#I'm so excited for y'all to read this

[firenati0n]

WIP Acrostic Game <3 :)

thank you @cha-melodius @caterpills @14carrotghoul @anincompletelist @sparklepocalypse @littlemisskittentoes for the tags :)

Rules: From your story/WIP, find sentences that start with each letter of the given word. (I was able to find sentences relatively easily by searching for the letter preceded by a space and a period in my doc)

i just finished posting proposal au so the only active wip doc i have is angel!henry sequel yeehaw!

My Word: BOLT

Your Word: IRON

B:

"But we were giving away so much of ourselves in the name of service, emptying ourselves for the people around us with rarely a chance to recover.”

O:

One minute Alex is walking in, the clock striking an hour far too late for Henry’s comfort; the next, they’re arguing across the kitchen island, Alex running his fingers frustratedly through his hair and Henry gripping the counter edge.

L:

Looking at their folded wings, he feels a little spark in his gut, a pull.

T:

"That’s when I showed up in your kitchen, where you accosted me with an unlit candle and blazing eyes.”

xoxo roop

+ open tag and a few tags, idk who has been tagged or done it but consider this your opportunity :D

@ninzied @alasse9 @nontoxic-writes @myheartalivewrites @whimsymanaged @wordsofhoneydew

@leaves-of-laurelin @onward--upward @suseagull04 @thesleepyskipper @run-for-chamo-miles

@seths-rogens @judasofsuburbia @orchidscript @tintagel-or-cockleshells @cricketnationrise

@everwitch-magiks @getmehighonmagic @kiwiana-writes @candyspandemonium @tinyarmedtrex

@energievie @stellarmeadow @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @blueeyedgrlwrites

@getmehighonmagic @welcometololaland @sophie1973 @priincebutt @thedramasummer

@zwiazdziarka @indestructibleheart @bitsnpisces @eastbluesaga @softboynick

@rmd-writes @lilythesilly @ships-to-sail @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @sherryvalli

[mothwingwritings]

Animal Magnetism

F!Reader X Yujiro Hanma (Omegaverse AU)

Well folks, here is my first ever attempt at a true Omegaverse fic. I wanted to start out with something little to get a feel for it, but since I don’t know how to chill it ended up being a bit longer than anticipated. ^^; I’m still getting the hang of it all, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! Thank you so much for reading!!!

Also, I have a rather busy end of May-June coming up, so I’m not sure how much I will be able to write and update during that time. I apologize in advance. That being said, I wrote this pretty fast and edited it even faster so that I could get it out before I get swamped, so I apologize if it reads a bit rushed. (シ_ _)シ

THIS FIC IS NSFW, SO 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: Noncon/dubcon, yandere vibes, ABO/Omegaverse AU (reader is the omega ofc), death, strangulation, brief mentions of stalking, reader is degraded and treated like an object by Yujiro Hanma. You know how it is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯"

You considered yourself lucky to have found the love of your life.

That wasn’t always the case for Omegas. Since your childhood, you’d heard countless horror stories from your parents and friends, tragedies and cautionary tales of the horrors Omega’s faced when looking for a mate. Many of your kind faced dismal futures as breeding factories or were forgotten and neglected by their partners whenever they weren’t in heat. It was a lonely, painful, and unfulfilling existence, but a sad reality that many Omega’s endured nonetheless.

Because of this your parents sheltered you, doing their best to keep you from the cruel power imbalance of the outside world. Your father made sure he was the only alpha allowed near you on the property, the rest of your friends and acquaintances consisting of either other Omega’s or Beta’s. Not that you much minded, after all the negativity you heard surrounding Alpha’s you figured this was for the best. You weren’t missing out on anything, and as long as you took your suppressors accordingly, you were sure you could live out the rest of your life just fine without Alpha influence and still feel completely fulfilled.

That was to say, until a certain bodyguard was hired as the family escort, specifically YOUR escort. You had heard he was an Alpha and were quite shocked that your father would allow such a person so close to you, especially with all his previous warnings. But as time passed and your curiosity grew, you would eventually introduce yourself to the man of your own accord, excited and nervous to see what manner of individual he truly was. At the time, you would have never ended up guessing that one meeting would end up turning your entire world on its head, bringing more joy to your life than you could have ever imagined.

You were smitten the moment your hands joined in the initial shake, taken in by his easy smile and sparkling eyes. He had respectfully kept his distance from you at your father’s request, but you could tell he was elated to finally speak with you, a small blush gracing his cheeks as soon as you said ‘hello’. He was a kindly man, mild mannered and soft spoken, but strong where it mattered and protective to a fault. Were it not for the unmistakable scent that exuded from him, you wouldn’t guess he was an Alpha at all, or at least he certainly didn’t fit the description of most of the Alpha’s your father warned you about-all full of machismo and brutality, ready at a moment’s notice to tear you apart to satisfy their own base urges.

This man was the opposite of that, and when you fell for him, you fell hard.

Years past in a whirlwind, from the initial awkward first dates, to buying your own place together, to his heartfelt proposal to you. Through it all he always remained respectful, giving you all the space and time you needed to adjust to your life with him, never pushing his boundaries or showing any untoward aggression or advances.  Because of this, even after spending years together, you were able to remain pure, saving yourself for the day the two of you would join as one, marking each other to truly solidify your union.

And so time marched on, moving so fast that on more than one occasion you wished you could stop the clock altogether, just to steal a few more moments with him.

But now, you would never enjoy his company ever again.

His corpse had been tossed aside, discarded several feet from where you lay. It was so bloodied and broken you could barely recognize it as human, let alone as someone you once loved. Your chest rose and fell with erratic breaths punctuated by fear, the desire welling inside of you momentarily quelled by this sudden nightmare.

Minutes ago he was atop you, peeling the clothing from your aching, hot body. Moving painfully slow, he took his time enjoying your first heat with him, no longer constrained by the suppressors you had taken your whole life. You were scared of the process, worried about losing control of yourself and becoming mindless, driven by only your base needs. Not to mention the pain it would entail, the endless torture of emptiness, and the desperation you would experience relying solely on him for release from your torment.

But he had been patient and understanding through the whole process, explaining how it would all go down and how he would help you through it, alleviating any rogue fears that still remained. He even went so far as to help you prepare your nest, purchasing you any and everything you may need to make it comforting and inviting for when the time finally arrived. Meticulously helping you arrange everything while gushing about how excited he was, how lucky he felt having you as his mate, the one he would be eternally bonded too. He seemed more into the prep work than even you did.

