#but i need to keep it out of the main tags

[xetlynn]

season 2 claggor x fem reader maybe they get caught making out?? thank you for keeping the tag alive 

of courseee and thank you!!!<3

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

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[arcane] [main page]

Summary: in which you and claggor get caught in a lil steamy moment.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Powder and Ekko wave goodbye, leaving our home to go out on a well-needed date. Claggor, Mylo and you tell them to have fun and enjoy themselves. You bring your legs up on the couch, playing around with your necklace. “Welp, this is boring. I’m leaving.” Mylo stands up, grabbing his jacket. He doesn’t even say anything when walking out the door.

 

Claggor and you turn to one another before chuckling. “We have the house to ourselves it seems.” He smiles. The corners of your lips doing the same movement. “What should we do?” You ask, holding onto your knees. The two of you had recently started dating after being friends since you two were children. You were raised by a close friend of Vander’s and Benzo’s. You had grown close with the others, especially Powder, being best friends. Claggor was her older brother and it felt weird to go after him but then he pursued you. It was kept a secret from the others and still is. You didn’t know how to tell Powder you were dating Claggor at all. Not knowing how to bring it up. 

“Want to cook?” He proposes and you purse your lips, shrugging your shoulders as if to say “why not.” He stands up from his chair, going over to you to help you up. 

You lead the way to the kitchen. “Pizza?” You tilt your head, opening the fridge. “Sounds good.” He hums, getting the cutting board out along with the flour and oil. You grab the cold ingredients. 

“I hope it turns out better than when Mylo did it.” You comment, throwing the stuff on the counter. Claggor laughs, “I don’t think we’d have the skill to catch the pizza on fire and only burn the inside.” He shakes his head, remembering when Mylo woke everyone screaming that there was a fire. “Fun times.” You whisper. 

You leave the room momentarily to put on some music before joining back. “Alright, let’s start.” You roll your sleeves all the way up to wash your hands before actually touching anything. Claggor had already done that when you left the kitchen. 

The two of you start off together before you get distracted by the song that came on. Dancing around the room, pretending to smack your boyfriend’s butt. He didn’t mind taking care of the pizza, this usually happens when you cook. In the middle of it you’d get bored or distracted by something small. Forgetting about the ingredients on the counter. 

“Alright, did you preheat the oven?” He asks suddenly, already knowing the answer though. You forgot to do it. Your arms drop to your sides with a frightened expression. He bursts out laughing. “It’s okay, babe. I figured you wouldn’t have.” He kisses your forehead and you frown. “Rude.” You cross your arms and look away. “But true.” You mutter. He gets the oven started and you both watch it heat up, leaning on the opposite counter. 

“Sorry.” You say sadly, upset that you can’t have the pizza sooner. “It’s okay, I promise.” He snorts, pulling you into his chest, hugging you. “I’m so hungry.” You whine, tugging on the chest of his shirt. 

“Same, but it’s only going to take a couple minutes.” He says, but right as he says that the oven dings meaning that it’s done heating up. He lets me go and you  open the oven door for him as he grabs the pizza and sets it in. Shutting the oven. 

“Set the timer.” He points over to the tiny little timer next to the oven on your side. You set it to twenty-five minutes, clapping your hands after placing it down. Since you two had some time you decided to go back to the couch and cuddle for a little bit. You were snug between the cushion and partly on top of him. Legs tangled together. He pets your head as you stare at the coffee table. Only thinking about how good his fingers feel on your scalp. 

He stops after a couple minutes, staring down at you. “You’re very pretty, y’know.” He compliments, you lift your head to look at him. “Really? Say more.” You tease making him snicker. “I could compliment you all day.” His hands travel down to your waist, rubbing up and down. “I’d love to hear just a few.” You cross your arms on his chest to rest your chin on them. 

“You’re very smart even though you get easily distracted.” He begins and you pout. “Not off to a good start.” His body shakes under you with laughter. “Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes. 

“You are incredibly kind, I don’t understand why. Kind to people who don’t deserve it. Also just beautiful. Your inside matches the physicality and not a lot of people can say the same.” He tells you. “So nice on the eyes. More than nice. I love admiring you.” His hands start to get lower and lower on your back/ hips. “An amazing kisser.” He raspily says when his face gets closer to yours. 

“You think so?” You hum, eyes flickering between his lips back to his eyes. “I know so.” He pecks your lips. You slowly move your legs so that you are straddling him now. You butt right above his crotch. 

“Let’s make sure I’m truly right though.” He sits himself up a little more and kisses you. 

You moan into the kiss, lips cushioning one anothers. You press further onto him, gripping his shirt for dear life. “Mm, you drive me crazy.” He musters taking a small breather before getting right back to making out. His tongue licks your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You open your mouth allowing it. 

He takes it and battles with your own tongue. Going back and forth not even noticing the fact that the front door opened. 

You move his hand from your back down to your ass before bringing your own hand to the back of his neck. Not wanting to let him go. He grips your clothed flesh. You pull a little bit on his hairs on the back of his head on accident, getting a low groan in response, vibrating your lips. His free hand is holding you tightly by your waist. Making sure you were right against his torso. 

You do it for another time to take another breather, but really it was because you wanted to do something more. “Wow!” A voice laughs from the corner of the living room, startling you both. You jump off of Claggor. “In the family room!?” Ekko grips onto his stomach with laughter as Powder was trying to bite her own giggles. Claggor and your faces flushing tremendously. “I- sorry.” You put your head down, not believing that neither of you heard the door open or close. 

“We already knew about you two, don’t worry.” Powder puts her purse on the hook. “You guys made pizza?” Ekko excitedly asks, heading to the kitchen. 

“It’s not… done yet.” You say, not understanding why they’re home from their date not even an hour into it. “Oh can’t wait to eat it then.” He chuckles from the kitchen. Powder smacks her brothers back, plopping down on the couch. “Have fun there, didn’t ya.” She teases him. He rolls his eyes. 

“[Name], you okay? You look mortified?” She asks me and you turn to her, blinking slowly. “You knew?” 

“Of course we knew, you two are not discrete… whatsoever.” She smirks up at you. “And you just let me think you didn’t know!?” You cry out, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment. “Mm I knew you’d tell me when you wanted to or I’d “find out” like this.” She uses finger quotations then does a hand motion to the room. 

“At least we don’t have to hide it anymore, babe.” Claggor stands up, rubbing your back. “Doesn’t stop the shame I am feeling right now.” You turn into his chest, still hiding your face. 

“Bleh, babe.” Powder mocks, playfully gagging. “Oh you can’t be talking, sweetie.” Ekko sits down beside his girlfriend and you turn to see her face turn red. “Shut up.” She looks away. 

[dinsbeskar]

Haunted (Sauron/F!Reader)

...by the kiss you should never have given me

Lots of mini-chapters add up to an omnibus of angst, as we follow Sauron through the centuries and discover exactly what happened before his coronation.

Sequel to To Have and To Hold // Prequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Soundtrack: Kiss Me Harder by Jordan Fiction, Judas by Lady Gaga, Angels by Within Temptation, Heaven's A Lie by Lacuna Coil, NFWMB by Hozier

Warnings: 18+! Angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, manipulation, toxic relationship (more overt towards the end), obsessive!Sauron, soft!Sauron (yes the two can coincide), knifeplay (just a tiny bit), blood magic, Sauron is a bit of a dick towards the end, sorry, accidental prey/predator kink, knifeplay (again, tiny bit), grinding, slightly dubious consent (you do want it, but I'll tag anyway), oral sex (female receiving), P in V sex, more blood.

A/N: little bit of jumping around in this one, sorry, we start just after the wedding, then we jump to the fall of Gondolin, a little magic ritual in the middle, then the fallout from the sinking of Beleriand (why do you keep getting caught up in this??), then we close out the First Age with a little argument before someone's coronation! Little slices of their romance in quick succession! I went a little experimental in the form of this one, with a bunch of flashbacks informing the main plot at the end. I hope it works 🤞

Special thanks to @olchr-1 for the idea for our revenge on Morgoth!!

