#did i mention sunburst yet.

[elusiiev]

guys im obsessed

pony show is taking over me.

hours a day. pony show is there.

no matter what im doing.

pony show is doing it with me.

drawing? don't forget to watch the pony show.

sewing? don't forget to watch the pony show.

eating? don't forget to watch the pony show.

IT HAS BEEN APPROXIMATELY 1-2 WEEKS SINCE I HAVE STARTED THIS SHOW.

I AM ON. SEASON 8 OF 9.

I AM RAPIDLY APPROACHING THE FINAL SEASON.

THIS IS NOT OK.

um anyways should i watch equestria girls first or the movie

I SWEAR IM BEING TAKEN OVER.

the one thing i cant do is school and pony show, but one day, i will find a way to succeed at both.

[ask-healthy-light]

Though Light wanted to try to take back the scroll from the Pink Pup, hopefully without causing any damage to the letter, they sighed in relief when the Pup dropped it, and started to unroll it using Its nose, to the surprise of Sunburst and Light; and when the little Pup put Its paw on the name of the sender at the bottom of the page, It started whining as it quickly looked between it and Light.

The Pink Pup's whining caught the attention of the others, who turned to look at the little Diamond Dog, and the exhausted Kirin who was fruitlessly trying to calm down the Pup, until Light mentioned the name of Boomlord, which made the Pup stop whining; so after Light asked the Pup how It knew his name, It barked, as if to answer their question, leapt off the couch, and walked over to the doors.

Before Light could follow the little Pup, which was now sitting next to the doors, waiting for them to join It elsewhere they knew not, Sunburst told Light that it had showed him a satchel, filled to the brim with old maps and documents which even he had never seen before; but besides the knowledge that the previous owner must have been a scholar, there was a strong odour that he could not place.

With a chuckle, Light kindly thanked Sunburst for his help, before they admitted they had a feeling they knew who the bag belonged to, and that he could not be further from the truth with his thought about this Pony being scholarly; and though Sunburst asked them what they meant by this, Light only told him that it would become obvious to him as soon as they returned with this Pony by their side.

Unfortunately, their answer only further confused Sunburst, who could not ask them another question before Light got up from the couch, and slowly walked over to the doors to follow the Pink Pup; but when they walked past the Royal Sisters and Nox, she and Celestia politely asked Light to wait, and reminded them of the promise they had made to Cadance and Shining to answer all of their questions.

A small, yet weak smile grew upon Light's face as they let out a deep sigh, before they nodded, and thanked the Princesses for letting them know; and after they asked the little Pup to wait for them, quietly hoping that they would not take too long, Light walked over to Cadance and Shining, closely followed by Nox and Celestia, while Luna snuck outside, intending to follow the Pup in their stead.

To Luna's relief, her absence was not noticed by anyone, so, as she followed the Pink Pup upstairs, and Light let the Crystal Royals know they were ready to answer their questions, Spike was breaking out in cold sweat in the kitchen, trying to find a way to tell Eclipse all that he knew; but it was tough, as he struggled to tell whether he truly remembered it, or if he had merely dreamt about it.

Eventually, as the kettle was brewing water for tea, Spike took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and quickly blurted out that Eclipse was in danger, and neither Shining nor Cadance had told them about this for their own safety; but before Eclipse had even turned around to ask Spike what in Equestria he was talking about, he added that they would have to ask friends both old and new for their help.

The silence that fell in the kitchen after Spike's almost unintelligible confession was only broken by the whistling of the kettle, as Spike would not dare open his eyes to look at his Guardians, who could only motionlessly stare at him with their mouths hanging agape; only when Spike blindly tried to move the kettle from the fire, nearly knocking it onto the floor, did Eclipse rush over to help.

As he felt his heart nearly beat out of his chest, Spike covered his face with his claws, expecting Eclipse to scold him for telling them about this, until they quietly asked him if he was all right; and when Spike finally dared to look again, he only saw the tear-stained faces and gentle smiles of Eclipse before they quietly asked him again, as they simply wanted make sure that he was all right.

But all Spike could whisper through his tears as he embraced Eclipse was:

"I don't want to lose you… I can't…"

Eclipse merely pulled him closer for a warm embrace, and sweetly told him:

"We promise we won't let that happen. Not now, not ever."

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing Solar Eclipse and Twilight Sparkle as Twilight Eclipse from @asktwilighteclipse

[lovingbradshawafterdark]

Devil on Deathwood Drive Chapter 0 - I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire

Bradley Bradshaw x Jake seresin x Fem!reader

Summary: The start of the 50s is a very turbulent time, and you’re trying to live life how you want to; the peaceful postwar life you want is soon flipped on its head. Meanwhile, in the 80s, Jake tries to find his place when he runs into Bradley Bradshaw. 

Warnings: mentions of not-so-great expectations because of the 50s and vague mentions of torture and death, but they are there. Light sexual themes and mentions of sex within this chapter that will become more explicit as the series progresses. This is going to be an 80s sci-fi horror au, I promise. 18+ minors DNI

A/n: big thank you to @desert-fern, and @sarahsmi13s for helping me with this project, plus for funsies tags @sebsxphia and @lovelybucky1 also @lewmagoo because I did and oopsie and posted this to the wrong blog. Let's get into it! also, please tell me your thoughts on this series 

Series masterlist | Next part

New Mexico May 1950

A strange sense of peace, yet a sense of fear, had swept through. Five years since the war ended, yet there was a slight unease. You remembered your daddy serving during it all; he missed a lot of your growing up, missing several birthdays. He barely even recognized him, and he barely recognized you. His service during the war had hardened him. All the fear you tried to shove back down in you, there would be peace even if you had to force yourself to believe so. A hidden sense of fear lurked in every household, families waiting for the call to arms to return, for sons and husbands to be snatched once more. But it didn’t come. Being forced to grow up early made you want some time to figure out what you wanted, but the overwhelming pressure to find someone to marry, settle down, and have kids. It was all so much to take that many had turned their head away from you.

You laughed as you were handed another beer, not that you were drinking anything but playing along. They were the only people who wouldn’t pick on or bully you.  Everyone was seemingly making out or just drinking or getting high. You were a wallflower, seemingly at this small bond fire. People only handed you things, ignoring your existence. You jumped as Billy elbowed you, “Hey, what was that for!”

Billy had been your best friend since elementary school, he was always getting into trouble, and you were always getting him out of it. His brother was drafted but never made it home, leaving poor Billy to pick up the pieces his older brother left behind. When your mother had heard what happened to John, she could only tell you she was glad she had no sons. You could barely remember half of the boys who never made it home. Most were specks in your memory now.

“Can’t have you be a space case,” he teased before grabbing you by the arm, “c’mon, I found something” You giggled as he pulled you away from everyone, running up the slight hill. That’s when you saw a small glowing object buried in the ground. You stared in awe as Billy approached it, not phased by the strange aura you felt.  

