Anyway this is a lil’ fluff drabble I made for @warrentrolls as a late birthday gift. Hope you like it Bunny!!!
The autumn rain drums outside your hive, the sound of drops tapping against the window drowned out by the movie going on inside. The title is long, but it stars Troll Chris Hemsworth, and a cabin in the woods. It’s a horror movie a buddy recommended, and Lacain, the guest of your humble abode, seems to like it too. He’d seemed hesitant, but the cruddy selection otherwise made him cave.
As soon as you had found out he was coming down for some planet leave, you had jumped at the chance for some time together. You’d been enjoying the online calls and the chatting. Playing Oubliettes and Wyverns (where he’d have to leap to rescue you from your chaotic neutral shenanigans again and again) over call was a particular delight. For you, though? Nothing beat physical contact. Having your arm slung over him and feeling him laugh or shudder as different scenes in the movie unfolded was an irreplacable experience. Even the feeling of metal against your skin was fine. You’d made a sort of hobby out of learning the layout of the mechanical parts, like some sort of road map.
When the two of you first started planning, he’d been talking about if you wanted to go do something special; go to the cinema, check out the bookstore, go to some kind of park. Eventually, though, you both decided it’d be nicer to just spend time together by chilling at your hive. You figured he in particular wouldn’t have the energy to go all over town, poor guy.
Another fun part of having him close was the chattering. You both kept your filters off for the movie, cracking jokes about not opening doors, splitting up obviously being a correct choice. Was the huge monster eating one of the characters a mood? Yes, of course. After the movie, it just kept going. Talking about his work, the new movies, a new album from his favorite band, some secret oversharing about your characters because man is it easy to let things slip when you’re talking face-to-face. The level of intricity he put in his characters always amazes you.
“Man, I missed you like hell,” you eventually admit with a laugh, grabbing him in a big hug. He’s tense for a brief moment, but you know it’s nothing personal. If anything, it makes it all the more special when he puts his arms around you and hugs you back.
Wanted to do a final drable about how much Shucri loves her friends fgkdkg
Shucri danced around her shitty apartment with the glee of a child. The decorations she was throwing on her walls were cheap as dirt, but the small lights and paper snow flakes on the walls still very much did the job; The rooms did get a much nicer atmosphere. Her favorite parts - and probably the epitome of hubris - was the great amount of candles she’d put out to bathe the entire hive in a warm glow. To accompany it, her TV was playing one of those hearth fire loops, crackling softly.
Occasionally, she dipped away from the decorating to check her stove - the only high-quality thing in her hive, which was part of why she got the apartment in the first place - to make sure all the food and sweets she was preparing was in good condition. Turkey, baked veggies, butterscotch, of course some tofu stuff for the two pickier eaters she was expecting... It was a miracle she was balancing it all.
So time-consuming was it that before she had even finished up the hive, her first guest was at the door. Corona, one hand clutching an expensive-looking bottle of champagne, basically flung herself into the lowblood’s open arms. The two cheered at each other, chattering away about the season and the little get-together that was planned. When Corona noticed the mistletoe Shucri had hung - a clever ruse that she’d prepared as an excuse to kiss her lovely friends - they exchanged cheek pecks while she playfully called the redblood out, heading inside.
It wasn’t soon after Corona had made herself comfy in one of the big bean bag chairs, taking it upon herself to upgrade Shucri’s playlist with more sweet music, when the next guest arrived. Medwin, monkey on his shoulder, slipped under the low door frame, barely getting inside before Shucri jump-hugged him. They both laughed, keeping the hug going for a good amount of time before he smooched her forehead and let her down. Whether he had gone out of his way to visit for the holiday, or just passed through, Shucri was still thrilled to see her pale-crush here at just the right night.
“Careful not to burn anything,” she jokingly reminded him; He had already begun lighting whisps of fire to flex his regained pyrokinetics. She flicked a wisp at him, which he caught and returned, the two ping-ponging fire as Corona watched in delight at the light show.
The game was interrupted soon after so that Shucri could finish up the butterscotch and leave it to cool off. And so, it was with mitts still on that she clumsily opened the door for the second-to-last guest. When she had first offered Eshadi to swing by for the get-together, it had been an impulse, a way for them to get to know each other better outside the store. In retrospect, a bit bold, but it payed off! Sadly, the friend they had mentioned wasn’t present, something she chose not to push about, just in case. After accepting a wrapped up vegetarian caserole the anon had been kind enough to bring, Shucri motioned for them to come inside. When they pointed out the mistletoe, it almost surprised the redblood. Yet, she was happy to respond, placing a quick, ranchy peck right on the lips. Scandalous. They both laughed and exchanged flirtatious winks, Shucri’s covered eyes non-withstanding. The sentiment was still there.
The following hour was nothing but pleasant chatting between everyone. Sometimes, food had to be attended, but otherwise Shucri was essentially soaking in the company like a sponge. A few jokes about Corona’s excessive glim here, an overdramatic fanfare for the ball queen there. Some nudging at Medwin, who seemed to zone out from time to time, as if in deep thought.
People were picking food, when the door bell finally rung again. Shucri whipped around and shot like an arrow. Lacain had barely had the chance to start profusely apologizing for his lateness before Shucri scooped him up and kissed him over the cheek several times over. “It’s fine, it’s fine!!” she repeated any time he tried to explain the late ship landing or the extra work they’d asked of him, “I’m just glad you’re here!” When she’d heard he would get planet-leave just in time for the passing of the new sweep, Shucri had basically grabbed him up right away, inviting him to come. It had taken a bit of coercion, but eventually she’d convinced him he would be more than welcome. And so, he was pulled inside, being introduced to the group as “this cutie” (much to his bashful embarrassment). It took some serious warming up, but eventually he began talking to the rest, too, trying Eshadi’s caserole with surprising delight. It made for a good ice breaker.