Translation note: Amartherui translates in Sindarin to "lonely fate" [Fate (amarth) Alone (erui)]

Word Count: 6k!

Fingers entwined with his, head on his chest, you were enthralled by him, by every pretty word and sweet gesture. Every time he came to visit, you would spend days on end in your secluded glade, to make up for his inexplicably long periods of absence. Sometimes he would come to you with dizzying tales of his latest triumphs, preening under your undivided attention. But lately he had taken to returning under black clouds, tetchy where he was usually playful, and rough where gentleness once reigned.

You had pulled him close to your breast and sank down into the petaled carpet of the forest floor, stroking his hair and listening as he raged on about the war in the north. You had kin fighting the armies of Morgoth, and knew his sorrows all too well, but something behind his eyes told you it was more than he was letting on.

You weave strands of his hair into elaborate braids in your lap, before undoing them and creating something greater in their stead. He eventually quiets under your idle fiddling, eyes drifting shut with a contented smile gracing his face, like a cat napping in the afternoon sun. You love him like this; no cares, no worries of war. You can soothe him like no one else, a great source of pride whenever he mentions it.

You gaze down at his unearthly smooth features and trace each contour with your eyes; your fingers slow in their busy work, moving gently across his scalp, lazily twisting his hair around your finger, making a ring to match the one he'd gifted you, ornate and bejeweled, glittering with an impossible inner light, to replace the woven band of purple iris that he'd improvised on the night of your wedding.

"You're staring, love." He smiles, snapping open his eyes and fixing you with an affectionate expression that makes your heart melt.

"Is a wife not allowed to stare at her husband? Are there no privileges to marriage at all?" Your voice is soft but your tone is mischievous, and he smirks.

"I can think of a few, ah, privileges, dearest, in fact we have exercised a few already today." He raises his eyebrows, before pulling you down to meet his lips. "But if you need reminding, you need only ask."

-

You had agreed to meet in the same secluded glade at the next new moon, but he never showed. The hours you wasted awaiting his return were at first exciting, full of electric anticipation that only love's first bloom can give. As the moon slowly passed overhead, and twinkling stars gave way to blazing sun, you shed many a tear at your folly. Perhaps he had been some mirage, an illusion to tempt you? Or perhaps the depth of his feeling did not match yours, a fleeting thought you had to bury deep in case it irrevocably shattered your heart.

You frequent the glade every so often, convincing yourself that it was a perfectly fine place to pass your time, and that you were not reminded of his warm hands or even warmer smile, every time you visit. Deceiving yourself that it meant much less to you than it did, that if he returned now after so much time with no word or warning, you would not jump into his open arms without a second thought.

Your heartache is apparent to your friends and kin, who assume you're suffering the grief they all feel, having lost so many of their kind to Morgoth's rampage in the north. How little they knew; how little you knew.

It is only when one good friend mentions the siege at Angband, that you are struck with the terrible notion that the man you cursed for abandoning you, might not have done it willingly after all. That perhaps, Valar forbid, he had perished in the siege. He had mentioned fighting in the war after all, but you had not connected that with his absence. After all, he had promised to return to you, on the morning after you had met, having shared a blissful slumber in each other's arms. He held your hands to his lips and swore he would see you again, and now it makes sense. Now you have a real reason to grieve, you realise, and the anger roiling within you turns cold, an icy pit in your stomach as tears fall freely and your heart wrenches and cracks. You were to only have one night with him, and you might never even discover his true fate.

You reason with yourself that surely you would feel if the other half of you had flown this mortal plain. But the alternative was much crueler, and to believe him dead was somehow a less hopeless fate.

Centuries later when you look back, you curse yourself for not seeing who he was, and what he'd done, but how could you? He'd taken you as his own and that was such a strong spell to break, Eru himself would have had to step in.

-

To see your city fall at the hands of your husband’s master, you had no words, only wet hot tears as you watch your people die.

"Love, we have to go, come now," he holds you firmly by the arms, shaking you a little to clear your mind of the dust and debris and blood on the streets of Gondolin.

"I can't, I can't leave them, I have to find-"

"No, we're evacuating, you're not staying a minute longer. I should not have let you linger here when He appeared on the horizon, we should have-"

You tug your arm from his vice-like grip. "Should have what? Should have left my people to wrack and ruin? We have to..." Your mind is so murky, filled with thoughts of leaving, running as far as you can with him, despite your overwhelming urge to stay and help where you can.

"We have to leave. You know there is nothing we can do for them, He will leave none alive, and I won't have you-" he can't say it, he can't even entertain the notion of you coming to harm; his fingers tighten their grip, almost painful in their desperation.

He should have foreseen this, he should have gotten you to safety when he first had an inkling that his master finally knew where the Hidden City was.

"We have to go back, I need to go back, I can't leave-"

After a thousand years, his magic had kept your tiny wedding band of iris in full bloom, untouched by the passage of time, kept safe in an ornate gilded chest, made by his own fair hands. And it was sitting in your apartments on the other side of the city, where your kin doubtless waited for you to leave with them. The sentiment in your heart held you steadfast against his shaking and pleading.

"Love, we can't stay here-" he is interrupted by explosions overhead, as the enemy host draw closer.

"You don't understand-"

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter, you're the only thing that matters. We have to go!" He never raises his voice to you, so you're a little dumbstruck when he growls at you.

"But we have to save them!" You stop in your tracks, feet rooted to the ground, indignant at the idea of abandoning your friends and neighbours to their doom.

"Amarië," his voice is suddenly so soft, it disquiets you, brings you back to the present. "Love, they're gone. There is no saving to be done."

Sauron is a stranger to remorse, to sorrow, but at the effect of his words, a pang of guilt sweeps through him when he tells you that in all the world, he is all you have now. He tries to ignore the warm thrill he feels in the pit of his stomach, that this great cataclysm has brought about the fate he always wanted for the two of you: just you and he, no one else to rob him of your attention.

You wanted to feel deeply all the grief and pain that one would expect at being told their life was over.

Instead you just felt numb, haunted by the consequences of his actions.

-

"I curse him." Your husband's eyes grow wide at your words, grasping your hands as if to quiet you, but you press on.

"I curse Melkor, Morgoth Bauglir, to roam this earth alone. To never know peace, to never know that which he so jealously craves."

You feel you're taking Morgoth's curse rather well, all things considered. Sauron had to beg you not to storm Angband yourself after he had told you of his master's new name for you, cursing you to a forsaken existence, sundering you from your husband in all but spirit.

You had fought your way back to him countless times, and he to you; you had both vowed to continue to do so, but the rage and grief had not lessened with time, stoked to a towering inferno of wrath that threatened to break you any time you were reminded of it.

And after the fall of Gondolin, your rage at the Enemy was insatiable.

So you had your revenge.

"Enemy. Tyrant. Now I name you again."

In the dead of night, flickering candlelight casting ominous shadows over your face, Sauron cannot help but admire you, crave you, as you corrupt his master's fate.

You slice open your hand, squeezing your palm over the parchment before you, watching as crimson splashes through the stark black lettering.

Amartherui.

"Help me." You look him in the eye, your simple plea making his chest ache; he has never said no to you, his sweet wife, but this is the first time he has been tempted.

"Amarië..." his soft sigh almost convinces you to abandon your plan, but the fury bubbling in your veins is too great.

"Beloved, will you help me or not? Your power would bring this curse to fruition, but if you will have no part in it, you should leave." You stand taller, drawing yourself up to match his gaze, impossible as that may seem.

"I have never asked you for anything. Please do this for me."

The crushing weight of the love in his hole of a heart moves his hand before he can stop himself. With gnawing doubt in his stomach, he wordlessly takes the knife from you, mixing his pitch black blood with your own on the page.

You smile, a weight lifting from your shoulders instantly, and you pull him down to kiss him hard, leaving a red streak on his neck.

