100 words of procrastination
Sep. 15th, 2019 12:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
froggimus_rexYeah, I really managed to keep on top of that "posting fills that aren't making it to A03 every so often" thing. Good job me.
General Content Note: snippets may contain implied/explicit child abuse, non/dub-con, character death, underage, bad things happening to whumpable woobies. Caveat lector.
3-5 lines of something you're NOT writing
Catra hesitated before opening the notebook. Other Adora had been ambivalent enough about showing her the ones stacked on the desk and shelves or otherwise scattered openly throughout the room because 'privacy' and this one had actually been hidden. But her curiosity had overridden her caution on regular basis for most of her life, so she didn't hesitate very long.
It was full of sketches of Adora. Not that the others hadn't been, but there'd been other stuff too: other people, Adam, Teela, the Queen, the King, her- the Ambassador, even a couple of shaky self portraits, places, mostly this castle and city, but also some place that didn't look like the Fright Zone but reminded her of it anyway, the pencil had almost gouged through the paper on those, it seemed like anything that'd caught her eye ended up on the page. But this one was just page after page after page of Adora, Adora laughing or smiling, Adora staring off pensively or sprawled inelegantly across the nearest flat surface, so many pictures of Adora's hands, Adora naked.
The first of the nudes was a gutpunch. Not just because of what it was, but because she recognised Adora's expression, the 'this is a terrible idea, but it's your terrible idea, so okay' one. It got worse from there. By the time she got to the last filled-in page, a half-finished sketch of Adora's hand, sheet twisted up between her fingers, she was left with the feeling she was holding someone's heart and all she wanted to do was rip and tear it into little bloody shreds.
100 words of posing nude for art
There was a waterfall in Adora's room. Catra wished, wished she could just revel in the absurdity, but by this point she was more interested in running water than appreciating the ridiculousness of it all. Predictably, the only one of the various, barely touched soaps and shampoos that wasn't cloyingly floral was also nearly empty, and there was nothing with the clean, sharp astringency of the stuff her mom only broke out to 'cleanse the stench of idiocy'.
Getting clean was only half the problem though. Scrubbing off all the scents she'd picked up since she'd woken up in this place only made the idea putting clothing that reeked of anger, fear and loneliness back on even less appealing, and even if she'd felt comfortable raiding this Adora's closet or rifling through her underwear drawers, she wasn't entirely sure where they even were. Fortunately, the room was warm enough to be comfortable in just her fur, and her cursory explorations turned up a pen and notepad, which was even better than clothes.
Sprawled out on Adora's bed (the only piece of furniture that didn't look like it was going to break if she touched it), it was easy enough to lose herself in the familiar scratch of pen on paper, loose scribbles gradually taking on more recognisable forms, blank pages filling with images. She got so focused on trying to get tall, swordy Adora's hair right that she didn't notice she wasn't alone anymore until she heard an awkward, strangled cough.
"Oh, hey Adora," she said, rolling over and stretching out all the muscles that were starting to complain (or rather whose complaints she'd been ignoring for a while) about disuse, only belatedly remembering why that wasn't such a great idea when Adora coloured and actually squeaked, a familiar and not unpleasant scent filling the air. "So...clothes. They're a thing. That I need."
Adora flailed helplessly in the direction of one of the cabinets, and Catra bounded towards it. Hopefully Adora would be able to compose herself by the time she found something that fit. She didn't realise she'd left the notebook open until Adora made another soft, surprised sound and she looked over her shoulder to see her looking down at it, eyes wide with wonder.
"I used to like watching other you draw," she said, voice small. Catra thought of that clawed through graffiti and didn't say anything. "Until Shadow Weaver found out about it."
Catra wondered, not for the first time in the last few days, if it were possible to hate someone purely for the scents they left in their wake.
[Originally posted here and here]
100 Words of a character thinking they are a virgin when they aren't
After they'd gotten a handle on the whole kissing thing (which had taken longer than Catra would care to admit), gradually they'd started doing it more and more, until it seemed liked every spare moment that they could scrape up a dreg of privacy was spent frantically necking in some supply closet or the other. Familiarity bred boldness, their hands wandering further and further until finally, Adora, giggling, face as red as the markings on her shirt, slid her hand inside Catra's pants.
It was...not amazing, but Catra got the feeling it was gonna be. They just had to figure it out like with the kissing. "Let me try," she said, barely waiting for Adora's nod before shoving her hand down her shorts. There was a brief, wondrous moment (Adora was so soft), then she was bent double, hands clasped over her stinging nose while Adora alternated between babbling apologies and staring at her hand, still curled into a fist, like it belonged to someone else.
"You could've just said no." Her nose really hurt, and that really nice scent Adora got when they did this, the one she wanted to roll in and rub against until she couldn't smell anything else, was rapidly turning into a sickly, sour stink.
