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#twc prompts
smittenbypoetry · 10 months
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Poetry Game!
June 2023 Edition:
The rules are as follows: Write an eleven line poem. Each respective line includes, but is not limited to, the following in order:
1. Must start with the word: Within 2. Poppies 3. A lark 4. Must start with: I 5. Free line, use however you like 6. A number 7. Something that refers to aviation 8. Any mythological creature 9. Any of the Seven Sins 10. Free line, use however you like 11. Repeat line 4
Have fun!
Tag your poem #smittenbypoetrygame, and I will reblog it here. Be sure to use one of the first five tags to do this, else there’s a chance it won’t show up when I search for it. If I haven’t reblogged your poem within 24 hours, please send me a message and I’ll add it to the queue.
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evilbunnyking · 2 months
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I can't remember if we've talked about this before (I think maybe we have but my brain is mush), but inspired by the patreon post today, what are Tobi's wants, needs, and dreads from Adam.
You are wonderful, and thanks for asking this, because I think I have done something like this but it wasn't specifically to do with Adam so I had to do it again (You gotta answer for Ethan again for me if you don't mind? ♥️♥️♥️)
For Tobi--
Wants: for Adam to stop running from him like he's got cooties or something- jk. He wants Adam to trust him, really, as he trusts Adam. He wants Adam to use his name not his title (Adam is the only one Tobi can stand to call him 'Tobias', it just hits different)
Needs: you're not alone in this. Needs Adam's shoulder bumping into his, needs hand squeezes and companionable silences, and sitting on a boat at anchor while Tobi fishes and Adam reads, sat in full sunlight in a baseball cap and sunglasses with his hand on Tobi's thigh.
Dreads: the ultimate ghosting: Adam leaves without even a letter, Tobi finds him, sick with worry, to find it was a choice - the coward's way out. It's too much, what Adam feels, he can't - he won't - do it anymore, and so he shuts down, shuts Tobi out, and goes. I think that would be more painful than if he lied that their love didn't matter - that silence, that absence?? He dreads both, that it would be both, but it's the silence the most.
It's Tobi's dread of this, though, that would stop him allowing himself to let Adam in too close. Tobi isn't actually all that freely trusting/reckless with his heart. He's pretty closed off, actually - one of the people who smile and ask questions and seems friendly that you eventually realise you know little about. He and N share that in common, haha. He's perfectly happy unrequitedly pining, thank you, so if Adam plays the hot/cold with him, he's backing off. If it gets too intense despite his efforts, he's requesting a transfer, or as I've said so many times before - he's just gonna sail away hahaha
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trrashbag · 1 year
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New year, new... car? @wayhavenfrights day 1: dawn!
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delucadarling · 3 days
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Hi! From the prompts, 'reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it' for Barbie and Ava? If it works better for a different pairing, that's fine too, of course. I hope you'll have fun writing
(also, I am *thinking* about the ask you sent! It's such a good one)
Oho okay this is actually very very fun for me, because I love playing Barbie as having no goddamn clue she's attracted to women AND men. She doesn't recognize her attraction to women as attraction, she just assumes she wants to be Very Good Friends with women she's interested in.
Meanwhile, Ava gets hit by that love at first sight shit and doesn't know how to deal with the woman she's in love with...being entirely fucking oblivious. It should make things easier. Should :3b
(book 3 spoilers ahoy)
***
The sun is barely peering through the trees as the SUV pulls back in front of the warehouse. Everyone is dead silent, whether lost in thought or just tired from a night of hard work, Barbie can't be sure. She's not sure where she falls on that spectrum either. Morgan's out the door first, dragging Kira along after her.
"Wait!" Kira laughs. Morgan does not, so Kira turns back and says, "Good night, Babs!"
"I think we know who's going to have the best night out of all of us," Farah says wryly. The burst of levity brings a smile to Barbie's face, despite her fatigue.
"I'm just grateful my room is on the opposite end of the hallway to Kira's," Barbie says with a shake of her head. Nate groans, sinking into the passenger seat.
"I share a wall," he says, already defeated. With the sigh of a man facing a firing squad, he unfolds himself from the vehicle to head inside, Farah rabbiting off after him.
Ava has still yet to say a word or so much as move her hands off the steering wheel. For a long moment the only sound is the tick tick tick of the engine cooling down. Her broad shoulders are rigid, tight. Worse than they were during the odd conversation they had before the auction.
"Ava?" Barbie asks. Ava's shoulders inch up. "Are you-"
"I'm fine," Ava interrupts with a bark. She inhales, chest expanding, then lets out a slow breath. "You should get some rest. It has been a very long night."
"Yes," Barbie agrees, sliding across the seat to step out of the SUV. Ava follows suit, falling into step as Barbie picks her way across the path. Kicking off her broken heels had seemed prudent during the auction, but her tender feet are telling her she should have, perhaps, found replacement shoes. Her dress is barely holding together either. Oh well, it's not like Unit Bravo will mind her ragged appearance.
Though, now that she's thinking about that, Ava won't look at her. Barbie doesn't mind a lack of eye contact, but it's very unlike Ava, who seems to find reasons to stare at Barbie every time they're in a room together. She's not being ignored though, that much is clear as Ava stays at Barbie's side when they enter the inviting arms of the warehouse.
Her silent escort doesn't pause when they reach Barbie's room, catching the door and following her in. Barbie can't help a laugh.
"I'm going to take a shower now," Barbie says. Ava blanches. For all her bluster and stoicism, Ava has proven remarkably prudish. It's cute, and Barbie can't help poking at her for it. "You're welcome to join me."
"Excuse me?" Ava sputters. Barbie laughs again.
"No, no, I'm sorry. I meant you could wait in the bathroom while I shower, if you'd like." When Ava doesn't manage another word, Barbie tilts her head. "I assume you wanted to talk? Or chastise me. Either can be done just as well while I clean myself up."
"I suppose that would be the efficient thing," Ava says, sounding impatient. "But no, I would rather...No."
