#sort of drabble

[thefirsteldenlord]

Godfrey treaded up the stairs from the lower floor of the Roundtable Hold with "precious" cargo in his arms. Quite large, precious cargo in fact, as Master Ordovis lay limp in his arms, seemingly unconscious. His arm dangled as his head was moved post-collapse to lean against Godfrey's shoulder. Meanwhile, Serosh sat on Godfrey's back looking as sorrowful as ever, making pitiful mewls and rumbles.

Godfrey heads towards Fia's quarters, finding no one home upon walking through the door. He approached the bed that was far too small for Godw- Ordovis's large body. Upon gently laying him down, he took a chair that stood not that far from the foot of the bed and propped his feet up. At least his feet weren't dangling awkwardly off the foot of the bed or just sitting on the floor.

Godfrey carefully took off Ordovis' mask completely so he could properly breathe. Seeing his full face quietly confirmed some suspicions The First Elden Lord had about this mysterious man. He carefully laid a hand on Ordovis' forehead to check his temperature. Unfortunately, Godfrey was no doctor, so if he detected that Ordovis was not well, he would need help.

[dumblydork]

Okay so this is something entirely new, and on the recommendation of a friend I'm posting this here! I know this is quite different from my usual one shots but I'd absolutely love it if you guys could interact with this as well! Reblogs mean the most but just seeing you guys like and comment is also just as nice :)

Put this in the perspective of a lovesick Harry and here you have a poetic Hinny fic! I hope you guys like it!

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Your sonnets are otherworldly, a fact you stand unaware of, evident in how you frown as your fingers drag the quill in soft, finishing strokes over some yellowing parchment. Almost nobody notices how your face contorts as you go through every single line of the sonnet, and it is sacrilege to the highest.

For your face turned up in concentration is magnificent, as if carved by a lover in a past life. Your steady, long fingers grip the silver quill with apprehensive purpose as they push and pull across the parchement, threading together words into universes.

Why is why I pray to everything holy that someday you wrap your fingers around me, and morph me into your silver feathered quill, so that I also utter the coruscating poetry you scribble in the margins of worn parchements, with a brow quirked up and lip turned down in a concentration heavier than rocks resting at the bottom of a vast ocean.

~~

So, please let me know how this sounds! As I said I'm also adding in some new tags so let's hope everyone out there enjoys this as much as I liked writing it!

I'm working on my Hinny one shots as well and I'll be posting them asap! Lots of love to everyone who interacts with what I post, it's the absolute world to me :))

[obiyukibinkysfanfiction]

Exercise

“Have you ever played basketball, Obi?” asked the hulk of a man who was the head of Security - Mitsuhide Rouen.

Obi sat in front of the monitors, not taking his eyes off them and nodded.

“What’s your level from a scale of passable high school skill to MJ?” he asked from next to Obi, behind the security desk as he began to chew on a sandwich.

Finally Obi looked away from the screen - knowing nothing would really happen if he looked away for a few seconds.

He raised an eyebrow at the blue haired man. “Why do you ask, Mister?”

Mitsuhide regarded Obi for a moment and saw a playful glint in his eye. “You’re good, aren’t you?”

Obi looked away with a smirk, his eyes going back to the monitor. He brought his hand up to loosen his tie a little but keeping it neat - he wasn’t used to wearing suits every day yet but he was sure he’d get the hang of it soon.

Obi knew that MItsuhide and Zen had a mixed basketball team and he also knew that his superior was going to ask him to play since he’d been hinting at it ever since he’d started the job.

That was a few months ago now.

“I’m not sure its my thing,” lied Obi with a shrug.

He was hoping to keep his distance with his work colleagues because he’d done that before and he got burned. Obi never made a mistake twice. Never.

“Are you sure because I thought I overheard Zen say that apparently you’re amazing at it,” spoke a soft voice from above them on the other side of the counter.

Obi looked up in surprise, remembering why the front desk shift was his favorite. He couldn’t help a smile begin to grace his lips without even meaning to.