“Are you sure this is safe?” A sudden uneasiness filled your body as the strange thing began to glow even brighter.

“Relax, I touched it earlier, and it did nothing. Just come down here” You sheepishly nodded at Billy before slowly descending the hill. The uneasiness only worsened the closer you got. Billy smiled as you looked down at it, mesmerized as it began to pulse, “Pretty, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” you don’t know what came over you. What was once a feeling of uncertainty became your head feeling funny. You watched as it went from blue to a deep red. You bent down and looked at it even closer, forgetting about Billy being next to you.

“Sunburst?” Billy asked as he saw you go to touch it. The ground beneath you felt very warm. The pad of your thumb touched it, and you immediately flinched at the sudden burning sensation. Billy pulled you away as your whole body started to burn up. It felt like you were on fire as you began to scream. You saw the horrified look in Billy’s eyes, both of you surrounded by a blazing fire. You reached your hand out towards his face, and the last thing you heard was his screams and those at the bonfire beyond the hill.

***

You screamed and cried, tears burning across your cheeks as the men carried you towards a car. A tall, slender blonde man stood next to it. Burns covered your body now. Your eyes are bleary as you are pushed closer to him. His green eyes make your stomach churn. The whole town had turned against you, Billy nowhere in sight. However, the charred remains of the others at the bonfire were still littering the side of the road. No one could identify or touch them as they were still hot.

“This girl?” The men behind you nodded and backed away slowly. Your hands were still cuffed, trying desperately to melt them. Your parents stood off to the sides, not daring to look you in the eyes.

“Can you get the devil out of her, doctor?” Your mother asked softly, and you looked at her with fear.

“Yes, but I’m afraid I can’t do it here. I’ll need to take her to my lab” The man clapped his hand together, and suddenly another pair of men came from behind him and approached you, “while she’s in my care, I will make sure she receives the best care possible.”

Two months later - Colorado (July)

You wailed as flames erupted from your hands, your body about giving out from malnutrition. You saw a woman taking notes, glancing up every once in and while.

“It seems your abilities activate based on anger and desperation,” she mumbled, hair tied back in a perfect bun.  You were breathing heavily as the machine retracted itself from you, “however, I’m afraid I’m going to have to run more tests” She smiled. Something wicked, burn marks covered your hands, palms blackened and charred.

“Please, no, please, I can’t” Tears streamed down your cheeks, hot and warm, as you begged her to stop for today. She only caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away. Your eyes panicked as you felt the machine turn back on as sharp electric shocks ran throughout your body, the hope of escape slowly fleeting.

Five months later - Colorado (January)

Your cell was cold as you lay there. You hadn’t moved in days. You are freezing despite the unconscious attempt your body made to heat you. There was no escape, no cure, only physical pain and mental distress. You slowly sat up, body covered in faded burns. You heard someone walking, heels clicking with each step. You prepared for the worst, waiting for the yelling and other punishments. However, you heard something slide under your cell, hitting your feet.  You looked up, and a shadowy figure stood before you, face hidden.

“Think it’s about time we get you out of here…sunburst.”

July 1985

Bradley never invited strangers into his van, let alone would have slept with one of them. The blonde who lay before him, Jake, was still coming down. Jake was new to this traveling deal and was new to being a nomad.  

“Alright, gotta get going,” Bradley said, zipping himself back up; Jake still didn’t move. “You high or what?”

“Sorry” Jake stood up quickly, his frail slender body illuminated by moonlight. Jake started to dress himself, and Bradley had a lingering question.

“Where ya from again?” Jake froze, not being able to look Bradley in the eye. He knew he must have known.

“Texas…” Jake answered meekly, his gaze focused on the moon outside, cigarettes hanging out the back pocket of his jeans. There was no way Bradley didn’t know who he was or who his family was.

“You just look familiar” Bradley couldn’t place it, many people called him a bit slow with the times, but Jake had this look about him. A look Bradley couldn’t help but feel familiar with.

“People always say I got a familiar face” Jake still couldn't face him. Bradley eyed Jake’s backpack, and he could see the small rations of food.

“You don't have much…” Bradley whispered, his heart sinking.

Don't fall for the puppy eyes.

“Can I...stay with you for a bit?” Jake asked, finally looking at Bradley, eyes pleading. Bradley tried his hardest to say no, but…

“Sure,” Bradley caved…he never caved. He saw Jake’s eyes light up, and there was no going back now.

“Thanks, man! You won't regret it!”

July 1986

Bradley had grown to regret it only slightly. Jake had filled out more, way more buff, and way more…

“You're being too loud,” Bradley grunted as Jake had a premature climax. Jake only laughed as Bradley’s hips faltered, finally spilling inside the poor man. Jake pulled the hair from his sweaty forehead. “Also, when will you get that dirt off your face?”

“What dirt?”  Jake asked confusedly, tilting his head. Bradley smirked before licking his thumb.

“Right here!” Bradley rubbed his thumb along Jake’s peach fuzz—his attempt to grow a mustache was Bradley’s favorite way to tease him. Jake hissed as he pulled away from Bradley. Bradley grunted at the feeling as Jake folded his arms.

“Not funny…” Jake huffed. It hadn't taken Bradley long to figure out who Jake was or who he belonged to. Bradley cleaned himself off as Jake sulked. His temper knew no bounds.

“Pretty funny to me, now come on, we gotta get back on the road,” Bradley said as he opened the Vans door. Sunlight blinding him almost, Jake grumpily followed as they looked out at the view they had.

“We’ll hit the venue by the afternoon if we’re lucky…then we leave Colorado Quickly!” Jake said, pulling out the map. “We go down Deathwood Drive, and it's easy-”

“We aren't taking that road,” Bradley said with a glare, his mind flashing back. Jake frowned. He knew why.

“Listen, man, and it's just an old superstition-”

“We aren't going down, and that's final!” Bradley yelled as he put his foot on the gas, making Jake jolt forward.

“Okay! Fine! We don't have to go down it,” Jake sighed as Bradley slowed down, turning up the radio as Everybody Loves Somebody by Dean Martin played. “God, this is so cheesy it makes me sick,” Jake groaned as Bradley chuckled.

“I find it quite romantic,” Bradley said, sticking his tongue out. Jake just turned his head away and leaned against the window. He would get Bradley down that road; something was calling out to him.

Likes are apperciated but Reblogs and likes mean the world!

[kindheart525]

Celestia’s sun shone brightly in the sky on this summer afternoon, bathing the world in a warmth that was toasty but not sweltering. A soft breeze blew over the land, creating a ripple along the lake’s surface. Anypony who peered into the lake would find their reflection distorted by the waves—a humorous sight.

