#Rachel writes

[gravehags]

Phantom ghoul begging to breed you but Mountain having to be there to keep him under control so he doesn't accidentally hurt you

Just big ghoul keeping small ghoul in line teehee

OOH BABY

mountain easing phantom’s cock inside you, far too slowly for the smaller ghoul’s liking, and gently telling him watch how she stretches around you, how perfect she is for you. phantom nods frantically, regarding your flushed face and the way your mouth hangs open in pleasure. gently, bug. show her how good she’s making you feel. you yourself nod encouragingly, biting hard on your lower lip. phantom’s hips slowly begin to jerk - sliding himself in and out of you with pathetic little whimpers while mountain stands behind him holding his shoulders. he adores you so much and all he wants to do is take and take and take and make you his. you’re keening and arching so beautifully beneath him, the sight makes his vision go spotty and his head swim. a little harder now, bug, she can take it. the next time he pushes into you it’s with such force it moves you up the bed and makes you cry out. again, you pant, nodding deliriously to mountain, do it again honey that was so good. phantom soon sets a pace, rough but nothing you can’t handle, rutting into you with snarls and moans on his lips. you know exactly what he could do to you if beloved mountain wasn’t there to guide him and that makes you wild. his hips snap brutally against you, spurred on by the pretty little noises you make. you feel so good, bug, you cry out as you make eye contact with mountain. he himself looks hungry beyond belief but still he attends to his duty, fingers digging into phantom’s shoulders. when you start to clench around him, phantom begins gasping as if he’s desperate for air. gonna knot her, mount, he whines, fuck baby you want my knot? want me to fill you up with my kits? that alone has you careening over the edge, crying out a litany of yeses. you already feel the base of him fattening, locking inside you and you throw your head back with an exhilarated laugh. good boy, mountain coos into his ear, placing a little kiss on his bare shoulder. the way he stretches you and his sweet little whimpers are enough to rocket you into your second orgasm. beautiful, mountain says, breathing heavily through his nose, so beautiful taking his knot like this. go on, bug. fill her up. the command is all phantom needs as he paints the walls of your cunt with his seed. you’re so deliciously full and for a brief moment you lament your different biologies. finally, mountain lets him go and he falls forward to collapse on you, your name a prayer on his lips. mountain disappears momentarily and you’re content to stroke phantom’s sweat-damp hair as he slowly deflates inside you. when mountain returns, he’s bearing a warm wet rag and easing the smaller ghoul off and out of you. as he collapses on the bed next to you, mountain dutifully runs the rag between your legs to clean up the mess. when he leaves again for a moment, you turn to phantom and his anxious gaze. did i do good? he asks. did i hurt you? you smile. you were perfect bug. so good for me. wasn’t he a good boy, mount? the tall ghoul re-enters the room with two glasses of water which he sits down on the bedside table. mountain makes a noise of affirmation and smiles, sitting beside the two of you. when he moves to leave both you and phantom make noises of dissent as you reach for him. with a grin that shows his sharp teeth he begins to strip down and slips into bed beside phantom. your turn next, mount, phantom murmurs, half asleep. mmhmm, you agree, just as sleepy, you can show bug how a professional does it.

[nancys-braids]

2024 Fic Round Up

thank you to @bonheur-cafe @whatsintheboxmh @everlastingday @thisbuildinghasfeelings @alrightbuckaroo and @carlos-in-glasses!

first and foremost, i want to say thank you to everyone who gave me any support or encouragement during this year as I approach my one year anniversary of posting my first published fic. 💕

secondly, thank you to @bonheur-cafe @herefortarlos and @your-catfish-friend for being so lovely and beta reading for me this year :)

the daylight holds you close, but tonight you are mine (tarlos, E, 1K)

PWP, 1x10 coda (sorta)

as long as i'm with you (tarlos, E, 4.5k)

TK's birthday trip, football and shenanigans

in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams (tarlos, T, 1.6k)

fluff, valentine's day, fiance era

love and libraries (nancy x marjan, GA, 1.2k)

domestic fluff, established nancy x marjan, library date

i miss you in the mornings when i see the sun (TK centric, M, 822 words)

grief, self-harm, destructive thoughts, angst

kiss it better baby (nancy x marjan, E, 2.1k)

3x07 coda, post-softball game, wlw smut

soulmates aren't just lovers (nancy and carlos, T, 6.1k)

college AU, queer awakening, friendship (part one of series)

like a bird set free (buck centric featuring tarlos, M, 1.1k)

coming out, tk and carlos being supportive gay friends

all of my wildest dreams just end up with you and me (tarlos, E, 2k)

domestic fluff, smut, napping (with accompanying art by the lovely @whatsintheboxmh)

bound by love, united forever (tarlos, GA, 200 words)

double drabble, anniversary, matching tattoos

stay close to those who feel like sunlight (nancy and carlos, T, 1.3k)

4x11 coda, hurt/comfort, friendship, angst, my take on the 24k bank account explanation (part two of soulmates aren't just lovers series)

be still, my foolish heart (nancy and carlos, GA, 625 words)

nancy and carlos's monthly friendship date, anxiety, comfort (part three of soulmates aren't just lovers series)

my other half was you (nancy x marjan, GA, 3.5k)

fluff, nancy/mateo breakup, first dates

all we wanted was a place to feel like home (buddie, M, 1k)

8x06 coda, love confessions, buck POV

i like when we talk, but i love it when we touch (nancy x marjan, E, 2k)

infidelity, 5x01 coda, porn with feelings

no pressure tags to @captain-gillian @pelorsdyke @reyesstrand @literateowl @pimento-playing-hopscotch @sugdenlovesdingle @paperstorm @eclectic-sassycoweyes @your-catfish-friend @welcometololaland @carlos-tk @laelipoo @nisbanisba @carlossreaders

[rlbbackup]

On the third day of Christmas...