“Good morning, Miss,” he said, trying to change the subject.

Knowing Shirayuki, this wouldn’t deter her one bit. Obi had learned that once she had something on her mind she would always follow through and she rarely forgot anything.

His eyes grazed over her form, noticing that she wore a short pencil skirt and a long sleeved, white blouse with skin colored stockings and stilettos. Her hair was up in a high pony tail, as it always was and he could see her key card was hanging from a blue lanyard and rested loosely between her breasts.

Obi looked away after a few seconds and met her excited eyes.

“You must play! Shiira was on the team but obviously for reasons he can’t now with the baby and everything but he was one of our best shooters,” she pouted.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re on the team, Miss?” he asked with surprise.

Come to think of it, Shirayuki did look quite zippy if he imagined her in sports clothes...usually he imagined her with no clothes so the thought had never crossed his mind.

She looked down at him with a smile. “I’m not that good but its exercise! And I’m all for exercise, Obi. Anyway, have a good day boys, I’ll see you around. Think about the team Obi! Go the Dolphins!”

Obi watched her walk off, unaware of Mitsuhide watching him with a knowing smirk on his lips.

“So, you’re in then.”

Obi didn’t hesitate this time, his eyes still on Shirayuki’s retreating backside.

“Yep.”

“Even with the team name being the Dolphins?”

“Yep.”

(ANOTHER PREQUEL TO “PLEASE DON’T SAY YOU LOVE ME” - OCCURS AFTER “SECURITY GUARD WANTED”)

[equalist-aquene]

Dark Cravings (idk maybe vampire amon or something? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

It had been another long training session. With so many new chi blocker wannabes to train Aquene didn’t think she’d ever recover her lost energy. One hot shower later and she was proved wrong.

As she headed out of the tunnels she felt a hand around her middle, and the next thing she knew was that she and the other were in a dark little alcove. Before she could even ask who it was she saw the mask.

Their leader, this enigmatic Amon that only came out once the sun way down. “S-Siiir?” She hadn’t meant for her voice to get so breathy, but feeling hot lips and the faint drag of teeth across her neck startled her.

She should be angry, scared even! Yet there was confusion and a definite hitch in her breathing when she felt it continue. It was in this confusion that her mind started to wander.

There were rumors Aquene recalled when she had first joined. This leader of their revolution only came out at night and shied away from the daylight. While she wasn’t one to listen to gossip she did realize that the rumors were true with him only being active at night.

The pinprick of fangs snapped her back to reality and an endorphin rush hit her so strongly that she felt her knees start to give. Had it not been for Amon holding her against the wall she would have fallen.

“What... what are you...?” she breathed. 

A blackness overtook her, and the next thing she knew she was coming to in her bed. Her hand flew up to her neck and the tenderness was still there.

Had it not been a dream?

[missmartianinvasion]

"Well you see him when you fall asleep, but never to touch and never to keep" || Open

The sound of a man singing reached M'gann's ear. She reached forwards pushing the small volume button upwards on the radio system. "Well you only need the light when it's burning low.. Only miss the sun when it starts to snow" Moving from in front of the radio, M'gann moved towards the kitchen. " Only you love him when you let him go.." M'gann sung from the kitchen, changing the words of the song ever so slightly.

Pausing in her singing she reached down to fish her phone out of her pocket. Opening the phone her fingers move pulling up her contacts. Her fingers hover the name 'He fucking hates me', she desperately wants to press the call button. Just to hear his voice, even if it was just his voicemail she got. Sighing she runs her free hand through her hair.

"No..I can't call him. He doesn't want anything to do with me..a call from me would just burden him." Slowly she closes the purple phone and sets it down on the counter. Leaving the kitchen M'gann moves back to the living room. Taking a deep breath she starts singing with the song once more. "I see him when I close my eyes, Maybe one day I'll understand why everything... I touch surely dies. But I only need the light when it's burning low. Only miss the sun when it starts to snow, Only know I love him when I let him go"

As she sings her footsteps barely touched the ground as she moves from the living room to her bedroom. For some reason, she just didn't have it in her to float around her little apartment right now. She comes to a stop before her dresser and stares down at his picture. As she sings the part about letting him go she slams down the picture so that his face is no longer looking at her.