Much like the aunt and niece relaxing on its beaches now.

“There’s a version of my Dad in your world? And he had a crush on Queen Twilight!?”

“Yeah! I almost can’t believe it myself!”

The two sat there talking and laughing, catching up on a whole lifetime they’d missed out on. A lifetime that was filled with so many joys yet so many sorrows. But now they finally had time to talk about it.

“But he’s a really nice guy, he stood up for the people he cared about when it counted and he sure was fun to be around. He was in a band…maybe he still is. And he had quite the sense of humor. If the Flash Sentry here was anything like that, I can see why Sunburst would have liked him.”

Sunset Shimmer chuckled to herself, reminiscing back to her high school days and long before that, when she was young and carefree and close with her little brother.

“I think he did mention being in a band at one point!”

Luster Dawn laughed along. The pain of her loss wasn’t gone, it would never go away completely, but for once she could also feel joy while remembering the ones she missed so dearly. Like they were still alive, in memory.

“He was in the royal guard, he had to be all serious for his job but when he was with us he was nothing but fun. Papa could be stressed a lot of the time but Dad was always making him laugh, it was almost embarrassing.”

She felt a deep pang of guilt remembering the last time she saw them.

“And well…I wish I hadn’t been so embarrassed. I didn’t want to be around them, I said a lot of things I wish I could take back, and—“

“So did I.”

Her aunt suddenly broke her spiral, taking her hoof in hers with a compassionate but wistful smile.

“I was an awful pony when I was younger. An awful person. Nothing was ever enough for me, I was always looking for more power—“

She stopped, not wanting to delve into her whole backstory.

“Anyway, my relationship with Sunburst suffered for it. I said a lot of things I wish I could take back too. I regret it all the time…”

Sunset started to feel choked up, but she focused back on the niece who needed her so much.

“I know exactly how you feel.”

These words meant the world to Luster, knowing she finally found somepony who understood her situation perfectly. Somepony older and wiser, who could help her get through it.

“How do you live with it?”

She asked, desperate for a nugget of wisdom.

“It can be hard. Really hard.”

Sunset admitted.

“But the version of me that was so nasty back then isn’t here anymore, I try every day not to be like her. And I hope that the ones I’ve lost would be proud of me, and the ones I meet in the future will know who I’ve worked hard to become. Just look at you!”

She pointed to Luster’s reflection in the water, her eyes focused on the real filly before her.

“I’ve only just met you and I already know you’re an amazing filly.”

“Really?”

Luster was humbled by this, she had spent so long wallowing in her regret that she often forgot to think about all the good qualities she had.

“Yeah! Witty, smart, talented, where do we even begin?”

Both of them laughed together, a weight lifting off their shoulders as they finally allowed themselves to just be.

It was a few minutes of just wordlessly enjoying each other’s company before Sunset spoke up again.

“You know, I’ve always wondered how my brother’s life turned out. If he was happy, if he ever found ‘the one’ or accomplished everything he wanted to. But I don’t have to wonder anymore.”

“Hm?”

“Because your dads raised you, and that’s all I need to know about them. They would be so proud.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Peach Pit Next: Ginger and Lemon Tea With Honey

[olet-lucernam]

A Hollow Promise [2] chapter i, part ii

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

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summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

-

chapter summary : awaiting his return to asgard after the battle of new york, loki unexpectedly encounters a familiar face.

recommended listening : the devil is a gentleman, merci raines

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[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

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"Are you an Avenger?"

A sunburst crossed her features, teasing a flash of a true smile out her- the most emotion he had seen from her yet.

"No."

"SHIELD, then."

"Also no."

Brow creasing, Loki took a carefully measured step towards the border of his cell, the snap of it resounding in the quiet, his reflection washing against the glass like watercolour.

She leaned back against the control panel, heels of her palms braced on its edge.

"I did tell you that I wasn't an agent," she said.

"Not an Avenger. Nor an agent of SHIELD," Loki said, perplexed. "Then- what?"

"An outsourced asset." Loki was certain he wasn't imagining the bitterness in her voice. "SHIELD took an interest in me."

The statement was ominously vague, given her inability to speak an outright lie.

Knowing what he did about SHIELD's innards, Loki felt his stomach turn.

"Outsourced." Loki could read the subtext inked within what she was willing to voice. "You do not belong to them."

Her nail scraped across the surface of the controls with a faint rasp. Her smile lingered as her eyes hardened.

"In that case," Loki continued, "as you cannot lie, and your connection SHIELD is more tenuous than the others, I suppose you will answer honestly, if I ask if you were- reluctant to take this assignment."

"My instructions are not optional," she said evenly.

"That wasn't my question, darling," he said, gentling his tone. He carefully ignored how easy it was, to slip into tender coaxing, letting his guard drop just enough for her to glimpse past it.

Her steady gaze was like the press of fingers to the jugular vein.

Tension coiling up his spine, Loki wondered with a flutter of panic whether he had overplayed his hand.

The young woman breathed out slowly, shoulders dropping from their fixed frame.

"I wasn't reluctant, no."

Mouth twisting sceptically, Loki pressed closer to the transparent wall separating them.

"You didn't hesitate? Not even once?" Loki pressed softly, ruthlessly, affecting the timbre of a threat dipped in reassurances- he had recently become familiar with such things, with the way it tore in opposite directions like the shred of a serrated blade, how it hurt infinitely more than unadulterated, unpretending malice. "When they sent you here, to me- when you saw realised what they intended to do, what they foolishly attempted to conceal from you, under the hollow guise of a different task- when you made the long trek down, as a thrall to a funeral pyre- you didn't waver? Not even for a moment? You didn't consider running from the monster, instead of walking into its open maw?"

Her eyes slashed up to his, igniting.

"No."

Loki could hear that it was truth- the impact like a shockwave, the sensation like a key turning in a lock- a surety more disconcerting than any lie she could have told.

His hands clenched, working out the sensation.

"I wasn't reluctant." She repeated. "Am I lying?"

"No."

The admission formed on his lips unbidden, reflexive, unthinking and too quick and too direct.

Loki swiftly recovered.

"I suppose that begs the question why. Why you were not reluctant, when all good sense would dictate otherwise."

"Hm. Well, Director Fury once asked if I lack a fear response, or if I was just too stubborn feel afraid." The young woman lifted her eyes to the ceiling with a slow blink. "I'm fairly sure that was his way of either calling me stupid or insufferable, however."

Loki's estimation of Fur dropped a few notches.

"How uncharitable of the director," he said, unimpressed. "Intelligence has little to do with it. Seeing the truth in everything, you at least know that which you should fear- even if only in theory, rather than practice."

"And I should fear you?"

Loki laughed, pitching his voice low and liquid dark, like the plunge of oblivion.

"Oh, my darling. Of course you should."

