#but I was torn with rarity too

[veryloudgroan]

stop horsing around

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello Hello!! I saw that you're taking requests? If it isn't too much trouble could I request something for a platonic Alastor x Tailor!Reader? Maybe being besties or gossip buddies? (Since I made an OC design based on ideas)

Oooh! I like this idea and to be honest, it reminds me of something I’ve been thinking about when it comes to Al; I made that one post of KNY’s Iguro Obanai with a Fluttershy! Reader and I have the extreme urge to see Alastor with a Rarity! Reader— but anyway. Let’s try this out

Alastor- Mischievous Rumours

“That’s when Charlie said ‘oh fuck you, Alastor. All you do is stand there, smiling while you watch us struggle and fail’. She’s such a fool for thinking I care for her and her friend’s helpless little struggles. Isn’t that delusional mindset so hilarious, my dear?” Alastor, the Radio Demon, laughs upbeat and eccentric with the radio effect deeply laced through his thick transatlantic accent voice chimes out as the grip on his signature staff-like microphone-cane seems to loosen. Standing completely still and on a nice marble pedestal, the deer Overlord spoke both mockingly and casually to the sweet kind tailor sinner, Leitora. A wonderful talented soul with the needle and thread, when it comes to tailoring coats like his own

“It definitely is, Al” You chime out softly and a bit distracted, hands wondering around the long torn rims of his red pinstriped coat. Only wondering in order to find the out of place tear that Alastor pointed out upon visiting your tailor shop. Some sinner named ‘Sir Pentinous’ had managed to tear off a bit of Alastor’s classic coat and as his most trusted tailor, it’s your job to take care of this little rip and tear within Alastor’s patience

The Radio Demon will not deny… he likes being up on this pedestal and his coat being touched, it makes him feel on top of Hell

“I know, darling. I find it so amusing that she believes I believe in her” This is a common thing Alastor did whenever he came to visit you for a hangout or when he needed you to repair his clothing. He loved to throw shade and shit at the Hotel staff and clients he surrounds himself. He loves to berate Husk for being incompetent, he loves to badly mock Angel Dust for flirting with him, he loves to mock and ridicule Vaggie, and he especially enjoys making fun of Charlie’s ��delusional’ dream of redeeming sinners. You didn’t mind it, you find Alastor a funny man

“You’ll never believe in redemption, hey?” You also don’t mind snarking and teasing Alastor. He lets it slide with a natural toothy-less smile. His blood red eyes following the way you traverse over to the silver rack of many neatly organised rolled-up fabric bundles to pick out a perfectly shaded and patterned piece of crimson red fabric to begin sewing onto the obvious edge rip on the left side of his coat’s hems

This’ll be over in a few seconds but that doesn’t mean you won’t spend a whole twenty minutes with Alastor, spreading gossip around with him about sinners in your opposite ends. He’ll tell you about Overlords, you’ll tell him about the common Sinners. You like Alastor as a friend for a number of reasons, one of the main reasons being the mere fact you two can chat and gossip around, so fluently and naturally

“Believing in redemption is like believing a heart can beat without blood, darling. It’s just not possible. It’s foolish, mindless, sheltered. All adjectives to explain Charlie as a whole” Alastor is quite brutal with this and you can actually just sense the sourness pouring out of his voice and darker eyes as he speaks once more, his stance still well-mannered and classy but his gripping hand growing firmer, as if bottling up some type of anger deep within his soul. Deciding to not poke the sleeping deer any further, you effectively use your claws to trim off the rest of the string that tied the new fabric chunk onto his coat’s hems and repaired the tear to complete perfection

“Yes, Al. I understand, you are right in that sense”

Like a light switch upon hearing you agree, Alastor is instantly back to smiling more soft and caring with zero fangs visible than the very tense, passive-aggressive wide grin he had just painted on his face. Stepping down, rather gracefully, from the flat round multilayered pedestal, the Radio Demon readjusts his signature bowtie with a flick of his wrist. Sharp long red-tipped black clawed fingers dancing over his snazzy accessorises before facing you once more

He knows that new look of yours very well. A look of kindness and appreciation to see him once more but also urgency and duty. You’re busy and need him to leave but don’t want to say a word to avoid disappointing him

No, he didn’t like that whatsoever and he plans to be just a little bit selfish with one of his most favourites in Hell. He’ll have to take you away from your afterlife-stealing occupation so you can spend a day relaxing with him, drinking some nice warm tea and talking more smack about the people you two despise

Without even hesitating nor really thinking it over, Alastor locks his arm with yours and speaks once more, his kind and actually welcoming gaze and grin never once dropping as he begins to take charge, already deciding what’s going on for you today and he won’t hear you refuse such a idea

So… sorry, you’re gonna have to deal with it

“Darling. Don’t tell me you’re going to kick me out after this? How about you close up shop for today and we go out to a nice café? It’s been a while since it’s just been me and you”

[rarilight]

Me, circa 2013, watching the MLP pilot: oh so this pony is the stereotypical prissy girl character lol ok

Rarity: hello. we are well met. Did you know? i will consume your art. you will play with me like a doll, your favorite one, placing me in the grandest of shows over and over again. It will be for art, you will say. It will be just pretend.

Me: i wonder if she’s going to be bitchy lol rip

Rarity: we are not so disimilar you and i. this is why you cling to me. i will haunt your narratives, your greatest muse, and as you type away words in a depressive state, placing me in scenarios where i will be twisted and challenged and torn asunder only to prevail in the end, i will wish I could ask one thing: Tell me will it help?

Me: i guess she’s okay

Rarity: tell me honestly darling dearest will it help? i will be your doll, gladly and willingly, as you help me again and again, a manic dance where i am your reflection, and in my success you hope beyond hope that it might save you too. But does it help? Does it help? You are me and i am you, but so often only one gets to be happy while the other bleeds to death? tell me, my darling, how long til you realize the doll being choked by marionette strings is not me? but i will dance. I will spin for you, and one day perhaps, when you put me in a story where all is lost, it will be just a story, and not your soul’s suicide letter

Me: man her design is really super pretty tho

Rarity: I am GORGEOUS, thank you for noticing

[witchezandwonderz]

Letters in the Dark

Pairing: Aegon x Reader

Summary: Aegon finds a deep connection with someone through meaningful letters...

You voted for fluffy Aegon so here he is, loud and proud- likes, reblogs and comments are unbelievably appreciated x

The sound of steel clashing echoed faintly from the practice yards as she balanced a basket of freshly pressed linens on her hip. Being a seamstress in the Red Keep wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was steady work. Most days, she spent her hours stitching hems or patching cloaks torn by reckless knights.

Every day was just as busy as the previous, and Y/N was overwhelmed with tiredness and stress, for there was an upcoming event in which Queen Alicent had ordered her to ensure that the entire families clothes were perfection; this meant that her working day was even longer than usual.

Finally arriving at her quarters, she practically ran into the room and shut the giant door firmly behind her, pressing her back against the closed door and fluttering her eyes shut, briefly, taking a deep breath and appreciating a moment of silence.

When reopening her eyes, a stained piece of parchment that peeked through the gap under the door caught her eye. She squinted and bent her body in an attempt to gain a clearer view of the parchment.

"How curious." She whispered to herself as she moved closer- she barely spoke to other humans, or, more so, other humans did not speak to her, let alone send her letters. She reached out and gently guided it from underneath the door, being delicate in the hopes that it would not rip.

She unfolded it carefully, her brow furrowing as she read the neat but bold handwriting:

“To the one who works in silence, You must find your days tiresome, toiling away beneath the weight of others’ expectations. But remember this: no matter how unseen you may feel, your hands create things of worth. And that is more than enough.”

Y/N blinked. She read the words again, her mind racing. Who would send this to me? There was no signature, no name, only the mysterious words that somehow seemed to see her, to understand the exhaustion that clung to her bones. She shook her head. Strange.

Y/N found the letter strange, but she found the meaning even more curious- how did this person know of her feelings? How did this person know of her loneliness? Of her sadness? Of her longing to be noticed? She decided to reply- perhaps too quickly, indeed.

Excited by the circumstance, she quickly grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, frantically and carelessly dunked it into a pot of ink and began writing.

“To the one who writes in shadows, Your words are a rarity, a gift I did not expect. I often feel like a mere shadow, unseen in the vast halls of the Keep, and yet your letter spoke to something within me. It’s not often that I am reminded that my work, though unnoticed, matters.

I do not know who you are, nor do I know your intentions, but for once, your words have brought me a small comfort amidst the chaos. I wonder, does anyone ever truly see the ones who serve without question? You have, and for that, I thank you.

Yet, I must ask, who are you? And why do you choose to write to me, of all people? I will wait for an answer—though I do not expect one. Until then, The One Who Works in Silence."

She was aware of the difference in length between the two letters, that being that hers was significantly longer than the original senders- but she did not care. This was the first time in years that someone had spoken to her- really spoken to her. Y/N was beginning to think that she was seen as a walking piece of machinery at this point.

Unfortunately, she did not know where to send the letter too- so- she decided to put it in the exact spot where she had found the original note, in the hopes that the sender would return to find it. Y/N wedged the note in between the door and allowed herself to fall into a peaceful slumber, imagining all of the possibilities of whom would be writing to her.

Once waking at the crack of dawn, as usual, Y/N would normally get dressed immediately in preparation for her daily duties. On this occasion, however, her mind automatically flew straight to the prior nights events- the letter. She sprang out of her small, uncomfortable bed and lightly ran to the door- the cold floor boards stinging her bare feet as she moved. If she was completely honest, she did not actually expect the person in question to have responded within a mere night time.