"I wanted to try it! I want you to," Adora protested, her breathing short and sharp, as she forcibly uncurled her fist with her other hand. "I don't know why I did that. Please, Catra, we can try again."
Catra was tempted, she'd risked broken noses for less, but Adora looked like she was going to pass out, and the idea of having to explain that to Shadow Weaver killed what little mood lingered. "Maybe later. Someone's probably gonna come looking for us soon."
[Originally posted here]
100 words of bad seduction
There were many emotions a parent might feel upon accidentally stumbling on their child in an intimate moment. Chagrin at the unwitting intrusion, wistfulness that they were growing up, nostalgia for long gone youthful encounters. However, Angella was quite certain that the slow, sinking realisation that the object of your child's affection clearly wanted to be anywhere but there was never meant to be one of them.
The kiss was perfectly chaste, Glimmer on her tip-toes, eyes closed, the very picture of puppy love if not for the fact that Adora, spine ramrod straight, eyes wide, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists by her sides, was the picture of a panicked horse on the verge of bolting.
She cleared her throat and they broke apart. Rather Glimmer turned towards her with an aggrieved "Mom!" while once out of her line of sight, Adora pressed as far away back as the walls would let her.
"Glimmer, dear, I believe Bow was looking for you," she lied, keeping her voice light, Bow had been on the other side of the castle last she'd seen, it should take her more than long enough to find him. "It sounded important."
Glimmer sighed the sigh of a teenager with the universe against her. "I guess we better go find him. C'mon, Adora."
"Adora, stay. There are things I need to discuss with you. Regarding She-Ra." The second lie came less easily than the first, especially with how Adora had stilled when she'd spoken her name, but it served its purpose, sending Glimmer stalking off, her cheeks bright pink.
No sooner was she out of earshot when Adora started "Your majesty, I assure you did wasn't what it looked like. I mean maybe it was, but I didn't wa- I mean didn't intend for it happen. I didn't know she felt like, or she was going to-"
She cut Adora off with a gesture. "I'm not angry at you, Adora." She did her best to keep her voice calm, despite the rising certainty she needed to be angry at someone, even if she didn't know who yet.
A certainty that only grew, when, with a speed that would've been hilarious if it hadn't been heartbreaking, Adora switched tack. "But you should be. It was all my fault. My idea. I led her on. I do that, everyone knows I do."
This was not a conversation to be had in public, for either of their sakes. Taking as light a grip on Adora's jacket sleeve as possible, she led the girl into the nearest room, only to realise her mistake when she caught sight of the bed, and Adora's frantic stream of words cut off with a small, soft "Oh."
She reflexively let go of Adora's sleeve, which proved to be her second mistake in as many minutes, as she shed the jacket before she could stop her, thankfully pausing with the hem of her shirt in her hands. "I guess you want me on the bed, then." Nausea roiled in the pit of Angella's belly as she kept listing options in that flat, dull tone. "Or on my knees on the floor, or over the desk. I don't mind."
Angella found she very much did mind, enough to risk touching Adora, and took hold of her shoulders. "Adora. Stop. I don't want...that."
"But I do." Even if she couldn't feel Adora trembling like a baby rabbit under her hands, or the girl had been able to meet her eyes, or Adora's voice wasn't thick like she was on the verge of tears, it was still the least convincing statement she'd heard since Hordak's claims of being lost peaceful explorers after the Horde had first arrived in Etheria.
[Originally posted here]
100 words of caring who bottoms
Moving silently through the pipes and plumbing, Catra stalked her oblivious prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. Adora didn't look up. She never looked up, even though she should know better.
The moment came. She pounced, and the element of surprise, plus, you know, her general superiority, meant that the ensuing scuffle ended with Adora firmly beneath her, hands pinned above her head, and one of Catra's knees between her thighs.
"Shocking performance there, Force Cadet," she said, mimicking the sergeant. She could feel Adora trying to wriggle free under her, but that just left her grinding against her knee. She let go of one of her hands so she could poke her forehead with a claw. "What if I'd been a princess? You'd be at my mercy while I did terrible, princessy things to you."
"Like what?"
It wasn't that Catra didn't like how breathy and eager Adora sounded, but there was something about that eagerness that set a suspicion growing in her mind. "Did you just let me win?"
"No?" No amount of squirming could distract from the fact that sometimes, Adora was a terrible liar.
"Adora." She pulled back, though not enough to actually let Adora up. "You weren't supposed to do that."
"I'm sorry." And Adora really did look and sound contrite too. "But I like it either way, and you seemed like you'd been thinking about what you wanted to do to me, and I thought we were supposed to have fun with this."
They were. Catra didn't even know why she was so annoyed. "Yeah, well, winning's not so fun when you don't even try."