"I name you, Morgoth, as my people have long titled you, Amartherui." His new name falls off your tongue like a dream, and you cannot help but smile, your wicked deed complete, as you set the parchment alight, the flames glowing a sickly grey-green as the candles flicker and the room darkens, long shadows growing where the light had tentatively reigned.

"Forever and a day, a lonely fate will be yours. You shall not know the word of a friend, the loyalty of a follower, or the touch of a lover. I curse you to wander the Seen and Unseen world alone, craving the connection you sought to sunder here."

In the back of your mind, there is some semblance of guilt. There is nothing good in the act you just performed, nothing virtuous or pure in your revenge; it's cold and calculated, vicious and spiteful.

Transcending the bounds of time and space, you can feel your curse has taken effect, something shifting in the air between you and your husband.

Sauron has never loved you more, and he shows you many times that night the depth of his feelings.

-

You watch as more refugees stagger into your haven with naught more than the clothes on their backs, waiting to help and heal and offer your comfort where you can. The war has left such a dreadful path of destruction in its wake; thousands of your kin are displaced as the host of the Valar battle their way to Angband, and your people had chosen where the river Sirion meets the sea as their secret haven.

It has been decades since the armies of Valinor first arrived on the shores of Middle Earth, and the end was drawing near, according to your husband, who was waiting with you in the safety of the havens and watching closely.

"I'll see you when I'm finished here," you whisper as you reach up to plant a kiss on your husband's lips. "It'll probably be late, don't wait up for me."

He gives you an affectionate smile; how could he not wait for you? Even if he did partake in sleep, he would not be able to rest without you at his side.

"I'll be up, return to me soon." He is reluctant to let you go, but your skills are in such dire need while the city is inundated with the sick and injured.

Before the War, it was uncommon for Elves to suffer such fates, being hardy in soul and body, but Morgoth's darkness had infiltrated much of the land and infected so many of your kin. Soldiers, innocent bystanders, there were hardly any who were unaffected, and fighting the darkness was a constant effort on your part, and the team of healers you had trained in the magics of your people.

"My lady, they are calling for you." The herald's voice shakes you from Sauron's gaze, and he huffs impatiently.

"I must go." You reluctantly begin to pull away, but he draws you back, pulling you close and wrapping you up in an embrace you could cling to for an age.

"I love you," he murmurs in your ear. "When this is all over, we shall establish the greatest kingdom this land has ever seen."

"If there is a land left." You try to remain hopeful but the news of the siege at Angband is never good, never hopeful, and you fear your home will never be free of Morgoth's influence.

"I am your home," your husband, your Mairon, reminds you, tracing your cheek softly, and you cannot help but return his radiant smile.

"I know, love, as I am yours." You press a soft kiss to his knuckles, taking the strength he offers, before departing to disperse your light where you can.

The darkness infects everything it touches, and it takes all of your energy and more to renew your broken and weary kin, who have travelled so far and fought so hard to reach the havens. Healing words and ancient spells woven into soft songs, settling over the city in a melodic shield, rejuvenating the minds and bodies of your people. You work late into the night, spreading the light where you can, easing the pitch black horror in the hearts of those who had seen the worst of Morgoth's endeavours.

The night is all-encompassing when you finally crawl into bed, nestling into Mairon's firm warmth, trying not to disturb him but feeling sweet relief when his hands trace your sides in greeting.

"I was going to come look for you," his deep voice rumbles in your chest as he presses himself against you.

"No need," you try to smile, but your voice cracks as his tenderness breaks your defences, and all the heartache of the day pours out of you like blood from a wound.

His heart wrenches. He has no business feeling such emotions as remorse, but once again you have him feeling in ways that he dislikes intensely.

"I'm sorry, my love." And he is. He is actually sorry for causing you pain, the rest of Middle Earth be damned.

You sigh and take his hand, holding it over your heart.

"I know, love." You ponder your next question, whether it is a good idea to ask, but you ask anyway.

"You cannot assist in the efforts against Him? I'm sure the Valar would be grateful for your help, might even look favourably upon you-"

He interrupts you with a sigh and a kiss to your neck.

"The Valar will never look upon me favourably, beloved. I could present them Melkor in chains and they would only bind me to him."

Of course, he has thought about begging clemency, thought about fleeing with you to the edges of the world, even thought of taking you back to his master. But in the end, it was more prudent to keep you safe, and to watch and wait for the triumphant side to reveal themselves. Better to beg forgiveness from the victor than choose the wrong side.

-

"Tell me I'm wrong." You dare him to speak against you, your voice shaking in anger as your fists clench.

"My love, I-"

"No, I don't want falsehoods, I don't want games or lies or deceit, just tell me. Did you go to Eönwë as you promised?"

"I did. And I found their response wanting." In truth he had tried to make amends, tried to do penance for the ages he'd spent in Morgoth's service, but when it came to approaching Manwë for his pardon, his fear overtook him and he fled back to Angband, but he couldn't tell you that, couldn't tell you he'd been weak, pitiful, his courage failing him at the final steps to absolution.

And he definitely couldn't tell you that in order for his pardon to be granted, he would have to give you up, to avoid blackening your soul any further.

He'd rather suffer your eternal wrath than be sundered from you for even a moment.

"So you traded forgiveness for more lies." You clench your jaw, your head beginning to pound, the subtle throb becoming a stabbing pain in your temple.

"I did it for you."

"How? How is this for me?" You mock him, incensed now that he would deflect his deceit onto you.

He stands to comfort you but you rip your hands from his grasp before he can claim you.

"I do not know what to say. I thought I knew you, I thought you would do the right thing." You shake your head and laugh, your scorn stinging him as if it were a poisoned blade.

"Love, please-"

"No! No more lies. I've had it with trickery and deception, I want out." You whirl around to face him. "Shadow of Morgoth, they call you. You gather his armies to you once more, you refired his crown! So is that what you want? Do you want to be his second coming?"

In all honesty, no. His master's plans were beneath him; Morgoth wanted to break the world, Sauron wanted to reshape it, to balance and perfect it, by any means necessary.

"Please, listen to me, I need you by my side, now more than ever." He clutches your hands, heart pounding, looking deeply into your eyes, willing you to fall for his pretty words once more.

"You didn't answer me." Tears begin to prick your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall in front of him, stepping back to take a deep breath, to steady your nerves to face the man you thought you loved.

"I don't need to. Love, you will join me." His desperation becomes honeyed, dripping with the devotion you so crave from him.

"Don't. Don't do that." You whisper, as he stalks toward you slowly, his deception burning a hole in your heart that you're sure will never be filled.

"Don't you want to be with me? For all eternity, that is what we always said." He circles you, hands on your shoulders, in your hair, overwhelming you with his lover's touch, just a mite too rough.

"Not if this is your plan. I didn't marry Morgoth, I married Mairon." Sauron, your mind reminds you, and for a second you feel a wave of nausea overwhelm you.

His face twists and he pulls away.

"That is not my name." He growls, an ugly grimace taking over his lovely features.

"I've told you before, don't look inside my head!" You retort, his presence in your mind suddenly overwhelmingly obvious.

You throw him out of your mind, slamming the door shut, refusing him access to that which would be so freely given if he deserved it.

The tic in his jaw is back with a vengeance and his eyes are ablaze with a fury the like of which you have never seen.

"Who do you think you are?" He hisses, venom in every word; you don't recognise him, cold terror in your heart at the sudden switch, as if someone had doused the candle burning for you in his heart with oil, engulfing him with wildfire.

"I chose you, of all your people, as my wife; I could have had anyone, but I chose you. Aulë’s greatest smith, Melkor's most trusted lieutenant, lord of all the dark things that creep and crawl in this world. And who are you? My beloved wife." His tone is like poison in your veins, burning and spitting fire in your heart.

Who are you? He's right; who the hell do you think you are?

"I know exactly who I am. I'm the woman who leaves you."

You shall not be forsaken this time, not that doing the forsaking feels any sweeter. It wrenches every fibre of your being, your heart pounding in your chest, but you make it to the door of his chambers, hand on the doorknob, before he breaks from his stunned daze, crosses the room and clasps his hand over yours on the cool metal.