"Alright, then whatever you have to say will have to wait," Barbie says, turning away on the spot, a pang of disappointment hitting her behind the ribs for some reason.
"Wait!" Ava calls. When she turns back, Ava's hand is hovering in midair, half limp, uncertain. Barbie doesn't know why, but she reaches out and takes it, swallowing hard. Ava's hands are wide and strong, but remarkably soft. Almost as much as Barbie's.
For a moment Ava sways on the spot, her piercing green eyes shining with something like agony as she looks at Barbie. It's the same look she'd given her when she begged Barbie not to go to the auction.
"Are you...are you alright?" Barbie asks, barely managing a hoarse whisper as her pulse rushes in her ears. She doesn't love to be touched, with few exceptions, but this isn't disgust or discomfort, no matter how tight the vice around her heart is.
Taking a ragged breath, Ava nods. Then, she does the oddest thing. She lifts Barbie's hand and brushes her lips over the knuckles, split from her adventure in the auctioneer's dungeon.
"Forgive me," Ava says, a bare whisper blowing over her lightly moistened skin. She drops Barbie's hand with care and backs away. "I should go."
"You could stay," Barbie offers, aching for Ava to accept. Ava's jaw, strong and defined, works hard.
Then she leaves, closing the door behind her.
Confusion knits itself with Barbie's brows, her mouth twisting as she tries to figure out what just happened. What's wrong with Ava?
What's wrong with her chest?
A long hot shower soothes the odd palpitations, even if Barbie's mind remains in a whirl.
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wayhavenfrights · 2 years
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Wayhaven Frights Prompt List
Day 1: Dawn ---- Day 2: Omen
Day 3: Bitten ---- Day 4: Denial
Day 5: Banshee ---- Day 6: Deception
Day 7: Damned ---- Day 8: Caged
Day 9: Mercy ---- Day 10: Ashes
Day 11: Shattered ---- Day 12: Weeping Willow
Day 13: Sacrificial Lamb ---- Day 14: Venom
Day 15: Chills ---- Day 16: Thrills
Day 17: Destruction ---- Day 18: Beg
Day 19: Alive ---- Day 20: Breathe
Day 21: White Noise ---- Day 22: Disease
Day 23: Buried ---- Day 24: Escape
Day 25: Cowardice ---- Day 26: Entice
Day 27: Creepy Crawlies ---- Day 28: Doppelganger
Day 29: Hex ---- Day 30: Candy
Day 31: Massacre
Bonus Prompts: (these are prompts which can replace any of the above should you wish to skip a prompt)
1) Starlight ---- 2) Revenge ---- 3) Jinx
4) Stranger ---- 5) Havoc---- 6) Stealth
* * * * *
Please don’t forget to check our rules and tag us in all your creations~ @wayhavenfrights or #wayhavenfrights
Have a fabulous, scary October, everyone ~! 🎃
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mkaugust · 1 year
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My scars out there are display
An advertisement of my past and present pain.
I'm told they are not noticeable.
They shrink with each passing day.
Lines fading away.
-
But I still see it,
Harsh and red,
Every time I glance in a mirror.
It's there.
--
No one else can see my pain?
Maybe that is why I'm not believed.
Flashing neon lights
Tattooed on my neck
And invisible
To all but me.
---
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queen-scribbles · 3 months
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oooh how about 9 and/or 11 for AJ? your choice if she's with Nate or Adam ;3
9. listening to the other's heartbeat [AJ/Nate] (11 is here with Adam) This is somewhere post-book 3 and definitely pushes toward spicy.
---
It was good, in their line of work, to take peaceful moments when you could get them.
And it didn't get much more peaceful than this one, right here. Abigail smiled, half asleep, as she ran her fingers through Nate's hair. Usually when they cuddled she wound up using him as a pillow, but the reverse was equally grand, she had to admit. The comfortable weight of his head on her chest, arms loosely around her waist, breathing deep and steady like he was about to fall asleep...
She gave a small, contented sigh and traced her fingers along the shell of his ear, down his jaw, then resumed running her fingers through his hair. Lazy, repetitive strokes, nails just grazing his scalp.
Nate made a sound almost like her cat used to upon finding a particularly glorious sunbeam. "I don't think I'll be moving all day..." he mumbled, tipping his head to brush kiss against her chest, just above the neckline of her cami.
Abigail bit her lip, toes curling. "Me, neither. Good thing we have it off, yeah?"
"Mm." He brushed another kiss, light as butterfly wings, just next to the first. "What are you thinking about, ya rouhi?"
"A few things." She hummed as a third kiss followed. "That this is so perfect I'm almost worried I'm dreamin'..."
"Don't say that, we'll wake up," Nate laughed softly.
He matching laugh cut off as the fourth kiss fell in line with the hollow of her throat, her fingers clenching. "...how much I love your hair, it's so soft, and it looks grand grown out..."
He chuckled and continued feathering kisses against her skin. "Noted."
"...an' if you're tryin' t' kiss all m'freckles, it might take a bit longer than an eternity, yeah?"
"For you, AJ, I have that time and more." He reached the far edge of her neckline and shifted slightly higher to start working his way back across with languid kisses to her collarbone punctuating the rest of his words. "And I am a very... patient... man."
"Nate..." Abigail exhaled a shuddering breath and bit her lip, heart hammering in her chest. "Your- Your turn, a chuisle." She ran her fingers through his hair. "What're you thinkin' about?"
"You," Nate replied without hesitation, lifting his head to meet her gaze. The flitters of sunlight turned his brown eyes almost golden and she didn't think she'd seen a more beautiful sight. "How happy I am with you. Content. Settled."
She smiled and reached to smooth a lock of hair hanging in his eyes. "Y' definitely seemed 'bout ready to drift off a moment ago."
"Your heartbeat makes a very soothing lullaby, Abigail." Smug mischief filled his eyes and he dipped his head to kiss the hollow of her throat. "Usually."
