#mini-fic

[curatoroffiction]

Solomon's Pact

I was looking through my drafts and found a little mini-fic I wrote and never published. I think I was too shy to publish romance back then. Enjoy! Deets: In this concept, exceptionally powerful humans can make pacts with other humans. Warnings: - Romantic as FUCK -----

Solomon gently grabs your non-dominant wrist, kissing the palm of your hand. "No, it has to be here." His hand slips behind you, gently grasping the small of your back, tugging you in close as he continues to kiss your palm. You reactively cover your cheeks as the heat explodes in them, feeling shy from his aggressive affections. He slowly replaces his lips with his hand, placing his palm squarely to match up with yours, so the mark will appear right on your palm. His fingers intertwine with yours, and he asks you, smiling from how obviously flustered you are; "May we make a pact?" "... Yes." You say with smiling, shy, flustered lips as you peek over your other hand to him, curious. A light bursts between your two hands as the pact mark is sealed. "... Why my non-dominant hand?" "I want to feel everything you do with passion." "Wouldn't my dominant hand be better for that?" "I want to feel whatever makes you use both of your hands. Reading a good book that has both your hands entangled in it, the delicate focus of you bringing form to clay, the exploration of food you make and divulge in. I want to feel the things that you put your everything into."

[bobauthorman]

Ruby: Hey, Terra, what's that painting over there?

Terra Cotta-Arc: Oh, that? That's a depiction of evolution.

Ruby: Eva-what-what?

Terra: Evolution. It's a scientific theory that all life was originally a different species, before it changed into its present form over a period of tens of millions of years. Humans, for example, used to a type of ape.

Weiss: Well, that would explain... (Glances at Nora, who is picking bugs out of Jaune's hair) some things.

Blake: And where do faunus stand in this glorious science?

Terra: (Very awkwardly) We-ell, the most common theory is that faunus and humans have the same source, but the future-faunus were exposed to elements that caused them to develop their animalistic traits. No offense.

Blake: (coolly) None taken.

Yang: So it's all theories, huh? Nothing proven?

Terra: I admit, it's hard to prove. But I think it's more rational than to believe some sentient being put everything in motion.

Team RWBY: (Has traumatic flashbacks to "The Lost Fable")

Terra: What?

[antivanmonarch]

*veilguard endgame spoilers*

.

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.

.

.

thinking about assan diving into the blight after davrin. does he know his dad is dead? is assan following him into death, or is assan diving in to save him?

what if he succeeded?

assan, still a young griffon, isn't very strong yet but somehow finds enough strength to carry his dad out of that chasm, armor and all, talons digging into davrin's shoulders from the effort but a little more blood doesn't matter when all he needs to do is get his dad to someone who can do something about the gaping holes in davrin's chest, and so assan will. whatever it takes.

and none in the veilguard are healers, but taash has cauterised enough of their own wounds to know exactly how much fire davrin needs to not bleed out, and doesn't know how much fire they'll need to distract elgar'nan while the others take over but is sure willing to find out. whatever it takes.

when they're done, neve, who's found enough 'dead' bodies to know they're only really dead if they stay so after being warmed up, steps in with her ice immediately after taash is done, and chills davrin down enough for his breath to slow but not stop, and that will have to be enough for now. whatever it takes.

alternatively bellara, who always has a trinket or five up her sleeve, uses one to conjure a time anomaly centered around davrin—his heart is still but the rest of his body is dormant as well and thus won't miss the lack of circulation, and bellara's willing to hold the spell as long as is needed until healing comes. whatever it takes.

later, when ghilan'nain lies dead and rook has disappeared, harding's the first to stuff elfroot into davrin's wounds because while he may be in a magic-induced coma, she's not about to risk him waking up in pain, especially not during all the jostling while the team makes their hasty escape through the wilderness before elgar'nan turns the island to glass. in another life it could have been her, so in this life she's going to get them all through this. whatever it takes.

emmrich, back at the lighthouse, consulting every kind spirit he can find and tearing through each book in his library until he finds the spell needed, for every mourn watcher knows that no one should pass before their time, and if davrin's held on this long then emmrich won't be the one to argue. a healer he may not be, but death is his domain, and he'll push it back as long as he can. whatever it takes.

and the difference between poison and medicine often comes down to dosage, as lucanis was taught from a young age, which is why he's the one to clean davrin's wounds from any infection that might come in the way of emmrich's clumsy bouts of healing. another bringer of death turns preserver of life, because they may have had their differences but family is family. whatever it takes.

but something's missing, isn't it? somewhere far away, davrin hears assan's squawks and his companions' voices as though through muddy waters, but it's not enough. it's not enough, not until a familiar hand caresses his cheek and a soft voice whispers in his ear about everything that their future together holds if he'll just come back to them

whatever it takes, rook had said. davrin thought that meant death and he'd been ready—he's been ready ever since he took his vows and drank tainted blood.

and yet... perhaps, living is also worth whatever it takes, with all its suffering and blight but also its joys and possibilities, and so with rook's voice in his ears davrin finally opens his eyes.