"And where will you go? Your people are scattered and displaced, and who would take you in if they knew?" His sweetly honeyed words still bite at your heart, settling in the pit of your stomach.

"I cannot stay here, not now that I know exactly what you are." You look up at him, holding his gaze, somehow fighting the urge to scratch and claw and bite your way free like a feral animal, suddenly overwhelmed with the sense that you should run as hard and fast as you can.

His eyes betray nothing, his lips curving into a condescending smirk, as he runs a finger down your cheek, gathering the tears you'd fought not to shed. He examines them as if he'd never seen their like, as if they were precious stones from the depths of the earth, mined just for him; he licks his fingers clean, turning his attention back to you, trembling under him as he cages you against the door.

"Please... please let me go." The look in his eye says begging will be useless, but you try anyway.

"You are my Queen. You're free to do as you please." He replies, voice smooth, with a pretty smirk and that predatory glint in his eye that would usually thrill you so, that still sends hot arousal pooling between your thighs, mixed with icy cold terror.

"It would please me to leave," you try to appeal to him, softening your voice, lowering your gaze.

"I'm sure it would..." he utters breathlessly as he takes you in, leaning over you, watching the artery in your throat jump in time to his own racing heartbeat.

"Mairon... please..." His lips are on yours before you can finish your plea, his hands tangled in your hair.

He pushes his thigh between your legs, letting you grind yourself against him instinctively, and he groans, deep and low in his chest.

"Even now, your body betrays you, my love."

You sigh against him, fingers raking his hair roughly, letting him caress your neck, your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he tries to expose you to his gaze. His clever fingers usually make light work of the laces of your corset, but his impatience defeats him, and he pulls a dagger from the lining of his robes, slicing cleanly through the fabric.

"That was my favourite," you admonish him, still angry with him; even as he takes you apart with his fingers and his tongue, you can't forget his plans, and you certainly can't ignore his gift to you, sitting by the window in all their glory.

Twin crowns, wrought in black iron, twisted and wicked, emanating a dark power that made you nauseous; ready for the heads of Middle Earth's new King and Queen. When you'd seen them, your blood ran cold, as you realised that once again, you'd been victim to Sauron’s deception.

"You will have a thousand more, dearest wife, whatever your heart desires," he promises breathlessly as he shucks off your dress, sliding it down your body, worshipping you with the lightest touch, soft kisses peppering your skin as he disrobes you. He falls to his knees, his head in line with your mound. He looks up at you, locking his gaze with yours, and delves into your folds with his tongue, seeking your pleasure.

You gasp, throwing your head back, as he spreads your legs to access your entrance, splitting you open with two fingers, still drawing every moan and whimper from your throat as he circles your clit, licking long strokes, tiny laps at your skin, letting you ride his face in your lustful haze. You grip his hair more roughly than you normally would, your wrath seeping into your lust, until you can't detect the distinction between the two.

He takes one of your legs and places it on his shoulder, letting you rest against him, both of you totally at the other's mercy. Such trust, such devotion, would you throw that away? Would you truly abandon him?

He worships at your altar, an acolyte to your pleasure, drawing unearthly sounds from deep within you, willing you to just stay and be his.

Your mind is racing as tendrils of his power cling to your lips, fighting for entrance to quiet your thoughts, and replace them with his sweet music. Wouldn't it just be easier? To let the darkness in?

You might as well, you muse in the back of your head, thoughts displaced by pleasure as the darkness feasts upon you.

He's solely focused on you; there is nowhere he would rather be in all of Arda. The unblemished shores of Valinor, the white trees that used to light the world, he can finally understand why his master was so hellbent on their destruction. For there is no beauty that should merit a comparison to you, and he would raze these lands to the ground to prove it.

You're drawing close, he realises, and briefly wonders whether to allow you your release on his lips.

You feel him pull away and moan, a tiny pitiful sound that makes him chuckle; of course you need him, of course you can't be without him, even in anger. Victory is nigh, and he pulls himself out of his robes to claim you once again.

He pushes you back, your name on the tip of his tongue, as he takes you in, breathes your air.

"You're mine," he growls, nuzzling your neck to better scent you. "Say it, say you'll always be mine."

"I will," you murmur softly, tears pricking your eyes as you hold him close.

"If you were to leave me," he moans against your heated skin, stroking his cock against your thigh, "there would be no rest for any bird, beast, or being in this land, no sleep, no sustenance, these lands would burn until you were returned to me."

He claims you in one thrust, filling you so completely, so sweetly, that you see stars, your breath stolen from your lungs as if it were the first time you'd ever laid eyes on him.

Your heart wrenches, pulling towards his, despite your entire being screaming at you.

You kiss him harder, your mind quietened as he bites your lip, droplets of blood wetting his tongue, quickening his insatiable need to be inside you in every way that is possible; mind, body, soul, all inextricably entwined.

The tears in your eyes threaten to fall, but you blink them back as he rocks into you, the chorus of your lovemaking drowning out all other notions. He plays you so well, a master in the art of drawing sweet melody from your lips; the harmony you both create together is unmatched to his ears, a Maia who helped sing the world into being.

A chorus of "mine" and "please" fill the air, and you're unsure whose voice is the louder, who is more desperate in their claiming of the other.

You feel him stiffen against you, his melody reaching a crescendo before yours, as he fills you with his pleasure, low groans in your ear bringing you to your peak as well. He wrings every last moan out of you, drawing out the coda of your song until there are no more notes to be played, no more pleasure to be taken.

Sweat-slicked and exhausted, you hold each other close, entwined so perfectly. You let him carry you to his bed, laying you down reverently, climbing in beside you and nestling you close, arms wrapping you tightly, refusing to let you move from his grasp.

You'd usually find such comfort in his embrace, but tonight there is an itch under your skin that his touch only amplifies, making you fight not to squirm beside him.

You cannot sleep for fear of letting him inside your head again, so when a knock at the door comes, you welcome it.

He sighs, long and loud in your ear, as evidence of his displeasure.

"I'll be back, love, there are matters I must attend to."

"Of course," you smile, fighting to make it meet your eyes.

He regards you carefully, brow furrowed.

"Do not fear, my love," he says softly as he leans down to kiss you once more. "I won't be long."

As he departs, he gives you one final look of longing, which you hasten to return with all the eagerness you can muster.

The door clicks shut, your expression falls, and you immediately disentangle yourself from the sheets,

Finding obscene amounts of your clothing and jewellery, and books beyond measure in his room was no surprise. He must have been preparing for this for years, if not longer.

Now that Morgoth was gone, the next phase of his plan could move forward, and that involved you, his Queen, taking up her rightful residence.

You dress as quickly as you're able, taking only what you can carry, and go to leave. But you notice a small ornate chest you thought you'd lost when Gondolin fell, sitting on the dresser by his bed as if it had always belonged there.

You feel as if you've been stabbed, a gut-wrenching heartache overwhelming you as you can do nothing but stand and stare.

He went back for it. He kept it all this time.

Your feet move of their own accord, and before you can blink, you've opened the chest, staring at the impossible artefact of your love for each other.

Unfurled purple petals, revealing a stark white centre, the woven band appearing as fresh as it did on the day he married you.

You hold it up, comparing it to the ring you currently wear. He really had somehow captured its likeness in a jewel, deep purple revealing a bright light in its centre, framed by ornate silver details.

You cannot bring yourself to slip it on, after all that has happened, his lies and broken promises, but you are loath to leave it.

Movement outside his chambers sends a shiver of panic through you, and you quickly move to hide behind the door. The subsequent banging has you quaking but you stand your ground, waiting for whomever it is to leave.

The door abruptly swings open, and you hear two gravelly voices discussing... you?

"Mistress?" The first call is softer, but their annoyance quickly becomes apparent as the other chimes in.