Now, the nest that was to be used to consummate your love was stained in crimson, his blood splashing across it in vibrant streaks the moment he was knocked off you, flung across the room like a rag doll. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the lifeless body that used to be your beloved. Everything that had made him shine had been stolen in the blink of an eye, leaving only a husk remaining.

Above him stood his murderer, Yujiro Hanma, looming with a bestial sort of feral energy as he stared at the carcass by his feet.  Before this moment, you had never interacted with the man they called ‘The Ogre’, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know all about him. It was hard not to-the strongest man in the world was a celebrity in his own right, renowned the world over for his ferocity and ruthless nature. He had started and ended wars by simply existing, going wherever he pleased and doing whatever he wanted because there was no one who could stop him. He ruled countries from the shadows, amassed wealth and respect from the most influential men in the world. Truly, he was not a person to be reckoned with.

All that aside, you knew him best as the man your father despised the most. A once respected comrade from your father’s military days, you were aware that Yujiro had done something unspeakable to your father in the past, therefore disgracing him from your entire family. Your father had always been an amicable and fair man, someone that you couldn’t imagine having any enemies (even with his military background), let alone ones that used to be dear friends. And while the mystery of what Yujiro may have done to your father to receive this treatment gnawed incessantly at your brain, you kept your questions to yourself, not wanting to open any old wounds that may hurt him in the process.

Now you wished you had pressed the issue more, maybe then you would have a clue as to why this mythical family villain had abruptly entered the scene, irrevocably changing your life in the process.

The slaughter happened so quickly that Yujiro didn’t even break a sweat. Not that he would have anyway-the differences in ability were clear as day, you didn’t need any fighting prowess to realize that. Your mate never stood a chance.

The ogre’s fiery hair danced wildly around his head like a halo as he turned his attention your way, his figure both terrifying and awe inspiring as he took his time stalking towards your vulnerable form. There was no need for him to rush- the power of his presence alone was enough to root you in place.

Splayed out in your nest, you were completely exposed. Your nude chest heaving as a thin layer of sweat coated you, anxiety and confusion mingling with the raging heat your body was going through. Even after watching the execution of your mate before your very eyes, your body was still yearning, causing a horrible, all-encompassing burning that scalded you from the inside out. It made you desperate for release as your mate was in the process of marking you, taking his time exploring the body of the woman with whom he was destined to spend the rest of his life with before carrying out the duty.

And while his drawn out advance was driving you to the point of madness, amplifying the throbbing ache in your core with each teasing touch of his hands and sensual kiss of his lips, you knew the sluggish pace was for your benefit-to prepare you properly. It was your first time, the start of your forever with him. He wanted to make it special, for your pleasure to be immeasurable when he finally entered you, making you feel so good that when he bit down to mark you as his, the pain would be nothing in comparison, if felt at all. You had a life time of love ahead of you, but that was no excuse for him to give in to his desire and rush your first union.

But he was gone now, and his kindness had left you feverish and wanting-so desperately wanting- release. Craving your alpha, needing him so badly you could barely stand it, you writhed pathetically on the ground, whimpering in agony at the absence of fulfillment. Unable to control yourself, your hand traveled to your privates, tears flooding your eyes when stuffing your fingers deep inside of yourself only seemed to hurt you more. It was hollow and empty, not what you needed, not what you craved.

Were you in your normal mindset, revulsion would have washed over you at your actions-the love of your life had just been slain and here you were making a sorry attempt at masturbation while his body lay decomposing beside you. What kind of woman does that? How could you live with yourself after this? How could you tell yourself you truly love him, when now that he’s gone the only feeling your addled brain can conjure is disappointment over the fact that you won’t get the fucking you have become so desperate for?

How had you become so disgusting? You lightly shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts of self-loathing. Perhaps the blame did not lie fully on your shoulders, but to another culprit, one who was stalking his way closer and closer to you with each passing moment, hunting you as a wolf does livestock.

In any other scenario, this heart-rending moment would have been enough to crack the shell of haze your heat had left you in, no matter how worked up you had become. But the man who was now standing above you, Yujiro Hanma, was dangerous in ways you hadn’t even begun to fathom. His smell of his musk was so overbearing you nearly choked on it, the lust it sent coursing through your body turning you into something unrecognizable. You honed in on Yujiros scent long before his arrival, at first mistaking it for your own mate’s scent that had been amplified by your combined heats. And while it disgusted you to admit it, this new, intoxicating scent excited you far more than your own lover’s ever had, turning your mind to mush the longer you inhaled its aroma.

Yujiro’s cruel eyes bore down upon you, a look of mild amusement displayed on his face as he took in your weakened state. The smirk he wore as he killed your lover began to grow, his lips spreading into a full on smile, baring his teeth in a look that could only be considered as malicious.

“Well what do we have here,” he leered, the mere sound of his husky voice enough to make you moan, “Feeling a bit neglected, are we?”

He bent down on his knee, kneeling beside you as his eyes flicked across your body. After a brief once over, his large hand reached out towards your head, thick fingers knotting themselves into a fist as they gripped your hair. Roughly he yanked you up, dangling you mere inches from his face as he continued to stare at you with his horrible, ravenous eyes.

You scrambled to get your bearings, perching yourself on your knees to help alleviate the pressure on your scalp. Positioned so closely to him, his pheromones became even more intense, slick starting to seep from inside you from the proximity alone. Bright red bloomed across your body, a mixture of extreme arousal and embarrassment, as you wriggled in his hold.

Yujiro scoffed, “Look at you, I haven’t even touched you and you’re already leaking,” He swiped his fingers briskly against your weeping pussy, making you cry out as he gathered the evidence of your intoxication on his hand. Holding the glistening fingers up to your face, his smile returned as he goaded you.  “Bet your little boyfriend lacked the power to make that happen, didn’t he?”

Any anger that may have welled inside you over the slight against your beloved was instantly quelled, eaten by the tumultuous feeling of frustration the situation ensnared you in. All you could do was stare at Yujiro with pleading eyes, any words you attempted to speak dying out the moment you tried to voice them, becoming little more than whiny, petulant mewlings. Rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to create friction, you prayed he would show an ounce of mercy and grant you release soon, fretting over how much longer your body could handle waiting.

Yujiro sighed, chuckling softly under his breath, “Your father is a damned fool, you know that? I told that stubborn bastard that his cute little Omega daughter was meant to be mine, knew it the moment I saw you. I warned him that he could try and pair you off with some other lesser Alpha, but it would be a waste of time. You were fated to be mine- made to take my cock. Trying to make you anything other than my bitch was both asinine and disgraceful.”