[sealie-seolh]

Nonna Luciana

for @luminarai

Nonna Luciana

By sealie

There was a rapid rat-tatt-tatt of a knock in a rhythm that made Nicolò sit up straight and look over the back of the sofa at the front door of their tiny, studio flat.

“Habibi?” Yusuf rolled onto his side. He had been lying on the floor, tongue caught between his teeth, sketching.

It couldn’t be. Nicolò set his book aside. As his heart hammered against his ribs, he rose slowly to his feet.

Fingernails danced across the door again, a cadence that he knew. How? Mamma and papà had told him to leave, to never return. Nearly two years…

“Habibi?” Yusuf rose to his knees as Nicolò raced around the couch, to get to that door, to not waste a minute, to not give himself a second to dismiss hope…

He yanked open the door, half scared that he would pull it off the hinges, half scared that this was a dream.

“Piccolo mio.” Nicolò’s tiny, little Grandmother beamed up at him.

“Nonna,” he breathed. “Nonna Luciana.”

“Nicolò.”

She was real. She was here. “How?” he asked.

“I have been saving,” she said proudly, all four foot eleven of her. “And I have been playing poker with my grandchildren.”

Nonna Luciana was a terrible poker player, and on the heels of that realisation he knew that his cousins had financed this trip.

“How did you get here?” It was a long, long flight for an eighty year old, who had never left Genoa, and probably had not had a passport until this trip.

“Gabriella is starting her studies at the University of Edinburgh this September.” Nonna Luciana rocked up on her toes. “I have come to help her…. How do you say it? Vet her apartments? This is not true as a fresh… fresher, she is in ‘halls’ for her first year. What your papà does not know, he does not know,” Nonna finished, proud at her fabrication.

“Gabriella is here?”

“And her twin brother, Dario, he is to study Medicine, like you.”

His favourite cousins—here in Scotland, and his Nonna? Nicolò could feel tears pricking at his eyes.

“Rouħi—” Yusuf slipped in beside him, and set a warm hand on the small of his back, “—are you going to keep your grandmother on the doorstep?”

“Oh!”

“Ah, and you must be Yusuf.” Nonna Luciana toddled into the flat as Nicolò stepped back. “My newest Grandson.”

fin

[misfirerules]

I think one of my favorite things about dratchet is that drift is super religious and well at least how i see it, ratchet isn’t a firm believer.

which i believe lead to interesting conversations.

✧༺♥༻∞

Drift nods, a fond smile spreading across his face. “Every night, I ask Primus to keep you safe, to give you strength. And, selfishly, I ask him to let us have more days together.”

Ratchet was intrigued by his statement. He clutched his chest, feeling the warmth his lover gives him. “Maybe there’s something to it, Huh,” Ratchet murmured, looking away.

Drift chuckled, nudging him lightly. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to convert you.”

Ratchet snorted, rolling his eyes. “Good. I don’t need converting.” But he was smiling, his hand still resting on Drift’s.

[gclden-paragon]

Still Here

Self-indulgent min-fic concerning Mandy + reuniting with her parents and siblings.

"A little closer, bunch up, bunch up!" Mandy followed orders from a stout man with thinning blonde hair without question. Though, she had to wonder where was that 'cool guy' her mother had fallen hard for. He had always been a bit corny and outdated. To hear Mom tell it though, he had been a bit of a wild man in their college years.

Could be a groupie's single-target infatuation talking, but his band never quite took off as he pictured. So, Mandy could only think it might have started as star-struck turned into genuine love and affection.

They had to love each other to have stuck it out this long, through him chasing various careers, nothing quite 'fitted'; and Mom decided to go back to school later on in life. Not to mention having twin boys spoke of something to how there was still a spark.

On either side of her, dark-haired teenagers nearly shoulder to her already. They are going to get so tall...lips tempted to twitch into a smug. All of her Dad's effort to convince Mandy to play sports and waiting for sons and not a one of them wanted to so much as touch a football, kick a goal or indulge in a round of hoops.