"I mean if that's what you want..." That and the thoughtful look on Adora's face were the only warning she got before Adora bucked her off and attempted to tackle her to the ground.
[Originally posted here]
100 words of kidnapping
Jorunn couldn't remember falling asleep, but she woke to ear-splitting screams in stereo and an absence of weight in her arms. Her eyes flew open and her heart stopped. A figure, tall, shadowed, and completely unfamiliar stood over her, Adora, red-faced and howling, in its arms, while Catra, hissing and yowling like a wild thing, dangled from one forearm, latching on with teeth and claws and fury. A fury that her tiny body didn't have the strength to match, and Jorunn's frozen heart clenched as she saw her daughter begin to slip.
"Catra!" The snarl ripped from her throat as she launched herself at the stranger, snatching Catra out of the air one-handed, claws of the other fully extended to rake across this intruder's face. She spun lightly on her feet as she landed, noting that the wall that should have been behind her wasn't, in its place stood a crackling sheet of black and red energy that set every single strand of hair and fur on her body on end. But that wasn't her concern right this instant, the stranger still had Adora and satisfying as the coppery scent on the air was to outraged instinct, it would be a short-lived satisfaction if she'd caused them to drop her.
"Filthy beast." The stranger still had Adora clutched to her chest, even if one hand now clutched just tightly to her face. "Stand aside and you may even keep your brat."
Later, Jorunn would at least be able to tell herself that she didn't hesitate, didn't consider it, but rather, without skipping a beat, she drew herself to her full height and flexed claws wet with blood. "Put Adora down and you may even keep your life."
[Same now completely and thoroughly jossed verse as this. Originally posted here]
100 words of your goody good fave as a serial killer
They're fifteen when Shadow Weaver disappears, maybe sixteen, it's not like anyone actually keeps that close track. It's not like this is the first time something like this has happened. People vanish all the time in the Fright Zone, Catra's never questioned it, not only because it doesn't pay to ask too many questions, but also because she's just glad they're gone, though she's sometimes sorry for whichever smaller, weaker kid they're picking on now.
But this is different, this is Shadow Weaver. Catra fully expects her back, to show up full of fury and ready to take it out on her. At least, she does until Adora, who's been sleeping without night terrors for the first time in nearly as long as Catra can remember rolls over, buries her face in her fur and tells her not to worry. "She's not coming back. I made sure."
Catra doesn't respond at first, not understanding. Not wanting to understand. So, Adora lifts her head and continues, looking at her with an earnest blue gaze. "I'm sorry it took so long. She was a lot harder than the others."
Others? Catra's mouth is dry and her spine cold when she finds her voice "What did you do?"
"I'm not supposed to let it happen again," Adora says, frowning like she thought it was too obvious to need to say. "To let anyone hurt you. So I don't."
[Originally posted here]
100 words of feral characters
The girl is tiny and terrified, not that Micah can blame her for that, he's been in this place for probably as long as this girl's been alive and there are still nights he sleeps with one eye open. She hisses and swipes when he approaches, slowly, slowly, puffing up in a way that would be hilarious if it wasn't heartbreaking.
Slowly, slowly is the watchword with the girl. Slow to trust, quick to snarl and flinch and snap when he uses magic to start a fire or hide them from the island's less savoury inhabitants. Something that does little for his peace of mind.
Still, he feels he's making good progress by the time the next supply shuttle comes through, he thinks the girl might even deign to share her name at some point soon, but then one of the crates pops open on its own, and Micah has a second, blonder problem on his hands.
[Originally posted here]
100 words of Regretting Getting "Everything You've Ever Wanted"
Catra is happy.
She rules the Horde, and the Horde rules Etheria. She's in charge and no one else can ever hurt her or Adora ever again.
She doesn't have to be afraid of Shadow Weaver, bound in chains in her throne room, a gag stilling her dangerous tongue except for when Catra wants her to speak.
Adora doesn't need chains. At least not visible ones, that life-long lesson had been put to good use when she'd first taken the throne, had Glimmer and Bow brought before her and told Adora to pick one, to choose who she really cared about. Adora had tentatively touched her knee, and when she'd spread her legs in invitation, knelt between them.
Where she stays. No chains, no collar, just Catra's hand occasionally stroking her hair.
There'd been another attempt today, the first in a while. The dagger hadn't even cleared its sheath before Adora had them pinned to the ground. She could have handled it herself, but the stricken look on these would-be heroes got their faces when they realise who exactly stopped them never gets old.
It's also as good an excuse as any to cancel any remaining audiences, clear the throne room of everyone unnecessary.
The assassin's blade is razor sharp, and if it's poisoned, it's not one she can smell, so she presses the handle into Adora's palm, grips her wrist, forces it up against her own throat.
"Catra? What are you doing?" Adora tries to pull away of course, but Catra just digs her claws in, holds her there.