He shot you another wicked smile, “Idiots like him may not realize what a fucking honor it is to be my cumdump, but surely you do, right sweetheart?”

You squeaked as he tugged you closer, his breath fanning your face while he stared down his nose at you, “Or maybe you don’t, given the situation I found you in. Looks like my ravenous little whore just couldn’t contain herself, could she?”

His lips curled into a snarl, his booming voice reverberating through your bones as he continued to address your misdemeanor. “Nesting with some weak piece of shit like that, have you no pride in yourself? I’m embarrassed you even gave him the time of day, let alone bared yourself to him. Who do you think you are, trying to fuck basic trash when you belong to me?”

Without giving you a chance to respond, he released his grip on your hair, shoving you roughly to the ground in the process. Hearing him move behind you, you attempted to push your feeble body into a sitting position, trying to reacclimate yourself. However before you could achieve this simple goal, his hand latched to the back of your head, shoving it down until it was smothered in the soft blankets beneath you. His free hand yanked your legs out from under you, pulling your ass up in the process. Though you couldn’t see him, the power radiating from him was immense, his aura so domineering you felt as if it alone was steadily crushing you. Were you in any sane frame of mind you would fear for your life, struggle and fight against the oppressive hardness that slotted itself against your dripping entrance.

But the slave you had become welcomed the intrusion, and as he tightened his hold on you, growling in your ear like the wild animal he had proved himself to be, you couldn’t stop your body from shuddering in anticipation of what was to come.

“It’s time for some corrective action.”

He entered you violently, his thick cock impossibly hot as he sheathed himself inside of you. The initial pain tore a scream from your throat, your vision dotting as you felt blood trail steadily down your shaking legs. He gave you no time to adjust, continuing his brutal assault as he pounded into you, uncaring of the damage he was inflicting upon you. The smack of his skin against your was punctuated by your cries, at first full of pain, but slowly morphing into expulsions of pleasure.

When the abruptness of his entrance fully subsided, you began to focus on the feel of him inside of you. Each slam of his hips ignited you, creating a feverish frenzy within that blocked out all other sensations and judgment. He filled you so completely, easily reaching all the spots that your fingers tried so desperately to reach just moments ago, satisfying all the areas that had been so urgently in need of attention with each stroke of his cock. You wanted more, needed more, moving in time with him as you chased after your pleasure. Wanton moans spilled from your lips, muffled by the bedding that was being shoved into your mouth with each thrust.

Even in the uncomfortable position he had locked you in, unable to breathe properly or escape from his grasp, all you could find yourself caring about was the alpha behind you and how he was making you feel- a strange sense of pride bubbled inside you the longer he went at you. The most powerful man in the world was doing little more than using you, and yet it was the fact that he chose you to begin with that filled you with flattery. A nobody like you being sought out by an alpha like him... Isn’t that what all Omegas dreamed of? To be desired by a dominant Alpha, having the honor of bringing them pleasure and receiving pleasure in turn, wasn’t that your only purpose, your reason for being?

You never dreamed you would feel that way before, but now you were finally starting to understand. The delirium of your desire had launched you into a state of inescapable euphoria, rebirthing you as nothing more than a shell of a woman who had finally realized her purpose, completely giving herself over to her unquenchable cravings while her Alpha’s assault molded her destiny.

Yujiro was a monster. Any man who did what they had done to the love of your life, any man whom your father had hated to the point of excommunication, any man who would violate you in such a way without so much as batting an eye, was an abomination-the remaining rational part of your mind understood this.

Yet as this demon, deserving of nothing but your scorn and hatred, spilled himself inside of you all you could feel was thankful. Thankful that the ungodly heat was starting to subside, happy that the pain the experience had brought you was alleviated, and blissed out over the feel of him nestled deeply inside of you, convulsing as the twitch of his cumming cock rained pleasure down upon you.

Finally, you felt complete.

After pumping you full of his hefty load, he hoisted you up in his arms, repositioning you so that you were facing him, straddling his lap. Gasping the moment you gained access to fresh air, a distressed groan croaked from your throat as his incisors latched to your neck, sinking deep into your scent gland. Your body shuddered at the sensation, fresh waves of pain and rapture coursing through you as he marked you decisively as his.

The cock that was still stuffed inside of you remained rigid, showing no signs of softening as your walls fluttered around it, the next round of your heat coming far sooner than you had anticipated. His hand wrapped securely around your throat, replacing where his lips had just been. He clamped down hard, pain pulsating from the open wound your scent gland had become, struggling once more to breath. His other hand grasped your hip, both limbs working in unison to bounce you on his dick-using you as if you were a human fleshlight.

“Don’t forget your place again,” he grunted, pulling you down on his cock so harshly, you saw stars, “You’re mine now.”

[dont-offend-the-bees]

’Cause You Cut Through All the Noise

Happy Painland Week! Day one is LOVE LANGUAGES! I could've picked touch or gifts or quality time or whatever as my love language but you know what? No. Life-affirming therapeutic domination. Edwin's love language is ordering Charles around. Fight me. Anyway, no smut here, but some steaminess/flirtation/allusions to sex. Some light angst bc Charles starts off in a bit of a spiral, bless his heart. Don't worry, Edwin'll put him right <3 (Quick translation note for any Americans reading: I'm referring to Charles' suspenders in British English, i.e. as braces rather than suspenders. Suspenders for us are generally the little sexy straps for stockings and would instantly up the kinkiness of the scene at least 70% (which I am in favour of, it's just not the fic I'm writing right now lmao)) 5.3k, M-rated, also available on Ao3. Thank you @painlandweek for putting this all together! Enjoy! 💛

Sometimes it seemed that the more Edwin learned, the less he knew. Or rather the more he thought he knew, the more he had left to learn.

Acquiring knowledge on any particular topic, it seemed, was only building the groundwork to question it further. Perhaps that's what an expert was, in the end: not a vast repository of facts, but one skilled in the art of digging for more. Not a pursuer of answers, but a pursuer of more interesting questions. Edwin had found it to be much the same across fields, across all his broad areas of interest and study.

Charles Rowland was one such area of interest.

It was quite astonishing; but thirty years into their partnership, Charles still managed to elude Edwin's understanding. Frequently. He was a lively, complex butterfly who simply would not be pinned (metaphorically, that is. In the more literal sense, he was most certainly not opposed to being pinned by Edwin. But he digressed.) They must have exhausted every conversational avenue two dead boys could traverse by now. How, then, could they persist in finding new things to say to one another? How, despite a mere sixteen years apiece of life before death, could they still find anecdotes unshared, secrets unspoken? Despite knowing Charles better than Edwin knew himself there was always, always more to learn.