Y/N bent down so that she was held up by her knees, and peered down through the gap in the door. She felt disappointment cloud her as she saw that her parchment was still in the exact spot where she had left it. Nonetheless, she looked closer, just in case. When noticing that the parchment was a slightly darker shade of beige, she smiled to herself. She was mistaken, for it was not her note. They had replied.

Y/N's hands trembled as she reached for the note, her fingertips brushing against the slightly rough parchment. She could not help but feel worried, for a secret exchanging of notes with a stranger may be seen as an act of traitorous events, in the eyes of the King, Aegon. She shook her head at the thought- she did have a habit of overthinking. For a moment, she simply held it, staring at the folded edges and the small blot of ink that marred the corner—proof of its hurried creation.

She sat back down on her bed, swiftly and quietly- the walls were thin and she did not want to wake anyone near. Carefully unfolding the parchment, she sat back slightly in an attempt to seek better comfort from her cold sheets.

"To the One Who Works in Silence, You searched for my reply, and here it is. I must confess, your response lingered in my mind long after I first read it. I am both glad and uneasy that my words have found their mark. Glad, because you deserve to know how deeply you are valued, and uneasy, because I fear my own words may fail to convey the truth of what I feel.

You ask why I write to you, and I wonder if I can provide an answer that satisfies us both. It began with admiration, perhaps—your quiet diligence caught my eye long before I found the courage to put quill to parchment. But it did not stop there. I saw a beauty in you, not just in your face, which holds a grace unmatched in these stone halls, but in the way you move, the way you dedicate yourself to your craft without seeking applause or acknowledgment.

You intrigue me, and I cannot help but feel drawn to know you more. In a world where so many feign sincerity, you seem so utterly and beautifully real. That is why I write to you. That is why I hope you will not turn away from my letters, though they come from someone you cannot yet see.

As to who I am, I am bound by duty and expectation. My name carries weight, and with it, chains I cannot yet escape. I will not lie to you—there may come a time when I must reveal my identity, but for now, I ask you to see me through my words.

Yours, with all honesty, The One Who Sees You."

Y/N felt her cheeks burn hotter and hotter as she read the letter, she read it once, and then twice, and then a third time. She wanted to find a deeper meaning, she wanted to know who this admirer was.

As to who I am, I am bound by duty and expectation. My name carries weight, and with it, chains I cannot yet escape.

So, whoever this is, is someone with a title- someone with a title who resides within the red keep, or at least is extremely close with someone who resides in the red keep. But who? It could not be the King, despite her hopes that it would be. Perhaps Aemond? She shook the thought away, for she had indeed met Aemond many a time, but in every one of their encounters he had offended her in one way or another. Y/N let out a deep sigh, for all she could think about was the fact that a man, for the first time in her life, regards her as beautiful.

The next few weeks involved many letters indeed, sad ones, happy ones, angry ones, emotional ones, you name it- there was a letter for it. Y/N felt naïve, but she honestly felt like she was in love with this secret person- she had never revealed so much of her life, of her emotions. Similarly, she had never experienced anyone being so open and honest with her, either. She burned with desire- all she wanted to know was who it was.

As always, she sat on the end of her bed re reading the previous letter that he had sent during the night.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted her deep and chaotic thoughts. Y/N cleared her throat and flung her sheet over the note before calling "come in."

The door opened and with that, the King's mother, Alicent, entered the room. Y/N had always quite liked Alicent- she was good to her. Especially when Y/N had been sent there to work when she was a child; Alicent saw that it was wrong, to have a child as a servant, so, arranged for Y/N to be taught how to make clothing. Hence, why Y/N was now the lead clothing maker for Kings Landing.

Alicent smiled brightly at Y/N. "Y/N, you are late." She said, walking further into the room, her smile now fading. "Get dressed, I need your help with the finishing touches for the banquet." Alicent barely looked at her, clearly riddled with stress about the anticipated events.

"I will wait for you outside, hurry up!" Alicent called out, before walking out of the room and pulling the door shut. Y/N let out a deep sigh, for all she could think about was the fact that a man, for the first time in her life, regards her as beautiful.

She quickly got dressed, laced up her boots and tucked the letter into a draw, where she kept all of the accumulated confessions. She sighed, realising that she would not have enough time to write a letter back, she would have to wait until she is released back to her room to get ready for the banquet. Never mind.

Moments later, Y/N followed Alicent out into the hallway. The queen walked briskly, her gown sweeping the stone floors. Y/N tried to match her pace, though her thoughts strayed again to the mysterious writer, as they always did.

As they turned a corner, the two nearly collided with Aegon, who stopped abruptly, a startled look flashing across his face.

“Mother,” he greeted, his usual nonchalance missing entirely. His hands twitched at his sides, and his gaze flicked nervously to Y/N before darting away just as quickly.

“Aegon,�� Alicent said sharply, crossing her arms. “Shouldn’t you be preparing yourself?”

“I—yes,” he stammered, his usual glib tone replaced by something softer, almost uncertain. “I was… just heading there.”

Y/N curtsied quickly, her eyes fixed on the floor. “My King.”

Aegon’s response came slower than usual, his voice quieter. “Y/N.” The way he said her name sent a ripple through her chest. She dared a glance up, meeting his eyes for a moment before he looked away again, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink. She felt awful- she had always taken a liking to Aegon, but she had a lover now- well, technically anyway and loyalty meant everything to her.

Alicent sighed. “Come, Y/N. We have no time to waste.” She moved forward, but Y/N lingered half a step behind, waiting for Aegon to move aside.

He hesitated, his hand twitching slightly as though he wanted to reach for something—or someone. As Y/N stepped forward, his fingers brushed lightly against the back of her hand, barely a touch, but enough to send a shiver down her spine. Her head snapped towards him in confusion, but he had already begun walking away.

To Y/N's surprise, Alicent stopped suddenly, in turn nearly causing Y/N to topple over. Alicent turned instantly, calling after Aegon once again. "Actually, I have changed my mind, Aegon!" Her voice carried loudly and echoed throughout the stone walls. Aegon hesitated before stopping and turning back, causing Alicent to speak once more. "I think you should do your fitting with Y/N now, there may need to be some finishing touches."

Y/N panicked, she did not expect to have to see Aegon so soon after the awkward, yet satisfying slight moment of intimacy.

"Now?" He asked, his eyes looking around him. Alicent nodded. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

Aegon shook his head before walking towards the pair. Alicent gave them both a curt nod before turning on her heel and walking briskly down the corridor, her gown flowing behind her like a banner.

Y/N and Aegon looked at each other blankly for a moment before Y/N decided to fill the awkward silence. "This way, your Grace." She flashed him a small, nervous smile, before using her arm to gesture down the hall.

Aegon did not speak, and one of Y/N's downfalls, she thought, was that she was incapable of allowing a silence- she just had to fill it, always.

"My apologies, your Grace, as this may sound out of my bounds but all of my things are kept in my room." She breathed, as they walked briskly down the empty halls. "Would you mind doing the fitting in there? Or would you prefer me to gather the things and do-"

Her words were interrupted.

"Your room will be fine." Her head snapped up at him, but he was looking at the ground once more. She did not respond with words, but instead hummed quietly.

Y/N’s nerves thrummed in her chest as they reached her modest quarters. Her hand trembled slightly as she opened the door, stepping aside to let Aegon enter first. He hesitated for a moment, then crossed the threshold, his movements awkward and uncharacteristically cautious.

“Please, your Grace,” she said, gesturing towards the small space. “It’s not much, but it should suffice.”

Aegon nodded, his eyes sweeping over the room, taking in the neatly folded fabrics, spools of thread, and tools that spoke to her craft. He seemed strangely out of place, his royal attire a stark contrast to the simplicity of her surroundings.

Y/N busied herself at her work table, retrieving the measurements and pins she would need. The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive. She chanced a glance at him, only to find him staring at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place.

“Your Grace?” she prompted, her voice soft.

He blinked, as though snapping out of a trance. “Yes, of course,” he said hurriedly, stepping onto the small platform she had indicated.

Y/N approached him cautiously, draping the cloak over his shoulders. Her fingers brushed against his neck as she adjusted the fabric, and she felt him stiffen slightly under her touch.

“I trust the preparations are to your liking, my King?” she asked, trying to keep her tone professional despite the fluttering in her chest.

“Yes,” he replied, though his voice was quieter than usual. He shifted his weight, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “You’ve always done excellent work, Y/N.”

The use of her name, spoken so gently, made her pause. She looked up at him, her brows furrowing in slight confusion. “Thank you, your Grace,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon opened his mouth to speak, and then quickly closed it again. Seemingly having changed his mind, it opened once more.

"Y/N, I know about the letters."

Y/N felt her heart leap in her chest, and her eyes visibly widened. She told herself to calm down, and act natural.

"I am unsure of what you mean, your Grace." She breathed, busying herself with a needle. Aegon let out a sigh. "It is ok Y/N I know everything." He said calmly. Y/N unhooked the needle from the garment and looked at him. "I am sorry, your Grace." Her words left her mouth unbelievably quietly- almost a whisper, although she had not intended them too.

Aegon's eyes softened. "Why are you sorry?" He asked, but before giving her a chance to answer, he spoke once more. "It is me that should apologise. You have been speaking with me." He stated, he had not intended for the confession to be so sudden, and so blunt at that. Y/N's brows furrowed in confusion, it couldn't have been him all along- the King himself?