"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it," she says, conversationally, the dagger close enough to shave off chunks of fur as she speaks. "Letting one of them through, trying it yourself."
Adora's answer is short, soft, and sincere. "No."
"Why not?" She draws the question out, ignoring the feel of cold metal against her skin. "Not like you to pass up the chance to be a hero."
She watches Adora's eyes widen as she tries to come up with an answer. "You'll hurt people, you said-"
"I won't." She cuts Adora off. Glances across at Scorpia, who looks about as happy as Adora. "I promise Scorpia will make sure no one gets hurt if you do it. In fact, do it right now, and you can have the Horde. That'll make Shadow Weaver happy."
"But I don't want-"
"To save people?" She lets her tone grow mocking. "You can save all of Etheria, right here and now, all you have to do is kill me. What's stopping you?"
As soon as she lets go of Adora's hand, she flings the dagger across the room, the loud clattering followed by the thump of her knees as she crumples to the floor. Catra pulls her back up, grip gentling, wiping her tears away as she leads her to their bedchamber.
She's the most powerful person in Etheria and Adora loves her, so Catra is happy. She has to be. Because if she's not, she doesn't know what else it would take.
[*pours one out for the five minutes when it looked like there'd be the opportunity for so much throne sex*
Originally posted here]
100 words of animalistic sex habits
Adora wakes groggy and leaden limbed, clad only in her undergarments. As the cold of the floor seeps through the thin material of her shorts and singlet, and she tries and fails to stand up, she catches sight of Shadow Weaver and freezes.
Stupid, stupid. She knows that it makes Shadow Weaver angry, so, so angry, even if she doesn't understand why, it's not like they're breaking any rules, but then Catra smiles at her like that, laughs as they tackle each other to the ground and she doesn't care. Stupid, selfish.
Shadow Weaver waits until she finally manages to stand on inexplicably weak and wobbly legs, strokes her hair, tucks it behind her ear. "Adora, I don't know what to do with you." Her voice is calm and that scares Adora down to her bones. Shadow Weaver's anger is terrifying, but anger can be deflected, mollified, at least for a little while, and sometimes even just a little while can be long enough, but calm means she's already decided what she's going to do. "It seems you're determined to rut like an animal. So who am I to stop you?"
She steps back and Adora becomes aware of a low growling from the shadows, turns her head to catch the glow of eyes, blank and hungry. This time, when Catra bears her to the ground, teeth latching onto the nape of her neck, claws scrabbling for purchase, neither of them are laughing.
[Originally posted here]
100 Words of Plz Write Moat!
Shortly after Catra finally joined Adora's harem (or as Catra insisted on telling everyone, Adora joined her harem), a moat mysteriously and inexplicably appeared cutting off access between the seraglio and Adora's bedroom. Catra, both conveniently and coincidentally, had been staying in the latter.
No one quite had the heart to point out that even if most of them didn't have powers that enabled them to bypass the moat entirely (and the ones who didn't were simply tall enough to wade through), there was precisely one person here who actually considered a waist-deep pool of water an impassable barrier. Well, except for Scorpia, who kept offering to carry Catra over it.
[Sequel(ish) to this. Originally posted here]
Prompt: Sibling incest with codependency.
"Hey, Adora," Catra sobbed woobieishly. "I only attempted all those murders because I wanted our mommy, Shadow Weaver, to love me and also because you were being a terrible emotional support girlfriend."
"I'm sorry," Adora also sobbed but guiltily, not woobieishly. How could she have been so selfish and prioritised her own safety and emotional wellbeing over Catra's? "It doesn't matter that our mommy, Shadow Weaver, doesn't love you, because I do."
Then they fucked, but not in a sisterly way, because that would have been squicky.
"But the incestous undertones are a feature," sobbed author nonny, metaficionally.
[Here.]
-
Prompt: Readerfic for your fandom.
You are a Velociraptor. Currently you are sitting on a rock in the desert, crying, because ever since to fell through a portal and ended up on Etheria, you have been completely unable to find a hot lady to thoroughly raw you.
You have found plenty of hot ladies, but the angry kitty was too hung up on her ex, the buff scorpion lady wanted to be a sweet service top, the shadowy milf was only interested in mindfucking you, the glowing sword lady kept getting distracted by the angry kitty, the inexplicably British angel kept having UST with Doctor Yang, the snarky mermaid said topping her boyfriend was already too much work, and the less said about holographic Grace Jones the better.
As you cry your sexually frustrated theropod eyes out, you hear a gravelly voice. "Why are you crying, little Velociraptor?"
You look up to see a tall purple woman who looks like Furiosa, only she has hair and both arms, also she's purple. "I'm crying because I can't find a hot lady to raw me thoroughly," you tell purple, two-armed Furiosa with hair.