He saw her shiver, a tremor rippling through her, drawing her spine taut as a bowstring.

Then she relaxed, all but the shallowest dregs of tension draining away.

If Loki didn't know better, he might have thought that she looked quietly exultant- as though he had uttered the words she wanted to hear most in the world.

"I told you that I see the truth in all things."

Loki's eyebrows contracted, steepling, bemused at the abrupt departure.

"You did."

Her fingers skimmed the edge of the terminal, closing the gulf between them with a few casual strides.

"So why are you trying to lie to me?"

The air of the chamber congealed.

Her question was simple, disarming and carving him open in one fluid stroke, not an ounce of energy wasted. It was a familiar sensation, too familiar, and his reaction was muscle memory, a rueful surrender, a defeat he was willing to accept because it was still a victory-

Loki grappled down the instinct to rear back on his heels, suturing the wound closed as quickly as it was made, lifting his chin imperiously. It would only demonstrate weakness, if he showed a desperation to be believed, or to shove himself out of her proximity, and he couldn't-

"Or," she murmured after a moment, her tone setting a heat in his blood like liquor, as though her lips were pressed against his throat as she spoke, "is it not me that you're trying to lie to?"

A hysterical laugh twisted up in Loki's chest, but he choked it before it could well out of him.

She was so incisive that it didn't even hurt.

Her sleek earpiece sparked with a crackle of static.

"Alethia? You there?"

The voice was tinny through the electronic filter, just barely audible to Loki in the quiet. The girl lifted two fingers to the earpiece, visibly irritated by the interruption.

"No." She answered tartly.

Loki suppressed a flicker of amusement.

The agent on the other end of the connection- Barton, he noted with a sting of recognition- huffed.

"Right. You doing alright down there in the lion's den?"

She smirked faintly, locking eyes with Loki.

"Haven't gotten myself eaten just yet."

Loki couldn't help himself.

Yet, he mouthed at her, playfully vicious.

Catching the swell of her lower lip between her teeth, she turned aside, creasing into a furtive warmth. Loki followed, keeping them in symmetry.

"Good. Because we've got no change on the surveillance. To quote Director Fury, you're going to have to babysit the God of Pain-In-My-Ass for the foreseeable," Barton informed her casually.

"You shock me," she intoned flatly, glancing towards Loki.

He ran a fingertip across the seam of his mouth, frowning in unfeigned sympathy. It was one thing for SHIELD to lie as often as they breathed, but to attempt to lie to an asset with the ability to see the truth in all things- whom they seemed to value for that specific trait- Loki couldn't decide whether they were stupid, arrogant, or callously comfortable in the knowledge that she couldn't do anything about the lie, even if she did call it out.

Barton didn't seem to hear her.

"Stark and Banner say it's gonna take a few days before the Tesseract device is finished," he explained. "We need eyes on Loki, after what happened before, and you're the only one he can't trick. You've got half an hour to grab your gear from your quarters, take a bedroll and a couple of MREs. They'll be a rotation of guards to relieve you for fifteen minutes every six hours, but other than that, you're in there solo, twenty-four seven. The fewer people around for Loki to manipulate, the better. All good? You clear?"

"Crystal," she enunciated with cloying obedience.

"Hey. I'm serious, Alethia," Barton pressed. "Stay on guard around Mr Tall, Dark, and Clinically Insane down there-"

"Dr Stark came up with that one, didn't he?"

Barton huffed in a manner that could only confirm it.

She arched an eyebrow.

"Look. Don't let him get inside your head, okay? You're the best choice for this assignment, we all know it, but you need to stay alert. We don't need you getting tricked or mind-controlled- his magic is still an unknown, and we don't know how you'll react to it-"

Something in her visage shifted, seething.

"To quote the Director- again-" The archer dropped into a rough impression of the director, matching his steady cadence and the open shape of his drawled vowels. "It took long enough and too much collateral for us to get him the first time, and I do not need him running around blowing up another city if he gets loose again-"

"Is that everything?" She asked, a touch impatiently.

"For now, yeah. Keep your comms on. And take care, sweetheart."

Her lip curled.

Barton didn't bother waiting for a reply. The connection cut, and her hand lifted away from the earpiece.

She turned towards Loki.

"I presume you heard all that."

Folding his hands together at the base of his spine, Loki hummed thoughtfully. A strange, lingering solidarity shimmered between them.

"Another question, if I may."

She gave a consenting flourish of her hand.

"Your distaste towards Agent Barton's parting comment." Loki drifted absently across the cell. "Was that because of the endearment, the sentiment, or the individual? Or perhaps an aversion to terms of endearment in general?"

She inhaled slowly, hazel irises unfocused into the middle distance somewhere over Loki's shoulder, visibly simmering.

"I have never given him," she stressed, "permission to call me that."

That gave Loki pause, and he coasted to a halt. "Ah. Forgive me."

The young woman looked perplexed. "I- excuse me?"

Loki swivelled towards her, smooth and blank as marble.

"I was presumptuous. I ought to have asked if there were any endearments you would prefer that I not use."

She stared at him, clearly blindsided.

He didn't blame her. But names had power, and Loki's knowledge and respect of magic ran too deep to risk abusing them, at least when his mind was his own and not the plaything of another.

Relaxing by another few degrees, she crossed her arms meditatively.

"I think pet is degrading. Little one is condescending. Honey sounds patronising too easily, and hun is just- ugly. As for sweetheart, I would- appreciate it if you didn't use that one."

"And what of darling?" Loki asked, watching her intently. "Do you have any objections to that one?"

Her teeth raked across her lower lip, dragging a blush of roseate colour into its wake. Light caught in the faint satin sheen, pooling in the dip beneath her cupid's bow as she took a breath.

Loki forced his eyes back to hers, swallowing thickly.

"No," she said quietly, fingertips tracing the wing of her collarbone. "You can call me that."

Loki felt a knot in his throat loosen.

"Thank you, darling," he breathed.

She shivered, chasing it with a quick shake of her head.

"Well. Despite what some here may tell you, I am capable of civility," she teased. Loki exhaled a laugh in reply. "And considering that we're going to be subjected to each other's company for a while- I think it may be in both our interests. Don't you agree?"

"Oh, darling, I daresay that there infinitely worse fates that being subjected to your presence." Loki said, his smile as quick and bright as a switchblade.

This time, she laughed outright, radiant as shattering light.

Loki felt himself thaw, seeping treacherously into his eyes, dripping across his skin in a stain of unadulterated vulnerability.

"Who would believe it," she said, breathlessly, combing a strand of pale blonde hair back behind the curve of her ear, eyes sparkling, "you're even being sincere."

"Despite what some here may tell you," Loki echoed her, dropping his voice playfully, stepping into the glass, "I am capable of sincerity."

Something fragile in his chest fluttered as she shifted closer unconsciously.