I present some angst to thee! Please enjoy this from me 😌

Summary:

He hadn't anticipated Garden.

“Winston Wheeler, I presume,” she purred.

His lips moved like a fish, as if scrambling to figure out what to say.

“The Shopkeeper sends his regards,” She softened her eyes. “May I have the honor of taking your life?”

Or what if Garden got involved in the Mole Hunt Arc.

Merry Christmas, @cantareincminor! I hope you enjoy! I loved writing this and will get the other two parts up as soon as I can!

[rachelsquill]

His Gay Ass is NOT Stargazing!!!

Quackity and Wilbur stood atop the Las Nevadas Needle. Quackity was gazing at the beautiful night sky above them, but Wilbur’s gaze wandered elsewhere.

He found himself observing the man beside him.

How long had it been since they put aside their petty squabbles and were at peace with one another? And what’s more is that for Wilbur that peace had developed into a sort of fondness, maybe even more than a fondness.

Wilbur’s heart tugged as he stared at the man next to him. His beanie that he never seemed to leave home without was crooked on his head. His long hair was darker than the night sky. His golden wings shone brighter than all the stars in the sky. The more he observed the man before him the more his heart ached. He sucked up his pride and rested his hand upon the shorter man’s hand, an invitation for more. 

“Wilbur, have you ever danced with someone?” He asked, still gazing at the sky.

Memories flashed across Wilbur’s vision. He recalled dancing in L’manberg beside the fire with Niki, Tommy, and Fundy while Tubbo and Jack sang a song of freedom. He remembered a spark of joy amidst the sadness in Pogtopia when he and Tommy dragged Techno from his potato farm and danced to their heart's content. He thought in fondness about dancing on the beach in Logsteadshire with Tommy. He realized that dancing had always been a time when he felt alive. 

“Wil?”

Wilbur snapped from his pleasant thoughts and looked at Quackity, who was gazing at him expectantly.

“Why? Are you offering me a dance?” He asked with a grin.

“Maybe I am…” He extended a hand out to Wilbur. “Only if you’ll have me.”

Wilbur takes the hand offered to him.

The dance is slow and sweet. Wilbur rests his head on Quackity’s shoulder letting him lead the dance. 

Wilbur feels alive.

[rachello344]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @tianrenart. This is from the radiostatic project I’ll hopefully have finished in the next day or two. ;D Enjoy!

*** “All right, everyone, I have a brand new activity for us,” Charlie said brightly as she and Vaggie came downstairs.  Vox set his book aside, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, boy, here we go,” Angel muttered under his breath.  “What is it this time?  Trust falls again?”

“Brand new, Angel,” Vaggie said flatly.  “Kinda suggests we’ve never done it before.”

“That’s right!”  Charlie placed her hands on her hips.  “We’re going to play baseball!”

Angel sat up.  Even Husk looked interested from his place at the bar.  “Baseball?  Why?”

“Group sports are great for improving communication and group camaraderie,” Charlie said.  “That, and it sounded fun!  We’ve all been cooped up inside too long anyway.”

“Baseball means at least two teams,” Angel pointed out.  “We’re competing against each other?”

“Yes,” Charlie said.  “I’m not sure how we should split up, though.”

“I can handle that, Charlie.”  Alastor appeared beside her.  The others jumped, but Vox had seen the shadows beneath her feet darkening.  “My poppets can fill out any empty spaces, hm?”

“Oh, that would be perfect!”  Charlie beamed.

“That still leaves choosing teams,” Vaggie pointed out.

Alastor’s smile turned enigmatic.  He glanced across the room and met Vox’s eyes.  “I’ll take Vox and my poppets.  The rest of you can try your best to defeat us.”

A spark shot off Vox’s antennae.  Alastor wanted—Alastor was choosing—He and Alastor could be a team of two?  “I’m fine with that,” Vox said quickly.

Angel scowled at Alastor.  “You think you’re that tough?  Come on.”

Alastor smirked.  “I know we are.”

Husk crossed his arms.  “That doesn’t seem fair.  If you get Vox, we should be allowed to pull in Cherri Bomb.”

Angel shot Husk a startled look.  “Not you, too?”

Charlie looked like she might start vibrating, she was so excited.  “Angel, would you call her?  It would be lovely to have her join us!”

“Well, she did play softball when she was alive, so I guess I’ll see if she wants to play.”  Angel pouted.  “I can’t believe you think we need the extra help, Whiskers.  They can’t be that bad.”

Vox smiled. They were worse.

[rachellesedai]

The Seeker's Prayer

Here is part two of my story for the @inklings-challenge 2024!

Team: Lewis Genre: Space Travel Themes: Instruct the ignorant/Pray for living and dead Word Count: 3,229 [PART 1] | 3,839 [PART 2]

PART 2

Zavion awoke with a start, his datapad on his chest. A yellow blinking light indicated its power cell was drained. How long had he been asleep? The lights in the reading room were at a dim glow. The room was silent apart from the ever present soft whirr of the server banks. He stretched aching muscles and staggered to his feet. Carefully, he secured the manuscript he had requested, returning it to stasis. With a yawn, he gathered his few belongings and took a step toward the curtained entrance of the alcove. A flurry of urgent whispers anchored him to the spot. Shuffling footsteps followed a hushed exchange too low for him to make out. He peered out between the curtains and saw two emissaries with hoods drawn up hurrying down the hall.