Aegon could sense Y/N's inability to find the correct words, so took the chance to explain himself further. "I have never felt so close to someone, Y/N, these past few weeks have been." He paused, and then smiled. "They have been so enjoyable, getting to know you. You are the only person that has ever truly listened to me, the real me."

“You?” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible. “You’re the one who’s been writing to me?”

Aegon nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, vulnerable yet unflinching. “I am,” he said simply, his tone earnest. “It was selfish, perhaps, to write to you as I did. To let you share so much of yourself with me without revealing who I was. But I couldn’t stop. Your words—they were like a light in a very dark place.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Aegon took a hesitant step forward, closing the gap between them. His presence was overwhelming, but she couldn’t bring herself to move away.

“I know it must come as a shock,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But everything I wrote, every word, was true. I meant it all. And more.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. "I meant everything too." Aegon instantly relaxed at her words, almost as if all he needed was the slight indication that she was not too disheartened with discovering that it was him.

"From the moment that I saw you, I felt close to you. This may sound, slightly strange, but the words that we have exchanged have caused me to develop deep affections for you." His eyes, that were firmly gazed into hers, now fell to the floor.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Your Grace…”

“Aegon,” he corrected gently, his hand covering hers fully now. “Please, just Aegon."

Aegon’s gaze flicked down to her lips, his breath uneven as though caught between anticipation and restraint. “May I?” he asked, his voice trembling with uncharacteristic shyness.

Y/N nodded, her cheeks warming as she tilted her head slightly.

He leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, as though giving her every chance to pull away. When their lips finally met, it was soft, hesitant, and achingly sweet. The kiss was not one of fiery passion, but of quiet devotion, a promise that words could never fully convey.

When they parted, Aegon pressed a small kiss to her forehead, his mouth then curving into a shy smile.

"I want you to be my wife, Y/N." He admitted, looking deep into her soul once again. Y/Ns heart panged, for she wanted to marry him, of course she did- but she knew that it was not possible.

"Aegon." She whispered. "I love you." Y/N leant up and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "But, we would never be accepted." She bit her lip slightly.

Aegon shrugged. "Accepted by who?" He asked, a smirk now creeping onto his expression.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. "Your mother, for one, your sister, your brother, the whole of Westeros? I started as a servant, Aegon." Y/N rambled, panic arising within her at the thought of potential judgement. Aegon watched her with amusement.

"I am the King, Y/N. You may have been a servant once, but not now. You will be the Queen." His fingers intertwined with hers.

Y/N sighed. "You really think that it is this simple, don't you?" She too now held a small smile on her face. Aegon mimicked her expression before placing a kiss on her nose.

"I have spent my reign thus far, terrified that my mother will force me to marry a random woman. I have finally found love, a woman who I actually see myself having a future with." His hands now found the back of her hair, as he pulled her close and embraced her in a hug.

"I will not let you go now."

[bullet-prooflove]

The End of Time: Endeavour Morse x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @caffeinatedwoman @lieutenantcrosby @to-grow-in-and-to-love @gwyn73

Companion piece to:

Next Time - Morse doesn't expect to meet his soulmate on the lawn at Oxford.

Bruises - You see to Morse's care after a beating.

Rarities - You and Morse discuss the fact your differences.

The Right One - Morse's bad trip leads Fred Thursday to question your intentions.

For the first few days after the hallucinogens Morse is weak and exhausted. He sleeps with his face buried in the curve of your throat, his entire body draped over you as your fingers lightly smooth through the curls in his hair. You understand that he needs the proximity at the moment, that the drugs have damaged his psyche, torn open old wounds that hadn’t quite healed.  

You spend your time, reading his classics out loud as he dozes, books of adventure like The Count of Monte Cristo or The Three Musketeers. Anything else like Shelley or Carroll would be too horrible or too surreal in the present. When he is awake, he’s lethargic. You cook for him, making sure he eats, before helping him bathe and changing his sheets.

“I know you said you didn’t want to be a wife, but at the moment this is feeling all very wifely.” He mumbles, his eyes closed as you shampoo his hair in the bathtub. “You ought to get out while you still can.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to be a wife.” You correct him as you pick up the plastic cup that your toothbrushes rest in and use it to scoop the warm water he resides in. “I said I didn’t want to be a housewife, there’s a difference. Now tilt back your head and hope I don’t drown you.”

He does as he’s told and you rinse the bubbles from his hair, using your fingertips to slick it back away from his features.

“You don’t have to do this you know?” He tries again as you use your palm to shield his eyes from the soapy water as it runs down his face. “Waste your time taking care of me. I’m sure you have much more interesting things to do.”

“Oh I see you’re feeling self-depreciating.” You remark as you set the beaker down on the edge of the sink. “You think I’m here out of some sense of forced obligation?”

“Aren’t you?” He asks and you can hear the lilt of vulnerability in his voice underneath that abruptness.

Your man, he’s not used to being cared for. He hasn’t been a priority in someone’s else world, not since his mother died. He questions kindness when it’s given to him because he feels underserving, despite the fact he is the most compassionate man you’ve ever met.  

“Ed.” You say firmly, your hand cupping his chin, guiding his gaze to meet yours. He’s starting to come back to life again, you can see it in the vividness of the blue that shines from his eyes as he looks back at you. “I’m here because I love you and I couldn’t stand the thought of you recovering from this horrible thing alone with just scotch and Wagner for company.”

A blush creeps across his cheeks, blossoming across the light dusting of freckles on his skin. You’ve kissed every single one of them throughout your time together, the ones on his face and everywhere else.

“Cleo.” He says, looking tormented. “I…”

“It’s ok if you can’t say it back.” You say softly, your thumb tracing over the delicate line of his jaw. “You just need to know how loved you are, that’s all.”

You pull away then because the water is growing cold and you don’t want him to catch a chill. You reach for the towel, holding it up as he forces himself out of the tub with a groan. You drape it around his shoulders when he steps onto the bathmat, patting him down gently until you’re satisfied he’s dry.

“Cleo.” He says and you tilt your head up, giving him your full attention.

“I do love you.” He says with an earnestness you find endearing. “I’m just not used to being loved, not by someone who gives themselves so unreservedly.”

“Well.” You say as he opens the towel so that he can wrap his arms around you, gathering you up against his damp form. “You better had because it doesn’t stop when you get better, I’ll love you until the end of time Endeavour Morse. I can promise you that.”

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[doctrined]

⠀ &͟&͟.

⠀⠀ LUCID DREAMS ⁎ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 恋徒 ⠀ ֵ

“𝑅𝑈𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐴𝐷 𝐴𝐿𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑆 𝐵𝐸𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐼𝑀𝑃𝐿𝐸 𝐼𝑁 𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐿𝐷. THAT IS.. until she came along and turned his world upside.” —- salem’s knight, a night of lucid dreams.

&. LUCID DREAMS: MEDIEVAL AU

• MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact)

• TW: Unrequited Love, Angst, Dark Themes, Hate-Love Trope, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Self-Doubt, Violence, Heartbreak

• FIC INFO:

• Setting: Medieval Era AU, featuring a Princess and her loyal, yet conflicted knight.

• Themes: The complex, tormented relationship between Caleb (the knight) and the princess MC. Love and hatred intertwine as they struggle against their desires, promises unkept, and duty’s unyielding grip.

• Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance (with a slow-burn love-hate dynamic), Dark Fantasy

tags; @alevres @icedoatlatte29 @starlitfool @rcvcgers @puckpuckvt @jadeloverxd @spacenott @marina27826 @starkdarya @darkx143

VERSE O1. pagans surely bleed, and the sky bows in worship. surely the humans too.. can see the chaos in a mind numbed to pain. surely, a man such as him—-divine in utter power, seething with raw possession—could understand that I was the pagan. a ritual left undone, a prayer uttered halfway, a woman in dire need of his acceptance. but see, flowers wilt, the seas rage, and i, standing at the shore, watched his dark eyes swallow me whole. my lips burned while his remained untouched, my fingers ached whilst he only drew further and further away from me. so I ask myself—-do I rage? do I rage for the stars? or for the man who refuses to come to terms with the revelation of us?” —- CALAMITY, a princess on the run.

I. “ I FUCKING BLED. and so did he, that I was certain of. ”

CHAPTER ONE

Ravenous thunder latched on in mere desperation to cling to the raging source of the downpour. As far as desperation went, I believe we all had a moment in life. A rarity where you must beat all odds for a miracle, for a hope that clung to life. Was your desperation clinging to something more meaningful? A new country? Love? Or maybe… an adventure? I don’t know what you struggled for, I don’t know the… desperation your heart hides nor the pain you swallow at the tight clench of your jaw and the sweep of your gaze tucking away an anguish one cannot decipher. But this was mine. I ran to chase away my misery. It came in the sweet, forbidden coveting of a man who just failed… to see me. It’s pathetic, the lies we chase, the demons we hide under our beds. The skeletons in the closets are worst, but dare I say, catching my breath as thunder poured its wrath onto me, slowing my steps. My legs ached, my chest constricted, and my tears, not a single soul could see, streamed down my cheeks with rain drowning them in fresh rainwater. But I pushed until my eyes caught sight of his carriage. It was obsidian black with a king’s symbolic sword displayed on the back. Everyone knew who it belonged to, no one needed a reminder, because that was him. The man, the myth.