Abigail bit her lip harder, arching slightly as her fingers slid through his hair to clench at the nape. "Are you tryin' to fluster me, Agent Sewell?"
Nate chuckled against her skin and she was sure the effect on her heartbeat would deepen that smug look of his. "Now, Agent Jenings, why on earth would I do something like that?"
Her breath caught as he started kissing up her throat. "I... I can think of a few reasons--" A gasping whine when he reached the corner of her jaw. "Nate..."
He lifted his head, giving her a dazzling faux-innocent smile. "Yes, Abigail?"
She didn't so much nudge as yank him in for a kiss by the hand clenched in his hair.
Nate hummed in equal want, equal need as he leaned into it. One arm pressed against the bed, the other hand cradling her jaw, thumb brushing gentle arcs on her cheek.
Abigail's free hand roamed, clutching handfuls of his t-shirt, his arm, before pushing against the mattress to lever herself up until Nate caught on and let her roll them to reversed positions.
Her hair hung in a fiery curtain around them when she finally pulled back. "I love you."
"And I love you," Nate murmured, tucking one side of her hair behind her ear, but leaving the other as a divider from the world.
She leaned close to whisper, "How's my heartbeat now, a chuisle?"
"Intoxicating," he breathed, the single word hitching with challenge, with want, with something deeper. His fingers teased under the hem of her top, sending a shiver up her back.
"Yeah?" Abigail murmured, pressing a kiss just in front of his ear. With her hand braced on his chest in their new position, she could feel the equally madcap rush of his heart, and had to agree with him. It was a heady feeling, knowing you could do that to someone.
"Am I wrong?" His teasing was still slightly breathless as he toyed with her curls.
"Far from it." She kissed the corner of his jaw, felt his heart skip a beat, and it was her turn to smile smugly as she kissed down his jawline. One consequence of vampire superhealing was she couldn't give him hickeys like he occasionally littered across her skin, which was horribly unfair but didn't stop her from trying. She detoured to kiss the juncture of his jaw and neck.
"Ya rouhi-" The words cut off on a gasp. "AJ."
She lifted her head and gave him a faux-innocent smile of her own. "Yes, Nate?"
He stared at her for a moment, lips parted as if about to speak, then pulled her in for a deep, crushing kiss and rolled them back to their original position. "You are a marvel." Kissed her again. "A wonder." Kissed the hollow of her throat, her fingers back in his hair. "Everything." Kissed right at the neckline of her cami and she'd suddenly never wanted to remove an article of clothing more.
A far cry from the peaceful languor of a few minutes ago, but you wouldn't hear her complaining, not in a million years.
As if he'd read her thoughts, Nate slid up the lower edge of her shirt to kiss her stomach.
Abigail whined, arching into it as he ran his mouth along the edge of her ribcage, feathering kissed over her freckles. "Nate-!"
She dragged him up into another kiss; desperate, fierce, even as, by unspoken accord, they each pulled at the other's shirt. They broke the kiss for only a moment to discard the garments before Nate's fingers were tangled in her hair and Abigail's were clutching the back of his neck, drawing each other in for more--
And more, and more, until she was clinging to him and shaking like a leaf in a storm, mouth open in a near-silent cry of his name while he tried--and failed--to muffle his of hers against her neck.
They all but melted back into the pillows, a heap of contentment, panting breaths, and pounding hearts.
Nate gave a breathless laugh." Well, that was..."
"Grand," Abigail finished, slipping one hand between her chin and his chest. "Yeah?"
"Absolutely," he said with a wide smile, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "And now, I think we get to the resting part of our plan that was so delightfully" --he ran his fingers down and back up her spine with a touch so light it made her shiver--"interrupted."
"Also grand," she murmured. He did make a wonderful pillow and she could feel herself drifting. She kissed the center of his chest and settled with his heartbeat in her ear.
As it slowed, she had to agree with his earlier sentiment--that did make a very soothing lullaby.
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do-this-for-me · 10 months
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10 from the fluffy prompts for ava and ysla pls 👀
yes hi hello <3 I could not resist jumping on the "call A Commanding Agent du Mortain" bandwagon
10. “Oh stop pouting, I’m coming.” - Ysla x Ava
Rating: teen + up Pairing: Ysla x Ava Word count: 767
As the Trapper fell to the ground, groaning in pain from the electric discharge of her Volt gun, Ysla noticed the glint of a modern, black device slipping from his pocket onto the forest floor. Bending at the knees, she crouched down to retrieve the device just as a voice rang out.
“We’re done here, everyone regroup now!”
Ignoring the voice she recognised all too damn well from her useless brain replaying it over and over again, she picked up the device and turned it over in her hand. It was a small, hexagonal object, all black, smooth lines and glossy, reflective surface. On one side was an entry port, likely to recharge it – whatever its purpose was.
“Detective!” the voice called out again, sharp and authoritative.
She gritted her teeth. She looked at the device once more, its inky black surface unresponsive to any stimulation, and pocketed it before standing back up. She walked slowly, taking her time to rejoin with Unit Bravo, pondering about the potential uses of such a device. The four vampires were waiting for her. In the middle of the clearing, arms crossed and lips pinched in disapproval, Ava painted an eerie mirror of her attitude back when they’d just met, before everything. Just like that, they were back to square one.
“Jeez,” Ysla muttered, “she can stop pouting, I’m coming.”
They all heard her, as demonstrated by Morgan’s snicker, Farah’s slightly tensed smile, Ava’s deepening scowl and Nat’s concerned glance towards the team leader. Ysla shoved her hands in the pockets of her trousers, her fingers brushing against the smooth device.
“Anything to report?” Nat asked, taking a step forward.
“Other than this guy should be out for a while, no.” Ysla replied, jerking her head towards where she came from.
Morgan’s eyes shifted to her, then to Ava, but a slight nudge from Farah shut off anything she might have wanted to say. Golden eyes found Ysla’s, a frown darkening them minutely.
“If you three are done, or would like to include us in your conversation,” Ava began tersely.