Zavion watched as they approached a transportlift across the wide passage and entered a complex code. Zavion waited a long moment after the two had entered the lift and departed. He should really go back to his quarters and go to bed. Morning and another day of filing plastisheets would be here all too soon. With a sigh, Zavion walked over to the lift. He knew a mystery such as this would keep him awake for whatever was left of the night.

Thanks to a long afternoon helping Emissary Ilana Karri repair several malfunctioning transportlifts, he knew the admin code to recall the last destination. His hand trembled slightly as he punched in the code and entered the lift. His stomach dropped as the module descended swiftly, plunging deep into the mountain. The doors slid open onto a dark stone corridor that curved slightly to the left, making any guess to where it led impossible. The light from the lift cast a weak glow, but there was no other source of illumination. Zavion hesitated. He dug through his pockets and found his small reading light. Switching it on, he took a deep breath and entered the corridor. The lift slid shut behind him and he was alone in the dark.

Zavion reached out and placed one hand on the wall next to the lift. Holding his light high with his other hand, he followed the curve of the passage, winding ever deeper into the depths below the library. Voices brought him to a halt and he extinguished his light, feeling his way along until he could see a small group clustered in a large, open gallery carved out of the rock.

The central figure was reciting something, words that sent a tremor through him even before he recognized them. The man was speaking in High Dakari, a language only found in the Empire’s oldest records and no longer spoken by any living race. Zavion had studied it, like every serious scholar, but he had never expected to hear it outside of classroom recitations.

Translating in his head, he recognized a few familiar phrases. It was the Canticle of Avrum spoken in high chant, but a longer, more complex version than any he had ever heard. The ancient prayer was attributed to the Blessed Prophet himself. Its chief importance was in it being the oldest record of the Order’s mandate to spread throughout the galaxy and seek new species.

Zavion shook his head. What was going on here? Why were these emissaries meeting in the middle of the night? He edged closer. The rock wall was cool on his skin as he pressed against it. The chanting trailed off and silence reined for a few moments. Zavion held his breath.

A robed figure stood and raised his hands. “Let us pray together,” he said. Zavion held in a gasp. He knew that voice. Narrowing his eyes, he strained to make out details. It had to be Steward Ebrim. The man’s build was right and the voice was unmistakable. The group knelt on the hard ground and began to speak in turn. They were calling out to the creator, asking for his help, praising his goodness.

Zavion put a hand to his mouth. This was more than just a few brother emissaries being a little too obsessed with tradition. This could actually be a resurgence of the ancient Cult of the Seekers. Indignation and disbelief warred within him. The group started singing, a haunting melody that echoed off the walls of the corridor. He turned and fled. The last thing he wanted was to be caught spying by a group of fanatics.

Safe back in his quarters, Zavion paced the room. The situation was unheard of. What was he supposed to do? Reporting the aberration would definitely get him the transfer he wanted. Zavion flushed, ashamed of the thought as soon as it formed. He took a deep breath and tried to reconcile what he had seen with what he knew of the emissaries he had met since coming to Karatu.

Whatever their religious inclinations, the people here were good. Perhaps a little boring and scholarly for his taste, but they were certainly not rebels fomenting an overthrow of the Empire. He did not want to cause a scandal and throw the entire library into turmoil. Who knew how many reputations would be destroyed or how much scholarly work discredited? 

“As long as I don’t let on I know their secret everything will be fine,” Zavion said to himself, “No one knows I saw anything. I’ll forget it ever happened.” With this decision made, Zavion changed into his nightclothes, climbed into bed, and proceeded to think about nothing else.

#

       Zavion almost jumped out of his skin the next morning when Davix clapped his hand on his shoulder as he picked at the sweet bread he had brought back to the table for morning meal.

       “Where were you last night?” Davix asked.

       “What?” Zavion almost choked on a crumb of sweet bread, his mouth suddenly dry. “I wasn’t anywhere. Why?”

      “We were going to play a game of stones before nightfall, but you weren’t in your rooms.” He laughed. “You weren’t poking around parts of the library you shouldn’t, were you?”

       Zavion shook his head, his heart racing as he feigned what he hoped looked like casual indifference. “Nothing so interesting. I fell asleep in the reading room. I’m afraid I was much more concerned with Ebrim catching me out after curfew and quite forgot about our game.”

       Davix shrugged. “No matter. We can try again tonight.” He paused, as if he were going to ask something else, but only shook his head and departed. Zavion breathed a sigh of relief, but the feeling didn’t last long. His datapad beeped and Zavion looked to find a message from Steward Ebrim asking him to report to his study after morning meal.

       Zavion disposed of the sweet bread, unable to eat another bite and drank down the last of his hot caf. He set the cup down with a trembling hand and forced himself to walk calmly to the steward’s study. Once there, Zavion knocked and waited for the man’s soft “enter” before opening the door.

       Steward Ebrim sat at his desk, rifling through papers. He did not look up as Zavion entered, but continued to sort through the large stack of documents in front of him. Zavion stood straight, sweaty hands tightening into fists inside the sleeves of his robe.

       “Sit,” Ebrim finally said, “I assume you have some questions.”