"Oh, I believe you," she said nonchalantly. "The best deceptions always have a kernel of truth."

"Does that mean even you are capable of deception, my lady?"

She sobered, but a glimmer remained, settling in the curve of her irises like gold dust.

"Secrets are not lies. Just because I can't lie doesn't mean I have to voice the truth. Especially if people are neither willing-"

"- to ask the question, nor listen to the answer." Loki finished in a murmur.

Surprise flashed across her. "Yes. Yes, exactly."

Loki saw the way she shifted, alight not with suspicion, but something incandescent and adjacent.

Her lips parted- then pressed together, whatever words were forming bitten back.

"I have to collect my things," she said, reluctantly. "Please don't try to escape while I'm gone, they will find a way to blame me."

Loki chuckled quietly. "Ah, well, we can't have that."

He exhaled soundlessly, before lifting his hands in acquiescence.

"Very well, then, darling. I will make no attempt to escape, you have my word."

"Thank you," she said warmly, without a trace of irony. She stepped back, primed to leave. "I won't be long."

With a parting smile, she turned on the balls of her feet and strode away down the steps, swiftly disappearing through the doorway of the control room.

Her fading footfalls faded, leaving the recycled air of the chamber as clean and clear as the calm after a midsummer storm.

-

[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

[inverswayart]

For the OCs questions meme: Harrier Hawke 1, 2, 16, 18, 27! Hyacinth Surana 15, 20, 35, 38! Bernard Amell 10, 12, 32, 19, 44! Marinette Hawke 5, 8, 39, 37, 50! Sunburst Andras (my favorite French asshole <3) 10, 44, 13, 37, 46! Also one of the questions speaks to you more for another character than the one I assigned it to, feel free to answer for them instead haha :D

wow, what a delightful request :D the only problem is that it turned out too long, so i hope you don't mind me posting it in parts by character. anyway, behold: Part 1, Harrier Hawke

1. Do they have any crafting hobbies?

No, not really - while Harrier inevitably picked up plenty of useful skills during his life, none of them interested him outside of their immediate purpose. His cool cousin Bernard, however, has one - following his and Determination’s fascinations with bones they occasionally delve into bone carving and/or squishing Harrowhark-Nonagesimus-style (and yes, he did make a little boner charm once)

2. Do they wear perfume/cologne? If so what scents do they prefer?

Not initially - until act 2 Harrier has very little money/desire to - he considers just being clean enough and would rather have to deal with just sweat then sweat mixed with some cheap shitty thing. During and after act 2 however he starts to use ever stronger flower/herb scented perfume to somewhat hide the smell of healing ointments he uses more and more for his arms (would be stupid to out yourself as a bloodmage just after settling down somewhat) and also cause it’s a thing that rich people do; and since Harrier is also rich now -  why go against the current? esp when it’s nice stuff and not whatever Red Irons were bathing in (and drinking occasionally)

16. Do they have or want kids?

Before and during act 2 he entertained the thought occasionally, a bit more often after reclaiming the estate - Leandra did talk plenty about him getting married and settling the Amell-Hawke family back in Kirkwall (even tho after twins’ deaths Harrier seriously doubted his ability to take care of anyone, not mentioning actual children). After Leandra’s death tho he drops it completely - he never says it aloud but he seriously afraid that his family is somehow doomed to die terrible unnatural deaths, so he is scared to call or even think about anyone as family (even tho he considers Anders and Merrill part of it)

18. How easy is it to become their enemy?

Easier than it seems, harder than it should be - he simultaneously looks like the kind of funnyguy who doesn’t hold grudges (he absolutely does) and while he’s way of plenty of people he usually waits till the very last moment to decide that he hates someone and considers them his enemy (he is a charmer at heart and tries his damn best to not get things to open confrontation. his best isn’t very good but still) So in the end it’s pretty tricky to figure if he is still in jokey-neutral stance with you or he’s already tipped into animosity.

27. Has a chance encounter ever had an unexpected effect on them?

Once upon a time when Harrier had not developed his magic yet some wandering minstrel passed through one of many settlements of Ferelden and stayed at the local tavern, agreeing to play through the evening to cover a bit of the room’s price. Same day Hawkes were passing nearby and risked staying at the tavern to pass the cold and stormy night. Malcolm and Harrier went down to the common to get their food room while Leandra stayed in the room with twins - and so little Harrier witnessed surprisingly soulful rendition of Dane and the Werewolf - or at least that little bit of it he managed to listen in while Malcolm picked up and payed for food. Even after going back to their room Harrier tried to hear a bit more, plastered with his ear against the wall (Leandra made him to bed eventually - with great effort) And so was born Harrier’s lifelong dream - to become a minstrel himself and captivate people with a chord and a word. He got the chance to actually pursue it somehow only by act 2, when he actually got money and time for a tutor. 

[millermenapologist]

https://www.tumblr.com/millermenapologist/753209724758065152/httpswwwtumblrcommillermenapologist753199926?source=share

omg, I didn't know that happened to nabokov ☹️ that's very tough, but it actually makes sense that a writer like him have at least some kind of experience similar to what he writes, how did I never thought about it before...

Yeah, it's one of those things that make so much sense that you don't even want to think about them.

It's truly tragic because, even when he was alive, he had to see people heavily misunderstanding his novel, going from labelling it a love story and defending Humbert (Lionel Trilling, I hope you burn in the deepest and blackest pits of hell) to accusing Nabokov himself of being like Humbert and being irredeemably attracted to little girls.

It's truly tragic because Nabokov was doing everything in his power, despite his apparent indifference towards what people found within the plot and themes of his novel, to stop them from perceiving his book as an erotic little novel, or a story that excused people like Humbert.

Even on the issue of the cover, he said:

I want pure colors, melting clouds, accurately drawn details, a sunburst above a receding road with the light reflected in furrows and ruts, after rain. And no girls.

And yet look at how many editions of this book ended up having a girl on the cover, happily smiling, naked and happily smiling at "her" eroticization, if not chopped into palatable, naked pieces, legs and breasts and bellies, easier to consume. Not to mention the number of times they used Sue Lyon's image, which is another can of worms.

[aeon-arts]

Starlight Glimmer (Re) Redesign!

Info under the cut! 

So I uh. Revamped a lot LMAO. So this Starlight is almost the exact same as canon Starlight. Let’s talk about what I altered! As mentioned in my Sunburst design, Sunburst had sent her letters after he was all but dragged into magic school. However, the letters never make it. This thus creates a rift between them with the other thinking they weren’t friends anymore.

This leads to Starlight throwing herself into her studies so she can go to the school and one-up Sunburst. However, her emotions are highly tied to her magic (canon) so every time she attempts to apply, she messes up and is thus denied. At the last attempt, she is SO close to succeeding and grabbing the final open spot, but a certain purple unicorn steps in and steals the spot! Queue an early hatred for Twilight LMAO.