"Where is she then? They said to fetch her, but I'm not traipsing all over to find some she-Elf-"

"He won't even notice, Adar says he's too caught up in all his planning and his speeches, who cares about one missing Elf?"

"He wants them at least, over there. He'll have your head if we forget-"

"Why my head? You're the one he told-"

"Shut it and take 'em, careful now, there's magic in it still..."

Their voices fade as they shuffle back the way they came. As the door slams shut again, you realise that your husband already has an army of orcs at his disposal, and you reconsider what you're about to do, but only briefly.

Escaping the fortress is more of a task than you thought, requiring all the skills of subterfuge and swordplay that your husband has ever taught you; which is no small feat, considering the centuries you've had to learn.

Quietly slipping through the fortress mostly unnoticed, leaving the odd corpse in your wake as your husband's servants cross your path, unfortunately for them.

Thankfully the halls are mostly deserted, and you hear a clamour coming from deeper within, but you try to pay it no mind, focusing on your exit and nothing more.

It is only when you finally see daylight, pushing open the great black doors to the fortress, that you can breathe a sigh of relief. If you can just get a headstart, perhaps you'll be able to outrun him.

-

It is in the middle of his speech, appealing to his army for their continued support, that Sauron notices you are absent.

He'd sent for you when his moment of victory seemed nigh at hand, and had assumed you were readying yourself for your ascent, but now that he had persuaded Adar and his children to his cause, the sight of your face was all he wanted to see.

As he knelt before Adar, awaiting his rightful crown, he searched for you in his mind's eye. He did not expect to find you outside the black gates, breathing a sigh of relief in the watery sunlight.

A surge of rage overtook him as he clenched his jaw, settling on his knees. The mere thought of your abandonment had always made his heart twist and shatter, and at that moment, he had no heart. Just a void where it used to be.

Distracted by your torment, he barely noticed the first blow, as Adar struck him again and again with the crown that was meant to define your future together.

As he lay in a pool of thick black blood, his last thought was of you; how could you betray him? And thank the Valar you did.

-

A great blast of freezing cold air knocks you off your feet, and for a second you thought you heard his voice on the wind. It's all you can do to just lie there, covered in frost and shaking, trying to assess if you're at least physically intact, your emotional state another matter entirely.

Clutching your head as blood trickles down your face, you shakily get to your feet. It is as if someone has emptied the heavens of all its snow where before there was nothing but arid plains. The air is suddenly glacial, the ground frozen and cracking underfoot.

It is as you contemplate your frozen breath in the air, that you realise you can't feel him. A vacuum in your mind, a void in your heart that you haven't experienced in more than a thousand years, and you can barely recognise that it is his absence that has left such a hole.

You thought you might feel free when you were rid of him, but all you feel is empty, yearning for a presence that has haunted you for millennia.

[beefscrap]

!!! DESIGN A STORY CHARACTER CONTEST !!!

Finally, it’s here! To celebrate 400 PLUS followers now, I’m hosting a WOF design challenge/contest! Your mission is to design a character that’s going to appear in TBoFS 2. The character is already decided, and you’ll be given information/prompts to design them. First place winner will have their design be the official design for the character, and anyone who doesn’t win can keep theirs! So keep in mind that if you win, I’ll be the ‘owner’ of your design and the character.

!!! GENERAL INFO !!!

- 1ST PLACE PRIZE: Your design will be the official design in the story! You also get a free dumb doodle from me of any OC (or character) you want.

- 2ND PLACE + 3RD PLACE: You’ll each receive a doodle, as well as being featured as winners when they’re announced! Of course!

- Anyone else who submits a design will get honorable mentions, and your design will be linked when winners are announced.

- Very little artistic bias is involved. Not being able to ‘draw well’ isn’t an issue, as long as you have good ideas and a good imagination!

- DESIGNS ARE DUE BY [ Friday, December 20th ] !!! I’ll have results by December 25th!

- I’ll personally be picking the top 3, then put a poll up that lasts for 1 DAY. This will determine the winners.

- TO SUBMIT YOUR DESIGN: Either tag me in a post or send in my asks inbox! I will be reblogging/posting with the hashtag #TBOFS2DESIGNCHALLENGE (and you can post with the tag too ofc!)

- Please ask questions if you have them!

!!! RULES !!!

- I have faith in people but PLEASE BE NICE! I don’t want fighting for any reason, I don’t want unwanted criticism of people’s designs, etc. I want this to be enjoyable for EVERYONE, even if you don’t win!

- You may only submit ONE DESIGN! If there’s some sort of issue where you need to resubmit, just let me know!

- Another reminder that the first place winner gives me ownership of the design, and I’ll put them up on my Toyhouse folder. Please don’t submit to win if you’re uncomfortable with this!

- I have faith about this too, but just in case: don’t submit inappropriate art. If I find out you draw gross feral art/sexualize dragons I won’t accept your design and you’re blocked.

- Similarly, no design you submit should be offensive or hateful in any way.

!!! DESIGN INFO !!! finally the fun stuff

- The character is a PURE NIGHTWING.

- I prefer to stick to MOSTLY canon color choices, but some deviation from this is welcome! Ask if you aren’t sure, but feel free to look at the character designs in my TBoFS Toyhouse folder. That should give a good idea.

- Adding accessories and even little headcanons for the character are fully welcomed and encouraged (keeping in mind that some headcanons may not end up to be true, lol!)

- Name ideas are welcome, too!

- YOUR GENERAL PROMPT IS: a snobby, intelligent, standoffish Nightwing who does not believe in animus magic as it exists.

- Keeping my prompt pretty vague so you can have fun! The best designs (to me) are ones that’re recognizable. Not necessarily jam packed with accessories and colors and stuff… just recognizable.

- Your designs may be sketched, lined, etc, but my main requirements are that it’s at least a fullbody + colored. You CAN add more visuals to the design if you want (front face view, mouth view, paws, wing view, etc etc). It does NOT have to be digital!

Woo hoo! Have fun and thank you again for your support!

[lovelyshu]

VIDEOGAME LOVER, WE SHOULD * * * WITH EACH OTHER! — with Felix

001 DESCRIPTION — how gaming nights with felix usually are?

002 TAGS — gn!reader, playing genshin, reader has furina, felix is a neuvillette main

003 COMMENTS — oop, random cute scenario I thought of while talking to my friend😊

004 TAGGING — @jisunggy

It's not any news that Felix loves videogames. He's always talking about those with so much passion!

That's probably an extra on why he loves you so much.

When Felix found out you were also in love with games he thought that he probably made something really good to deserve you.

But when you asked him if he wanted to play genshin with you? He kissed you right there.

And that's how you two always found yourselves in this scenario whenever he got time.

You, sitting between his legs with an iPad, while he sat in front of the computer. Both playing genshin impact.

There was an upcoming character to the game that you really wanted, and that's what you were doing with him right now! Farming primogems.

“Do we really need to explore Fontaine? Those puzzles are absolutely impossible!”

“Of course we have. And they're not impossible, you just lack game knowledge.” - was what Felix said while waiting for you to open a new unlocked chest.

“Ugh, those maps keeps getting more boring and annoying to explore. That's why Inazuma is my favorite.”

He only laughed at your comment, continuing to walk with his Neuvilette around the world.

“Felix, Felix, Felix come here, let's take a screenshot!”

He never understood why did you enjoyed taking so many pictures in this game, but it grew on him too.

“Alright, alright. You're using Furina to match my Neuvillette?”

“Yep! Here, just stand and don't move.”

He looked over your shoulder to see you positioning the camera angle in the best way possible, before screenshotting it.

As you looked back at Felix, he smiled, placing a soft peck on your lips.

“I love you so much, have I said that?”

“I think you did. But I love you too.”

[ask-codeearasure]

STOP LEAVING THIS SHIT IN THE TAGS I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD DUDE

This is the kind of shit that wakes me up from the afternoon sluggishness, the mindset of "fuck everyone I'm not going to work today and everything is shit".