       “About what?” Zavion stammered, folding himself into the chair opposite Ebrim.

       “Don’t play me for the fool, my boy,” Ebrim said with a sharp look that seem to pin Zavion like a fly caught in a spider’s gaze, “I know you were there last night, in the catacombs.”

       Zavion slumped. “How?”

       “I take care to erase all record of our comings and goings on evenings like last night. An extra lift transport with your borrowed admin code was a bit obvious.”

        “Oh.” Zavion sucked in a breath. He stared at Ebrim, who looked back calmly as if they were discussing an interesting point in a text they were translating. “Why?” he blurted out, “Why risk so much?”

        Ebrim sighed. “A strong desire to know the truth and live accordingly.” He raised an eyebrow, his ears drooping as Zavion’s mouth fell open.

       “What truth? There is no scientific proof that the creator exists. Even if it is the tradition of our Order to attribute our mandate to the Prophet Avrum, no one actually believes he communed with an all-powerful creator.”

      “You’d be surprised,” Ebrim said, “The number of people who do believe is precisely why what you witnessed last night is so dangerous. I half expected the Matori to be on our doorstep this morning.”

      Zavion blinked at his mention of the Empire’s elite shock troops. “The Matori?” He almost laughed, but the sound died in his throat at the sobering look in Ebrim’s eyes. “The situation might merit academic censure… a review of the participants work, perhaps…” he trailed off.

      Ebrim shook his head. “To the Empire, the Seekers, beings throughout the galaxy who believe in the original mission of Avrum, are a real and present threat. They give no quarter when eradicating any who sympathize with our beliefs.”

        Zavion took a shuddering breath. “Do you advocate overthrowing the Empress?”

       “No.” Ebrim straightened. “We would like the truth to come out, of course, but mostly we want to be able to worship the Creator in peace.”

      Zavion grasped his head in his hands. “What truth?” he almost shouted.

      Ebrim tapped his fingers on the desk, his eyes narrowing. “I suppose it will do no harm to tell you at this point.” He leaned forward. “What we are taught about early galactic history is the barest outline of the events surrounding the foundation of the Empire. What most do not know is that we possess an abundance of records, both from that time period and the centuries following its early expansion.”

     Zavion shook his head, the scholar within him offended that the texts he had spent so much time looking for might actually exist somewhere. “Why would the Empire suppress such knowledge?”

     “Because it does not fit their narrative of how they gained supremacy. It is true that Avrum lived on Dakardr and his brother, Lexrun, was a leader of their people. However, Lexrun was only a prominent figure in what was a cooperative government of the planets orbiting the star, Alestria. It was Avrum who was held in high regard, even in the neighboring star systems. His writings were carefully preserved by his followers, the original emissaries. These men went out and spread the word of Avrum, which was a message of hope and a quest for something more.

      As belief in the Creator spread, the Order became more established. They kept records on every species they encountered and soon had amassed more knowledge than any individual planet or system possessed. At first, they were consulted as intermediaries when disputes broke out between different groups. Systems came together, some more powerful than others. Dynasties rose and fell, but the Order remained. Then about six hundred years after the time of Avrum, the leaders of Dakardr decided that since their planet held all the knowledge, they should also hold all the power. Some among the emissaries agreed and allowed the government to use their knowledge of all the other species to conquer them.

       As Dakardr’s power grew, the Order was relegated to a supporting role, and, as governments are wont to do, its ruling cooperative devolved into tyranny and the first true Emperor of Alestria was crowned.”

       Zavion rubbed his forehead, trying to absorb this radically different version of what he held to be the history of his people. “Even if this is true, if the Empire’s rise to power wasn’t as clean and simple as most think, what does that have to do with your belief in the creator? How does it change the historical fact that Avrum was simply a wise man who brought people together and encouraged them to respect each species’ culture as adding to, instead of taking away from, their own?”

     “Because the Empire hid more than its dubious beginnings,” Ebrim said, slapping his desk, “They suppressed the writings of Avrum himself, which give a completely different perspective on what our Order originally believed and what our very purpose is.”

     “And what purpose is that? What are you seeking?”

     Ebrim shook his head. “I’ve said enough. Much more and you won’t be able to claim ignorance.” He paused, his ears twitching. “What do you intend to do?”

      Zavion blinked. “Do?”

      “Are you going to report us to the Empire? I understand if you feel it your duty, but I hope I have gained enough respect in your eyes that you would inform me of your intentions.”

       “I would never…” Zavion stammered, “I don’t agree with what you are doing, but I see no need to involve the Matori.”

       “Very well.” Ebrim eyed him with interest. “I would ask you not to tell anyone about what we have discussed here or what you saw last night.”

       Zavion stood and gave the steward a formal bow. “I give you my word,” he said, “but…” he paused, looking away, “May I ask more questions at a later date?”

      “Of course,” Ebrim said, a hint of a smile in his eyes. “For now, you should get back to work. It wouldn’t do for today to seem any more unusual.”

     Zavion nodded and left the study, his head in a whirl.

#

      Zavion completed his daily routine, meticulously proofing plastisheets, packing them up for transport, and joining two other emissaries to help prepare the evening meal. He attended to each task with a laser focus that blocked out all other thoughts. He was beginning to think he might actually be able to proceed as if everything were normal when Davix showed up at his door for their game of stones.

       Zavion pulled his only other chair over to his desk and Davix set up the pieces on the checkered board. They played a few moves in silence, Zavion losing two pieces to a careless mistake.

