Hey, folks!

So, welcome to my collection of drabbles! If you'd like to offer a prompt, I'd hugely prefer it if you popped over to tumblr ( tinyfierceDOTtumblrDOTcom) to do so! Anything is welcome - and I'm excited to finally have time to flex my 'sprinting muscles,' as it were, and get into some short bits that have been digging around into my head for ages.

That out of the way, enjoy. =)


Anonymous asked: "More of the modern AU?"


"Tea and a cheese platter?" Hawke stared down at the ludicrously expensive Moser coffee table, an artfully arranged sea of orange, white, and gold proudly staring up at her from the polished surface. "That's what you came up with when I put you in charge of movie night snacks?"

"You disapprove of my choice," the Arishok rumbled from his seat on the sofa, casually crossing one leg over the other. He already held one steaming mug in hand, a custom-made self-warming kettle holding hours' more worth of what promised to be rooibos on the table.

"A hundred-dollar plate of cheeses I can't even recognize?" She threw up her hands, marching herself into the penthouse's immaculate kitchen. "We're watching a DVD on your couch, not opening an art gallery."

She heard the gentle clack of her lover replacing the mug on the table, massive footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. "Our sofa," he corrected her, watching from the marble countertop as she rifled through the cabinets. "The agreed-upon arrangement stipulated that should the choice of film be yours, so should the choice of refreshment be. Yet you gave no further instructions than 'not from a bakery.'"

"Yes," Hawke called up from half-deep into a set of shelves, "otherwise we would've ended up with an enormous German Chocolate cake. Again."At his displeased grumble, she smiled to herself. Left to his own devices, the Arishok would throw them both to the mercy of the diabetes gods. "I want microwave popcorn," she declared as she checked boxes. "A lot of it."

He snorted. "Greasy," he sneered, "and cheap."

"Yes. Cheap, disgusting, and glorious." Triumphant, she emerged from the standing pantry with a gaudy blue box in hand. Ripping one package open, she tossed it into the microwave and set the timer. As it began to spin on the tray, she turned to the man of the house with satisfaction written broadly across her face. "You don't have to have any," she informed him, "but I will be eating it on your sofa."

"'Our,'" he reminded her a second time, "as you seem to have difficulty recalling." His eyes followed her as she leaned back against the island to watch the waxy bag expand through the glowing window.

"I know." She stared at the popcorn for a few long moments, tapping her fingers, before turning to look at him. In a few short steps, she had crossed the kitchen to lean over the counter and cup his face in her hands, planting an affectionate kiss over his frown. "I know, all right?"

He made a noise in his throat, but said nothing.


Time found them settled among overstuffed cushions, reclining into the luxury of the fabric as an enormous explosion lit up the screen. The cheese platter sat re-covered and abandoned in favor of several ready-to-eat bags of molten salted oil and popped kernels, which were scattered and steaming up the table's immaculate polish.

Having emptied one bag's contents into a giant bowl, Hawke sat cross-legged, gleefully plucking at the buttery prize in her lap.

As a large copper-tinted hand reached over and took a handful, a grin completely unrelated to the movie wove across her face.

"Say nothing," he growled.

"Wasn't gonna."