This leads her to her canon thought process that cutie marks were what stole her friend from her and she goes to her Village and steals everyone’s cutie marks with the promise that things are better this way. Instead of the equal sign, I changed it to them all being blank flanks. (The villagers don’t question why Starlight doesn’t have a cutie mark because it is rare for adults to not have a cutie mark, thus making them believe her lie about getting rid of her cutie mark). Same as canon that she takes the Mane 6′s cutie marks and escapes into the mountains once it’s revealed she lied. 

Like canon, she follows the Mane 6 around to find a weak spot. At one point, they go to the Crystal Empire for a friendship problem. They convince Sunburst to help them. Unbeknownst to them, they were followed by Starlight Glimmer. She witnesses how he’s grown and watches him open up and make new friends of the Mane 6. He even asks if he could join them on their quest to bring friendship to all. Starlight notes that Twi and Sun are particularly close. This enrages Starlight and is the final push for her to devise a plan to destroy the Mane 6. 

As for how she tries to destroy them, I’d think it would be close to canon. A slight change would be how Twilight asks her why she doesn’t just go back and talk to Sunburst. Starlight tells her it’s because she wants to ruin Twilight’s life just like she did when her and Sunburst became friends and how cutie marks/magic ruined her friendship with Sunburst. Twilight tells her that Sunburst mourns their lost friendship and reveals the letters that never made it to her. Feeling foolish, she undos the spell and disappears (instead of immediately being redeemed).

What happens to get her redeemed fully, I’m not sure. I’d like to think Starlight meets Trixie and the two hit it off (though Starlight won’t easily call them friends just yet to avoid heartbreak). She brings out the good in Trixie, though they can both be...a little morally gray. Twilight sees this and convinces Starlight to give friendship another try. Starlight says she’s not sure she remembers how after so long, thus leading her to becoming Twi’s student. Her reward once she solves her first friendship problem is a bracelet made by the Mane 6.

She does not get her cutie mark until post-redemption. After finding a new focus on friendship and her kite hobby, she gets her cutie mark (which is essentially her canon mark turned into a kite lmao). Her stars on her body also grow in number. Lastly, as a final part of her healing process, she regrows her unicorn beard and lets her mane and tail grow out. She also embraces some of her “imperfect” aspects and letting them shine through!

yes you can draw this design! just @ me to give me credit!

[binniesthighs]

cherry knot | reader x ryujin

a/n: you may be thinking to yourself, ro! a gg fic?? how unlike you!! well, boy do i have news for you 😂 truthfully, i’ve always been toying with the idea of writing a lil somethin’ (esp for ryujin god i love her) so i thought why not! if this isn’t your cup of tea, that’s totally okay <3 those who do read, thank you so much for reading and i hope that ya like it hehe and let me know what you think of it! :D (thank you @dom--minnie​ for enabling me too ;) 

cherry knot | reader x ryujin 

🍒 Pairing: self insert, female reader x shin ryujin 

🍒 Genre: fluff n’ a lil bit suggestive 

🍒 Tags: friends to lovers, high school au (everyone depicted is 18+), all girls school au, high school crush!ryujin, shy!reader, confession of feelings, that good, good makin’ out, ryujin being flirty and smug as hell bc i love her, yeah this is just me gushing about shin ryujin, ro trying new things on the blog :) 

🍒 Word count: 2.9k 

🍒 CWs: mentions of food and eating reader included

The grass felt sticky and uncomfortable under your crossed legs, and when you swiped your hand against the skin, you could feel the indentation from the blades. Your knee-high socks felt itchy too; everything felt itchy. Even the cotton of your shirt felt like it was suffocating, and the bow tied around your neck which hung loosely should have hung even looser. 

To distract yourself, you plucked up the blades of green and tied them into knots absentmindedly. It was easier to pay attention to your idle hands compared to paying attention to her. 

Could she even tell that you were looking? Could she see out of the corner of her eye when she threw her cotton-candy pink hair behind her ear? Could she tell that you watched as she gulped down the lemonade and caught a glance at the peachy fuzz of her neck exposed by her collar? 

Stop looking. Stop looking. 

Your other friends tied up their hair in clips and with lazy hair ties to free their sweating necks from the sun. No matter the sweltering heat, it was always tradition for your picnic just before the summer vacation. One of them had brought a cake and each of the girls attacked it viciously with small forks and smeared bits of frosting on each other’s noses. 

“Come here!! You’re next!!” They beamed while launching themselves in your direction to dot your nose with the white cream. 

A flurry of high pitched giggles peeled out from each of you once another frosting victim had been dubbed. Your cheeks felt furiously hot knowing that she was looking; and that she was laughing along with the rest of them. 

“Awwww cute.” She adored with a smile that turned her dimples into whiskers on her cheeks. 

You quickly wiped it off with a handkerchief that settled into your damp hand.  

She’s looking, she’s looking…

The other girls pranced around the checkered picnic blanket in their white socks--undoubtedly painting them with green that their mothers would scold them for later. Their careless steps made a mess of the food wrappers and canvas backpacks that held down the corners of the thin fabric. The joyous cheers of the girls seemed to harmonize with the song of the cicadas in the trees; both sounds reminded you of the coming of the summer and the humid weather that makes the air dense. 

One of the girls brought out her phone and played loudly from it one of her favorite songs which she knew every word too, regardless of the fact that her tone was far from the singer’s. 

You and your friends never cared much for how others would view you. Even at school when you would march through the hallways arm-and-arm, others would stare at the way that none of you batted an eye at those who would glare. 

They were just jealous was all. 

“Be careful!!” You found yourself scolding, “What if you fall running around like that?” 

In response, your friends promptly stuck out their tongues in your general direction. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryujin coolly popped another cherry into her mouth from the bowl by her crossed legs. “If they fall, let them! It's funnier that way.” 

She threw a wink right at you, which you almost didn’t catch because you had quickly averted your eyes to become much more interested in the tiny tea-cakes. 

“You’re always worrying Y/n! Its summer!”

“I-I do not.” 

Ryujin chuckled in that way that always made you feel like your heart was just about ready to leap out of your chest. 

“Lighten up! Come on!” 

Before you could process it all, your friend patted down the wrinkles in her skirt and threw off her shoes. She rose, and neared your corner of the blanket with hands outstretched. 

“Stop worrying about things or if people are watching!” She scolded you with a cute and tiny pout, “Get up!” Ryujin wriggled her hands with emphasis to show you that you could take hold of them. 

“W-what…?” 

The other girls giggled on, hardly even noticing the two of you over their singing. 