      Davix eyed him as he collected the two white stones. “Head not in the game tonight?”

      “I’m just tired,” Zavion replied.

      Davix pushed an upright gray stone forward. “You were closeted with Steward Ebrim for quite a while this morning,” he said with a studied indifference.

      The hairs on the back of Zavion’s arms stood on end. The statement seemed too pointed to be coincidental. He shrugged, moving an oval pearlescent stone to counter Davix’s move. “He found out I’ve been looking into a transfer.”

      “You’ve been begging anyone who will listen,” Davix laughed. “Was he extolling the virtues of the library and the importance of the old ways?”

      Zavion nodded, wondering what he meant by old ways. Did he suspect just how traditional Ebrim’s beliefs were? “It’s not that I don’t think it’s important,” Zavion said, trying to sound as annoyed as usual, “It’s just not for me.”

      Davix nodded slowly, returning his attention to the game and Zavion’s shoulders relaxed. He was being paranoid. There was no double meaning behind his friend’s comment. He just needed a good night’s sleep and everything would go back to normal.

#

       The next day was anything but normal. Zavion awoke to the entire library buzzing like an overturned skimmet’s nest. The great hall was deserted, plates of half-finished meals left abandoned, chairs pushed out or toppled over. Emissaries rushed to and fro down the passageways. Some gathered in tiny knots of heated conversation, others carried large satchels of belongings as if they were leaving on foot. Not a few glared at him when he tried to approach.

      Panic rising in his chest, Zavion hurried to Steward Ebrim’s study. The door was ajar. He pushed it open to find Ebrim vaporizing a small pile of plastisheets.

       “What is happening?” Zavion demanded from the doorway.

       Ebrim’s eyes snapped up. “Oh. It’s you,” he said, waving Zavion forward, “I was about to come looking for you.”

       “What?” Zavion’s knees wobbled as he made his way forward and grasped the back of the chair he had occupied the morning before.

       “The Matori are coming,” Ebrim said, his voice crisp and matter of fact, “They will be here by nightfall.”

        “I didn’t say anything,” Zavion stammered, his grip tightening until his knuckles whitened.

        “I know,” Ebrim replied, “Which is why I wanted to speak to you. I need you to do something for me.”

        Zavion nodded, his throat tightening on the millions of questions that flooded his mind. “Of course,” he choked out, “What do you need me to do?”

         “Take this.” Ebrim removed the Star of Avrum from around his neck and held it out to Zavion. He accepted with trembling hands.

         “I don’t understand.”

         “Switch it with yours,” Ebrim said, turning back to his desk, “No one will notice. They are all identical to the naked eye.”

         Zavion did as he was told. “What is special about this one?”

        “It contains a data crystal with the writings of Avrum and the location of where we have hidden copies off all the ancient texts. That is what we have been doing here, preserving the knowledge before it is lost forever. If you find another Seeker pass it on, if not… Knowing the knowledge is out there will be enough.”

         “Why are you trusting me with this?” Zavion swallowed. “And why can’t one of you take it out of here?”

         Ebrim shook his head. “It is too late for that, my boy. The Matori will ferret out every last one of us. They will never suspect you, a fresh recruit who has been pestering every department imaginable for a transfer out of this ancient pile.” His eyes twinkled. “As for why I trust you…” Ebrim smiled, his ears perking up. “You have a good heart and you want to believe, I can feel it.”

        Zavion held the pendant in both hands. “How do you know? That the Matori are coming,” he clarified.

        “We intercepted a transmission late last night. It was the Ahiri.”

         “Davix?” Zavion gasped. “It couldn’t be…” he faltered as he remembered his friend’s odd comments and the strange feeling he’d gotten the night before. His knees felt weak. “I don’t want to believe it,” he said, scrubbing at his eyes, “How could he betray you like that?”

          “I told you. Most see the Seekers as subversives.” Ebrim shook his head. “Poor man, he probably felt he was doing his duty.” He sighed. “What’s done is done. Do not worry about him now. He is locked in his quarters where he can do no more harm.”

Zavion sank into the chair. “What are you going to do? Is there time for you to escape?”

“No. Some may try, but I am the Steward and the leader of our fellowship of Seekers. They will not rest until they find me.”

“What about me?” Zavion flushed, his cheeks hot. “Davix knows I have been spending a great deal of time under your tutelage.”

“Not enough,” Ebrim said, “There is so much I want to tell you, but there simply isn’t time. Remember this. We are seekers because we are looking for something.”

“What?” Zavion asked, leaning forward.

Ebrim shook his head. “There is too much to do. As for you, tell the Matori the truth about what you saw, even what I told you the next morning. Just keep what is in the star I gave you a secret. You will understand when you read it.” He put a firm hand on Zavion’s shoulder. “I pray that the Creator keep you safe.”

#

            The next few hours played out much as Steward Ebrim had predicted. The Matori, fierce in their unadorned black armor descended upon the library, sealing exits and sequestering its inhabitants. No corner was left unchecked.

Zavion waited in his quarters, pacing up and down the small room. He had been questioned briefly, faring better than most, it seemed. Zavion shivered, unable to forget the screams that had echoed down the halls as he was escorted to his interview. He had done as Ebrim instructed, though shame had burned within him, fear had frozen it out. His rambling answers had satisfied the dour Matori, and he was sent back to his room like a naughty child. As he left, he had heard Davix’s name linked with his and the thought that the man had vouched for him made his stomach roil.