“Let’s make sure these Trappers don’t go too far.” Nat interjected before the tension could rise any further.
“Sure, maybe we could even have done that before regrouping, you know, might have saved time spent uselessly.” Ysla replied, unable to hold back the bite of her tone.
“Perhaps you would like to take the lead of this team, Detective.” Ava snapped.
“Oh I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of the one thing you can lord over our heads.” she retorted, heat rising to her throat like acid, burning every word until they shot out of her mouth like blazing bullets. “And it’s Agent Kingston to you, Commanding Agent du Mortain. You would do best not to forget it.”
Ava stepped back, her eyes widening ever so slightly as if Ysla had slapped her. Ysla turned away, marching back towards where her Trapper had fallen, trying to ignore the way her heart constricted in her chest. It was for the best, she told herself. It was what Ava wanted, wasn’t it? “I can’t allow you to fall in love with me.” After everything they’d done. After all the glances, the repressed touches, after seizing every occasion to be near her, to protect her, after all her heart-rending words – “tu omnia”, “losing you would ruin me” – after everything, still they couldn’t, because Ava wouldn’t. But Ysla wanted, wanted so desperately to be allowed this, to be allowed them. Ava’s denial hurt all the more when she knew they both wanted it, when she knew how badly it hurt them both.
Her hands found the strange device in her pocket, and fished it out. Her heart ached. She had no idea what the object could even do, but her mind, angry and hurt, dreamed of a remedy. Magic could do so much when combined with technology; could it repair the hollow dug deep in her heart? Every memory of their time together, every flash of icy green eyes, every word spoken was as many strikes to the pit that had grown in her soul. She cursed her memory, her brain that had served her so long in its dedication to committing to memory every single detail of everything she cared about, engraving on her being the dimples in Ava’s cheeks, the shades of her eyes like an evergreen forest shifting under the sun, the breathless rush of her voice as it wrapped around her name in desperation.
What if magic could erode Ava from her heart?
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herdarkangel · 2 months
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//I saw your face before//the sun//came up to crown you//and it was then I knew true peace. //
//You've blessed the sunrise//with your presence//and honor me with the//restful cadence of your breath. //
//If my heart could feel any fuller, //I might burst. //But if I go, //may the heavens grant me a moment//to behold your radiance once more. //
//For now, I will kiss you awake, //my beloved. //A brush of lips to each cheek//and one to your nose//as a thank you//for letting me awake inhaling your expelled//breaths. //
-K. Alecia | The Morning After, 16 January 2024
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dasburnfrau · 7 months
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From the kiss prompts here, requested by @evilbunnyking -- part 1.
"...your A mancer Mary Elizabeth for 12 'a hoarse whisper, kiss me - (am I imagining A begging a lil yeah I am--)..." Thank you! This took a bit, and I wrote a couple of versions before I was even kind of happy with it, but here it is in all of its non-proofread glory! LOL Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Mary Elizabeth / Adam du Mortain
1,790 Words
The party is not something that he chose. Adam would like to be anywhere else, quite frankly, but Felix and Emmy had both wanted to attend, and between Felix’s near constant pleading and Emmy’s quiet disappointment at his initial refusal, he was always going to cave. It was his own fault, but he gave in any time Emmy had that look on her face now — the one she had had that night. 
What if we don’t break?
He clears his throat.
He has yet to see either of the two responsible for his presence; he spied Nate earlier, who had donned a Sherlock Holmes look for the event. Mason had dressed as Nate and had left with someone an hour prior.
“What’s your costume?”
An agent who he is unfamiliar with saunters over; he believes she is meant to be in historical garb, but the dress is too low cut and short, the fabric cheap and shimmering in a way that he knows for a fact fabric did not do then. He frowns.
“I am not wearing a costume.”
The woman’s eyes widen in feigned shock, her hand with painted nails going to her rather exposed bosom, “Sir, this is a masquerade — and yet you arrive in no costume?”
He says nothing.
She seems to take it as an invitation, stepping closer until her body heat warms the skin of his bare arm, “I can help you find something.”
It takes all of his control not to sneer at the woman, “I do not believe you can help me in any way.”
She responds with a look of angry shock, but his swift dismissal has done the trick. She turns, muttering about how much more fun Mason is, and disappears into the crowd.
The crowd parts in the wake of her annoyed stomping, so perhaps he does owe her some gratitude, as through the gap in people, he finally sees who he has been looking for. He feels his heart thud heavily, his body heating against his will.
Mary Elizabeth stands at the far end of the room, all of the light seeming drawn to her in that moment. She had refused to divulge what she would be wearing this evening, but he knew that she had put time into the attire. She missed some non-essential meetings in order to work on it.
Now he sees why.
Calling it a costume would do it a disservice.
The white chemise is plain, but the blue gown draped over it is embroidered with gold thread; even at this distance he can make it the pattern, fleur-de-lis lining the neck opening and hems along the arms and even the bottom of the dress. The wimple is unable to fully cover the length of her hair, which is loose and cascading down her back.
His breath catches.
Tied about her waist is a red ribbon, also embroidered.
Does she know?
Of course she does; she is smart. She would have done the research, perhaps with Nate’s help, to find the traditional colors of Mortain. The hues are too perfect.
She is speaking to someone, though he cannot see her companion. Her hands are folded neatly in front of her, the only skin other than her face that is exposed. Even from this distance, across the din of the music and the conversations much closer to him, he can hear her laugh. He closes his eyes and wills himself to breathe slowly, as the sound washes over him.
Breathtaking. 
It has taken 900 years, but he now understands the concept.
“Wow.”
He startles, turning with surprise to the person beside him; Lesedi. He had been unaware of her approach. He clears his throat, nods formally, “Lesedi.”
The woman turns a knowing smile towards him, “du Mortain. I am surprised to see you here.”
“And I am surprised that your agents have not yet made themselves known.”
She laughs, and he must admit to his grudging respect for the woman. She is in costume, though it is far more sensible than the others he’s seen this evening.