As they posed for pictures, Mandy couldn't help but let her eye wander to one brother than the other while their parents instructed Mandy, Sig and Max to turn their heads this way or that, sigh at one of them blinking mid-take and other things parents fuss over for portraits of their kids.

Max, she noticed, had an habit of tugging at his right earlobe. Right at a healed star-burst scar, from when his first ever girlfriend talked him into getting his ears pierced by her hand.

While the story of how he got it was embarrassing and invoked an exasperated "MOM, don't tell her that!". Max seemed proud of the mark, at least he parted his shoulder length hair to the side in order to show off that ear.

Remind me to introduce you to someone, if you guys are ever in California.

Did regret not asking Robert to come with her, but felt this reunion had to be about her, her parents and brothers. Introducing Robert Robertson in the same breath as stepping back into their lives might be too much.

Had honestly been surprised how...easy it was to be welcomed home. Well, to their new home at least. Mandy had always regretted forcing them to move, not reaching out to them, but SDN and the agency they had partnered with advised a complete cut-off.

No contact. It would be easier that way, make it sound urgent and believable.

Nevertheless, those two word haunted her, despite knowing it had to be done. Knew she had made the best decision at the time. Villains were not above going after blood relatives. The nastiest sort would even take glee in rooting out secret connections and utilizing.

Abruptly leaving with only men in black and flashing official enough looking badges to explain the situation was a tad extreme, but she wanted them far away from her new identity. As divorced from Mandy's new reality as possible.

She didn't even ask information on to 'where' they were being relocated to. Now, without her amulet had asked SDN to do her one more favor, give her the file on her family.

"Last one" their dad assured, meanwhile Mandy doubted that because his wife was frowning at the screen of her own phone, so any minute now Mary-Ann would pipe up and say she'd want to 'retake' a few of her own photos.

Before the flash, Mandy's hand on Sig's shoulder was forced to drop as the teenager pulled away.

"Okay, had enough, I'm going back in. Too damn cold out here"

"Ah come on, Sigmund!"

Mandy saw the boy bristle. "No. I'm out. Photoshop me in if you want."

Before anyone could protest, the younger twin had taken the steps two at a time and closed the front door.

-

Mandy gingerly closed the garage door, as if gently putting the barrier back up was going to make a dent in the noise rattling the insulated walls.

Maddox had wanted to share a new piece he was working on, having to interject drumlines with 'This is when the guitar is gonna come in...gotta work on this rhythm, but it's gonna be great!' and various other bits of music crafting Mandy didn't know a lick about but was impressed by.

After helping Maddox record and upload his new 'set' to his phone's social media accounts, Mandy excused herself since it seemed he was raring to practice some more. He was talented, but all of that was starting to give her a headache.

However, closing the door brought her into the heart of the kitchen, three sets of eyes on her, air weighted with an abrupt halt of a conversation.

Mandy knew that look, the subtle shift of gaze from one to another, wringing hands and awkward pressing of lips that clearly weren't done talking.

Had just walked in on her parents and Sig talking, probably about her.

"Oh...kay, I probably shouldn't ask, but what's going on? What were you guys talking about?"

"Nothing, well nothing you won't be able to walk away from."

"Sig!" the scandalized tone coming from her mother. Mandy had to admit that did sting.

Unable to help herself, Mandy rested a hand on her right hip, "Well, since I'm leaving tomorrow, might be better to talk about it now. I don't know when I'll see you guys again..."

"That's just the thing" Sig didn't give her time to go into her own spiel, seemingly having enough of this homecoming.

"Don't interrupt her..." her dad began, clearly trying to turn the tone of this confrontation into a civil discussion.

"Why not? She interrupted us! I don't remember the move, but I remember how you and Mom were! Mom had to quit her job, you had to take us across the country...and for...what? So she can fly around in tights and a mask?!"

Animated hands, gestures Mandy had seen in replays of her interviews, the ones that had made her nervous enough to break the bubbly yet competent exterior.

The teenager reeled back, clearing his throat as his voice had cracked a little in his haste and anger.

"You left us" it's an accusation.

"I know" Mandy had to force herself to fix her face into a neutral expression, blink away the start of tears.

"We don't even know if you're...really her. I want proof...something" Sig continued.

"You don't remember who I was back then, Sig" Mandy said as gently as possible.

"...how could I forget? Mom and Dad would talk about you. Dad..."he looked a bit pained to say it, but probably know it was too far gone, "Nearly got into trouble with the law multiple times because he...would go off the deep end sometimes. Conspiracy theories and thinking the government had kidnapped you!"

Mandy blinked, looking to her father who hung his head briefly in shame.