Furiosa smiles at you and picks you up with one of her two arms. "Worry not, little Velociraptor, for I shall thoroughly raw you."
Which she does.
[Here.]
General Content Note: snippets may contain implied/explicit child abuse, non/dub-con, character death, underage, bad things happening to whumpable woobies. Caveat lector.
3-5 lines of something you're NOT writing
Catra hesitated before opening the notebook. Other Adora had been ambivalent enough about showing her the ones stacked on the desk and shelves or otherwise scattered openly throughout the room because 'privacy' and this one had actually been hidden. But her curiosity had overridden her caution on regular basis for most of her life, so she didn't hesitate very long.
It was full of sketches of Adora. Not that the others hadn't been, but there'd been other stuff too: other people, Adam, Teela, the Queen, the King, her- the Ambassador, even a couple of shaky self portraits, places, mostly this castle and city, but also some place that didn't look like the Fright Zone but reminded her of it anyway, the pencil had almost gouged through the paper on those, it seemed like anything that'd caught her eye ended up on the page. But this one was just page after page after page of Adora, Adora laughing or smiling, Adora staring off pensively or sprawled inelegantly across the nearest flat surface, so many pictures of Adora's hands, Adora naked.
The first of the nudes was a gutpunch. Not just because of what it was, but because she recognised Adora's expression, the 'this is a terrible idea, but it's your terrible idea, so okay' one. It got worse from there. By the time she got to the last filled-in page, a half-finished sketch of Adora's hand, sheet twisted up between her fingers, she was left with the feeling she was holding someone's heart and all she wanted to do was rip and tear it into little bloody shreds.
100 words of posing nude for art
There was a waterfall in Adora's room. Catra wished, wished she could just revel in the absurdity, but by this point she was more interested in running water than appreciating the ridiculousness of it all. Predictably, the only one of the various, barely touched soaps and shampoos that wasn't cloyingly floral was also nearly empty, and there was nothing with the clean, sharp astringency of the stuff her mom only broke out to 'cleanse the stench of idiocy'.
Getting clean was only half the problem though. Scrubbing off all the scents she'd picked up since she'd woken up in this place only made the idea putting clothing that reeked of anger, fear and loneliness back on even less appealing, and even if she'd felt comfortable raiding this Adora's closet or rifling through her underwear drawers, she wasn't entirely sure where they even were. Fortunately, the room was warm enough to be comfortable in just her fur, and her cursory explorations turned up a pen and notepad, which was even better than clothes.
Sprawled out on Adora's bed (the only piece of furniture that didn't look like it was going to break if she touched it), it was easy enough to lose herself in the familiar scratch of pen on paper, loose scribbles gradually taking on more recognisable forms, blank pages filling with images. She got so focused on trying to get tall, swordy Adora's hair right that she didn't notice she wasn't alone anymore until she heard an awkward, strangled cough.
"Oh, hey Adora," she said, rolling over and stretching out all the muscles that were starting to complain (or rather whose complaints she'd been ignoring for a while) about disuse, only belatedly remembering why that wasn't such a great idea when Adora coloured and actually squeaked, a familiar and not unpleasant scent filling the air. "So...clothes. They're a thing. That I need."
Adora flailed helplessly in the direction of one of the cabinets, and Catra bounded towards it. Hopefully Adora would be able to compose herself by the time she found something that fit. She didn't realise she'd left the notebook open until Adora made another soft, surprised sound and she looked over her shoulder to see her looking down at it, eyes wide with wonder.
"I used to like watching other you draw," she said, voice small. Catra thought of that clawed through graffiti and didn't say anything. "Until Shadow Weaver found out about it."
Catra wondered, not for the first time in the last few days, if it were possible to hate someone purely for the scents they left in their wake.
[Originally posted here and here]
100 Words of a character thinking they are a virgin when they aren't
After they'd gotten a handle on the whole kissing thing (which had taken longer than Catra would care to admit), gradually they'd started doing it more and more, until it seemed liked every spare moment that they could scrape up a dreg of privacy was spent frantically necking in some supply closet or the other. Familiarity bred boldness, their hands wandering further and further until finally, Adora, giggling, face as red as the markings on her shirt, slid her hand inside Catra's pants.
It was...not amazing, but Catra got the feeling it was gonna be. They just had to figure it out like with the kissing. "Let me try," she said, barely waiting for Adora's nod before shoving her hand down her shorts. There was a brief, wondrous moment (Adora was so soft), then she was bent double, hands clasped over her stinging nose while Adora alternated between babbling apologies and staring at her hand, still curled into a fist, like it belonged to someone else.
"You could've just said no." Her nose really hurt, and that really nice scent Adora got when they did this, the one she wanted to roll in and rub against until she couldn't smell anything else, was rapidly turning into a sickly, sour stink.