The next morning everyone was herded into the great hall. Zavion watched, a painful lump in his throat, as the Matori carted away racks of servers and cartons of stasis modules. His fellow emissaries were battered and bruised, some staring with vacant eyes, others openly weeping. Davix was nowhere to be seen.

A tall Matori with a red slash across his helmet strode into the room. “Bring forth the accused,” he bellowed.

Steward Ebrim and several other emissaries were marched in, their hands bound in flexicuffs. Zavion sucked in a breath. The prisoners all bore signs of a night spent enduring the Matori’s brutal interrogation methods. Bile rose as they were lined up against the wall.

This can’t be happening, Zavion thought. The tall Matori read something aloud about crimes against the Empire, but all Zavion heard was a high-pitched buzzing in his ears. The room seemed to spin and blur. The Matori raised their weapons. He couldn’t turn away.

Ebrim held his head high, his eyes still shining with cheerful confidence. He’s going to meet his creator, Zavion thought as weapons flashed and silence reigned.

#

            Months passed before Zavion even dared to look at the data crystal. Finally given leave after his “ordeal,” he caught a ship home and trekked far out into the wooded wilderness beyond the tiny village he had hoped to never see again. Far from prying eyes, he spent several weeks translating the clue to the code to unlock the files. At last, with trembling hands, he accessed the writings of Avrum that Ebrim and the others had given their lives for.

            In the stillness, I heard the Creator’s voice and he said, “Go and seek among the varied creatures of the cosmos. Make note of their stories and traditions, and in time you will find the blessed world, made holy by my hand. Its people I have anointed and have entrusted to them the truth that may know me and learn my ways. This sign I give to you, that you may know you have found my people. This blessed world is the single place in the vast universe where I, the Creator, entered into his own creation, spirit and matter, two natures, but one God.”

            Zavion took a shuddering breath. He did not yet understand, but his heart was burning within his chest and he knew he wanted to believe. He wanted to know the Creator. He was a Seeker, like Ebrim. In a low whisper, he began to pray.

[sheshallfromtimetotime]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Tortall - Tamora Pierce Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau/George Cooper, Thayet jian Wilima/Jonathan of Conté, Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau & Jonathan of Conté, George Cooper & Thayet jian Wilima, Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau & Jonathan of Conté & Thayet jian Wilima & George Cooper Characters: Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, George Cooper (Tortall), Jonathan of Conté, Thayet jian Wilima, Kalasin of Conté Additional Tags: Friendship, Family Feels, Alanna's thinking about babies and that kind of freaks her out, but maybe in a good way?, George Cooper is good with kids, I'd tag George & Kally but she's just a sleeping potato of a baby here so Summary:

Alanna watches George interact with baby Kally and feels some type of way about it. Her friends notice and everyone talks about it, some (*cough* Alanna) more grudgingly than others.

[sunriserose1023]

(Guys, the Muse is musing.)

While I do have rough ideas, any suggestions for these stories will be taken into consideration. Lots of love.

[racheljustcant]

I keep thinking of the concept of an aroace femme fatale. Like, she's maddeningly attractive and everyone wants to be with her, and she uses her good looks to get what she wants, but she never follows through on the seduction part. Basically, I want to write a character who everyone thinks is a total hottie but she could not be less interested. I think it could be a fun dynamic.

[strange-soliloquies]

You are wandering down yet another bleak side street on the ground level of Mircalla. Dilapidated buildings line the way with an occasional slightly-less-derelict shop or pub to break up the monotony. The evening is wearing on, and you hear a round of laughter and song from what seems to be a particularly popular spot. You decide to pass on the rowdy establishment, seeking somewhere quieter to spend a bit of your coin and your time. Your eye is drawn to a small shop a few doors down. White and purple candles float behind the front glass, and a sign hanging over the door bears the mark of an eye. The linework of the symbol glows brightly in the dim light, inviting you to take a closer look. You try the door and find it unlocked.

The inside of the shop smells pleasantly of herbs and citrus. Shelves and cabinets line the walls, packed with odd bits and bobs. Bottles full of mystery substances, large books with cracked spines, crystal balls, decks of cards, and many, many tea cups. Candles cover every free surface, giving the room a cozy glow. In the center of the room, a low table occupies most of the floor space. At the opposite side of the table sits a young fetchling woman. She's idly smoothing the embroidered tablecloth on the table. Noticing your presence, she looks up with a smile.

"Welcome! No need to be shy; come in and make yourself comfortable!"

She gestures toward the cushion on the floor at your feet. Her black eyes shine with a strange light as she gives you an appraising look.

"Let me guess... You're new in town. Perhaps looking for some quiet entertainment. The pub was a bit too crowded for your taste, eh?"

She laughs lightly at your surprise.

"Well, I am an oracle. Discerning things about my clients is sort of my thing. And you have a fine air about you! Your aura is positively radiant. Good things are coming your way, I can tell! Shall we see what your future holds?"

She rises from her cushion and begins rummaging through the items on a nearby shelf.

"Perhaps a bit of tasseomancy to start? Maybe a palm reading? Or would you prefer to jump straight into the nitty-gritty with a bit of cartomancy? You won't find a better card reader anywhere on the continent, I can guarantee! Where would you like to start?"

Her brow furrows at your response. She nervously adjusts her shawl.

"Well... It's true that I do perform some more... otherworldy services on occasion. A séance wouldn't be completely out of the question. If you were one of my regulars. Which you're not.