And a great deal of learning had been done over the last eighteen months or so, indeed. Since the chaotic inciting incident: the now infamous milestone Case of Crystal Palace. Crystal, in all her messy human glory, had taken a battering ram to their comfortable routine. She'd rather shaken things up in the process — and thus, shaken a fresh slew of secrets from Charles and Edwin both.

Edwin's biggest secret was no longer a secret, of course. It was now common knowledge — though Charles, loyal to the last, hadn't shared it with another soul. He hadn't told anyone of Edwin's confession, nor had any official announcements been made by either of them as the 'situation' developed. But develop it had, in ways difficult to overlook. In touches, in kisses, in soft words and flagrant flirtations. Edwin imagined their friends and colleagues must have put two and two together by now, vis-a-vis Edwin and his feelings for Charles. And if they hadn't... well, it would certainly raise some concerns about the quality of their detective work.

Charles, likewise, had revealed a secret or two. Far less pleasant ones. Secrets that, in his more cynical moments, Edwin wondered if Charles would ever have told him without external pressure. Without Crystal's well-meaning badgering, or the Night Nurse's former villainy. Secrets about his family, his father, himself — or at least his own perception of himself. Harrowing they may be, but Edwin had filed each secret away carefully. Each bitter truth was a new supporting fact, a new data point. A fresh insight that peeled away Charles' brave face, and shone an interrogating light upon decades of behaviour.

Edwin had always known, of course, that Charles was not merely the plucky optimist he purported himself to be. Glimpses under the mask were rare, but inevitable. He'd have been foolish not to notice. But Edwin was not inclined to go picking at scabs. So what if Charles wished to maintain an image of himself? Image was everything; or so Edwin had been raised to believe. How a man chose to present himself to the world spoke volumes. Charles wished to be seen as a positive force, and Edwin had always respected him for that. Loved him, even, though he hadn't known it at the time. Charles' insistence on being a stubborn idealist had awed, amused and frustrated Edwin in almost equal measure. He wouldn't have changed it for the world.

But it was one thing to know that the chipper, animated, relentlessly positive Charles he'd come to know was a crafted image. Finding what lay behind the mask was another. It was a new level of understanding, of intimacy, to finally know the bedrock that lay beneath every too-bright word or action.

Charles Rowland was an inveterate people-pleaser.

In retrospect, of course, it made perfect sense. Edwin had sat with it, applied his new knowledge to a thousand interactions, and found it fitting. It had been a relatively easy fact to accept into his broader understanding of Charles.

The bitterer pill to swallow had been in realising just how often Edwin was, himself, a person Charles felt the need to please at all costs.

Edwin liked to think that their relationship had improved since those various revelations. It had certainly changed in notable ways. Especially since last November. Bonfire night. The night Charles had kissed him under the fireworks and thanked him, sheepishly, for 'waiting for him to get his head out of his arse'.

But the kissing and... other activities weren't the only new additions to their relationship. Moreso than ever before, there were repeat and regular attempts to open the lines of communication. They did not always succeed in those attempts. Charles' fear of rocking the boat and Edwin's discomfort with emotional outpourings were at odds with one another, and often left them at an impasse.

Nevertheless, Edwin was determined to try. Charles deserved nothing less; there had never been a person, alive or dead, more deserving of Edwin's trust. And it was the dearest wish of Edwin's afterlife that he could be the same for Charles. That he could be a person Charles need not perform for, or hide from. That he could be allowed to know Charles, to learn him, inside and out.

And while there was still, undeniably, work to be done, Edwin truly believed progress had been made. Through trial and a considerable amount of error, they had come to... understand certain things about one another. About what they each wanted, what they needed. Edwin was making leaps and bounds in the highly specialised field of Charles Studies.

So when Crystal stormed out of the office after another of her and Edwin's (admittedly rather petty) spats, he knew Charles needed attention before her footsteps had even faded.

"Charles?" Edwin prompted, with caution. He was not always an expert at 'reading the room', but in reading Charles he was growing more fluent by the day.

His dear friend's eyes snapped to him with a hunted look. Just as Edwin had thought they might.

Edwin cleared his throat. "Are you... alright?" he asked.

Charles, in that practised manner of his, plastered on a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, mate." He couldn't seem to look Edwin in the eye. "I'm brills."

Hm. A likely story.

He should have suspected this might happen, in the wake of such a heated disagreement. The very air in the office still seemed to ring with the reverberating slam of the door. An overreaction, really. Even mere minutes later, the whole altercation seemed rather silly. But such things were bound to happen on occasion. Edwin had certain opinions, and no qualms about arguing in their favour — and in Crystal Palace, he'd met his match. The two of them often wound up in the unfortunate scenario of a minor dispute devolving into a full-blown tiff. Such squabbles generally didn't end until someone (Charles) laughed and broke the tension, or someone else stormed off.

Edwin didn't doubt that all would be well shortly enough. If their pattern held, Crystal would come slinking back in a few hours. She and Edwin would exchange either sincere regrets or stilted half-apologies (depending on the severity of the argument). Then they would smooth over any remaining awkwardness by finding something minor to agree on (usually something Charles-related), and go swiftly back to normal.

But that resolution was some time away, yet. And in the meantime the air hung heavy; saturated with ire and discontent. Charles, emotional sponge that he was, was clearly bearing the brunt of it — and, as usual, trying his utmost to 'laugh it off'.

Edwin responded to the blatant fib with a single raised, questioning eyebrow.

Charles flinched as if struck.

Oh, dear. The situation was more dire than Edwin had thought.

“Charles,” said Edwin again, softer this time. It was important not to go on the offensive; in his current condition, Charles was liable to take any careless word as keenly as a knife in the back. “Please tell me what’s on your mind.” After a moment’s consideration, he added: “I promise I won’t be angry.”

It felt like utter nonsense to say out loud, a patronising placation as one might give to a child. But Charles, in Edwin’s experience, responded well to directness. His panic thrived in the mires of ambiguity.

Releasing a ragged breath, Charles rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “Just… dunno what to do sometimes. When you two go off at each other.” He peered at Edwin with his uncovered eye, and tried for a smirk. It fell short of the carefree, playful expression it was aiming for. “Dunno what side to pick, do I?”

He voiced it like a joke; but Edwin was listening well, and he knew an incomplete sentence when he heard it. He stepped closer and, slowly, giving him time to retreat, took Charles’ free hand and squeezed it.