"I wanted to try it! I want you to," Adora protested, her breathing short and sharp, as she forcibly uncurled her fist with her other hand. "I don't know why I did that. Please, Catra, we can try again."
Catra was tempted, she'd risked broken noses for less, but Adora looked like she was going to pass out, and the idea of having to explain that to Shadow Weaver killed what little mood lingered. "Maybe later. Someone's probably gonna come looking for us soon."
[Originally posted here]
100 words of bad seduction
There were many emotions a parent might feel upon accidentally stumbling on their child in an intimate moment. Chagrin at the unwitting intrusion, wistfulness that they were growing up, nostalgia for long gone youthful encounters. However, Angella was quite certain that the slow, sinking realisation that the object of your child's affection clearly wanted to be anywhere but there was never meant to be one of them.
The kiss was perfectly chaste, Glimmer on her tip-toes, eyes closed, the very picture of puppy love if not for the fact that Adora, spine ramrod straight, eyes wide, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists by her sides, was the picture of a panicked horse on the verge of bolting.
She cleared her throat and they broke apart. Rather Glimmer turned towards her with an aggrieved "Mom!" while once out of her line of sight, Adora pressed as far away back as the walls would let her.
"Glimmer, dear, I believe Bow was looking for you," she lied, keeping her voice light, Bow had been on the other side of the castle last she'd seen, it should take her more than long enough to find him. "It sounded important."
Glimmer sighed the sigh of a teenager with the universe against her. "I guess we better go find him. C'mon, Adora."
"Adora, stay. There are things I need to discuss with you. Regarding She-Ra." The second lie came less easily than the first, especially with how Adora had stilled when she'd spoken her name, but it served its purpose, sending Glimmer stalking off, her cheeks bright pink.
No sooner was she out of earshot when Adora started "Your majesty, I assure you did wasn't what it looked like. I mean maybe it was, but I didn't wa- I mean didn't intend for it happen. I didn't know she felt like, or she was going to-"
She cut Adora off with a gesture. "I'm not angry at you, Adora." She did her best to keep her voice calm, despite the rising certainty she needed to be angry at someone, even if she didn't know who yet.
A certainty that only grew, when, with a speed that would've been hilarious if it hadn't been heartbreaking, Adora switched tack. "But you should be. It was all my fault. My idea. I led her on. I do that, everyone knows I do."
This was not a conversation to be had in public, for either of their sakes. Taking as light a grip on Adora's jacket sleeve as possible, she led the girl into the nearest room, only to realise her mistake when she caught sight of the bed, and Adora's frantic stream of words cut off with a small, soft "Oh."
She reflexively let go of Adora's sleeve, which proved to be her second mistake in as many minutes, as she shed the jacket before she could stop her, thankfully pausing with the hem of her shirt in her hands. "I guess you want me on the bed, then." Nausea roiled in the pit of Angella's belly as she kept listing options in that flat, dull tone. "Or on my knees on the floor, or over the desk. I don't mind."
Angella found she very much did mind, enough to risk touching Adora, and took hold of her shoulders. "Adora. Stop. I don't want...that."
"But I do." Even if she couldn't feel Adora trembling like a baby rabbit under her hands, or the girl had been able to meet her eyes, or Adora's voice wasn't thick like she was on the verge of tears, it was still the least convincing statement she'd heard since Hordak's claims of being lost peaceful explorers after the Horde had first arrived in Etheria.
[Originally posted here]
100 words of caring who bottoms
Moving silently through the pipes and plumbing, Catra stalked her oblivious prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. Adora didn't look up. She never looked up, even though she should know better.
The moment came. She pounced, and the element of surprise, plus, you know, her general superiority, meant that the ensuing scuffle ended with Adora firmly beneath her, hands pinned above her head, and one of Catra's knees between her thighs.
"Shocking performance there, Force Cadet," she said, mimicking the sergeant. She could feel Adora trying to wriggle free under her, but that just left her grinding against her knee. She let go of one of her hands so she could poke her forehead with a claw. "What if I'd been a princess? You'd be at my mercy while I did terrible, princessy things to you."
"Like what?"
It wasn't that Catra didn't like how breathy and eager Adora sounded, but there was something about that eagerness that set a suspicion growing in her mind. "Did you just let me win?"
"No?" No amount of squirming could distract from the fact that sometimes, Adora was a terrible liar.
"Adora." She pulled back, though not enough to actually let Adora up. "You weren't supposed to do that."
"I'm sorry." And Adora really did look and sound contrite too. "But I like it either way, and you seemed like you'd been thinking about what you wanted to do to me, and I thought we were supposed to have fun with this."
They were. Catra didn't even know why she was so annoyed. "Yeah, well, winning's not so fun when you don't even try."
"I mean if that's what you want..." That and the thoughtful look on Adora's face were the only warning she got before Adora bucked her off and attempted to tackle her to the ground.