“Where did she even find such a costume?”
He doesn’t ask who she speak of — he knows, and pride swells in him when he answers, “She made it.”
“So she is skilled in many more ways than we have seen.”
“She is.”
“She looks sad.”
This has him looking up sharply and taking in Mary Elizabeth once more, “What makes you say that?”
Lesedi waves in her direction, “Her posture. She is smiling, but it does not quite reach her eyes. She looks…”
Adam does not mind silence, usually, but he is on edge while Lesedi considers words.
“She looks lost. Like she had found something but cannot find it again.”
His chest squeezes.
“It is unfortunate. She deserves to be happy.”
Before he can comment, she nods her farewell, leaving him with the pain of her final barbed words. 
What if we don’t break?
Without thinking his feet begin the torturous work of bringing him closer to her, falling further into her orbit, even as he strains against the desire to do so. She had been crying when she asked; he had hurt her. He was still hurting her, and here she stood, resplendent and wonderful in the colors of his homeland, his namesake. A room between them, and yet he had pushed her miles away.
“If it isn’t Command Agent du Mortain.”
The words are accompanied with a body stepping in his way. He stares down at the interruption, a snarl ready on his lips.
“Leaving so soon?”
The words are cooed at him, and he clenches his fists, “Excuse me.”
He steps around the agent without a further word, though when he does so, he finds that Mary Elizabeth is no longer standing where she was; he spins but does not see her. He has a momentary panic but remembers that they are in the Facility, and she will not have gone far. It simmers to disappointment. 
“Looking for someone?”
Alima joins him, offering a knowing look while taking a sip of whatever cocktail is in her glass. 
He sighs and rubs his forehead, “I cannot go two steps without being accosted by someone looking for my attention—”
“And the person whose attention you want won’t provide it?” There is bitterness in her voice, as she takes a surreptitious look around the room herself.
He frowns, “It’s not that.”
“So what’s got you wound so tight?”
What business is it of hers? He sighs, “I….”
She studies him, “You pushed her away.”
How can she possibly understand? If he allows himself to have this, then he will lose her, and then it will…it will…
“So it doesn’t hurt now but it will hurt later? You look like someone nursing a heavy heart, and you believe this is…better?”
“I don’t…feel things like this.”
“All the more reason to not waste the times that you do,” she lets out a frustrated sigh, “look, I’m probably not the best person to give advice, since I just keep pining over some asshole who made it clear to me that I wouldn’t be more than a one night stand, but maybe you would be doing her a favor if you just decided one way or another. If you don’t want anything more, you need to cut ties. You are Adam du Mortain; if you want a different assignment, want to be moved…hell want her moved, then you know you can make it happen.”
His chest squeezes at the thought of her leaving.
“But if you do want something more then you should probably stop wasting everyone’s time.”
She looks about to say more, but her eyes stray briefly before she smiles, nods, and folds herself back into the crowd.
The source of her amusement becomes clear even before he sees her. Emmy’s heartbeat thrums in his ears, and he turns without thinking, immediately regretting how unprepared he is to see her so close.
She smiles somewhat past him before looking at him directly, “Was that Alima? She is so easy to spot in a crowd. She’s so beautiful. I haven’t had an opportunity to thank her yet for coming to my rescue at the auction.”
“You are beautiful,” he adds, breathless and alarmed at his inability to keep the thought to himself.
Her eyes widen and meet his at last, “I…um…thank you. You look…” she trails off, her cheeks flushing a warm pink. She clears her throat, “You look very handsome.”
He can see her trying to backpedal, trying to find her footing, ensure she does not hut one of his walls and hurt herself in the process. She deserves better; can she truly not see that?
She studies him then, and he only realizes what she is looking at when she says haltingly, “I could have made you a costume, if you needed? I should have offered. I’m so sorry.”
He catches her hand, as it waves in the air with her apology, “You owe me nothing more than your very presence, Emmy.”
The pink flush of her cheeks reddens further, and her eyes dart about the room, “Oh.”
“You have outdone yourself,” he remarks, not letting go of her hand.
“Pardon?”
“The craftmanship of your gown. I have not seen its like in a long time. It suits you.”
“I feel a little…overdressed,” she confesses, looking around at the costumed individuals around them.
“Cheap and soulless. Yours…” he finds himself at a loss for words as he admires the embroidered edges up close. How much effort she must have put into this. 
“You shine in a sea of emptiness.”
She stares at him, eyes shining, and it takes him longer than it should to realize that they shine with unshed tears. She blinks furiously and looks away, gently removing her hand from his and whispering, “I started on it before…”
She glances at him, and he understands. Before he offered to kiss her once and then never again. Before he broke their hearts.
“I should have tried to make something else. I didn’t mean to-”
“Emmy. Please. You are…I…may I kiss you?”
She blinks at him, confusion and fear flitting across her features, “I. I thought…is it only one time?”
“I don’t believe I can stop with only one.”
“Does this mean?”
His voice catches in his throat, his hands framing her face, thumbs caressing just under her eyes to keep the tears from spilling, “I am sorry for waiting. I am a fool.”
She stares at him, mouth open.
He looks at them, back at her, and can only manage a hoarse whisper to beg her, “Kiss me.”
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sustainably-du-mortain · 10 months
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I'm not afraid of you - for the polyam. If you're taking requests?
I know these were supposed to be fluff prompts but apparently I cannot write anything soft without Jonah through pain first, so have some hurt/comfort!
'I'm not afraid of you'
Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Pairing: Adam du Mortain x m!detective (Jonah Rafferty) x Nate Sewell Word count: ~1.6k prompt list here
Something is wrong.
Jonah hasn’t said a word since he got back from his apartment, although the quiet is not something unusual for the three of them, the fact that Bo’s fur is bristling and that the dog hasn’t left their boyfriends side since they got back is a clear indicator that something happened while they were away.