You grabbed onto her hands, already loathing how damp your own felt against hers out of your own nervousness. She still held onto you tightly, saying nothing of them and helped you to your feet. Immediately she brightened once you played along and started to swing your arms in tune with the song. Your friend lip synced to the rap part and you felt just about ready to swoon from how cool she looked saying the words with ease. 

“Dance with me!! Don’t pay attention to people walking by or anything like that!” 

Ryunjin led you by the hand to the patch of grass with little white and pink flowers laced into it. You really did try to pay attention to dancing, but everything else seemed to be distracting even when you tried hard enough. She brought your hand up higher to spin her, and when she twisted, everything seemed to happen in slow motion: the billow of her plaid shirt, her rosy-pink hair which swiped just at her shoulders, even the way that the sunset melted behind her into swirls of sunburst yellow and vibrant orange. It was like she was all a part of it. 

“Your turn!” She said, twisting you too. 

You didn’t realize that you would have been as dizzied by it as you were, but when you lost your footing, she was just as quick to help you with her hands carefully grasped onto your shoulders. 

“You okay?” Ryujin asked, out of breath, but still genuine. 

“I’m fine!” 

Your knees wobbled with barely any strength to them, but you mustered every bit of confidence that you had to keep being this close to her. You surprised yourself when you reached back for her hands to continue swinging them between you. 

The other girls collapsed back onto the blanket in a pile of shallow exhales and airy laughs that they exchanged between them. 

“No more dancing, I-I can’t do any more…” One of them announced while leaning against the shoulder of another one of your friends. 

“I forgot! I brought this!!” One of your friends with pigtail braids dove deeply into her backpack and pulled out nearly all of the contents before finding the small cube-case which was decorated with an obscene amount of keychains. “My camera! We have to take some pictures so that we can remember this!” 

The other girls squealed in agreement and ganged up on her to fit into the frame of the white Polaroid camera that she had also splattered with stickers. 

“Here, I wanna show you something.” Ryujin drew your attention back to the blanket where she settled back down with her own bag draped over her legs. 

“What is it?” 

“Ryujinnie! I wanna take your picture too! Your pink hair is so pretty…” One of your friends cooed with a sad downturn to her lips, “I hope that you never change it.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. We’ll see. My cousin has been saying that she wants to see what I would look like blonde these days.” 

The small talk didn’t concern you too much, you were more concerned with what it was that your friend had to show you. 

“I’m going on a trip with my cousins soon so we’ll see what happens.” 

Your friend sighed, and skipped over the mess of the blanket to pull Ryujin by the wrist to the walkway a little farther off. “You’d look so cute over here!” 

She pardoned her, and stumbled after the eager girl to let her take a Polaroid of her. Even from far away, you could still hear the two of them admire the picture with happy little expressions of “ah! I told you that it would look good!” 

The two girls returned, and you began to worry if your friend even remembered what she had said in the first place. 

What is it? What does she want to show me? 

“Shoot!!” Another one of your friends huffed out while looking at her phone, “I forgot that I have to tutor the middle schoolers today!! I’m late!!” 

The girls went to action in a mere matter of seconds sweeping up the picnic assortment and shoving the leftovers into their backpacks. 

You helped them and tried to look over to your other friend who didn’t return your glances. Perhaps she really had forgotten. 

You let your imagination run wild for just a few moments, although the more that you did, the more it all just seemed preposterous. Maybe it was a confession letter, maybe she had written for you one of those poems like she had liked to do, maybe she had rather wanted to talk to you about something...say something that you wanted to say back…

“I’m going to stick around.” Ryunjin said suddenly with her hands on her hips. “Y/n, you’re welcome to stay too if you want. We don’t exactly have to go home yet since the sun’s still up.” 

Your friends looked to you for your answer, to which you stammered out an, “O-okay…” The best that you could. 

“See you later!!” They called after with their shoes only half-slid onto their feet. 

You waved them off, but the farther that they walked away, the more the realization started to hit you that you were alone with her. The sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and you calmed it trying to think about anything else but the fact that now her attention was truly undivided upon you. 

“You said that you wanted to show me something?” 

Your friend nodded, and patted the grass beside her for you to join her. She gathered up the small bundle of cherries left behind and positioned them into her lap. 

“I learned this trick a little bit ago and I wanted to show you!” 

“A trick?” 

She nodded, and plucked from one of the crimson berries a stem which she put directly into her mouth. 

“What are you doing?!” On the surface, it didn’t seem like the most sanitary thing to do. 

Ryunjin stifled a laugh and lightly hit you on the arm to chastise you. “Just wait a minute!” 

You watched in your confusion as her face contorted a little, and her eyebrows twisted like she was thinking. Her cheeks puffed a little too, and you could tell that she was doing something with it in her mouth--it was only then when you realized that you had been intensely observing her mouth. 

In your embarrassment you threw your eyes in the other direction, but it was no use one you heard her start to giggle at how flustered you had become. 

“It’s okay, you’re supposed to look.” She assured you. 

“What-what is it?” 

“Annnnd done!” Your friend proclaimed proudly and you struggled to meet her again without feeling like your whole face and the tips of your ears were burning up. 

Right on the pink of her tongue she had tied the stem into a tiny knot which she displayed proudly. 

“You...did that with your tongue?” 

“Mm-hm!” 

Your hands reduced back to their clammy state, and they found the grass between your own folded legs to find something to do. 

“That's...that’s pretty cool…” 

“I know right?!” 

Back came your friend's little dimples, and this time your chest started to feel like it was swelling with heat. 

Stop looking, stop looking…

“I can teach you how to do it some day if you’d like.” Ryujin’s tone dropped lower, and more serious in the way that some had thought to be intimidating. To you, there was nothing more that could make you feel the beat of your own heart more obviously. 

“Teach me? How??” 

The question felt like a butterfly in your lips, fluttering and ticklish, light and uncertain. You met her eyes the best you could; even though you knew that there was nothing about her that you didn’t already know, or that was threatening. 

Your friend tilted her head, inspecting you and the way that you could barely keep your glance away from her lips--stained just a little red from the cherries--then smiled. 

“W-what? What is it? Why are you smiling?” 

She sighed, and craned forward on one of her hands in the grass, bridging the distance between the two of you to caress down the side of your face, all the way to your jaw with the back of her fingers. 

“You’re just too cute.” 

“Hm?” Your chest threw itself up and down, and you could thinly feel the breath that tried to fill your lungs when she was this close. 

“I just can’t handle it any more.” 

“Me?” 

Ryunjin nodded, softening her eyes until they were nearly closed, and rid the two of you of all space, leaning over just so you could feel the weight of her chest nearly pressing into yours. At first, she placed the lightest of kisses into you, so light that it barely brushed against your lips, but merely imprinted upon them. She leaned back, leaving you with the ghost of a feeling of her upon you. It felt a bit unfair how fleeting it was, and how she looked at you like that: smug as ever, but as blissful as she always was. 