“CALEB!” Was that my voice? Unrecognizable, torn and seeping with sadness, it broke through the rain. I don’t know how he heard me, much less the carriage rider, but it stopped, so did my heart when he stepped out. Relief was instant, but so was regret, anger, hatred because how dare he leave me behind? How dare he pretend I was nothing but a mere soul who’d meant nothing, who was of no value? Yet, as the distance ceased, and I pushed until my vision blurred, at the last drag of my breath, a grunt sounded by my ear. Arms caught me first thing before I crushed against his taut chest. Still solid, strong, and warm. My desperation was the sling of my arms winding around his neck, a choked sob wrecking past my lips. Just as words of hatred eased past my lips, his thudding heart uttered what his lips failed.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“If you knew, then why must you do this to me? Do you find it amusing? Is my misery…” And I cried, for the first time, pathetically, miserably because I was desperate for him, desperate for his love. Even as he crushed me into him, holding me so tightly as if I might vanish before his eyes. I’d like to believe promises meant something to people. Promises, of course, brought hope and at the same time, held the power to mend the broken. So, I thought the one I loved would always stand by my side and love me, truly love me the way that I had surrendered my soul to him. I was wrong, so wrong. I thought I meant something to him just because I willingly allowed my soul to tether, and to bind my heart to his. I loved him, loved him until my lungs ached and burned for his lips to cease that burn in the pit of my belly. Instead, my lover left me stranded. Affairs were the worst, cheating lovers, and liars, nay? But mine chose duty over me, and I watched him, helplessly untangle my arms from around his neck. Not a word had formed on his tongue, yet heat, the one betraying ache of insanity, remained infused, glaring at me, telling me to believe, to know he felt the same.

Did he feel the same, though? Did you, Caleb?

Instead, violet eyes bore into mine with a hardening gaze, soft as a puppy’s, and pleaded. Pleaded for what? My mind raced, the clatter of my teeth chattered as cold seeped in, dread followed, and I shook my head, staggering a step back.

“S—so that’s it? You’re not even going to acknowledge our feelings? What we both feel?” My voice sounded foreign to my own ears, making me cringe, but did it matter when my heart was being slaughtered, torn mercilessly? And there was nothing but silence from him.

Complete and utter silence.

“Caleb—”

“Don’t.” He cut in sharply, his voice rough and thick with emotions, betraying his usually controlled demeanor. It broke me.

Still remember my earlier words? About desperation. Well, this was the grave I dug with my own two hands, without mercy. It was ruthless, the way he watched me, stepping back, willing me to return to the castle. What cruel fate, no—what a cruel lie I’d fed myself, thinking I was strong enough to love him, thinking the first words forming on his tongue would be of love. Nay, I watched him turn, get back in the carriage, the relentless rain never once ceasing, even as it soaked us both. It never stopped for me. How much hope had garnered in this heart of mine? Ached for his love, aching to be the one to fill those cold, distant eyes with a mischievous glint.

Everything hurt. My lungs burned with thirst to quench a hunger I no longer understood, my hands trembled, but worst of all, I remained where I was, rooted, watching as the sky took sudden pity. It slowed its rage, and light flecks of drops grazed my cheeks where tears numbed, no longer streamed. Yet, was it a lie? Because at the jutting of my chin, lifting to the sky, a fresh pool of them gathered at my eyes, and I wept with laughter, empty inside. I stood there, abandoned, watching his carriage disappear into the misty horizon. My heart ached with the heavy weight of abandonment, but there was something else too—something darker. He hadn’t even tried to look back.

I lingered in the rain, feeling each droplet fall upon me like another weight added to my already fragile heart. With every beat, I could almost hear his silence.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Drabble-A-Thon 2 Prompt #13

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: G

Prompt: Free style but scar-free healthy Dabi. Physically at least.

Contents: League wins the war, Tomura stealing some quirks to fix his man, fluff

When the fighting was over, when his revenge was gotten, when he wasn't sure why he was still being treated in the doctor's labs, he had been ready for it all to end and for him to finally have the peace he had been denied and denying himself for his whole life. And then Shigaraki had found something. A little girl who had been with the heroes, who Toga and Twice knew from their time with the Yakuza. She wasn't willing to use her quirk for them and they weren't sure if she would even have the control to do what Shigaraki wanted her to, so he had taken the quirk for himself and sat down beside Dabi's hospital bed. 

"I don't want to build a future in Japan without you in it." 

"The fuck are you talking about, Shigaraki?" He'd rasped back. He couldn't see, his eyes had boiled away in the fight, his limbs had turned to ash. He was ready to go. He didn't need to be here in the first place. "I'm not going to be good for anything now. You won the war. Go be king or whatever else you want to do." 

"I won the war, but I was fighting to make a world better for the League. That includes you. I want you with me here." Shigaraki had reached for him then and without a hand to hold, he had settled his hand against Dabi's cheek, his quirk no longer lashing out to destroy him when it happened. "I can take all of the pain away. I'll put you back together, I can make it so your new body won't be torn apart by your quirk. You'll have to keep seeing a psychiatrist to make sure that the secondary quirk doesn't cause any issues, but you're resilient and just one very rarely ever has. I don't want to lose you, Dabi. I want you to stay with me." When Dabi doesn't answer him immediately, Shigaraki lets out a slow, shaky breath. "And if you hate it all and still want to go in a year, I'll let you. I'll take away the other quirk and you can find a way to... go yourself." 

A year of living however Shigaraki wanted him to or however many months it might take for him to finally die in this hospital bed, suffering indignity after indignity of his care. If he could take away the pain, make him whole again, even if just for a little while, well, he supposes that might be worth it. 

"Fine. Fix me." 

///

Dabi's skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His temperature always runs a little higher than average, and the run definitely crept that up even more. But he likes running. He likes that he can do that now. Likes that his skin isn't gnarled and always aching, that there aren't any staples that are going to catch on his clothing, that he is healthy enough to choose to exercise for fun instead of just forcing himself through as much of it as he could stand to ensure that he didn't end up dying too soon. 

"Firefly?" Tomura's voice comes from deeper in the apartment. It is a rarity that he has to slip out of their bed while Tomura is still asleep, the other man never managing a normal amount a night, but he had been sleeping this morning. 

"Morning," He calls back, taking his headphones from his ears and going into the kitchen. Tomura must have noticed his running shoes were gone because he's made him his protein shake and put it in the fridge for him post-workout, and he takes that gratefully before he moves to find the other. 

Tomura is in his office already. Their apartment is a penthouse in Tokyo with massive windows and probably cost three or four times the Todoroki house prior to it having been turned into a smoldering pile of ash. But for the country's king, it was simply the place that the two of them had decided on and they had readily been handed the keys. 

His lover is at his desk, looking at his laptop which, paired with how late he went to bed last night to have slept through Dabi's waking, probably means that they have a new problem that they're going to have to deal with at some point. But right now, Tomura doesn't seem to care about that. It still does something funny to his chest when he sees how happy it makes Duster to... see him healthy. Maybe it shouldn't be. They met when Dabi was already in bad shape and he saw him through the point that he was at his absolute lowest. But it's been three years now since the war, his revenge, and the hospital. Two years since Tomura confessed to him and Dabi had been so flabbergasted that anyone could love him, as stunned by that as he had been to have a body that wasn't constantly trying to give out on him at all times. And just like he wasn't expecting how good he would feel, how his mind would stop twisting itself into knots just looking for a way out when the pain was just a distant memory, he didn't realize how desperately he wanted someone to want him. It took him a while to want Tomura the same way, but despite what he thought in their first meeting, the other man has a wealth of patience that his leadership has instilled in him. 

"Getting some sunshine?" He asks, and he's smiling. So happy that he would go out when the weather is nice instead of locking himself up in their private gym. He turns his chair out so Dabi can round the desk. He tries to get a look at what he's working on, but Tomura catches his waist with his hands and tries to pull him down. 

"I'm gross," he warns, fully intending to finish his drink and then go take a shower before he bothers to get ready to deal with their work for the day. 

"You're never gross to me." Tomura tells him, pulling him down so he can give him a kiss. No, he supposes not. Tomura probably wouldn't have gone so far to keep him around if he hadn't wanted him even when Dabi was at his absolute worst. 

"Love you," He says because he doesn't want to admit to any of the other thoughts swirling around in his head. They don't matter. All that does is how sweet Tomura's smile is when he laces their fingers together and presses a second kiss to his knuckles before he answers, 

"Love you too, firefly." 

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[mlp-mfb]

[My Little Pony : The Magic of Friendship and Beyond] (MLP G4 AU/Rewriting)

(I made it just for this post)

Three little ponies searching for their destiny.

Apple Bloom

Age at start of series : 7 Years Old Filly - Description : Applejack's little sister, she is a frank and resourceful filly, even if sometimes a little too stubborn. She doesn't really have any memories of her parents, being still too young when they disappeared from their lives. She sometimes finds herself torn between her desire for independence and her fear of being excluded from her family if her talent is not linked to the family farm, even if it is very irrational. Adult - Description : A responsible pony that can be counted on, in addition to helping the foals and fillies find their purposes in life, she participates in the farm tasks with her family and sometimes gives classes at Twilight's School of Friendship. Very keen on creative hobbies, she also loves to make all kinds of potions, and will regularly give Zecora a helping hoof, which the zebra will greatly appreciate.

Sweetie Belle

Age at start of series : 7 Years Old Filly - Description : Thoughtful and always willing to help others, Sweetie Belle has a deep admiration for her older sister, Rarity, although she also sometimes gets on her nerves. She loves to sing, having a very beautiful voice. And is often the voice of reason for her friends. Adult - Description : In addition to her occupation as a CutieMark Crusader, she sometimes takes care of her sister's boutique when she is away and sometimes teaches classes at Twilight's school. In her free time, she is part of a music group as a singer, having been encouraged by her friends and family to give it a try.