“Jonah?” Nate’s voice breaks the heavy silence, worry seeping through the name, but Jonah doesn’t seem to hear it, or if he does, he ignores it. Instead he keeps on scribbling frantically in his notebook.
Adam cannot see what he’s writing from where he’s sitting but, the way his hand follows the same pattern of movements repeatedly, tells him that Jonah has been writing the same words over and over since he sat down.
“Jonah?” This time he’s the one trying to grab their boyfriend's attention but, just like the first time, calling his name doesn’t get him any reaction, or at least not the one he hoped for.
Jonah’s scribbling grows more frenetic. Desperate even. He starts underlining certain words, each line he draws sounding like a knife slicing the tense silence. His breathing becomes erratic. He circles one word. Again and again. The motion like a rope that coils around one’s neck. Suffocating. Until finally, the paper tears and Jonah’s pencil’s snaps in his hand. Sobs follow, ripping away their heart as the sound echoes through the room.
Adam is kneeling before him in a flash, Nate stands next to him in the next.
Cautiously, Adam puts a hand on his knee, but Jonah flinches away as if the touch singed him. Adam can almost hear his heart shattering in his chest. His eyes riveted to his hands, he takes a step back. Tears well in his eyes as Nate takes his place before Jonah. 
A wail, brings his focus back on Jonah and he takes Nate’s previous place beside their boyfriend. He doesn’t have time to feel monstrous, not when Jonah needs them.
“Jonah?” Nate’s voice is hesitant but gentle. “Jonah, can you look at me?”
He doesn’t move. His face is buried in his hands and he’s slightly rocking back and forth in his chair. Nate throws a desperate look towards Adam, looking for help, but he is as lost as Nate is: their boyfriend is right before them and yet they have no idea how to reach him. If they could just get him to look at them.
“Ya rouhi…” The petname is tinted with a hint of despair and concern. “I’m going to touch your hands, if that’s okay with you?” Nate warns him. He waits for a sign that Jonah heard him, but it never comes. Yet, in hopes that the warning made its way through, Nate slowly reaches for his hands, ready to back away at any sign of discomfort from Jonah.
When Jonah lets him put his hands over his, Nate starts softly rubbing circles on the back of his hands. Adam watches as their boyfriend relaxes a little at the gesture, until he allows Nate to peel his hands away from his face.
“Hi…” Nate whispers with a smile when their eyes finally meet, although he’s not sure Jonah can see him through the stream of tears. “Now I want you to take a deep breath with me, do you think you can do that?”
Nate breathes in and Jonah joins him. Nate doesn’t let go of his hands the whole time. 
“You’re doing great, my love. One more time.”
Adam’s eyes fall on the open notebook while they do it a few more times. Covering every square inch of the page, he can barely decipher the five words etched over and over again into the paper.
‘I’m not afraid of you’ they read. 
Instantly worry washes over him. What the hell happened while Jonah was at his apartment? Who did he encounter? Did they attack him? He barely holds back from questioning him, knowing this would only make the situation worse. Instead he tries to reign in his concern and takes a deep breath along with his boyfriends.
When the sobbing quiets down, he puts a hand on Jonah’s shoulder who looks up at him, tears still trickling down his face. Adam hesitantly reaches to brush away a strand of hair sticking to his cheek. His heart soothes in his chest when Jonah leans into the touch before wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. Adam immediately starts raking his fingers through his hair for he knows that Jonah is very fond of the gesture.
They stay like this for a while. Jonah pressed against his stomach. Nate, still kneeling before him, although his head is resting on his lap now. This is an uncomfortable position for the three of them, but this is the one thing they need to ease the remnants of worry and fear which washed over them. So they do not move, not until every single one of them feels better.
“Want to tell us what happened?”
“Who is this about?”
A hoarse chuckle escapes Jonah’s mouth when the two vampires break the quiet at the same time.
“Bobby...” Jonah whispers with an exhausted sigh. He doesn’t need to explain furthermore, the mention of the reporter is enough to make the two vampires tense instantly. 
A few weeks ago, Jonah told them about their shared past, how things ended between them, the impact he had on Jonah’s life and well-being. So the thought of the two of them, alone in Jonah’s apartment, makes Adam’s stomach lurch in his throat. This might be worse than anything he had in mind.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Jonah shakes his head. “Maybe later…”
“Would you like some distraction then?” This time Nate’s question is met with a nod. “Do you have something in mind?”
***
Felix is walking by to get to the kitchen when a scream, coming from the living room, makes him stop in his tracks.
Adam requisitioned the living room earlier this evening, denying the other half of Unit Bravo access to the room for the rest of the night, which of course spurred a lewd quip from Mason. And since Adam did not tell them the reason behind his request, Felix has been dying to take a look inside the living room. So, when another scream escapes from the room, followed closely by three distinct fits of laughter - bright and loud giggles, a low chuckle and a muffled laugh - he can’t help but push the doors of the living room ajar.
“I told you we should have put these pillows here!” Jonah complains just as Felix peeks his head through the door. He hardly manages to hold back a laugh when he sees what’s going on.
Adam and Jonah are standing in front of a massive pillow fort, or at least what is supposed to be a pillow fort, for it seems to have collapsed in on itself, which Felix guesses is the reason for the screams and giggles he heard seconds before. The ruins of the fort take up half of the living room and Felix would have given everything to see it in all of its glorious magnificence. So, he makes up a mental note of sneaking into the living room later on to see it, since they seem to be keen on rebuilding it.
In the meantime he observes as Adam and Jonah stand before the mountain of pillows and sheets, only remnants of the construction, trying to assess the damage. Jonah is actually holding what looks like a construction plan and Felix struggles to bite back the chuckle that threatens to leave the barrier of his lips. He shouldn’t be surprised, these two always take things way too seriously, but a construction plan? For a blanket fort? Really? He wishes he had taken his phone with him, Mason is never going to believe him without proof.