A few moments later a loud sob springs from her lips. Once the first one escapes for her lips, she can't stop. As she sobs her body shakes with shivers, as she trying to hold it in. She covers her mouth with her hand, but it doesn't silence her cries. Rushing out of her room, she returns to the kitchen to her phone. She opens it and scrolls through the contacts till she spots the first one that isn't him and is a friend. She needed someone to talk to about anything, she needed a distraction.

[thewaitingshadow]

The way I see it, Pitch has four modes of being- Prideful, Desperate, Cautious, and Cowardly. When his is winning, he is prideful, bragging. When it isn't so sure, he is desperate to get back on top, employing any method he can. When he's unsure of where the advantage is, he is cautious, almost respectful. And when his defeat is certain, he is cowardly. There is no question of what he's like when there is no fight, because in Pitch's mind, he's always against someone.

In addition to that, he has three types of attitudes toward people- Respectful, Friendly, or Antagonizing. Antagonizing is for the people he thinks himself better than, messing with them and their fears for amusement because they're not useful for anything else. Friendly is for people level with him, because he's either convincing them to be on his side, or leaving the possibility open for later. For Pitch to be Respectful is very rare indeed, since it indicates that he thinks this person is better than he is. He is polite, almost reverent, to those in a higher position. Note: This in no way means he isn't plotting something behind your back to drag you lower.

[thegoldendaughter]

You belong with me.

Her face fell at hearing Bofur's words, his grip on her arm firm but shakeable and yet she could not seem to pull herself free. She had been so angry with him for interrupting her, and then having the audacity to lecture her on proper behaviour on the road when she was a princess (though Thorin and other unmarried members had often found company at the inns and taverns they stopped at) that several times during the exchange Fili had nearly struck him. However, when she decided it was best to leave him to his idiocy knowing that it was fuelled by jealousy that only added to her frustration over the fact he refused to make an attempt to reciprocate her affections because he felt as though it dishonoured his long dead wife. 

She disagreed with him, thinking that if his wife had been the good woman that he made her out to be she would not have wished him to live in misery and loneliness - even if he could not remarry, as according to Dwarf custom - but then whenever the thought would cross Fili's mind she would scold herself for sounding so childish and selfish. On numerous occasions she had acted like a fool because of her feelings for Bofur and each time he had rebuffed her advances, and when he had spoken those four words at first she was not sure if she should believe him.

Slowly, she turned, looking to the elder Dwarf who looked as tired and as frustrated as she felt, and something inside of her crumbled. Ever since she was a child she had adored him, had admired Bofur for his kindness and the way he seemed to always have an eye out for her while tolerating her often times stubborn behaviour. He had always been able to make her smile (before their previous conversation regarding their feelings for one another) and it was a need she felt in her very bones to have him be that person again. With a sound rather like a gasp, Fili gave in, and all but tackled him against the corridor wall of the shoddy inn for an embrace as she buried her face in his neck.

[originalkorea]

As a general rule, Yong Soo had learned to expect nothing from the world. He was far more opened to it than others. For a minute there, too, his expectations had been exceeded; however, even then, though others my try they usually unintentionally make things worse for him. It was just best to expect nothing.

After he saw them, in his usual fashion of unannounced comings and goings, he had made an abrupt departure from Belarus. He did not feel like seeking solace at home and... other than that,  at the moment he felt like he had no where else to go. 

Naturally, then, he'd end up in some providence in Manchuria at some small bar; quietly drinking to himself. He had been there since the beginning of the evening and planned to be there for a time.

It was best to do his best for others and expect nothing, but it didn't make it any less disappointing when he got nothing.