of course with Lup and Barry?
Lup slid through the crowd like a fish, darting between people the moment a space opened. Once she was clear of the dance floor, she looked around. Sweat and glitter clung to her skin. Pushing the hair up off the back of her neck, she looked around for the others. Taako was behind her, deep in the crowd and showing off how they used to shake it on Two Sun.
She could hear Magnus’s laugh even over the music and noise and wound her way through the crowd milling around the dance floor like old ladies trying to find the courage to peel off their swim suit cover ups and dive into the water. Go on and dance, she wanted to tell them, wanted to explain that they should celebrate and enjoy this beautiful night. But she knew something about holding back, taking the time to test the water before you jumped in.
Magnus and Davenport were tucked in a booth in the back. With Merle training this year, they’d all gone their separate ways mostly. But tonight the six of them were together.
Approaching the table, Lup peered around. Well, there were supposed to be six of them, anyway. Just as she opened her mouth to ask where the others were, Lucretia stepped around her with drinks in her hand. She passed a hard cider to Magnus and a wineglass to Davenport. “Hey, Lup,” she said before taking a sip from her own glass - something dark, swirling with cream and ice. “Want me to grab you a drink?”
Lup smiled and shook her head. “Nah, thanks though.” She glanced around the crowd again. “Where’s Bluejeans?”
“Headed back to the apartment,” Davenport answered as Lucretia slid into the booth.
Lup frowned theatrically. “Aww! Why?”
“Can you believe he said it was too loud?!” Magnus shouted from three feet away, making her bite back a laugh.
“Maybe I should go check on him,” Lup said, not making it a question. “Tell Taako that’s where I went if Lord Rumpshaker manages to pry himself off the dance floor.”
The captain nodded and tilted his glass to her.
---
Barry pulled his robe tighter around himself. Tessaralia had turned chilly in the last few weeks after a long, mild autumn. Now, hours and hours past sunset, the street felt cold and miserable.
Or maybe it was just him.
The night had started off well enough. The six of them had gotten together for dinner for the first time in a month. This cycle everyone had been going in different directions, taking the rare opportunity to pursue their own interests wholeheartedly.
Which was great. Except that Barry had gotten his fill of study time alone back on Two Sun. Since the Starblaster, he’d gotten used to working with others constantly.
One other specifically.
But Lup and Taako were gone most of the time. Most nights, they didn’t even stay in the enormous apartment the six of them had gotten at the beginning of the year. They’d been going further and further from the main city, exploring restaurants and food markets, diving into the different flavors and spices this world had to offer.
So Barry had been thrilled to see her - everyone, really! - for a whole evening. He’d spent dinner hanging on her - everyone’s! - every word as they described what they’d been up to. But then they’d ended up at that club and the twins had gotten up to dance and…
Rain started falling, the cold drizzle finding its way right down the back of his IPRE robe before he could scramble the hood up over his head.
He just wanted to get back to the apartment and go to bed. His head was pounding and now he was cold and wet.
In the darkness between streetlights, he stepped into a puddle he hadn’t seen on the cobble street. Almost instantly he could feel the cold water seeping through his sock.
Great, he thought, perfect way to learn these new boots aren’t waterproof.
Honestly, it was better than finding out in the middle of a blizzard on a trek after the light, but Barry wasn’t in the mood to see that upside.
And, if honesty was to be pursued, it wasn’t the lack of streetlight proximity that made him fail to spot the puddle before he’d stepped in it. It was the recurring image of Lup on the dance floor, happy and laughing in a spray of glitter from the ceiling, moving in sync with a tall, handsome elf who’d had his eyes pinned on her since she’d started dancing.
He was so glad she was having fun. She deserved it! And he would have been happy to sit there and watch her be happy but then the thumping speakers started making his head hurt and the constant din from the crowd wore on his nerves and eventually he just couldn’t hang out in the club any longer.
---
Lup snagged her cloak from the coat check and dashed out into the street. It had begun raining but it felt good on her overheated skin. Maybe it would wash some of the glitter off before she pulled on her cloak, she figured. Though, either way, the thing had seen worse than a little bit of glitter.
There weren’t many people on the street and Lup’s sprint caught her up to the only person on the street in a red robe, even with his sizeable head start.
“Barry!”
Ahead of her, the red robed figure froze and turned, surprise clear on his face even with the distance between them. Speeding up, she closed the distance between them.
“Calling it a night so soon, Bluejeans?”
“Yeah,” he answered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It was too loud in there.” He shrugged, as if it was of no consequence. “But you should go back! It looked like you were having fun! At least get back in out of the rain, Lup.”
“Pssh,” she replied. She grinned up at the rain, letting it fall on her face and soak into her hair. “It was too hot in there. It’s nice out here.” Tilting her head back to look at him, she threw her robe around her shoulders. “I’ll walk with you.”
Barry couldn’t stop himself. He reached over and straightened her robe then pulled the hood up over her head. She watched him without comment then caught his hand as he pulled away, tucking her arm through his.
“Let’s go home and make waffles,” she suggested. “Surprise the others when they get back.”
Barry’s headache seemed to have faded so he nodded, “Sure, Lup, sounds good.”
(Thanks, Charm!! This one went a little long but ehhhh... that’s how I generally roll, isn’t it?)