[Originally posted here]
100 words of kidnapping
Jorunn couldn't remember falling asleep, but she woke to ear-splitting screams in stereo and an absence of weight in her arms. Her eyes flew open and her heart stopped. A figure, tall, shadowed, and completely unfamiliar stood over her, Adora, red-faced and howling, in its arms, while Catra, hissing and yowling like a wild thing, dangled from one forearm, latching on with teeth and claws and fury. A fury that her tiny body didn't have the strength to match, and Jorunn's frozen heart clenched as she saw her daughter begin to slip.
"Catra!" The snarl ripped from her throat as she launched herself at the stranger, snatching Catra out of the air one-handed, claws of the other fully extended to rake across this intruder's face. She spun lightly on her feet as she landed, noting that the wall that should have been behind her wasn't, in its place stood a crackling sheet of black and red energy that set every single strand of hair and fur on her body on end. But that wasn't her concern right this instant, the stranger still had Adora and satisfying as the coppery scent on the air was to outraged instinct, it would be a short-lived satisfaction if she'd caused them to drop her.
"Filthy beast." The stranger still had Adora clutched to her chest, even if one hand now clutched just tightly to her face. "Stand aside and you may even keep your brat."
Later, Jorunn would at least be able to tell herself that she didn't hesitate, didn't consider it, but rather, without skipping a beat, she drew herself to her full height and flexed claws wet with blood. "Put Adora down and you may even keep your life."
[Same now completely and thoroughly jossed verse as this. Originally posted here]
100 words of your goody good fave as a serial killer
They're fifteen when Shadow Weaver disappears, maybe sixteen, it's not like anyone actually keeps that close track. It's not like this is the first time something like this has happened. People vanish all the time in the Fright Zone, Catra's never questioned it, not only because it doesn't pay to ask too many questions, but also because she's just glad they're gone, though she's sometimes sorry for whichever smaller, weaker kid they're picking on now.
But this is different, this is Shadow Weaver. Catra fully expects her back, to show up full of fury and ready to take it out on her. At least, she does until Adora, who's been sleeping without night terrors for the first time in nearly as long as Catra can remember rolls over, buries her face in her fur and tells her not to worry. "She's not coming back. I made sure."
Catra doesn't respond at first, not understanding. Not wanting to understand. So, Adora lifts her head and continues, looking at her with an earnest blue gaze. "I'm sorry it took so long. She was a lot harder than the others."
Others? Catra's mouth is dry and her spine cold when she finds her voice "What did you do?"
"I'm not supposed to let it happen again," Adora says, frowning like she thought it was too obvious to need to say. "To let anyone hurt you. So I don't."
[Originally posted here]
100 words of feral characters
The girl is tiny and terrified, not that Micah can blame her for that, he's been in this place for probably as long as this girl's been alive and there are still nights he sleeps with one eye open. She hisses and swipes when he approaches, slowly, slowly, puffing up in a way that would be hilarious if it wasn't heartbreaking.
Slowly, slowly is the watchword with the girl. Slow to trust, quick to snarl and flinch and snap when he uses magic to start a fire or hide them from the island's less savoury inhabitants. Something that does little for his peace of mind.
Still, he feels he's making good progress by the time the next supply shuttle comes through, he thinks the girl might even deign to share her name at some point soon, but then one of the crates pops open on its own, and Micah has a second, blonder problem on his hands.
[Originally posted here]
100 words of Regretting Getting "Everything You've Ever Wanted"
Catra is happy.
She rules the Horde, and the Horde rules Etheria. She's in charge and no one else can ever hurt her or Adora ever again.
She doesn't have to be afraid of Shadow Weaver, bound in chains in her throne room, a gag stilling her dangerous tongue except for when Catra wants her to speak.
Adora doesn't need chains. At least not visible ones, that life-long lesson had been put to good use when she'd first taken the throne, had Glimmer and Bow brought before her and told Adora to pick one, to choose who she really cared about. Adora had tentatively touched her knee, and when she'd spread her legs in invitation, knelt between them.
Where she stays. No chains, no collar, just Catra's hand occasionally stroking her hair.
There'd been another attempt today, the first in a while. The dagger hadn't even cleared its sheath before Adora had them pinned to the ground. She could have handled it herself, but the stricken look on these would-be heroes got their faces when they realise who exactly stopped them never gets old.
It's also as good an excuse as any to cancel any remaining audiences, clear the throne room of everyone unnecessary.
The assassin's blade is razor sharp, and if it's poisoned, it's not one she can smell, so she presses the handle into Adora's palm, grips her wrist, forces it up against her own throat.
"Catra? What are you doing?" Adora tries to pull away of course, but Catra just digs her claws in, holds her there.
"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it," she says, conversationally, the dagger close enough to shave off chunks of fur as she speaks. "Letting one of them through, trying it yourself."