No, no amount of money will persuade me, I'm afraid. Communing with the dead is... unpleasant. You don't know what you're asking for. Let's stick with a more lively means of divination."

She removes a deck of cards from an ornate wooden box and returns to her cushion. Using a black ribbon, she ties her white hair into a ponytail, then proceeds to shuffle and lay out the cards in a complex pattern across the table.

"This is the exotic tarrow deck; the only one in existence, to my knowledge. Let's see what it can tell us about your fate."

The candles flicker and dim as she slowly reveals the first card.

[sunriserose1023]

@ me next time.

[gravehags]

heaven in hiding

Pairing: Swiss x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: virgin reader, ghouls being freaky, ghouls being able to smell virginity, hand jobs, dry humping, swiss being needy

Words: 1,487

Summary: It's not your fault you're a virgin, but it's certainly causing problems for Swiss.

a/n: listen the way this man has been acting out on stage recently...he's going through it. someone had to do something about it.

~~~

“It’s because you’re a virgin.”

Your head whips around to face the blonde ghoul sitting on the couch who is currently flipping through an old copy of Vogue that was clearly stolen from your quarters. Your jaw drops and your cheeks heat up painfully while he continues to browse the magazine.

“I—no—who—”

Dewdrop looks up at you from where he’s lounging and gives you a small eye-roll. Cirrus is folded up on the opposite end of the couch fidgeting with her cuticles while Mountain leans against the wall, trying to avoid the conversation entirely. All you had inquired about was why Swiss was acting so goddamn weird around you ever since you and the ghouls had struck up a friendship and started spending time together. Everyone else seemed fine around you so why was he acting so…so bizarre every time you entered a room or walked past him? You had just come into the lounge and he had stormed out past you, practically running from the scene.

“Don’t bother trying to deny it, we can smell it,” Dew says, flipping a page.

“Bullshit!” you squeak before falling into a chair next to the coffee table.

“It’s true, hon,” Cirrus pipes up, looking at you apologetically. “You just smell…different.”

You bite your lip and fuss at the hem of your shirt, clearly embarrassed by being probably the worst sister of sin in the history of the abbey. Finally, you work up the courage to continue the conversation.

“So…is it a gross smell? Like is that why Swiss looks like he’s in pain when he’s around me?”

Dewdrop snorts loudly and tosses the magazine on the table, sending the pages flying.

“Babygirl he’s horny. You’re driving him batshit insane, that’s what’s happening.” Cirrus leans over to lightly smack Dew on the thigh and give him a pointed look, clearly indicating she wanted to ease you into this conversation.

“I…oh. Oh.” Your flush deepens and spreads across your chest, warming you from head to toe. “But you guys aren’t…affected…by me though, right?”

Mountain lets out a deep, vaguely sinister chuckle which Dewdrop snorts at.

“Oh, babe we’re affected alright. Makes us all fucking crazy. It’s just that everyone else handles it better than Swiss, he’s always been so sensitive about these things. We just go back to our rooms and jack off when it gets too much but he’s gotta be fucking dramatic and make a scene.”

You can’t lie, the thought of the ghouls alone in their quarters touching themselves to the thought of you makes your head spin and your cunt ache. Before you can comment on Dew’s bombshell statement, Cirrus interjects with a loud clearing of her throat.

“Hon, why don’t you go talk to him?”

Mountain’s eyebrows shoot up and Dew snickers to himself, causing you to pause a moment.

“Is that a good idea? Or will I make the problem worse?”

“Depends what you’re gonna do for him,” Dew says, a grin curling his lips. “Gonna help him out? I call dibs on being next.”

This time Cirrus doesn’t hold back when she smacks Dewdrop on the arm with the flat of her palm, causing him to yelp and jump in his seat. It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you stand and make for the door.

“Good luck,” Mountain intones ominously as you pass the threshold.

It takes a good ten minutes of you wandering the cloisters to find Swiss. When you see him, back against the wall bent over on himself at the waist your heart sinks. He looks fucking miserable. Were you about to make a bad situation for him worse?

His head is in his hands as you approach him, gripping at his curls. When you get within a yard of him, he unfolds and practically slams the back of his skull into the surface behind him. His body sagging, he turns to look at you, tail flicking behind him in agitation.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Wanted to talk to you.”

He chuffs out a desperate little laugh and folds his arms in a defensive position across his chest.

“About—” he clears his throat when his voice comes out a little too raspy, “about what?”

“They told me about uh. How you guys can smell me. You know.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and you wonder briefly if he’s willing you to disappear, his palms rubbing viciously at the stubble on his cheeks. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute and you shuffle in place, wondering if you should just cut your losses and walk away. When you shift a foot to leave, he reaches out towards you to gesture without touching.

“Don’t,” his eyes open and he looks at you longingly. “Please don’t leave. I—fuck.”

You’re by his side in an instant, hand on his bicep. Upon touching him for the first time, he flips your positions with a growl so that now he’s looming over you while you’re backed against the cold limestone wall. He doesn’t touch you, just hovers his hands above your shoulders while he leans in at the juncture of your neck to inhale deeply. He’s close enough now that you can feel the hardness of him pressing insistently, achingly into your belly and you look up at him.

“Let me help you,” you whisper, moving a hand to his cheek to drag the pad of your thumb along his jawline. “Please, Swiss. I want to help you.”