More hours ticked by. Corona talked about the Yule Till Dusk event, telling about the fun drunks she’d talked to, the music she’d been playing. Eshadi told about the ball, who none of the others had been able (or wanted, in some cases) to attend, and then shared some fun stories of kids hoping to buy cursed swords.... Which Lacain had seemed a bit curious about. The sword part, at least. Shucri was all over, talking about this and that. Someone pointed out the mistletoe being a few nights late, but she snickered and gave an innocent shrug. Guess she just forgot to take it down. She’d be exhausted tomorrow, but having her friends together like this - not to mention sharing her myriad of deserts with them - was so worth it. Especially since her cruddy toaddad had never been good at celebrations. This was one of the first times she’d properly celebrated the passing of a sweep, so doing it with these people was a huge improvement.
Finally, the final hour came. An imperially mandated speech was broadcasted through the streets, something that was met with a jacking-off or blabbing gesture by most of the people in the room. Then, fireworks began to go off outside, pangs of color lighting the sky like a christmas tree. It was with that back-drop that everyone raised a glass of Corona’s champagne, anywhere between a quiet smile to loud hoops and hollers as the timer slowly ticked down. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...
“Happy new sweep!!” They all sang aloud in a chorus! To Shucri, at least, this would be one of her best new sweep eve’s.
> You launch yourself from a roof top, catching yourself at the edge of the next and dragging yourself up to keep a quick pace. The hives here are pretty spaced out, but you think that if you just keep a high speed, it should be enough to-
> Nnnope. You slip, and your hand doesn’t reach the edge of the next building. Gritting, you slam into a wall and bounce down into a bin of mercifully soft trash.
“SON OF A- OUCH! FUCK!”
> Crawling out of the trash, you sincerely hope nobody saw that nasty blunder.
Continuing Inktober for writers with a drabble for Shucri.
Shucri loved her powers for a lot of reasons. To an onlooker, she was excited to spit fireballs and unleash infernos able to turn enemies to overcooked crisps. That was, admittedly, a sweet part of the gig, but Shucri had a lot of other reasons to love her powers.
There was also something to be said for the way fires hopped off her body while she danced, as if she had staged pyrotechnics working for her 24/7. The way the flames leaped off her and broke harmlessly against Corona and Mairei, the pair flanking her for a perhaps-not-entirely sober game of Let's Dance #10984, feeling more like a warm breeze than the actual fire that licked them. It was so gentle, so safe.
Really, though, what she usually found herself circling back to when thinking of her powers? The reason people liked her hugs; The reason she loved laying on top of Medwin when he borrowed her powers; The reason that when the trio were all tired from their dancing and laughing off the buzz in their heads, Mairei and Corona laid down on one of the bean bags, with Shucri at the bottom to serve as radiator during the cold autumn rain outside.
The reason Shucri called herself Alternia's number one snuggle bug, and the absolute best part of her psionics, was the warmth.
Continuing the Inktober for writers with a drabble for Shucri.
Flame pulsates from your hands in tune to the music. Each circle outwards is shaped the same, save for another imperfection being shaved away. Once the flame strikes the warehouse concrete, the entire circle disperses, leaving behind only the smell of burnt cement. You finally have something to clearly focus on, after a hectic night.
There’s something amusing about this. You find yourself calmed by standing in a dry warehouse, all by yourself, much more than your lusus ever has. Fat bastard; If he ever noticed you being tired or upset, he did not care. Having his tongue almost hit you never did anything to calm your nerves, either.
“Food...” he’d croak, cave shuddering as he moved. It did not matter if you came hive alone or with friends, happy or sad. All that mattered was that now you had to go out into the marsh and find another beast to take down, and that sure as hell wasn’t easy, back when your offense consisted of some rocks and a good throwing arm. You’d be gone for hours, but did that matter? No! He’d just slurp up the catch and shift enough for you to squeeze past into the moist, foul cave. Not even a goddamn word of thanks!
You open your eyes. Despite frustration oozing through you, you’ve maintained the pattern of flame steadily pulsating from you. You have all the control, and his memory has no sway. “Who needs him?” You don’t, that’s for sure.
Send ‘Flashback’to see one of my muse’s old memories
You take a deep breath, trying to vizualise your energy gathering in your body, slooowly flowing to your hand. You steady your breath for the third time this attempt, too nervous to keep it naturally regular. Let it flow out, and then kinda... Push it? “HA!” you exclaim, and from your hand errupts... A single ember, one which dies a second later.
Laughter errupts from the crowd of friends watching your attempt, clapping ranging from sympathetic to teasing. Some yell that it’s too hot, while others say they blinked it and missed it.
You slump in disappointment, frowning at your hand, when one of the guys gives your shoulder a nudge, “It wasn’t too bad, sugar! At least you’re creating some fire by now. Are you doing the breathing excercise I told you to do?”
“I am!” you lie. You would do them, but that’s a full hour you can spend doing something else, like jamming to music, or running with friends. “Anyway, you suuure it works for me too? Just ‘cuss we both do temperature doesn’t mean we work the same.”
“Fuck if I know. I’m just trynna help you figure your shit out, sugar. Now, c’mon and try again. Remember, focus aaaall of your energy to your palm. Like this.” A small blast of cold air whirls from his palm and blows in your face. You snort at him and shove him back to the stairs to sit with the others.
“SHU-CRI, SHU-CRI, SHU-CRI!” they chant as you try again. Gather it to your palm...