As they start debating over their next course of action, Felix’ eyes travel across the room in search of Nate. He heard him laugh earlier, so he must be somewhere in there. But his focus is caught by the paused image projected on the wall behind them. He recognizes that one movie with the green ogre that Jonah once called a masterpiece and Felix has to admit he’s quite impressed with the fact that he managed to get Nate and Adam to watch it. Adam in particular, seeing that making him sit through an animated movie is a feat Felix hasn’t yet managed to achieve.
Bo, emerging from underneath the collapsed heap of blankets, catches his attention.
With a bark, the dog starts pulling at the sheets when a strange bump suddenly forms into the pile of bed-linen and pillows. 
“I know I cannot actually suffocate, but it would be nice if you two could actually help me out.” This time Felix cannot hold back a snort upon hearing Nate.
The other two immediately rush to haul him out of the wreckage. Jonah helps him up before rising on his tiptoes to land a soft peck on his cheek. Adam does the same on the other cheek.
“I’m sorry we left you in there.” Adam apologizes, his head nuzzling in the crook of his neck when Nate wraps an arm around him.
“Sorry!” Jonah gives him a sheepish smile before joining the hug, that’s when he finally spots him. “Oh, hi Felix!”
“Shit!” 
The vampire slams the door shut, cursing Jonah for revealing his presence. He has to flee before Adam kills him for catching them being all lovey-dovey despite the fact that he was supposedly banned from the living room.
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smittenbypoetry · 1 year
Text
Poetry Game!
January 2023 Edition:
The rules are as follows: Write an eleven line poem. Each respective line includes, but is not limited to, the following in order:
1. A body of water 2. A dive 3. Any shade of blue 4. Sensory line (underwater) 5. Sensory line (underwater) 6. Free line, use however you like 7. Anything partaking to the heart 8. Any constellation 9. Any synonym to 'falling' 10. Free line, use however you like 11. Line 3's shade of blue
Have fun!
Tag your poem #smittenbypoetrygame, and I will reblog it here. Be sure to use one of the first five tags to do this, else there’s a chance it won’t show up when I search for it. If I haven’t reblogged your poem within 24 hours, please send me a message and I’ll add it to the queue.
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nerdierholler · 11 months
Text
Since I’m in a rare writing mood but don’t really know what to write (and I have the day off), let’s do some prompts. Here’s some options from various themed months that I never got around to doing. These sound light and fluffy but no guarantees it might not actually end up being a little sad, depends on where my brain goes.
Please send me prompts (specify which list it’s from) for any of my Detectives: Henry/Nate, Ethan/Adam, Bree/Mason, Andie/Soft Mason.
Prompt List Themes: Domestic General Fluff Comfort Touching
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serenpedac · 1 year
Text
Scars and Pieces
Very, very late entry for @wayhavenfrights - Day 11, prompt “shattered”.
Pairing: Female Detective/Nate Sewell Words: ~1100 Rating: T Warnings: None
Read on Ao3
*** *** *** ***
A handful of tiny dark spots are sprinkled near the base of the mirror like freckles. Or scars, perhaps. Yael thumbs the raised skin marking her wrist. It still burns sometimes, like her entire body had burned. She presses the spot until she can feels the beat of her heart, pumping blood through her body—blood that is no longer just hers.
“Yael?”
Yael draws a sharp breath. Nate is standing in the doorway to her room. His gaze flickers down to where she’s holding her wrist. “Can I come in?”
She quickly lets go. “Of course.”
He joins her in front of the mirror hanging above the dresser, takes her hands in his own to give a brief squeeze before releasing them. With a nod at the mirror, he asks, “Do you like it?”
Her readied reply that she’s fine dies on her lips as his question sinks in. After a brief moment of hesitation, she gives him a light nudge with her elbow. “Are you fishing for compliments on your impeccable taste?”
His laughter rolls over her. “I wouldn’t turn down such praise, especially coming from you, but no, that was not what I was looking for.” His voice softens as he continues, “I noticed you removed the one the Agency placed in your apartment after the attack. If this one makes you uncomfortable…?”
“It doesn’t.” The answer comes out curter than she’d intended and she sighs.
His question is understandable, even if they wouldn't have found out that the Maa-alused could use them to travel through: while not identical, both mirrors do look very similar with their oval shape and the understated decoration on the thin frame. Both remind her of the one she’d had ever since moving out to go to uni, the one that had been destroyed by the thralls Murphy had sent. Not that she had seen it break, but when she had come back, the replacement had been there, near-identical but flawless and wrong.
The Agency had done their best, of course, and they couldn’t have known all the little imperfections her mirror had had even before the attack, but she couldn’t help but wince each time she glimpsed herself in it. How easy it had been to imagine the old one shattered on the floor, a reflection broken into a thousand pieces.
She runs a finger over one of the small discolourations on the wooden frame, but snaps it away when she sees it trembling. “This one isn’t— Nevermind.”
“I mind. I would like to understand if you would let me.”
She searches his eyes, finds only sincerity. He would like to know her.
“It’s just—” Yael feels at the scar again. A visible reminder of what had happened. And she is not glad it’s there, far from it, but it is better than the Agency’s attempt at wiping away all traces of what had happened. “I like that this one isn’t perfect unlike the one the Agency gave me. It’s not trying to copy my old mirror and it’s marked, just like.” She swallows, trying to stem the flood of words that has been building up ever since that first night back at her apartment, but they come pouring out anyway, “Just like me. And each mark tells a story, some are good and some are bad and some might be sad or funny, but they are all part of its history, you know? In trying to remove that it felt like, like they were telling me everything was fine. That Murphy never. That I wasn’t changed.” She nearly chokes on the last word.
Her breaths come fast, shallow.
Too much. That was too much. He can’t possible have wanted to hear all that.
Nate cups her cheek, and her breathing settles somewhat at the feeling of warm contact, the tightness of her chest easing. Taking a deep inhale, she chances a look at him, searching for something, anything to confirm he’s still here, he’s still with her. She finds his eyes, soft with understanding and a hint of sadness. Like he not only understands her pain but feels it himself. And having lived for centuries, how could he not have experienced the loss that change might bring?