Charles closed his eyes, dragging his hand down his face. “Can’t keep you both happy,” he admitted on a low mumble, like it was a shameful secret.

Guilt curdled sour and heavy in Edwin’s stomach, but he kept it from his face. Any indication that Charles had made him feel bad was bound to make him shut down further. “It should not be your duty to keep the peace,” he said, choosing his words with care. “I will speak to Crystal later, clear the air.”

Charles nodded, but remained hunched unhappily in on himself. Propped against the edge of the desk as if he needed the support. Edwin could see his brain turning itself over and over in miserable little spirals; wondering if he should have stepped in earlier, said something else. Wondering what he could have done differently to make everything better. To make everyone happy.

Edwin swallowed tightly, and placed his hand upon Charles’ shoulder. “Charles. Look at me, please.”

He did so, without question or hesitation. Responding with ease to the polite command as if it had come from his own subconscious. Quick, and keen. Already Edwin had a strong suspicion of what was needed to calm him; but it was always important to test the waters, first.

Edwin, with great care, hooked a finger through the gold chain around Charles’ neck, and tugged.

The effect was instantaneous. Charles’ wide, fraught eyes softened, slackened, his lined eyelids drooping. His lips parted around a quiet sigh, smoother than his last ragged exhalation. His shoulders slumped as if a great weight had been released from them.

Charles may be an ever-unfolding and expanding area of study. But to Edwin’s expert eye, on occasion, his needs were remarkably simple to interpret.

Meeting his now somewhat unfocused gaze, Edwin leaned in. “Put Crystal out of your mind for now,” he said, a quiet command. “In fact, put everything out of your mind.”

“She’s upset,” Charles mumbled in half-hearted protest.

“Yes — and she will continue to be so for a while longer, regardless of what you or I might say.” Edwin smoothed the collar of Charles’ polo shirt. “When the dust has settled, I will find her and smooth things over. I promise. For the time being, you’ll do none of us any good with your overthinking.”

Charles snorted. “Overthinking? Me?” he joked.

With another gentle, but recriminating tug of the chain, Charles gasped and quieted. Already, his bright eyes were taking on a dreamlike haze.

Edwin sighed and leaned close, ‘til his nose grazed across Charles’ cheekbone. “Granted, your tendency to underthink before making dangerous choices borders on the pathological,” he teased. “But I suspect you’re thinking a lot of very unkind thoughts about yourself right now, and I’d like for you to stop. Please.”

Breath shuddering, Charles’ hands lifted, fisting in the front of Edwin’s waistcoat.

“That what you want?” He asked, his voice a small and broken thing. For all his strength of body and character, he felt as vulnerable in Edwin’s hands as a baby bird.

“How about I tell you exactly what I want for a while,” Edwin offered. “And then all you have to do is listen.“

He delivered a swift, dry kiss to Charles’ cheekbone. "No detective work required.”

It was a very simple solution, albeit one Edwin tried not to employ too often. He and Crystal had a sort of pact in place to discourage Charles' need to please others, rather than lean into it. Within reason, of course — Edwin had no wish to change Charles fundamentally as a person (or to discourage him from doing what felt good to him in intimate settings. If it made Charles feel good to make others feel good, who was Edwin to begrudge him the pleasure?). But they'd agreed that it was probably the healthier option, in the long term. To steer Charles away from hingeing his self-worth on what he could do for others.

But sometimes, the damage was already done. Sometimes Charles was simply too vulnerable to rejection, too stuck in his own head. And on those occasions, Edwin had learned the kindest thing to do was to take him by the hand, and take the guesswork out of the equation.

Charles sniffed. His soft curls tickled Edwin's forehead as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, alright."

"Good." Edwin gave him another kiss, pressing this one to his temple. Charles melted under his touch, leaning into him, his hands tight and hot on Edwin's chest. "Thank you, dearheart," said Edwin.

Charles shivered. "Fuck me..." he swore, a dazed mumble.

"Hmmm... No, not tonight, I don't think," Edwin quipped — gratified when Charles managed a snort of mirth. Edwin thumbed up under Charles' jaw, finding where the tension still lingered and soothing it out with firm strokes. "I have something better in mind," he said. He released his hold on Charles to roll up in his own shirtsleeves in brisk, meticulous folds.

Charles watched his every motion with a hungry gaze. "Yeah?" he breathed, somewhat stunned; eyes devouring each newly exposed inch of Edwin's skin up to the elbow. He did have a fascination with Edwin's arms; it was a tried and true method of holding his attention.

"Yes." Edwin glanced over Charles' shoulder with a hum, and settled his hands upon Charles' slender waist. "First things first; let's get you sitting comfortably, shall we?"

He braced himself and, with careful exertion, lifted Charles to deposit him in his usual spot on the desk. Charles went without struggle, and with a gasp that morphed swiftly into a groan. His legs flopped open at once, one ankle hooking around Edwin's thigh in invitation. He tugged on Edwin's waistcoat with a soft whine of his name.

Edwin, maintaining his composure admirably, shushed him. He removed Charles' hands from his own chest — though he pressed quick, apologetic kisses to the heels of each. "Later, my love. Now. Where did I put it..."

He patted down his trouser pockets. When that yielded nothing, he sifted through the stationary cup on the desk. He suspected the object he desired might still be in his coat pocket, but he was loathe to step too far from Charles. Luck, however, was on his side. He recovered the coil of string from a box of spellcasting odds and ends with a small sound of triumph.

Charles watched Edwin's hands unwind the string; rapt despite the slight glaze of his eyes. "You gonna tie me up, then?"

Edwin tsk'd. "What a one-track mind you have this evening," he teased. It wasn't a scold. Having Charles focused and fixated on trying to get Edwin into bed was vastly preferable to the jumble of insecurity. "Hold out your hands."

"Sure you're not tying me up?" said Charles, brow furrowing as he lifted his hands — palms up, beautifully willing.

"I suppose that depends on your definition," said Edwin, as he tied the ends of the string together to form a wide loop. He nudged Charles' hands into place, about a foot apart with palms turned inwards, and draped the loop over them.

Charles, through the haze, finally twigged. "Cat's cradle?" he said, with a slight chuckle.

"Do you object?" asked Edwin.

"Why'd you wanna do this?"

"Because I like playing games with you." Edwin directed Charles to rotate his wrists, winding the string into loops around his hands. He indulged in a gentle touch as he did so, tracing his thumbs along the creases of Charles' skin. The smooth stretch where once a 'life line' would have resided. Edwin had not set much stock by the art of palmistry, until he'd discovered that little commonality between he and Charles. "Again, please. One more loop."