Scootaloo

Age at start of series : 7 Years Old Filly - Description : Young Pegasus born with atrophied wings, although they grow at the same rate as her, they will never be able to reach a sufficient size to succeed in lifting her off the ground, which will be a source of embarrassment for her for a very long time, dreaming of being able to fly with the other pegasi in the sky. She arrived in Ponyville when she was 4-5 years old, coming to live with her aunts now that she was old enough for her parents to leave her and go for new adventures all around the world. She is almost always seen with her blue scooter, with which she roams the streets at high speed. Rainbow Dash is her role model. Adult - Description : An adventurer at heart, like her model, she has competition in her blood and loves to take on challenges. The goggles she wears are a gift from Rainbow Dash. Now more comfortable with her disability than in her youth, she uses her free time to help other ponies who would go through the same ordeal as her. Just like her two friends, she sometimes gives lessons at the School of Friendship, having a preference for those in the open air.

Base used : First drawing > HERE Reference sheet > HERE (The assets I made for my reference sheets can by found HERE )

[materassassino]

The Old Guard Dæmon AU

Probably done before, but I wanted to write one myself, so I thought I'd make a guide to the Guard and their respective dæmons, to go with the fic I just posted for it.

Andy: Hwehnto (Przewalski's horse)

Yeah, a wolf or some other predator might fit, but let's face it, the supreme horse girl should have a horse for a dæmon. *h₂weh₁n̥to- is Proto-Indo-European for "wind", butchered into a modernly comprehensible Hwehnto/Hwento. He is a very serious and stoic dæmon, much like Andy, but his outbursts of emotion are striking. He is vicious in battle and will not hesitate to attack both human and dæmon, if necessary.

I did also consider a tarpan for Andy, but there is literally one photo in existence of one. I generally assume that actually it would be some European wild horse so old it doesn't exist anymore, and we've lost all modern knowledge of it. So Przewalski's horse will do.

Quynh: Minh Nhat (white-lipped pit viper)

Of course our viper would have a viper! Small, quick and venomous. He doesn't have a name yet because, frankly, I don't speak Vietnamese and I want him to have a cool name like most dæmons have. His name is Minh Nhat, which means "bright sunlight", in contrast with Quynh's name. More outgoing than most dæmons, will talk casually with other humans, and is prone to little acts of thievery (thimbles, small nuts, little trinkets), mostly out of delight with the object than any malice. Very tiny! Likes spending his time tucked up Quynh's sleeve. Will not hesitate to bite a human should the need arise, but tucks himself in Quynh's collar or scarf when in battle.

I was torn between this and a red-headed krait, but ultimately went to an actual viper (well, pit viper, close enough).

Joe: Tayyib (scimitar oryx)

(Oddly difficult to find a photo of one alone, with no radio collar, that hasn't been shot by some bastard trophy hunter).

Tayyib (named that way for obvious reasons and chosen by Joe's mother's dæmon) represents everything poetic and artistic about Joe, and is calm and wise. Dislikes fighting, but will if he must: watch out for those horns! Yes, he is a male dæmon, a rarity, another commonality Joe shares with Nicky. I wonder why? A very good listener who gives good advice.

I don't know why I decided on another ungulate for this hapless team (can they even go anywhere?), but I did. I figured a desert antelope of some kind would be good for Joe, and it was a toss-up between this and an addax. I admit I chose it just for the name.

Nicky: Bonamico (Luzon bleeding-heart dove)

Geographically, it doesn't make sense. Symbolically? I had to. Bonamico is quiet, contemplative and kind, barely speaks except to Nicky, Joe or Tayyib, but is always concerned for those about him. He is far more nervous than Nicky, but stores a lot of knowledge, a trait he does share with Nicky. His favourite place to perch, other than Nicky's shoulder, is between Tayyib's horns (although occasionally he likes to sit on Joe's head). He does the scouting for the group, as the only bird dæmon.

This bird is the entire reason I made this damn AU. It's just too perfect. Look at this Catholic-ass bird!

Booker: Amandine (black rat)

*wheezing* I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm not sorry.

Now, the problem with dæmons is that we have rat symbolism, which is of rats as dirty and sneaky, but we're also modern human beings that know perfectly well rats are cute, intelligent and affectionate creatures that make amazing pets. Amandine herself is mostly just shy and quiet, although she does like it when she gets the chance to roast Booker, but then again, who doesn't? She is their little reconnaissance expert, being sent in to buildings and small places to chew through wires and spy. She, unlike Booker, is always supremely well-groomed.

I did consider a ferret or stoat, something a little more noble, but I personally do love rats so much and so I wanted a positive rat dæmon, for once.

Nile: Dakarai (red wolf)

I wanted to give Nile something supremely American, but she was in the Marines, and soldiers of most kinds tend to have dog dæmons, so no stereotypical birds. But Nile is also smart and quick-thinking, and family-oriented, so the red wolf made sense to me. Dakarai is loyal and far more serious than his human, a bit more cynical. Having been trained in a modern Armed Force, post-Geneva Convention, he's never touched another human being and has exclusively fought other dæmons. He is, of course, a good tracker.

Someone had to have a canine in this group. Might as well be Nile!

Bonus (under the cut for cockroach reasons):

James Copley: Vindemiatrix (common raven)

The Odin symbolism of the knowledge-seeker raven, honestly. She perches in odd places, watches everything, and reports back. She is a secret-keeper and prone to keeping her own counsel, not interacting much with other dæmons. She, like Copley, misses his wife and her Pallas's cat dæmon something fierce.

Stephen Merrick: Unnamed (American cockroach)

Need I say more? He deserves it.

Dr Meta Kozak: Unnamed (hagfish)

A disgusting dæmon for a disgusting woman, who burrows into people's bodies and eats them from the inside out. She carries the horrid thing in a lightweight tank backpack, one of the many modern accomodations for people with water-dwelling dæmons.

Keane: Unnamed (Eastern black rhino)

A beautifully noble dæmon, unfortunately wasted on a bastard.

Lykon: Unnamed (melanistic leopard)

She was graceful, majestic and courteous, and absolutely breathtaking in battle. She would dispense affection to daemon and human alike, much like Lykon himself.

[wheezyseeker99]

Guilty as Sin

Warnings: pining, alcohol consumption (just a little), swearing, smut in many forms aka masturbation (female), oral (female receiving), penetration (fm), and multiple orgasm

18+, MDNI

Summary: based on my interpretation of the song. Also if you can’t tell, I’m obsessed with the way he was as a whole on April 11, 2024.

Anyway, good luck soldiers if you read.

I moved in with my best friend Cam a few months ago. Reason being I wanted to work on the east coast, and he isn’t usually home often. So I take care of the house while he’s on the road, and I get to spend time with him when he is home. It’s a win-win for the both of us.

The longest stretch for when he’s home is when hockey is in its off season, which is supposed to start soon here in Philly. With this losing streak, they are definitely not making playoffs. It’s sad because they really did have a good season up until now.

Tonight Cam has an away game. I decided to stay home since I had to work so now I have the place alone once again. Earlier he sent me a song that reminded him of me, and that made my day so much better. Work has torn me to pieces lately, but today was rougher than others. I’m debating whether I should take a personal day tomorrow just to recuperate.

I’m sitting here putting the finishing touches on graded assignments before the game starts. I’m feeling tense. Sometimes I can’t figure out why I put myself through the torture of teaching children for a living. It’s so hard to do, but in the end, it’s so rewarding. I close my laptop and shove it with the graded assignments into my bag and grab a bottle of wine from the kitchen. It’s a normal occurrence at this point to watch the games with a drink in hand.

Right when I make it back into the living room, I glance up at the tv to see that TK passed the puck to Cam and he scored. I gape at the tv for a second.

My best friend just scored.

I jump up off the couch and shout in excitement. I pull out my phone and pose next to the moment on the screen, sending it to Cam for him to see later. In the heat of the excitement, I sit back down and continue watching the game.

When the first period is over, the score is tied. I think it’s almost safe to say the losing streak is over but I don’t want to jinx it. I finally decide it’s time to eat so I go to the kitchen and make a sandwich. Though, when I walk back I see Cam on the screen doing an intermission interview. I paused my eating mid-bite.

Holy shit. He looks hot as fuck right now.

I stare at him for the rest of the interview, spiraling. This isn’t the first time I thought of Cam in that way. Honestly, it’s always been in the back of my brain, but I don’t have the balls to act on it. Cam has always been the one that’s there for me. He cares about me and he actually listens to me. That’s a rarity for a man. He’s so precious, and I’m not screwing up our friendship because I’m touch starved.

For the rest of the game, I kept thinking of the things that I shoved deep inside my mind. And they all had to do with my best friend. The wine didn’t help with that either. I turned off the game and went to brush my teeth.

Cam probably won’t be home until the middle of the night so I leave a light on for him and trail into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I lay down and the thoughts are back immediately.

Maybe I should get it all out while he’s not here.

My inner voice usually doesn’t say yes to things so easily, but here I am, thinking about throwing my thoughts to the wolves. This is far too unhinged. Is it bad to think about him in this way? I rack my brain until my phone lights up with a message from Cam.

‘That’s my girl’ with a picture of him cheesing at the camera. My eyes trail over the picture, looking everywhere from his bare shoulders to his lips. It’s safe to say that I metaphorically want to jump his bones immediately. Feral as hell.

I plug in my phone and lay it on my bedside table, hoping that he doesn’t notice that I didn’t reply.