A frown creases his forehead, the thin line marring skin that is otherwise smooth. Unmarked, wiped clean by his turning. He wears his scars on the inside, hidden.
She would like to understand him, to know him, in return.
Before he can recognise where her thoughts have gone and turn the conversation around, Yael worries her bottom lip as she sifts through questions, discarding most of them as too probing. Finally, she finds one that will do.
“Did you ever have anything like that? Some item that seemed like it took a part of your life with it when it was gone?” When he stays quiet, she adds, “A thought for a thought, if you want?”
Nate’s hand falls from her cheek.
***
A thought for a thought. If he wants. It’s not quit the same exchange he offered her all those weeks ago: it’s kinder, the phrasing gentler. She already trusted him with a piece of herself, never expecting him to give anything in return. He is grateful for that. And although there is hope in her eyes, she has given him a way out if he wants.
“A button,” Nate says. “It was nothing special.” He frowns, then amends, “It looked like nothing special, but it was a gift.”
It had been the summer after he had turned sixteen when he had met him. Heady with youthful exuberance and the intoxicating company, he had thought the summer to be endless, but the turn of the seasons had been as inevitable as their parting.
“I sewed it onto my waistcoat, one brass button in a row of silk-covered ones.” How Mother had disapproved of that. She had known more than she had let on, he thinks now. Not that it had mattered in the end, as the promised correspondence had never arrived. Whether that had been by choice or not, he had never found out.
He catches Yael’s movement in his peripheral vision. A reaching out like he had reached out to her. Forcing a smile, he steps away from her towards the door before she can touch him.
“Adam is waiting for us. He said he had new information on potential Trapper movements.”
A sad smile flickers over her face, gone as quickly as it appeared as she nods and follows him in silence.
***
That night in bed, Nate’s words turn around in Yael’s head. He never told her who had given him the button, nor what had happened afterwards, but she suspects, no, she knows, the story can’t have had a happy ending.
Her heart aching for him, she carefully places the sprinkle of information among the others he has given her, like another piece in an ever-growing mosaic. A collection of scattered reflections of his life.
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grapecaseschoices · 5 months
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Hii <3 If you're still answering questions for the relationship ask, Self, Mentor and Friendship for Val? No pressure, though!
I almost missed this! So sorry, @serenpedac! From this ask game.
Self: How is your OC's relationship with themself? Does your OC like who they are? Is there anything about themself that they would change?
Haha. Not as good as they pretend it is. I know this about SELF but trust me this is related. Val's approach to OTHER'S is very 'take me or leave me' [sometimes in a shruggy/uninterested manner, sometimes in a hostile or daring manner], but they expect to be left.
And that is sort of how they see themselves? Someone not worth sticking around with. I think asking if Val likes themselves begs upon more introspection than Val wants to give the subject/than Val feels the subject deserves. They are very 'I am who I am, deal with it' as much to themselves as they are with others. So, any change Val does is semi-subconcious. It's like they might notice something they say hits wrong with someone they care about and they may brush it off at the moment, but I feel later on if a similar situation occurs they might tone it down a tad. Val is more of a reactor, I feel. So I feel tho they act automatically [and obnoxiously], they take in things just the same. It's like in the back of their mind.
In short, Val is one of my egoists with low-self-esteem. My Jake Peralta. LMAO. Val knows they're good at their strengths. And they probably overblow it. They know. They think they're stylish and their hobbies are cool. But they also think they're trash [and not the way I call them my trash gremlin]. They know they don't process or react to emotional things the way most people do/people believe they should. And they don't come off as 'decent' and 'kind' or 'hard-working' and 'dedicated' and 'mature' as people believe they should. So in their mind they know they're not as valued or taken seriously. But that's a YOU problem. Deal with it.
Mentor: Does your OC have a mentor? Have they ever reached out to anyone for guidance or teaching, or been taken under someone's wing? How does your OC get along with their mentor?
No. LMAO. Val has no Raymond Holt. BUT, in THEIR OWN WAY, they do respect the Captain a lot more than one would think given how much they're sardonic @ him. And his opinions weigh a touch more on them than one [probably even him] would think. A good job from the Captain has Val feeling unnaturally peppy. LMAO. He is their dad, woogie boogie.
I don't think Val would ever call the Captain. But if he was there, and he said something useful ....
Strangely though, if Val WERE to reach out to someone for guidance it might be Adam. And for advice/teaching it might be Felix.
Don't look into it!!
Friendship: What's your OC like as a friend? How are they at making new friends? What are the most important friendships in your OC's life?
Awful. LMAO. I don't know why Tina and Felix are still around. Honeslty, Val has probably said quite a few things unintentionally and intentionaly to shut that down. But als. That said, once you have Val as a friend, I think they're great for laughs and not a bad shoulder to cry on. I don't see them loyal in the traditional sense but they are more protective than they believe. They aren't a BIG hugger but they actually are pretty goodat it for someone so teeny/slim. Physical touch is their love language [one of them] but it's more broish.
All their new friends, including Adam, sort of just came upon them. Though with Adam it was a mutual coming upon. Adam, Felix, and Tina are the most important friendships [probably in that order lmao.] They are very fond of Verda tho. It's grown that way. And they grow fonder of Mason as well.
Thank you for the ask! Apologies for the super delay <3
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writersdelusion · 2 years
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The truth about us is written on the walls of every chamber of my heart, page after page of endless scribbles and proclamations She is screaming but she is shamed to silence. You know, I might have loved you in another life. I am ready to love me in this one, though. My hands now replace yours, no jaded lover necessary, only me I am ready to sing, God, can't you hear it? It sounds something of harmonies like the wind through the trees. not songs of solace, but contempt. The truth about us is about as fragile as the words you spoke Once written in mirrors, Now clouded by smoke
“Day 2: The Truth About Us.” (via @writersdelusion)
prompt via @nosebleedclub
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