Adora's answer is short, soft, and sincere. "No."
"Why not?" She draws the question out, ignoring the feel of cold metal against her skin. "Not like you to pass up the chance to be a hero."
She watches Adora's eyes widen as she tries to come up with an answer. "You'll hurt people, you said-"
"I won't." She cuts Adora off. Glances across at Scorpia, who looks about as happy as Adora. "I promise Scorpia will make sure no one gets hurt if you do it. In fact, do it right now, and you can have the Horde. That'll make Shadow Weaver happy."
"But I don't want-"
"To save people?" She lets her tone grow mocking. "You can save all of Etheria, right here and now, all you have to do is kill me. What's stopping you?"
As soon as she lets go of Adora's hand, she flings the dagger across the room, the loud clattering followed by the thump of her knees as she crumples to the floor. Catra pulls her back up, grip gentling, wiping her tears away as she leads her to their bedchamber.
She's the most powerful person in Etheria and Adora loves her, so Catra is happy. She has to be. Because if she's not, she doesn't know what else it would take.
[*pours one out for the five minutes when it looked like there'd be the opportunity for so much throne sex*
Originally posted here]
100 words of animalistic sex habits
Adora wakes groggy and leaden limbed, clad only in her undergarments. As the cold of the floor seeps through the thin material of her shorts and singlet, and she tries and fails to stand up, she catches sight of Shadow Weaver and freezes.
Stupid, stupid. She knows that it makes Shadow Weaver angry, so, so angry, even if she doesn't understand why, it's not like they're breaking any rules, but then Catra smiles at her like that, laughs as they tackle each other to the ground and she doesn't care. Stupid, selfish.
Shadow Weaver waits until she finally manages to stand on inexplicably weak and wobbly legs, strokes her hair, tucks it behind her ear. "Adora, I don't know what to do with you." Her voice is calm and that scares Adora down to her bones. Shadow Weaver's anger is terrifying, but anger can be deflected, mollified, at least for a little while, and sometimes even just a little while can be long enough, but calm means she's already decided what she's going to do. "It seems you're determined to rut like an animal. So who am I to stop you?"
She steps back and Adora becomes aware of a low growling from the shadows, turns her head to catch the glow of eyes, blank and hungry. This time, when Catra bears her to the ground, teeth latching onto the nape of her neck, claws scrabbling for purchase, neither of them are laughing.
[Originally posted here]
100 Words of Plz Write Moat!
Shortly after Catra finally joined Adora's harem (or as Catra insisted on telling everyone, Adora joined her harem), a moat mysteriously and inexplicably appeared cutting off access between the seraglio and Adora's bedroom. Catra, both conveniently and coincidentally, had been staying in the latter.
No one quite had the heart to point out that even if most of them didn't have powers that enabled them to bypass the moat entirely (and the ones who didn't were simply tall enough to wade through), there was precisely one person here who actually considered a waist-deep pool of water an impassable barrier. Well, except for Scorpia, who kept offering to carry Catra over it.
[Sequel(ish) to this. Originally posted here]
Prompt: Sibling incest with codependency.
"Hey, Adora," Catra sobbed woobieishly. "I only attempted all those murders because I wanted our mommy, Shadow Weaver, to love me and also because you were being a terrible emotional support girlfriend."
"I'm sorry," Adora also sobbed but guiltily, not woobieishly. How could she have been so selfish and prioritised her own safety and emotional wellbeing over Catra's? "It doesn't matter that our mommy, Shadow Weaver, doesn't love you, because I do."
Then they fucked, but not in a sisterly way, because that would have been squicky.
"But the incestous undertones are a feature," sobbed author nonny, metaficionally.
[Here.]
-
Prompt: Readerfic for your fandom.
You are a Velociraptor. Currently you are sitting on a rock in the desert, crying, because ever since to fell through a portal and ended up on Etheria, you have been completely unable to find a hot lady to thoroughly raw you.
You have found plenty of hot ladies, but the angry kitty was too hung up on her ex, the buff scorpion lady wanted to be a sweet service top, the shadowy milf was only interested in mindfucking you, the glowing sword lady kept getting distracted by the angry kitty, the inexplicably British angel kept having UST with Doctor Yang, the snarky mermaid said topping her boyfriend was already too much work, and the less said about holographic Grace Jones the better.
As you cry your sexually frustrated theropod eyes out, you hear a gravelly voice. "Why are you crying, little Velociraptor?"
You look up to see a tall purple woman who looks like Furiosa, only she has hair and both arms, also she's purple. "I'm crying because I can't find a hot lady to raw me thoroughly," you tell purple, two-armed Furiosa with hair.
Furiosa smiles at you and picks you up with one of her two arms. "Worry not, little Velociraptor, for I shall thoroughly raw you."
Which she does.
[Here.]