He lets out a noise that is somewhere between a hysteric laugh and a painful cry as you stand on your tiptoes to reach him. The upward tilt of your chin is all the invitation he needs and he slams his mouth onto yours. The breath is knocked from your lungs as he molds his lanky body to yours, gripping at your hair and neck. You barely register the way his tail wraps tightly around your thigh, drawing you even closer to him. His tongue is desperate against your lips, begging for entrance and you oblige him. The noises he makes as he plunders your mouth are desperate, animalistic, and they send shockwaves straight to your cunt. When you finally have to catch your breath, push him off you with a slight shove and he whines low in his throat.

“Can I touch you?” you breathe up at him and he replies with a frantic nod. You place your hand over his heart and very slowly drag downwards, reveling in the hard planes of his body. He’s watching you, pupils blown, and when you finally cup your palm against the curve of his cock he slams his fist on the wall behind you, effectively caging you in.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, bucking his hips into your touch. “Please.”

You breathlessly follow the line of him through the black denim and when your thumb brushes over the head his tail tightens its grip on your thigh, practically cutting off circulation, as he pushes you even further into the wall. Your exhales are nearly as ragged as his when he slots a long, firm leg in the space between yours, pressing divinely against your cunt.

“Don’t stop,” he croaks as you continue to swipe your fingers over the clothed head of his cock. “Please, please, please.”

Your wrist is at an awkward angle now with how intently he has pushed you against the wall but you do your best, sliding your palm over the denim in long strokes. Your eyes dart around the cloister, briefly worrying about who could stumble upon you but then he presses right there and you let out a breathy moan. Your own hips are rocking against him now with every swipe of your hand, both of you working in tandem. When you feel his cock jump, he lets out a whine and his hips begin meeting you stroke for stroke. You’re close but not close enough when he jolts forward, practically collapsing on you when he comes with a cry. His hand covers yours and urges you to continue moving even as he finishes, his body writhing against you. When you look up at him you see him blink tears out of his eyes and take several deep, shuddering breaths. Abandoning his softening cock and the wet spot at the front of his pants you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, breathing deep. He smells like smoke and something sweet that you realize after a moment is your perfume. And the realization hits you that you’re greedy for him, need your scent on him again and again. You separate but he’s still loosely holding you in his lean arms.

“You didn’t come,” he says flatly. “I’m sorry.”

You smile and when you run your thumb over his stubble, he practically purrs while leaning into your touch.

“You can make it up to me.”

[nancys-braids]

hey yall. long time no see. wrote for the first time in like two months. have an unedited snippet <3

thanks for the tags - @ironheartwriter @heartstringsduet @nisbanisba @eclectic-sassycoweyes @emsprovisions + thank you to everyone else who has tagged me lately!

He pulled out his phone once they pulled into the fire house, sending a quick text to Carlos.  hey babe has nancy talked to you lately?  He slipped his phone back into his pocket, knowing Carlos would get back to him when he could, but he tended to get sucked into cases at work and forget about things, like eating, drinking, or responding to his husband.  Nancy ran up to the bunk room immediately after parking the ambulance. She just seemed different to him. Like her spark was missing. She always radiated this sense of brightness, like she was the human form of a ray of sunshine. Leaving smiles and laughter no matter where she went. But not lately, you could see it on her face, crestfallen and full of sorrow.  TK stayed back as he watched her walk up the stairs. He looked down at his hands, pulling at his fingers, one of those things he did when he wanted so badly to fix something, but not knowing how to help.  He sulked over to the fridge and grabbed a can of diet coke. He almost grabbed two. A habit of his, since they usually both had one after a long stretch of calls.  He sat at the bar in the kitchen, a million racing thoughts running in his mind, on how he could fix his best friend. He felt a buzz in his pocket and was met with the icon of his other best friend, who he was so fortunate to be married to.  No, what’s up? Everything okay?  He wasn’t sure how to respond.

idk who to even tag anymore but no pressure tags to

@captain-gillian @pelorsdyke @reyesstrand @ameriicansrequiems @literateowl @welcometololaland @your-catfish-friend @sugdenlovesdingle @bonheur-cafe @pimento-playing-hopscotch @alrightbuckaroo @honeybee-taskforce @carlos-in-glasses @terramous

[rlbbackup]

Fic update!

Plot:

Anya, Yor and Handler get letters.

(I know it's been forever, forgive my delay 🙏)

[rachelsquill]

Fuck it makin a pinned post!

Hi I’m Rachel I’m a 24 y/o artist who mostly draws mcyt but ultimately I draw what I want and what makes me happy

I have a few tags I use on this blog:

#rachels art tag— all my art

#rachel rambles— for whenever I make posts of just words/my thoughts

#rachel writes— for the rare occasion I write something

#rachels ocs— my oc art that ive done

#yuri tag— pictures of my cat Yuri

I do not support cc!wilbur hes an abusive piece of shit all recent wilbur drawings are c!wilbur

I block people frequently for a variety of reasons. Don’t take it too personally if I block you.

Don’t be afraid to send me asks and art requests 💚 (no promises I will do the art requests but sometimes they inspire me)

I think thats about it

[thefakerachelray]

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, Vision (Marvel), Peter Parker, Peter Quill, Gamora (Marvel), Rocket Raccoon, Drax the Destroyer, Groot (Marvel), Mantis (Marvel) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Canon Rewrite, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:

A rewrite of Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame that started as “what would happen if Loki survived” and quickly got out of hand from there and turned into “what if I rewrite everything I didn’t like from these two movies”.

Chapter 12 is up, along with an addition to chapter 11! And it didn’t even take a year this time!