It’s helpless to be this way. I slide my shorts off, leaving me in a big tshirt, and lay down again. When I close my eyes, I see Cam. I let out a deep sigh. What if, just this once, I give in to it? No harm in rubbing one out while thinking about my best friend right?

I close my eyes again and trail my hand up my thigh. My fingers aren’t my own, they’re his. His lips messily attacking my own. I’m breathing hard, swirling my fingers around my clit.

Cam. Cam. Cam.

My mind is running wild with all of the things we’ve never did. The way he’d manhandle me sticks to my mind like glue. He’d mark my body as his. I tilt my head back and gasp when I press two fingers into myself, applying pressure to my clit with my thumb. Cam’s calloused fingers would feel so much better than my own. He would curl them in a certain way that would make me melt into the palm of his hand. I feel my body shaking and soon I’m chanting his name while I’m crashing through an orgasm.

When I open my eyes, I notice how labored my breathing is. I take a few minutes to regain my ability to breathe and fell asleep.

…

My dream is starting to feel so real. It’s like Cam is haunting me. He’s laying behind me in bed, sliding his hands against my bare thighs. I feel his lips against the back of my neck. But it’s not real. It can’t be. I keep my eyes closed while I whimper out his name. It really feels like I can feel his breath against the shell of my ear and hear him softly hum.

There are kisses being pressed down my neck onto my shoulder. The scratchiness of his beard scrapes the sensitive skin. I lean into the fantasy, reaching my hand behind me to grab onto his hair, moaning at the way his mouth feels against my skin. It feels soft against my hand. If only this was real.

I roll over and open my eyes, and the world stops. Blue eyes hold my gaze.

“This isn’t real.”

“It is.” He places a kiss on my jaw and then pulls away to look at me. “You called me and I assumed it was a mistake. I kept my airpods in just in case you just wanted company while you slept.” His hand goes back to stroking my thigh. “But then I heard you moaning and calling out my name. Care to comment on that?”

My skin is on fire when he touches me and his eyes are burning into me. I bite my lip, but he lifts his thumb up to set my bottom lip free from my teeth. I let out a deep sigh, trying to control myself. I have to be honest now. I lay onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

“I thought I only plugged in my phone to charge. I didn’t mean to call you. I’m sorry. I just-”

“You’re sorry for what exactly?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d ever find out.” I cover my face with my hands. “I really embarrassed myself and I’m sorry if it’s going to be weird between us now because of what I did.”

He pulls my hands away from my face and holds them. “I’m glad you did it. I’ve been holding back from this for a long time.”

I stared at him, more shocked than I’ve ever been before. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Think about it. Use that pretty brain.” He taps a finger to my forehead. “Was I not just kissing your skin baby?”

Oh wow.

I’m at a loss for words so I nod my head. He nods back at me, smiling broadly. “Exactly. I love you just as much as you love me. So tell me, may I kiss you some more?”

I nod again and press my lips to his. The world fades around us. Cam’s hands come to my hips and lifts me onto him. I’m straddling his lap and I gasp for air when our kiss breaks. I didn’t realize he’s only wearing underwear until now. My hands settle onto his bare shoulders, feeling his hot skin under my touch. This feels like a fantasy. He licks his lips, silently begging for more. There’s a spark in his eyes when he looks at me. He smoothes down my bed head, and tucks a stray hair behind my ear.

“This is what I wanted for so long.” His voice is low and it sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m sick of sharing you. You’re mine now.”

I gulp and mindlessly nod my head. I’m physically and mentally melting into him. His hands trail up and down my back, like he’s mapping out his territory, until they settle on my ass.

“Come on now baby. Cat got your tongue?” He smirks. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours Cam.”

“Mine.” He says through gritted teeth while he smacks my ass. He brings his mouth back to mine. The kisses are growing more urgent and heated, and I grind down onto his lap, needing more friction between my legs. He lets out a strangled groan into my mouth, smacking my ass again.

Cam removes his mouth from mine and moves it to nip at my neck. His beard grazes my skin, making my head tilt back. I moan out his name when he bites down on my pulse point. He reaches a hand between us, feeling my wetness over my underwear while I continue to grind into him.

“Who did this to you baby?”

“You.” I gasp. His fingers pull aside my underwear and press into my clit. I scream out and lay my head on his shoulder.

“Fuck. So pretty.” Two of his fingers circle against my clit until he presses them into me. I rock greedily onto them. “Look at you taking me so good.”

His praise has me clutching onto him for dear life. I have no other coherent thoughts besides him. I’m chanting out his name again for the second time tonight when I slam into the most mind blowing orgasm I’ve ever had. He brings his fingers up to his lips and sucks them, moaning at the taste of me. My hands drop to the waistband of his boxers. I start tugging them down while I give attention to his chest, lips meeting any piece of his skin I can reach.

Once I freed him from his boxers, he flips me over onto my back and takes off my panties and tshirt, leaving us both stripped down to nothing but skin.

Cam’s gaze shows an expression I’ve never seen him have before. It looks like a look of untamed desire. Kind of animalistic. I want him so bad. He’s back on me in an instant.

Our chests pressed together, mouth attacking mine. His hand lifts my thigh over his hip, sinking into me further. His hips move in long strokes. I moan into his mouth as he thrusts into me at a slow and steady pace. He’s taking his time.

We lose ourselves in each other and forget everything else. The feeling of him on top of me, in me, has me at an intoxicating level of ecstasy. Reality feels so far away, but we’re in it. I try to commit this all to memory until Cam moans into my mouth, biting down on my bottom lip as he lets my lips go. He starts going faster. He takes my hands and holds them above my head while he tucks his face into the crook of my neck. I scream out in bliss. The snapping of his hips blurs my vision and my body is aching to release.

“Please.” I stutter out. I’m too overwhelmed to say anything else. It’s too much.

“Let go baby. I’m-“ his voice breaks and he lets out a guttural moan. His desperate thrusts are starting to stagger when I tip over the edge. His mouth crashes down on mine, muting the whine that’s coming out of his throat. A wave of pure pleasure washes over us as we ride out our climax.

“Fuck I’m so in love with you.” He whispers against my lips. His chest is still heaving while he slides out of me. I’m lying here breathless and mind-numbingly blissed out. He looks down at me like I’m the greatest thing to ever happen to him. He bites his lip when he looks down at the mess we made and quirks a brow at me. “Think I need to clean you up now.”

Cam shuffles down the bed until he’s face to face with my soaked pussy. He swirls a finger around, mixing his cum with mine.

Oh my god.

I throw my head back and moan at how sensitive it feels. I try to squeeze my thighs together but he pries them open and lowers his mouth to taste me. My legs start shaking immediately. I grab onto his hair as he shoves his face further into me, licking every place he can before sucking my clit into his mouth which elicits another breathless scream from me. He chuckles against me but continues his assault. I’m writhing in pleasure until I come apart again, breathing hard as he licks me through my orgasm. My hands fall to the bed and he stands to leave. I whimper but he shushes me, saying he’d be back. Cam comes back with a wash cloth and gently wipes me clean.

After he takes the wash cloth back to the bathroom, he comes back and lays down with me. He pulls me into him, both of us still very naked. I lay my head on his chest and snuggling close. I love this feeling. I lift my chin to rest on his chest and look at his face. He has an arm tucked behind his head and the other plays with my hair.

Cam looks so content. He removes his hand from behind his head and lifts my thigh over him. He traces patterns on my upper thigh. It kind of feels like he’s tracing out the word ‘mine’ on it. I kiss his chest and smile to myself as I lay my head back down. I listen to his heart beat for a moment.

“We’re not just best friends anymore, huh?”

“No baby, we’re not. We’re so much more.”

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

[resting in bed, kicking their feet and slaying the fluffy pink pajamas as well as bright fluffy pink socks —for real—] Teehee, I have a writing prompt for you!

Which kind of pajamas the mercs use? How do they sleep with them?

Take care! ^-^

What Kind Of Pajamas Do The TF2 Mercs Wear?

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Sometimes I forget people have nice pajamas, I wear a pair of thrifted men's pajama pants with holes and a hoodie 😭 (I love it dw)

Mutual appreciation comment time! Love seeing you pop up! I'm always like ❗️that's my mutual! They're so cool!!!

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Demo- This man wears wine mom pj's and I will die on this hill. He wears a shirt that says "wine o'clock!" And has pajama pants with little wine glasses and bottles on them. Has multiple other wine pun-themed pajama shirts, each time he wears one you can feel Scout physically cringe. He's just so silly like that. But I don't think he sleeps in the wine shirts, he just wears them when he has to put a shirt on after he's ready for bed. Also has wine socks, to match his whole outfit ofc.

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Engineer- Wears dad pajamas. I'm sorry. But like? He seems like the kind of guy to wear thick ass flannel pajama pants with an equally as thick matching button-up. He's got fuzzy slippers (also flannel). Wears socks with those silly dad socks. Wears the entire get up to bed every night. Such a silly goose!

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Heavy- Genuinely wears old man pajamas. Wears a plain T-shirt, some warm pajama pants, and a robe. Has bunny slippers, please let me give this man bunny slippers. I don't know guys, in my head, he's so cartoonish. Sleeps in a bed with a patterned comforter has his slippers on and likes handing out the blanket bc it's too small. Ough, silly guy.

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Medic- I'm frothing at the mouth. But I'm also torn. I want to say he dresses up in that goofy-looking "Christmas Carol" nightgown with a nightcap and everything but at the same time? I can imagine this man in either white, pink, or red, silk pajamas, you know the ones. In my mind, fits his whole teen girl vibe. This all implies he sleeps, which is a rarity, but when he does it is very glamorous.