Charles didn't argue — of course he didn't. Edwin doubted he currently had the capacity to argue; so deep had he already descended into that quiet space in his head. The one he occupied only in their moments of deepest intimacy, when Edwin took charge, took him in hand. His eyes, such quick and clever things, now gazed down at Edwin hooded and glassy. Perfect, still pools of pleasantly addled warmth. He'd sunk so readily, so splendidly, all but curled up in the palm of Edwin's hand.

Edwin watched him a moment before proceeding, soothing the ragged edges of his own Hell-torn soul. Whatever he'd done in life to earn the trust Charles placed in him, it must have be something very good indeed.

In next to no time, they had the string pulled taut between Charles' hands, forming the neat double cross of the eponymous Cat's Cradle. Edwin hummed in approval. "Well done," he praised, as he pinched the crossed strands and pulled them outwards. "And now to me. Soldier's Bed, please."

Though Charles appeared to be away with the fairies, he was attuned to Edwin's voice and acquiesced to his command with ease. This was a game they had played many times, on long and quiet nights. When they'd had nothing to hand but an old bootlace, and nothing they wished to do but keep each other's company. Charles didn't need to strain to recall how to release the strings into Edwin's hold. Or how to begin forming the next shape after that, his confident fingers pinching and tugging the relevant strands.

Peaceful and methodical, they worked together, shape by shape, hand to hand. When Charles was pulling the strings for Edwin he was focused, intent, a little wrinkle in his brow. Once or twice his tongue darted out, bitten between his teeth in concentration, and Edwin resisted the impulse to distract him with a kiss. When Charles was merely holding the strings he subsided into utter relaxation. Breathing slow, eyes closed or halfway there, watching Edwin's face and hands with hazy satisfaction. Occasionally he dropped a thread, but it was never a serious blunder, and Edwin got them back on track with a polite command to pick it up. In a customary game they'd have to restart, but this was no customary game. Now was not the time to dwell upon harmless mistakes.

The game served as Edwin had hoped it would. After a few rounds of he and Charles working in perfect tandem, he could feel the air had settled and Charles with it. The grounding touches of their fingers and the face-to-face contact couldn't have hurt. Edwin had fallen into a rhythm, politely requesting each new shape by name and praising the end result. Charles had likewise fallen into a rhythm of mellow compliance. As the rounds wore on he even offered the odd cheeky verbal acknowledgement of Edwin's commands. A 'comin' right up' here, an 'on it, boss' there. His voice was thick and sweet, his tongue succumbing to the same submissive, slumberous spell as his mind. But a little of his bright, energetic spark was creeping back beneath the haze.

By the time they'd worked through the established shapes, and exhausted their own catalogue of invented ones, Edwin was satisfied. He felt they'd left the storm behind and sailed into calmer waters.

"Good game, Charles," he said, as he took their last custom shape — the aptly named Nail in the Coffin — into his own hands, and unraveled it. "Thank you."

Charles hummed, drowsy, swaying a little where he sat. "What'chu wanna do now?" he asked, dark, glassy eyes intent on Edwin's face. Like it was the most important question in the world.

He looked so lovely like this. Of course he always looked lovely, as handsome a boy as Edwin had ever seen. But like this especially, so far gone in his peace and pleasure, there was nothing to compare. Warm and golden, soft and tousled; his eyes black and bottomless and only for Edwin. Gazing at him as if he'd hung the moon and the stars.

Edwin faltered, a small gasp catching in his throat. He remained adamant that he wouldn't take more than Charles should give, at this moment. But... perhaps a small indulgence.

"Kiss me," he said, tucking a finger beneath Charles' chin. "Please."

Charles nodded — a hasty gesture compared to his otherwise lethargic motions — and swayed forward. He crashed his lips against Edwin's in an artless kiss, his hands finding Edwin's waist and gripping tight. Like he couldn't get him close enough.

Edwin sighed into it, stepping into Charles. Into the comfortable vee of his sprawled legs, where he'd come to spend many a peaceful night of late. He tilted his head, guiding Charles into a gentler kiss. Leading him as he would in a dance and letting him fall, gratefully, into step. Edwin explored the curve of Charles' jaw with his fingers, the charmingly pointed shell of his ear. He thumbed across his sparkly earring, and Charles huffed a little laugh into his mouth.

"Magpie," he mumbled.

Edwin chuckled as well, a natural release of the warmth suffusing him. He broke the kiss to dust smaller, feather-light ones across Charles' cheeks. "Well," he said, a thumb pressed to Charles' plush lower lip. "I do seem to collect the most beautiful things..."

Breath hitching, Charles wrapped his arms around Edwin's shoulders and squeezed. Edwin returned the embrace without hesitation. Never before Charles had he felt at ease with this sort of thing — this effusive, uncurbed physical affection. With anyone else it was still a struggle. He had little desire to touch, or be touched. But inviting Charles into his embrace was never a hardship; it was simply his proper place. It was a fact of the universe: Charles belonged with Edwin. In his arms, on his desk, in his bed, on his nerves.

Charles belonged with Edwin, as Edwin belonged with Charles; holding his hand, steering him true. And, where necessary, using a firm word and a firmer hold to put those wretched doubts in his head to rest.

Edwin pulled away with a parting kiss to Charles' temple. Charles felt warm, in that strange, prickly way. Ghostly body heat wasn't so much a thrum of blood as an excitation of atoms. To Edwin's mind, he felt warmer than usual at present. "Are you hot?" he asked.

"Dunno," said Charles with a lax, flirtatious smile. "Am I?"

Edwin rolled his eyes. "In the non-figurative sense, please, Charles."

"Mm. Yeah, bit hot." The smile widened into an impish grin. "Or maybe that's just you."

"You're incorrigible," Edwin muttered — but there was a smile in his voice and likely on his face, as well. His own cheeks were beginning to feel rather warm. He cleared his throat and tugged, meaningfully, on one of Charles' braces. There was a tantalising give and take to the elastic as his fingers slipped behind it. He was half tempted to release it, let it ping back, see what sound Charles made at the slight shock. But now wasn't the time for that sort of play.