Jesus Christ I'm gonna get you one day. I will make myself an idiot sandwich when I do. I will make you understand the brainrot you curse me with, the dull sense of fascination I feel about these faggots, stages and headcanons and all.

It has become a great point of borderline-obsession for me to imagine Stage 1 and Stage 2's complicated dynamics with Color before they finally both understand he's got no ulterior motives. Then they turn against each other full-force because Stage 1 is a wuss with attachment issues.

I think it would be funny if Stage 2 is the Stage that starts trusting Color first, no apprehensive questions asked, and then Stage 1 starts having a fucking conniption over it, like they don't understand what the fuck #2 is doing or why so they automatically assume the worst when really #2 is just happy to finally have a guy that doesn't treat him like the odd one out or try to alienate him over premeditated assumptions.

#1 recognizing Color is safe and trustworthy is the equivalent to strangling themself to not fuck up the one good thing they have going for them while #2 would appear to just accept it, like a simple "okay" while he's constantly making calculations about the what-ifs anyway. They're both paranoid, but #2 picked up the habit of scheming so he always has a semblance of a plan if anything goes wrong while #1 constantly obsesses over the potential of everything going to shit, not so much how they'd react aside from breaking down, running away, and maybe finding a way to finally die.

Color gives #2 basic fucking respect then goes beyond that as they keep interacting and #2 finds he likes that a lot actually, only for #1 to try and sabotage their relationship through their paranoid bullshit.

And like, I'm not saying #1 has no reason to be this way, they do, it's all just popping up at the wrong time where these behaviors and habits aren't necessary anymore.

#2 is bound to get pissed at #1 openly at some point. He just wants to be around his pookie and chill, no bloodshed needed, and the constant hot-and-cold, yes-and-no, will they-won't they, push-and-pull attitude #1 resorts to makes him realize that maybe, just maybe, he's gonna have to invest in a notebook to start communicating with this bitch thoroughly. Cause his main man, his one trusted guy being pushed away is not doing them any favors and he wouldn't know what to do if Color had enough at some point and just left like #1 seems to want.

So they have this back-and-forth for several months while Stage 3 is the one actually chilling. It gives no fucks about the other two imbeciles, it's enjoying every minute it spends with Color, but may or may not scream when #1 or #2 try to switch in.

...imagine what a blend of #2 and #3 would act like. I think they'd be extremely clingy to Color, maybe hug him with their entire body and stay like that even as he's moving around doing his own thing, but retains the #2 behaviors of studying everything that piques their interest and not responding to much emotional stimuli, and all while they're heavily dissociating. Once separate, neither of them remember where they got that information but just accept it.

ANYWAYS I hate these fucking people, I should stick them in the pear wiggler and lock the door behind them.

#2 I believe, while he's trying to do better through his bond with Color, still has manipulative habits compulsively. He knows he has an issue with that but the problem is he doesn't recognize the hows and why's. But #1 does and reacts the completely wrong way in getting anyone to notice the signs. They are set in fucking over #2 when what #2 actually needs is a clear reference in how he can change these behaviors.

He really does value Color, all of them do, but he feels like at this point in time he's the only one actually being productive about it and that's gonna be another reason why he's so infuriated with #1.

He's trying to get better for his own sake, taking notes and observing Color's needs as well so he can stick by him more effectively. If only #1 stopped destroying those notes under the pretense #2 still thinks of Color as a jumbo-sized lab rat and not the most reliable ride-or-die in existence.

I am waiting for the time #2 finally snaps openly and Color receives a rant about #1 being a bitch while he's stuck in sleep paralysis. That would be one hell of a way to find out yo boy's got suppressed issues he's struggling to sort out himself.

-- Sarco

the way stage 1 handles the other stages and advises others to the same is just both hilarious and sad

“Yeah no don’t trust me when im like that. im sure being told that everything i do or attempt to express is just me manipulating and lying won’t have consequences”

“oh yeah just kill me when im like that. what? I tried to defend myself against being murdered and killed when I was like that? gee golly im just so insane and crazy and violence is all I know you simply must kill me”

“what? hiding this part of myself and trying to suppress and resist it and pretend it doesn’t exist has consequences in that it will only make itself more know the more I resist?..I need to hide all evidence of its existence even more! In fact you should kill me before i ever become like that!”

like is it any wonder you feel so threatened in other stages when you actively turn others against you and encourage them to dehumanize and demonize you, thinking you’re doing anyone any good

[wcnderlnds]

something about you | draco malfoy

Summary: After a rough week, you have one two many butterbeers and get help from the last person you’d expect. Warnings: being tipsy?? Word Count: 1.4k Authors Note: this is a repost from my old account. i wrote it in 2020 so its not the best but i wanted it on this account to keep all my best fics in one place <3

Weekends meant Hogsmeade trips which were your favourite part of the week. There was nothing like getting out of the school grounds for a bit after a hectic week of classes. As much as you loved Hogwarts, it was nice to get away from the chaos of the castle sometimes even if it was only for a few hours. It was even nicer after a stressful week and to say this week had been stressful was an understatement. Right from the get go everything had seemed to be going wrong. You’d managed to forget your potions homework which had resulted in detention then, because of that, you’d missed your date with Seamus. It hadn’t been that big of a deal — it wasn’t like your relationship was serious but you had liked him. It wasn’t enough for you to be upset when he asked if you could just stay friends instead but it did put you in a foul mood. It seemed that every time you had something good planned the world tried it’s best to disrupt it. So, the trip to Hogsmeade was needed. Very needed.

Usually, you tagged along with the golden trio but you decided to go solo today telling them that you’d meet them for a drink later on before you all headed back to the castle. As you walked through the main road, you spotted Draco Malfoy and his goons harassing some third year. You and Draco hadn’t really interacted much other than the casual ‘hello’ here and there but he’d always been rather polite around you so why couldn’t he be like that with everyone else? You knew your friends had an issue with him and couldn’t blame them but you had nothing against him. So far he’d done nothing to you but it did annoy you to see him bullying a poor, defenceless boy just trying to enjoy a day out.

“Hey, come on. Leave him alone,” you said walking up to where the incident was happening. Goyle was the first to hear you, turning to face you with the ugliest sneer on his face.

“Back off. This is none of your business,” he said gruffly.

“What exactly has he done to deserve you bothering him? Just leave him alone. You’re a sixth year and he’s a third. Pick on someone your own size.”

“I said back off.”

“Goyle! That’s no way to talk to a lady.” Draco had finally spoken up, glaring at his friend. “Since you asked so kindly, we’ll let little Roger here be on his way.”

“Thank you,” you gave Draco the tiniest of smiles as little Roger ran past mouthing a ‘thanks’ to you.

With that all sorted out, you went on your way not noticing the youngest Malfoy watching you as you did. He’d always found you intriguing. Honestly, he’d always wanted to strike up a conversation with you but since you were in two completely different houses and he had a reputation to maintain, he opted for mostly ignoring you and trying to be civil. Part of him really hated the fact that he couldn’t just do the things he wanted to but he couldn’t take any chances of his father hearing about him doing such things. Befriending someone outside of Slytherin house was frowned upon so keeping his distance was his only option but little did he know that was about to change.

“Barkeep, another!” You yelled out earning funny looks from Harry, Ron and Hermione as you slammed your glass down on the table. You’d been sat with them for half an hour now and had already thrown back about four butterbeers. They didn’t even know how many you’d had before they’d arrived but it was safe to say that with the way you were acting, you were pretty darn tipsy.

“Maybe you should make this your last one,” Hermione suggested, reaching out to place her hand on yours in a comforting manner. “I know you’ve had a tough week but if you want to talk then I’m here.”

All you did was shoot her a big, toothy grin in thanks as your new drink was placed in front of you. “It’s not like I’m sad or anything. I just… need to blow off some steam, you know? When have you known me to get tipsy off butter beer anyway? It’s just one time. It’s fine.”