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Scout- Minecraft pajamas. Kidding! Half kidding? I think he sleeps in a t-shirt and boxers instead of actual pajamas. Minecraft t-shirts and themed boxers? Yeah. Has some thick pairs of clothes for colder nights. Mainly just some nice pajamas pants and a thick hoodie.

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Sniper- No pajamas. Wears jeans and a tank top, and a T-shirt if it's chilly. I don't think this man has ever worn pajamas. But in fairness, I don't think he ever continuously falls asleep. Just works and works and ends up passing out in whatever he's wearing. If he ever does finally decide to actually get some rest he has been known to just sleep in boxers.

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Spy- Old Hollywood robe. All I need to say. Has an intense sleep routine, wears an eye mask, puffs up all his pillows, and flops onto his bed dramatically with a sigh after a long day. Dramatic bitch. (loving) Sleeps with a blanket pulled up to his chin, and has like eight fans going. Has to have specific conditions to sleep. Crazy man.

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Soldier- I can't tell if this man respects the flag code with every fiber of his being or if he'd wear an entire American flag-themed pajama set. I'll go with a mix of both. Wears sweatpants and one of those cliché 4th of July t-shirts that every beer drinking white dad wears. Or he doesn't wear anything, the TF2 fandom has seemed to deam this man someone who doesn't understand the importance of clothes.

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Pyro- Unicorn onesie! Or some other form of onesie. They aren't particular. They like comfortable clothes and bonus points if it's really cute too. Has a collection of them. One time Pyro saw Ppy wearing an eye mask and bought one to try. Looks very silly on top of their gas mask. Overall, all these guys are really silly.

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Used the word silly way to much. Probably used goofy too much too. I was in a mood you could say.

I hope you like this! This was a favorite to write:) Sorry it took so long, I got way too tired last night to finish this. Also, hope I answered the question right because I kept second-guessing myself halfway through each one 😭

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[privwrites]

Unexpected reunion

Mihawk x female reader (OS)

from the One Piece live adaptation

Watched the One Piece live adaption and completely fell for Dracule Mihawk. So I had to write a one shot for him. Enjoy!

wordcount: 1875 words

tw: implied age gap, but y/n isn't a minor!, mentions of violence, sorry I'm new to tws- i will add more more with time if necessary

(english isn't my first language, this os isn't beta-read)

Day in, day out, you've endured this wretched ship's hold. The creaking sway of the gas lamps robbed you of sleep, and the chains on your wrists didn't make it any more pleasant. The sunny daylight could only be seen through the narrow gaps in the ship's deck above you. A week ago, the Marines separated you from your crew and captured you—a severe blow, or at least that's what the Marines thought. Yet, you had more experience at sea than your relatively young age would suggest. So, you waited out your days in the Marine cell, always accompanied by the squeaking of the gas lamp and the gentle waves of the ship.

One morning, a jolt woke you from your sleep. You sat up. The anchor must have been dropped on the bottom of the sea! You must be in shallower waters. Immediately, you heard footsteps on the wooden stairs above you, and moments later, several Marines dragged you out of your cell. "You're being relocated! Let's see how merciful the Admiral will be to you!" one of them sneered. Annoyed, you sighed. The arrogance of the Marines had always bothered you. If only the eight soldiers accompanying you knew that you could take them all down with a few moves. Yet, you had your reasons to hold back.

The glaring daylight greeted you as you were led from a Marine ship to a significantly larger one. Remarkably larger… Yes, this was definitely an admiral's ship. Suspiciously, you surveyed the crew of the ship, but none of the faces seemed familiar. However silly they all looked in their white uniforms. Some of them stared at you with fascination. It was a rarity to encounter a female pirate, especially one with your reputation. "Take the wench to her new cell!" one of the officers shouted. Before you had time to look around more, you found yourself in that very cell. At least this one had a small window in the ship's wooden wall. However, this time, thick barred iron rods enclosed you. "Out of the frying pan, into the fire," you muttered. But this cell had an additional thin straw mat for sleeping, and behind a wooden wall, there was a bucket of water with linen for freshening up.

This night, you couldn't sleep for a long time. Instead, you watched the stars in the sky through the small window. Your patience, which you had at the beginning of your captivity, had diminished. How lovely it would be to be able to be out under the open sky again...

And so it happened that you were lying awake again one night when you suddenly heard footsteps in the dark room in front of you. The light of the gas lamp was not enough to fully discern the entire room in the darkness. You stared intently into the darkness in front of you. "What do we have here? A pirate captured by the Marines?" a too familiar deep male voice cut through the darkness. Into the light of the gas lamp, on the other side of the bars, stepped - "Mihawk," you realized with a start, jumping up.

The gas lamp's light danced on the distinctive features of the feared warlord and the skin of his free, muscular upper body shimmered in the moonlight. He hadn't aged a day. "It's been a long time since we last saw each other," you said coldly, "and I didn't think it would be in the belly of a Marines ship this time." Mihawk seemed undeterred. "Well, only one of us is behind bars." He assessed you from head to toe. Your hair had grown longer, but it still had the same beautiful shine as back then. However, captivity had visibly taken a toll on you. Your skin was paler, and your clothing partially torn. "How long have they had you in captivity?" he asked, an unreadable expression on his face. "Why do you want to know?" you retorted, "Why should I tell someone who seems to be making common cause with the Marines lately!" This, too, left Mihawk unimpressed. "I occasionally work for the World Government, not the Marines, darling. And only when it suits me." The tone in Mihawk's voice allowed no further contradiction. "So tell me, y/n, how did you end up in this situation?" He pointed to the iron bars that separated you. For a while, you remained silent. The sound of the waves could be heard all the way down here in the ship's hold, as the ship gently rocked.

"My crew and I were lured into an ambush by the Marines. Then they captured me," you explained. Mihawk's eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, and his gaze pierced on you. "Captured, I see," Mihawk replied and took a step towards you. He was dangerously close, as if the bars between you didn't exist. You had to gulp. That wasn't the whole truth. But what did it matter to him? You had your own plan to escape this prison! And Mihawk had been gone too long for you to trust him now. "The feared pirate y/n allows to be locked up by ordinary Marines. I had hoped I trained you better." The second sentence angered you. "What do you know about me? You just disappeared!" Now there was a reaction on the pirate's face, and he furrowed his eyebrows. "I had my reasons to disappear back then." - "You left me behind!" you hissed. The Warlord's chest rose and fell faster. No one but you was capable of unsettling him. "I had a mission to fulfill, and I would never have involved you! I protected you, even if your stubbornness prevents you from seeing it." You stared at him. Mihawk had been your mentor many years ago. He had taken you in after finding you in a village destroyed by pirates. He was the reason why you were as skilled in swordsmanship as no other pirate but him. Until one day, he had suddenly disappeared, and you were left to fend for yourself. That was many years ago. "And all those years, I watched over you, y/n. You've become a formidable pirate." He assessed you again. But this time, it wasn't an appraising look, rather - an admiring one. You didn't know how to respond. Mihawk continued, "So it surprises me even more that you're still behind bars." He placed a hand on the iron bars that separated you. How should you act in this situation? Briefly, you listened to make sure no one else was on the corridors, then you straightened your shoulders. "The Marines did indeed surprise us with an ambush. But that's not all." Mihawk's gaze lingered on your lips. "I'm listening," he replied. You continued, "Before they could completely destroy our ships, I let myself be captured. I pretended as if they had defeated me in battle to protect the rest of my crew." The corners of the powerful Warlord's mouth twitched upwards. "In case of my capture, there has always been a plan for liberation. This plan involves a lot of preparation so that the Marine ship here is taken down simultaneously. Therefore, I have to wait in my cell until my crew arrives." - "Well, that sounds much more like the girl I trained," Mihawk said.

You already knew he wasn't a man of many words. Still, it almost sounded like a compliment. "As much as I appreciate your plan, y/n, you will come with me now. We don't have time to wait for your crew. None other than Garp himself is the vice-admiral on this ship." You wanted to protest when the Warlord shattered the lock of your cell with a single clean stroke. "I will wait for them!" you insisted. But Mihawk grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the ship's deck. His grip on your arm was far too strong for you to break free. He had always been much stronger than you. Mihawk pulled you up the stairs, and upon reaching the deck. A murmur ran through the rows of Marines who worked the night shift. Mihawk didn't even have to draw his sword. No one dared to attack him. He let his piercing gaze wander over the Marines. "Let it be clear, none of you will ever dare to harm y/n again. She is under my protection, and I will kill anyone who even touches her." Angrily, you stepped on Mihawk's foot. He rolled his eyes and added, "And the same goes for her crew." You nodded in satisfaction. The faces of the marines, on the other hand, reflected their fear of the warlord. Unconcerned, Mihawk walked with you to the railing and jumped onto his pirate ship, which was next to the Marine ship. In contrast to his usually much smaller ship, this one was quite large and stately. Yet you two were the only ones on it. Once on the other deck, Mihawk only needed to split the wind with his sword, and immediately, your ship sailed away from the Marines. For a the rest of the night you said nothing, but you could feel Mihawk's gaze on you as you stood at the railing. You reflected on the recent events and especially what Mihawk had told you about his disappearance. The Marine ship one the horizon was barely visible in the moonlight. You sailed many miles away from the their ship that night, until the first rays of the warm morning sun reflected in the gentle waves of the sea. A warm breeze played with your hair. Suddenly, you felt Mihawk coming towards you. He put something in your hand. It was a Den Den Mushi. You looked at him in surprise. He said nothing, but you understood him anyway. Immediately, you called your crew and told them about your involuntary rescue. You heard relieved sighs on the other end of the line. Then Mihawk himself suddenly took the Den Den Mushi and said to your crew, "There is no need for you to pick up y/n. I will bring her to your ship myself. Expect us in fourteen days." Before you could say anything else to your crew, Mihawk hung up. "What's wrong with you?? You could just split the wind fourteen times, and we would be much faster!" you snapped. Mihawk now stood directly in front of you, considerably taller than you. Calmly, he looked at you. Your skin had regained its rosy glow, and your eyes sparkled at him angrily. Now you looked much more like the girl he had taken in back then. "Well, my dear," he brushed a strand behind your ear, "Despite your daring plan, captivity by the Marines was dangerous for you." You wanted to retort, but he had drawn you into his gaze as if in a spell. "All those years, I left you alone. That was too long. In the next fourteen days, I will make it up to you." What exactly he meant by that, you didn't know. Honestly, you didn't care. Because a warm, unknown feeling enveloped your heart, and a smile played on your lips. And it felt like even fourteen days with the Warlord wouldn't be enough...