"You may remove a layer, if you like," Edwin offered magnanimously — no ulterior motive whatsoever. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

Charles didn't need telling twice. He slid the braces off his shoulders and grabbed his polo shirt at the back of the neck, dragging it off over his head. It was altogether a clumsier attempt than his usual so-called 'strip teases', but his hooded eyes burned on Edwin's face throughout. Afterwards he was left in just his sinfully tight white vest — and, of course, the enticing glimmer of his golden chain on top. But he remained pleasantly flushed and glowing, with not a hint of cold or discomfort. Charles was prone to chills in times of stress; a morbid sense memory of his last night alive. But he always seemed to warm in Edwin's presence.

Edwin, with an exhale that was just a tad on the ragged side, bowed his head and grazed a kiss across Charles' exposed collarbone. "Better?"

He could feel Charles' soft groan ruffling his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, feels good." He pulled on the hem of Edwin's waistcoat. "Bet you're hot too, yeah?"

Increasingly so, yes. Edwin was clinging to his composure by a thread. "It is a touch close in here," he agreed. He could feel Charles' restless fingers tugging, so he took them in his own hands, and guided them to the top button of the waistcoat. It was only fair he restore the balance. "Would you be so kind?"

Charles groaned again, this time so close to Edwin's ear it sent a ripple down his spine, and obeyed. His hands, as was often the case when disrobing Edwin, tripped over the buttons, rendered all fingers and thumbs in his eagerness. But they were in no hurry. Edwin closed his eyes and waited, tucked into the crook of Charles' neck and perfectly satisfied to be so.

When the final button surrendered the fight, Charles made haste to shove the garment off Edwin's shoulders. Edwin corrected him with a polite "Gently, please," and Charles took it in more careful hands, mindful of causing wrinkles. It made no difference, of course — Edwin could will his clothes to look as pristine or rumpled as he pleased. But Charles shuddered sweetly at the direction, and Edwin so enjoyed directing him. Besides, there was never any harm in promoting good habits.

"Fold it, please," said Edwin — stepping back to give Charles space. He watched Charles take the waistcoat in hand and, inexpertly, fold it in half twice. Lengthwise first, then the opposite. Hardly proper protocol, but Edwin didn't much care. He just took the haphazardly folded garment with gratitude and set it aside on the desk. "Thank you."

"Anything else?" Charles mumbled — his fingers teasing Edwin's shirt, itching to tug it free of his waistband.

Edwin sighed, and stilled Charles' hands. Perhaps he was letting the situation get away from them a bit. Charles was quite the difficult temptation to resist. "Perhaps later," he said. At Charles' disappointed pout, he made an amendment. "Definitely later."

Charles snorted, and let his head flop against Edwin's chest. "Alright," he mumbled. He sounded tired. Overwhelmed. It was a lot for him, this complete surrender, and Edwin well knew it. "Whatever you say, love."

"I say it's time for a rest." Edwin took Charles' face in both his hands, holding him still as he bestowed one more kiss upon his forehead. "Go and sit down, please. Comfortably, on the sofa. I'll join you momentarily."

Charles grumbled, but nevertheless did as he was told. He hopped off the desk, hand trailing across Edwin's chest as he passed him by. Edwin caught it for the barest second, just to give his fingers a parting squeeze. An altogether impossible urge to resist; and the loving way Charles' eyes found him over his shoulder affirmed his decision.

Tearing his attention from Charles and his smiles and his soft, trusting eyes, he turned it to the bookcase instead. He knew exactly what he wished to do with Charles, now. Something they'd had neither the space nor quiet for in quite some time. He scanned the shelves, deep in thought.

"Charles," he called out, careful not to cut too sharply through the peace of the room. "Douglas Adams, or Sir Arthur?"

It was a gentle prompt, and a simple choice. The stakes couldn't be lower. He waited to see if Charles would hand it back to him, anyway — still unwilling and unable to bear the thought of making an incorrect decision.

"Mmm... Doug," Charles mumbled.

Edwin smiled to himself. On the mend, then. "Excellent choice," he said; sliding their well-loved second edition of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency from the shelf.

He turned on his heel to find Charles, folded onto the sofa in a loose tangle of limbs, chin on his fist. He bore sleepy, squinting eyes and a dopey smile, both directed at Edwin and warming him through like late afternoon sunlight.

"Like how it sounds in your voice," said Charles, nestling in further. The very picture of contentment. Seemed he could scarcely keep his eyes open; but he must not have wanted to look away from Edwin just yet.

Edwin could sympathise entirely; he rarely wished to look away from Charles, either.

Edwin smiled as he stepped in close, a hand on Charles' knee; a smiling kiss dropped to his head of rampant curls. "Quiet, now, darling boy," he softly commanded, tugging on Charles' knee to make room. "And enjoy yourself."

~

“How long did the Monk believe these things? Well, as far as the Monk was concerned, forever,” Edwin read, his thumb tracing circles on Charles’ wrist. “The faith which moves mountains, or at least believes them against all the available evidence to be pink, was a solid and abiding faith, a great rock against which the world could hurl whatever it would, yet it would not be shaken. In practice, the horse knew, twenty-four hours was usually about its lot.”

They were a scant few pages into the book, and yet Edwin suspected that Charles had drifted into a doze. It was hard to tell without facing him. They'd settled on the sofa with Charles tucked up against the arm and back, and Edwin reclining between his sprawled legs. Edwin's back pillowed on Charles' torso; Charles' arms wrapped around Edwin, like a large teddy bear. Edwin could feel Charles' chin propped atop his head. On occasion, he nuzzled into Edwin's hair with soft hums as he listened to the story. But the hums and nuzzles both had grown less frequent already, subsiding to near silence.

Edwin read on regardless. Charles, like all ghosts, rarely if ever actually slept, and was likely still listening. Even if his mind was wondering elsewhere for the time being, he'd find his way back. He always did. And Edwin would be waiting for him.

A few chapters later, as Edwin recounted the thrilling mystery of the horse in the water closet, he felt Charles stirring. Soon, Charles' wrist was slipping free from Edwin's grasp, the hand coming to rest instead atop Edwin's hand in a gentle hold.

"Thank you," Charles mumbled, nuzzling into Edwin's hair.

Edwin smiled. "There's no need to thank me for reading to you," he said. "I enjoy it."

"I meant, like..." Charles sighed, squeezing Edwin's hand. "Thanks for, y'know. Bossing me around a bit," he said, sincerity threaded through the lighthearted tease. "Seriously. It proper helps."

Edwin laced their fingers, and brought Charles' hand to his lips. "Charles," he said, simple and serious. He kissed him on the knuckles. "I shall always be here to boss you around when needed."

Charles laughed. Quiet, unobtrusive. It seemed neither one of them was quite ready to break the spell just yet. "Love you," he murmured.