After another half an hour, Harry declared that he wanted to go back to the castle — Hermione and Ron agreed. They tried to get you to go with them but you refused telling them you’d make your own way back. Harry had tried to pull you up and drag you with them knowing you weren’t exactly sober but you were too stubborn to budge. Ron had somehow convinced them you were smart enough to know what you were doing and with that they left.

It was one drink later when you’d finally decided you’d had enough, getting up out of your seat. But, you’d stood up too fast and with the butterbeer in your system it didn’t help one bit, the whole room spinning. You gripped the chair with one hand to steady yourself.

“You doing okay?” A familiar voice asked you. Your eyes glanced up to meet none other than Draco’s.

“I’ll be honest, blondie, I might have drank a little too much,” you said and couldn’t help but grin at him.

“I can tell.” He pondered for a moment almost having an internal battle with himself before he decided he had to be a decent human being and help you out. “Here,” he said, grabbing your jacket nd helping you put it on. He held his arm out for you. You didn’t even argue lacing your arm through it so he could help you back up to the castle.

The first few moments were silent until you spoke up curious as to why Draco Malfoy of all people was helping you out. “Got a feeling you don’t really do this much especially when I caught you bullying a poor innocent boy earlier.”

“You’d be right but contrary to popular belief, I’m actually a decent guy. I have manners and know when to not leave a lady alone in your state,” he mumbled.

“I’m not that drunk, you know. Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy enough for me to be concerned and it takes a lot to concern me. Why’d you even drink that much anyway? It takes a lot of butterbeers to get anyone drunk. Rough day?”

“Try rough week.”

“Is this about that imbecile Seamus? You can do much better,” Draco pulled a disgusted face at the mere sound of his name coming out of his mouth. At your confused look, he went on to explain. “I was walking past when you two were having a chat. Complete idiot he is if you ask me.”

A little laugh passed by your lips. “Don’t hide how you really feel. But, yeah and no. He and I weren’t even really together. It was just an culmination of things coming together all week. I’m fine, though.”

He looked at you to examine your face for any signs that you were lying but he couldn’t find any. You really did seem okay which was a relief to him. The last thing he wanted was to have some deep hearted conversation. It was a shock to him and you that he was even talking to you as much as he was.

Silence took over again as you reached the castle. Although, you didn’t want to admit it being in his company felt nice. Natural, even. You felt comfortable even when it was silent. There wasn’t any awkwardness. If you didn’t know any better you’d think you actually liked being in Draco’s company. He liked being in yours too but he was nowhere near comfortable enough to admit that.

“Thanks for walking me back. You’re alright, Malfoy,” you gave him a playful nudge with your shoulder causing a slight grin to form on his face. Funny, you’d never really seen him smile before. It looked good on him.

“You too. I meant it, by the way. You can do much better than most of the boys in this retched school.”

“Are you about to make some overly dramatic speech and ask me out?”

This time a large, hearty chuckle came from him and you couldn’t help but feel a little hint of butterflies start up that you’d been the one to get that out of him. Draco shook his head. “You wish but who knows what the future holds, eh? See you around.

With a wink, he headed on into the castle. Well, now you couldn’t wait to bump into your new favourite Slytherin more often.

[suddencolds]

a personal milestone 🥳 + author's note

i finally made it 😭 (there is probably another 10k sitting in my drafts, but i have always tracked word count for this project as a sum of already-published installments)

also a (somewhat long) journal entry below:

—

This has been the main project in my life for almost two years, now (I started writing on 1.26.2023). It's my first proper attempt at a novel, and it's one of my first times ever posting original work anywhere 😭

It's hard to say how I feel now, perhaps because I feel too much.

Where to go from here? I considered dropping the series entirely before I hit the milestone because I was very tired. In a way, I felt like I had said everything I wanted to say. But I think I also love this series a lot more than I can properly verbalize.

To be completely honest, writing this series was so lonely. To work for so long on something that I could not show to nearly anyone irl (not family, not close friends, not peers, not strangers I met who I talked to about art); to spend hundreds of hours on something that I could only ever post to a small subset of people... all of that was very lonely. I'm sure other creatives have felt this way too.

And at the same time, hearing what people on snzblr thought became probably the most potent source of happiness in my life (is that pathetic? Maybe so.) I don't think this project was self-sustaining at all; I think to some extent, I wrote it because I wanted to hear people tell me that they liked it. I realize this is a terrible and unsustainable reason to create art, but that's the truth.

On some level, though, I kept writing because I loved Y+V. They've been at the forefront at my life for almost two years now 😭 I spent a long time teaching myself how to write them, and a lot of the themes & choices in the series are quite personal. Embarrassingly, I still want to talk about Y+V all the time.

When I posted to ask if I could send my unfinished/unpolished WIPs, some people reached out to offer to read them... and then I never sent anything over to anyone. I think a part of me could not get it through my head that people would be willing to read something completely unpolished, because... well, frankly, a lot of my drafts are just pretty unreadable; I typically only post things that I have already cleaned up. More importantly, I felt like sending my drafts to people—even people who had given me explicit permission to send them!—was selfish and troublesome.

On some level, I also felt the same about asking others to brainstorm with me: I felt like I was asking them a favor which I did not know how to pay back. Perhaps this is just another way in which I have been cruel/uncharitable to myself, but I never imagined people enjoying receiving my drafts. I could never convince myself that for those people, giving feedback/discussing ideas might not actually be a chore. I was always scared to make writing less of a lonely process because I could only think about how easy it would be for me to ask too much.

This is probably the most honest I've been about this particular subject 😭 I am not good at gauging what constitutes 'too much.' I feel like I can get carried away when someone expresses interest, so I try to preemptively position myself as someone who does not impinge on others... I think that even outside of this series, I have defaulted to this pattern of trying to give and trying not to ask. In that particular sense, I am perhaps to blame for my own loneliness.

Anyways! Recently, I've gone back to (tentatively) writing after months of not writing. I'm not sure if I will post another installment here (maybe if the drafts are 'good enough', I will?), but it's nice to write without worrying so much that what I am writing needs to be publishable/presentable.

If you have ever left tags/comments on my work, and you are reading this, I am grateful beyond words to you for keeping me company + for making me feel like what I was spending so much time on was a little more meaningful :') I always go back to reread them when I'm in need of encouragement. Thank you sincerely for the happiness. ❤️

[gorryb]

I don't know how to tell you that making Doomed Yaoi art of a game where the main crux of the game is a storyline about a man raping a woman and refusing to take responsibility for it/the ensuing pregnancy isn't a great take, man. But it's Really Not. That's really not cool, dude. (And for anyone who thinks "But it's just a game!" You Are Part of the Problem.) I do not mean this in a hateful way, because I love your art, but I just expected better of you.

I know this is wrong, but i need to draw it to get it out of my system. Something about this toxic ship keep pondering in my mind and if i do nothing it will stuck there forever. And i don't like that ):

This will be my only drawing of them, and no more. Sorry for making you discomfort, i didn't mean to^^"

edit: I think i will continue to draw the ship, but put it under the tag "jimcurly". Please block the tag if you don't want to see it, thank you :)

[sambuckylibrary]

SamBucky Seasonal Bingo 2024

The @sambuckylibrary will be holding a Seasonal Bingo! The event will start on December 1st and run until January 15th. During that time, we will be reblogging and sharing the work you guys create here on our blog.

You can post fanfiction, art, fic rec lists, comments, moodboards, podfics, edits, etc. It’ll be a low-stakes event. No need to sign up. Just remember to tag @sambuckylibrary in your post for each fill, and we will be tracking #sbseasonalbingo2024 for reblogs.

If you are posting on AO3, please add it to the SamBucky Seasonal Bingo 2024 Collection.

The Bingo Cards are:

There are also badges for each fill. For those badges, as well as the FAQ and rules, check the information under “keep reading”.

FAQ

What is this?

It’s a SamBucky bingo event.

Is there any pressure?

No pressure at all. Fill one prompt. Fill all the prompts on every bingo card. Do however many you please.

Can I fill more than one prompt with one piece of art/one fic?