...

uggh, I wanna write an entire fanfiction for him so badly. Hope you enjoyed it. This was my first post on tumblr, be gentle with me please :D also can we please talk about how hot Bogard is? He slayed his short screentime.

[sodapopfunk1]

Okay I've watched like 1 season of mlp fim and played dmc1 and half of dmc3 so I went off in my partner's dms about which ponies the dmc cast would like and why, take with a massive grain of salt btw

Dmc cast and which of the mane six they would like most

Dante: Pinkie Pie

Vergil: Twilight Sparkle

Trish: Applejack

Lady: either Fluttershy or Rarity because I feel like she'd be the only one to understand Rarity's nuance

Nero: Rainbow Dash

V: thinks he's special for liking Sunset Shimmer/Starlight Glimmer/Trixie

Nico: only interacts with MLP FIM in a roundabout way, more into doll customization/collection/etc in general and would probably know more about G1-3 than FIM

Explanations under the cut

Reasoning

Pinkie Pie is secretly relatable to Dante because she also comes from a broken family and covers up her deeper emotions by instead focusing on fun and interaction with others

Vergil doesn't feel ready to confront Pinkie's family situation also she reminds him of Dante so he likes Twilight because of her single-minded dedication to self-improvement and initial social ineptitude; he's torn on whether or not he likes her becoming an alicorn

Trish admires Applejack's strong work ethic and self-made identity, she also wishes she could find purpose in her roots and is a little bittersweet about Applejack getting her cutie mark by returning to where she was born since idk if Trish would want to do that herself

Lady respects both Fluttershy and Rarity for their opposing life choices; Fluttershy isolates herself by choice because she doesn't feel comfortable in social situations, meanwhile I feel like Lady could relate to the exasperation Rarity feels with everything and everyone which she covers up with her professionalism

Nero likes Rainbow Dash at first because she's surface level cool but then follows her journey of becoming a nuanced character and that "nerdy" or "soft" things can be cool too, and comes out with a new appreciation for the others

V likes the other ones because he thinks reformed villains are interesting and enjoys their unique struggles to fit in and their temptations. Also he thinks their designs are cool

[ultraericthered]

One Villainous Scene: Despair, That's All.

Danganronpa: The Animation is a one cours anime adaptation of Trigger Happy Havoc: Danganronpa that does exceptionally well at packing in the overall story of the VN while streamlining events and cutting down on things that could not be replicated in this format, and it really probably works as well as it does solely due to Seiji Kishi being the director of the thing. Moments in the show managing to outdo the source material is a rarity, but it did happen at times and it's especially true of this scene which closed out the series premiere.

Monokuma appearing before the Ultimate students and telling them they need to be properly motivated if any of them is to resort to attempting murder in order to escape Hope's Peak Academy plays out the way you'd think it would, but the shift comes once everyone is in the AV Room. In the VN, the video Makoto watches of his family has this hamfisted voiceover narration from Monokuma and it ends with a promise that answers to the questions poised by the video will come on Graduation Day. The anime, meanwhile, goes for a far more effective horror approach - there is no voiceover, the family is there giving their greeting one moment, then the next they're gone and the room's been torn apart and vandalized. Makoto's reaction and the change in score and atmosphere speak such volumes that no narration is needed, and we can see other students reacting to whatever their videos entail in very similar ways all around. While Junko likes to be very showy with her despair-inducing antics, for motivating her peers into possibly contemplating and committing murder, a simple, almost banal way of unleashing desapir into their systems suffices much better. Like the tiniest, most not complicated way of setting off a chain reaction of messy pain and suffering.

As Sayaka is having a total meltdown, Kyoko is one of the few who's keeping their heads, and this is when the anime decides to relocate what was in the VN a throwaway bit in the caffeteria to this scene as a way to really conpound how crucial this is as an early turning point. When Monokuma reappears on the monitor, Kyoko asks him straight up "Who are you really? What are you getting out of this?" Turning the matter of motivation back around on the Mastermind. Of course Junko is all too happy to answer the question, so through Monokuma she responds first with mockery and then abruptly drops every single pretense of playfulness and whimsy as she answers: "Despair. That's all I want." (Or in this dub "My payoff...is your despair!", made equally effective particularly by Greg Ayres' malicious delivery.)

It's at that mention of despair that Sayaka succumbs to such despair, running out of the room in a vain effort to find any possible way out of this building, away from this situation, away from that goddamn bear and his sick little mind games. Makoto tries to talk her out of it and give her hopeful reassurance, but all Sayaka can do is break down into sobs, collapsing onto Makoto as she wails in anguish, which doesn't do a lot to reassure Makoto. Rather than relocating to a classroom, soothing Sayaka's spirits and calming her back down fairly easily and then getting interrupted by Monokuma making dirty sex jokes like in the VN, we stay in the hallway in the anime, and Sayaka's crying is soon joined by a second noise - Monokuma doing a jeering, unflattering imperession of that crying. While many of the students stand in silence in the halls and a few others remain seated in the AV Room, Junko goes full ham on the fake crying through Monokuma before she can't anymore and it transitions into giddy, cruel, absolutely malevolent laughter. Monokuma's evil cackling is the last thing we hear at the zoom-in on his face as Episode 1 ends.

A perfect way of selling the twisted horror and despair of what Junko Enoshima has in mind for all her friends at Hope's Peak Academy.

[thedecayingapplefiles]

Part Eight

Great. Now there was an infected pony on the loose. Probably in the building.

Searching with Pinkie Pie rose... suspicion. The pink party pony was unusually quiet and irritable, and she kept rubbing at a specific part of one of her upper front legs.

"Hey, Pinkie?" Twilight asked cautiously.

"What?" The pink pony shot her a glare. Her eyes looked a bit bloodshot. Twilight could swear her colors weren't as vibrant as before...

"Can I take a look at that cut on your leg..?"

Pinkie froze, looking down. "Huh. I really *did* get scratched by something! I thought I was just imagining it." She shrugged.

Twilight was torn. Keeping Scootaloo in containment didn't work, she convinced Rainbow Dash to let her out and now she was loose somewhere. Maybe her safest bet was to kick out Pinkie.

"Hey, uh... You think you can run a little errand to Sugarcube Corner? I'm DYING for a cupcake..." Twilight forced a grin.

But Pinkie bought the lie. "Of course I can! Oh, I'll bring as many as I can! I'm sure Rainbow and Rarity and Fluttershy and Sweetie are in a cupcake mood too!" The pink pony hummed, bouncing off.

Twilight sighed. At least a possible future threat was gone for now... They just had to find Scootaloo now.

[thursdayinspace]

Happy fanfic writer appreciation day! I can’t read all of your stuff because spoilers but I’ve absolutely adored everything I’ve read. You’re so good at both fluff and angst - a rarity in writers! I think Starstruck and Distractions were my too favorites but they were all great!

Anyway, if you’ve got a WIP that wouldn’t spoil me, I’d love to hear about it:)

asfdgd omg thank you so much!! i don't even know what to say, haha. i'm so glad you liked what you've read so far!!

hmm, a lot of my wips are set way later in the series, but i have one that could be set anywhere, in which mulder develops psychic abilities while he and scully are trapped in an underground cave together. he tries not to, but he can't help picking up her thoughts. it's probably going to be set pretty early, season 2 or 3. I think I've posted a snippet before, and maybe it was this same one, but i'll just post it again :)

--

“Um,” he says. “Scully?”

She stops what she’s doing and looks at him. “Yes?”

“Think something.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Something. Anything. Think of some random animal. An unusual one.”

Her eyes search his face and he can feel her worry flaring up again. “Mulder -”

“Please.”

“Fine,” she says, and after a second of hesitation he gets the image from her as clear as from his own mind.

“Rat?” He shakes his head, regretting it immediately as it makes the room spin around him. “I said unusual.”

“You didn’t give me a lot of time to think,” she says. “How did you guess?”

“I didn’t.” He takes a deep breath. “I heard you.”

“You – What?”

“I think I can read your mind.”

She blinks at him, then raises one eyebrow in that “don’t even start” look he loves so much. “You can read my mind.”

“Think something else.”

She sighs, but fixes him with a firm stare and says nothing.

“There’s really no need for that kind of language,” he says, and she gasps.

“You could really hear that?”

“I told you.”

“Oh god,” she says. He can feel how torn she is between believing him and rejecting the idea as completely insane. “But how?”