"Sigmund, please don't bring that up" Mom attempted to ease him back from a verbal ledge.

"Mom wasted our savings to hire a P.I to find you" apparently there was enough dirt to be flung around.

"It wasn't a waste..."

"We only saw her again because she can't fly, punch brick walls and whatever ELSE she could do! She came to us..." at this point his gaze was on her, steel gray like their mother's.

"Because she wants us to take her back."

Mandy watched Sig's bottom lip tremble, doubt clouding his eyes, clearly unsure if he wanted to go on or slip away to his room upstairs.

"You never left. Max and I didn't know you, but Mom and Dad made sure we never forgot about you. We still talked about you. Wondered where you were, how to get you...it was...a constant state of mourning, without a body, without someone to actually miss."

Now Mandy could see a near mirror-like shine of tears forming in his eyes, jawline tightened while Sig's face held onto some softness of baby fat, it was clear he was trying so hard to be the voice of reason in a family in the throes of sentimentality.

"And? If you do...get your powers back? Aren't you going to ghost us again? Linger around like you always have?"

Mandy wished she had answer for him. Now was grateful she hadn't asked Robert to join her on this little road trip. If this is how Sig reacted to finding out his sister had been Blonde Blazer, was this reluctant to welcome her back due to the absence and having to keep so many secrets, didn't want to think how he'd react to even a portion of her current life.

[pulchrasanguine]

Hearts in Check | Ming Xiao/Sebastian Lacroix (request by @kavalyera 🖤)

First one of my completed requests! Gonna be doing more soon :P

Word Count: 645

“You’ll never win” he rested his chin on his hand as his blue eyes shot through those that watched him with as much hatred as she could surmount. 

“That’s a foolish statement to say to an opponent. Do you kindred believe that is a valid strategy? Making simple claims and hoping that your words evoke hostility enough to disrupt my intelligence?”  Ming Xiao glared at him as his face curled into a smile. 

“I do love how you talk about my actions. Implying machinations that I would never dare… you should know me better by now,” Lacroix laughed as he moved back in his chair, swirling blood in a wine glass. His mind swirling with the thought of her. The power she exuded merely by the way she sat, the simple flicking of her wrist showing the authority she commanded, her dress so perfectly hiding the treasure kept away from his fangs. 

She moved her piece forward and tossed her hair in a single motion. Everything was calculated. Everything was perfect. She shifted in her chair, and her body seemed to drip with anticipation down from her chin, slinking down the lines of her neck and sneaking even deeper. Lacroix licked his lips, stifling the hunger. The gripping hunger that made him ache for control. To chain her, to keep her for his own, would be like nothing else. “Your move,” She uttered from her tender lips, keeping her eyes ever burning. Ming Xiao wouldn’t be kept by such a pathetic little man, but to see him struggle on the board and beneath her gaze was a sight to enjoy nonetheless. 

“Ah, so it is,” He coughed, curtly sinking his fangs back into the game. He set down the wine glass and pushed forward one of his rooks, overpowering her defenses as he crawled toward her. Stalking his prey and making his intentions known with no room for doubt. She scowled as she studied his movement on the board, his eyes expectant with a light of challenge. Ming Xiao let out a laugh as she leaned into her palm. Her attempts to cease the laughing were in vain as the dead Prince tried to push away the feelings from taking over his cheeks. “Is something particularly amusing?” He growled at her through his fangs. 

“No, no. This is just what I expected from a man like you. These games really do amuse one, don’t they? Showing what we are without any… barrier.” Ming Xiao continued through her laughter. She looked down at him, her eyes softening ever so slightly, “It’s almost intimate, really”. 

He furrowed his brow as he turned away from her. “I can be no man but the one that I am. You read into these things far more than any rational mind would.” The Prince scoffed. 

With a cracking sound, like lightning through a field, she grasped his neck. Her body pressed tight against his, her lips an inch away from his as her eyes burned even deeper into his. He grimaced at her as she tilted his jaw. For only their ears, she whispered, “Rational? That’s what you think you are?”. 

“I am”

She dragged her nails across the gentle flesh as she pulled closer, tempting him with a kiss of ruin. His eyes glowed a more vibrant electric blue as he shifted away from her. She heaved a breath, letting it gently ruminate on his lips. A promise of her touch. Of what she could give him if he would only be a good little pet. 

He grasped her waist, daring her to rise against the Prince. If she wanted damnation, if she wanted ruin, it would be his victory, not hers. She rocked her hips, and Lacroix glared deeper before he bit into her lower lip, seizing her kiss as a prize. 

Checkmate.