Yes! You can fill one prompt with one piece of art or fic. You can try to fill all nine prompts on the card at once with one piece of art or fic. If you can fill every single prompt from every single bingo card in one fill, that’d be wild but it’s okay by the rules. You can do any number in between.

Are there any prizes for making anything for this event?

Just the satisfaction that you made something cool.

Is it just SamBucky?

Yes please, just SamBucky. There can be side ships, but the main ship should be SamBucky.

How long will this event run?

It will run from December 1st and run until January 15th.

I heard there are badges I can use for each fill?

There are! Here they are:

1) Family Bingo Badges

2) Romance Bingo Badges

3) Mission Bingo Badges

RULES AND GUIDELINES

What are the guidelines for the bingo?

I will be borrowing some of this from the MYSU Valentine’s Day Bingo 2022 Guidelines, since they were fantastic.

For Everyone:

1. Remember to @sambuckylibrary in the post as well as #sbseasonalbingo2024.

2. Please also tag the prompt you’re filling (for instance, if the square is “Redwing”, use “#redwing” as one of your tags when posting about it on Tumblr).

3. If you’re uploading to AO3, please:

a ) Say somewhere which prompt you’re filling.

b ) Add it to SamBucky Seasonal Bingo 2024 (SamBucky_Seasonal_Bingo_2024).

For Artists:

1. Create at least one piece of new art that can’t have been posted anywhere else before this.

2. All visual art forms are welcome:

a ) Gifsets, at least 3 gifs.

b ) Aesthetic boards or moodboards, at least 4 images each.

c ) Drawing/painting, that is not a sketch.

d) Fan video.

e) Graphics edit.

For Authors:

1. At least 500 words.

2. Posted on Tumblr or AO3.

3. Can be part of a series, but should work as a standalone.

For Podficcers:

1. The podfic should at least be 5 minutes long.

2. It should be posted on either Tumblr or AO3.

3. The podfic can be of a fic made for the event, a fic not made for the event while still adhering to the prompt, or a notfic.

For Fic Rec Lists:

1. You must have at least three fics or podfics on the rec list.

2. Make sure to give brief descriptions of the fics or podfics as well as their rating and wordcount.

For Commenters:

1. Any amount of comment counts, from a heart emoji (“❤️”) to an essay.

2. We would rather this be about what makes you happy and joyful about reading than any scathing critiques.

Things to be mindful of when creating:

For Sam

Avoid framing Sam only as a caretaker or emotional support for Bucky. Be mindful of Sam acting angry or aggressive in an out-of-character way and falling into the angry/sassy Black man trope (check out the MCU source material to help with character traits).

Avoid decentering Sam as a main character and refrain from focusing entirely on Bucky.

In art: avoid whitewashing Sam’s skin and research drawing Black characters.

General disclaimer: Race affects every aspect of his life, including interacting with police/government and the white structures of the world when it comes to performing his duties as Cap and simply being a Black man that lives in the U.S.

For Bucky

Avoid phrasing “flesh/normal/human hand” to refer to the contrast between his prosthetic arm and his right arm. The phrasing is ableist. You can simply refer to his prosthesis when relevant, otherwise use “right/left arm/hand”.

For more information, please check out this document suggested by @ninesdb on how to write Bucky as an amputee. @ninesdb is also open to questions if you have any queries not answered by the google doc.

Specific Tags:

Avoid tags in AO3 like “Sam Wilson is a Gift”, “Sam Wilson is a Saint”, and “Bucky Needs a Hug”.

Have fun and we look forward to your Seasonal Bingo fics!

- The Mods

[animnightmare]

This might be the funniest thing ive ever drawn.

[bobbiesquares]

Sean Finnerty, Avatar of the Slaughter. anyone else with me. war, mindless violence, SINGING. do you see it

[ironicsoap]

you are expendable, you are not expected to return

[good-beansdraws]

Mutual left this tag on one of my Fuuta analyses and yeah...

Part two of "Fuuta’s central theme is invasion of privacy and he has extreme anxiety over being watched, so it's interesting that we get to pick him apart and see all his worst, most private thoughts" :(

[shiraishi--kanade]

A controversial opinion but I'm tired of seeing touch-averse characters in media who "get over" their touch aversion.

Not even because it's misrepresentation or not realistic, and not because it's a bad narrative tool. I actually think that, if touch aversion was a result of trauma for that character, them getting used to touch and tactile contact can be a pretty neat healing narrative if done right.

I'm sick of that because the only way we ever see touch-averse characters in media is when they're given a "recovery arc".

But touch aversion is not a disorder. It's not a mental illness. It can be a symptom of one, but not necessarily, and even when it is, it's still morally neutral.

Only getting touch-averse characters who get to "heal" and "learn how to hug" is disheartening because it's simplistic and only touches a part of what touch aversion is. Also, ultimately, in a society that near universally praises physical contact as one of the highest forms of expression love, stories about overcoming one's touch aversion are stories about conformity. So let me hear the story about non-conformity.

I want characters whose touch aversion is not traumagenic and they don't want to change it. I want characters whose touch aversion is traumagenic and they don't want to challenge it, either because they're not there mentally yet despite the fact that it hinders them or just because they're comfortable as they are and don't feel the need to change. I need characters whose touch aversion is a part of their identity and their boundaries are important to them, and when other characters break those boundaries it's not treated lightly or as a running joke. I also need characters who don't even know what being touch averse is, and that it's normal and not a moral failing on their part, and it doesn't make them less worthy or less "normal" than others, and who doubt if they even are touch averse.

I want characters who are touch-averse at the beginning of the story and stay touch-averse. I want characters who know exactly when they gained it, what caused it, and characters who don't, and characters who don't care. I want characters who have always been touch-averse since they were born. I also want characters who are not secretly touch-starved or suffering from their touch-aversion, and I want their companions to assume they must be and be wrong.

I'm tired of almost all scenarios about touch aversion being "oh no, I thought I don't like being touched but I actually do, and now I don't know how to ask people for it", or "everyone assumes a shy character is just touch averse but actually isn't", or the healing arc. Give me some nice and good "Welp, I thought my new friend touching me would be different, but it still feels as bad as a stranger touching me, how do I deal with that?", or "I can't communicate my boundaries for shit and my friend seems sad so I wanted to hug them once and it resulted in months of confusion and unwanted physical contact and I don't know what to do", or even the classic old people forcing themselves into touch because it's normal or they think they should.

Also: let touch-averse characters have romantic relationships. Let touch-averse characters have sexual relationships if that's feels right for them. It's challenging, it's difficult, it requires a lot of figuring shit out and emotional workload, but sometimes touch aversion doesn't let you make even one exception, even to the "most special people in your life", and you have to deal with that, and it's realistic and also a story I would read.

Or let them have an extremely specific hierarchy of who can or can't touch them, for how long, and in what way, and if they need to be asked for consent (which is, like, a good thing to do anyway, by the way), and let them stand their ground even as people and relatives get offended by it.

And lastly: if they do heal, let it be because they want to. For whatever reason, let them initiate the healing and have agency in that decision. Stories about overcoming touch aversion with other people just repeatedly breaking your boundaries without even asking and it somehow being healing to you make me sick and not how that would work out.

Touch averse people deserve to be seen without always having the "oh, but actually you're not really like that, you've just traumatised/not used to it/haven't found the right people yet" narrative showed down our throats. That would be neat, I think.

[httpghostface]

so I’ve decided to archive this account.

I will be getting a new main account n all my other ones will be up still seeing as I have so many I am just gonna make this like a side one to look back on um I still love this account it’s my first ever one but there’s just too many post and I need to restart something in my life and get ahold of how I’m thinking I won’t put the user out till I’m ready but I hope everyone knows I’m okay n that ily <3

[amplexadversary]

See, I was thinking he could just tap into your bloodstream. If he's hanging out in Rain's pocket we already know where he's getting the cells to convert from, and, well, why overcomplicate the system that's already there?

I may have just answered my own question by realizing that Rain would probably be turbo-weirded out by the more straightforward proposal.