Marking his page with a finger, Edwin leaned back onto Charles' shoulder. He tilted his head back, all the better to look his beloved in the eye. "I love you, too."

He only had to lift his lips, a silent prompt.

Charles needed no further instructions.

~~

Thanks for reading! Consider dropping us a comment/reblog, they do so make my day/week/month 💛 Might not manage every day of this week but I will defo see you tomorrow for a fic/collab I'm SUPER excited about!!! Painland Week Prompt List

[kanerallels]

*sighs dreamily while gazing off into the distance* so many of my mutuals writing original stories... there are gonna be so many amazing books out there some day thanks to you guys

[morphestic]

i love rare pairs

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

I've finally started the Aubreyad via audiobook, and while I always knew I would like it, I felt underprepared for just how screamingly funny it is

[thoughtsofthegirlwiththecurl]

I've got writer's block and reader's block, but goddamn if I didn't learn how to knit a sock.

Pattern is Rye Light by Tin Can Knits

Yarn is Rainfall on Oak from Spinning Tales Fiber

[holocene-sims]

happy birthday to me 🎂

as a gift to y'all on my (not) special day, on this semi-okay monday, i am restarting my story queue 🎉

oh yes, everything the stars promised is so back! and running again at 2 posts at 8 and 9 PM EST for the time being 🥂 i'll slow it down if necessary, but 2 posts a day seems to work pretty well!

[bikananjarrus]

i finally started reading the high republic books! i finished light of the jedi last night, so here are a few of my (non-spoilery) thoughts:

jedi doing cool shit with the force is my favorite thing and there is SO much good jedi doing cool shit with the force content

also the way the force was described was just, really beautiful. it's been a while since any visual star wars medium has really made me feel in awe of the force, but this did the job so well.

the little worldbuilding aspects were really cool. (hypserspace travel still being developed, bacta isn't mass-produced yet, etc.) this book was just a really nice reminder about how cool and strange and fun the star wars galaxy can be (when actual effort is put into making it that way)

on that note, god it felt good to have good star wars content. like this was SO. GOOD. (and i'm so so excited to move onto the next books, but i kind of didn't want this one to end bc charles soule is such a beautiful writer. and he made every pov interesting and engaging; i was never bored)

i think maybe my favorite pov to read from was bell's. he made me laugh, and soule wrote him in such a way that was youthful but not childish, and it was just such a joy reading his pov. i felt so connected to him immediately, and was so proud of him by the end of the book! can't wait to see where his story goes. (also i love his and loden's relationship and i have SO many feelings about the end of the book like..... iykyk.)

avar and elzar. avar and elzar. AVAR AND ELZAR. they've got me down so. bad. help.....i love both of them individually, and their dynamic together is everything to me actually. (i have so many more thoughts on them, but i’ll come back to them later)

another bullet point to again say how much i LOVE jedi doing cool shit with the force, and relating it to elzar and a) how he describes the force as an endless sea.... yeah. i'm in love w that description; and b) him wanting to push boundaries, explore all that the force is capable, is just really really cool.

the epilogue. I have not stopped thinking about it. like i got yearning and terrifying force visions all in one chapter?? charles soule did that for ME <3

i'm reading the main books for phase one in order, so next up is test of courage, then into the dark. (even though i reallyyyy want to just go right to the rising storm lol)

[the-one-who-lambs]

so. successfully defended my master's. I have some a bunch of revisions to do for my written thesis before I officially have a master's, but I'm very nearly done with it.

I'll be doing research over the summer, but it's not nearly as fast-paced as normal semesters are, and this was a semester in turbo mode. And boy I certainly felt it. I should have a week or so before this semester is officially over, then I'll be able to finish up my thesis and have more time/energy for writing.

I know I've said that updates would be slower than normal this academic year (this semester, especially) and y'all have been very patient with me, so thanks so much. I've still got another draft/revisions to go, but I'm hoping I'll be able to get back to normal Hannah writing mode because I miss averaging 500-1000 words a day lmao

[kaelidascope]

Do you have any plans for a post mm fic, like seeing how everyone heals and moves on after the events of mm? Sorry I love this fic and would literally just read vignettes of the characters getting into shenanigans

I absolutely do <33

There will be an epilogue 3 chapter fic called What Happens In Menagerie set 2 years after the events of the Midnight Menagerie. This is entirely self-indulgent and fun and meant to be a nice wrap up after the absolute hell they're all about to go through LOL

Then there will be an anthology series called Midnight Forever which is a collection of short stories and removed scenes that didn't make the final cut set all over the timeline. It won't be posted in chronological order, but just as I write them, and I plan to leave it open-ended as the ideas come to me like a dumpster for MM prompts that are canon to the story but I couldn't squeeze into the official fic. There will be a timeline table of contents though at the front to help keep track which story goes where. Some future stories I've already written for it include;

Yang's first shooting lessons with Vernal

How Blake met Weiss and how they became roommates (and their first margarita girls night)

Blake's new career after the events of MM

A collection of filthy ass smut scenes that never made the original cut

The scene where Yang gets jumped by Adam's goons mentioned in chapter 9

Memories from Yang and Ruby's childhood both when Summer was alive and after she died

How Pyrrha and Weiss happened and some of their early escapades

Conflict revolving plot point revealed in the sequel and Blake and her issues

Adam and Blake context from the past (heavily tagged and skippable obviously)

And a lot more ideas that contain spoilers that I can't share <3 but I'm so not normal about this series I'll keep writing fanfic of my own fanfic if that's what it takes

[hamartia-grander]

Starting to slowly realise I'm really not doing well mentally and it's. concerning. I feel like I should take a break from tumblr bc it takes some of what little energy I have but it's also my source of joy with friends so idk what to do, like I'd miss y'all more than I'd feel good about being away. But if you notice me talking less/not responding in days it's bc I just cannot. I leave your message notifs up so I don't forget tho <3

[immortalbutterflycos]

I JUST FOUND OUT THAT ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS OF ALL TIME HAS ACTIVELY BEEN READING MARAUDERS FANFICTION FOR A WHILE AND I'M SO EXCITED TO START WRITING THINGS FOR THEM AND THEM ALONE.

[silvers-starrway]

Oh yeah it's all coming together. Expect some more info on my Mnemonic AU sometime soon.

[rowan-ashtree]

just made my first ever podfic!!! thank you SO much to Sabrina @greenninjagal-blog for letting me read your fic, i seriously had so much fun :)

[bobfloydsbabe]

this rhett fic is so domestic and fluffy, it has me giggling and kicking my feet. it's what the cowboy deserves.