Your breaths tried to make sense of it all, if it had just happened, and what to think of it. As quick as it was, all you could want was to feel it again. 

“Ryu--” 

She cradled both sides of your face in hers, leaning in with more fervor and parting your lips with hers, leaving you to squeak from the sudden movement. You couldn’t figure out how to kiss back at first, or if you should hold her too. Your head felt like it was spinning in circles from your disbelief when you could taste the tiny tang of the sweet and sour cherries which lingered on her lips. She rubbed her thumbs into your cheeks, and angled you better to let her growing smile paint your own mouth from corner to corner. 

At last, you were able to find a rhythm which suited you, and you kissed her right back. She giggled at your stroke of confidence and the vibrations made your whole body tingle. Your feet had surely fallen asleep where you had folded them beside you, but the numb feeling of them dissolved once her hands fell to your shoulder where she held to you tightly. The pressure from the tips of her fingers made you shiver, and you too smoothed down the pink shine of her hair. 

The warm and ticklish feeling of her tongue grazed your lower lip where she changed her approach and deepened her kiss. The heat of tongues finally met in the middle testing and learning more of the other the closer that you became, and tiny airy gasps got stuck between both of your curiosity. In your lap, her hands found yours and they laced together and held tight; each digit wrapping the other and becoming one with the eagerness of her thumb rubbing little circles into the squishy parts of your hand. 

After the heat of your passion started to melt, you found yourself hiding your giddy laughter the best you could once she started to peck at your lips over and over until you felt like she had kissed you so close to the brim that you would overflow. 

“I said that you’re cute and I mean it!” She snuck the phrase in between a couple more kisses, eliciting you to fold up in your giddy embarrassment from the compliment. 

Ryunjin pulled away, and popped another cherry into her mouth from the bundle, then threw her arms around your shoulders. You simply let your hands rest in her lap covered by the plaid of her skirt; shaking from the release of the endorphins and the adrenaline. 

“Ryujin...I wanted to tell you that I’ve had a crush on you for a...really long time…” You shied, but she brought your chin back to look at her directly. 

“Good. Me too.” 

You couldn’t even process the combination of her words for them to make sense. White noise filled your ears, even though it should have been obvious from the way that she had kissed you like that. 

“Oh! Here. I wanted to give this to you too. Something to remember me by.” 

She reached for her bag, and pulled out a white-out pen from the front pocket. The Polaroid had faded into its full color, and she focused with her tongue peeking from her mouth as she wrote the message: 

see you soon <3 

- ryujinnie 

Over her head in the picture, she doodled a few hearts, then she blew on the ink to dry it. 

“For you!” 

You took the picture with your hands still thoroughly shaking, and all you could utter was a “thanks” while you took in your friend looking as gorgeous as she always was. You knew then that you would treasure the image forever, and the day which it was taken. 

“Who knows,” Ryujin started, and let her head fall to your shoulder where she nuzzled in, “This might be the last that you’ll see of my pink hair too.” 

You turned the picture over, already sensing how it made your heart feel like it was aching sticky and sweet, just like the cherries. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @dom--minnie @waterthemoon @pastelracha @mistakensilence @hotgorloikawa @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim 

[hansoulo]

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

hi

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver.  “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

 “Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of  strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.  

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting.  “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

[chaifootsteps]

Now, this other incident I mentioned in the last ask took place a bit earlier in 2021 this year: this other artist was making this one cute NG family pic with her Sunburst/Twilight(?) OC, and yet *again* Lop had to jump in the OP's public comment thread with these nitpicky complaints over one of the fankids seen looking "slightly" similar to a random NG adoptable she made (...that she had already sold away so idk why she even cared at that point-). OP not only got guilted into apologizing but also promising to change *another* OC (who wasn't even IN the pic) cause of some other random similarities to Lop's Jam OC... idk man, the whole encounter just rubbed me the wrong way ://

*Lowkey these designs *barely* look all that alike anyway but y e a hhh, it was a mess-*

I love how the first person to comment simply pointed out to OP that they seemed to have heavily referenced one of Lop's drawings and should credit her for that -- which it looks like they actually did and is a reasonable request -- and they happily agreed. Then Lop herself shows up and makes a massive imaginary stink about this person stealing her precious designs, because soft pastel colors are such a rare and unique trait in the MLP world.

Eat a foot, Lop.

[awesomerextyphoon]

Slit Reflection

This is my entry for @jtargaryen18​​’s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Mine was Sam Wilson. Credit for dividers goes to @firefly-graphics​. Check them out!

Summary: You’ve always loved Halloween, especially the haunted house at the edge of the woods. So happens when the ‘Star Spangled Trio’ enters the mix?

Pairing: Demon King!Sam Wilson x  Black!Reader (Fem)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3,054

Warning: Kidnapping, Forced Marriage, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Stalking, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Torture, and Non-Con/Dub-Con Smut. You have been warned.

Back to Masterlist

You’ve always loved Halloween. It was your birthday and the haunted house at the edge of the woods gave the best spooks and thrills. It was your first Halloween after undergrad and this year was different.

The Star Spangled Trio were celebrity guests and they were bringing two of the old rooms back!

It took you six days to get a ticket. You tried getting one online, every shop in town, but got nothing.

Finally, a new face at the library took pity on you and gave you the last ticket along with a book on demon folklore. You thanked the new librarian and rushed out of the building. Had you looked back you would’ve noticed a smirk on their face and their sclera and pupils turning black and gold respectively.

Halloween—the day of your birth—was here, and it was shit. Your toothbrush broke, your car refused to start, the job that you desperately wanted was dashed by yet another rejection email, and both your student loan and rent checks bounced. You just need to get through today.

You missed the cutoff, but got in because the person working the line was a family friend. Anxiously, you wait in line wondering how the haunted house in your small ass town managed to nab the Star Spangled Trio when you noticed the excited expressions of the people leaving. Now you’re super anxious.

By the time you entered the haunted house, you’re doing the breathing exercises to calm yourself. This was it! You were finally going to meet your all time heroes (and possible spank bank entries)!

The first few rooms were your typical haunted house fare which you loved, but were secondary to your excitement in seeing your heroes. Maybe you could get an autograph and hug from them!

You were about to follow the person in front of you into the haunted house’s hospital room when you noticed a light flickering to your left. It revealed a door done in the Neo-classical design with some Latin text engraved in the middle (had you studied Latin , you would’ve known that the text read “Reveal yourself, my beloved”).

Opening the door, you saw that it lead to the Hall of Mirrors. This part of the haunted house was always a favorite of yours, but both the itinerary and the ticket worker said that it was closed this year. The hall itself was chillingly quite and pristine as if no one else had stepped foot inside this season.

All of the mirrors looked standard for the haunted house; some of them made you laugh or briefly catch your breath. The one at the end of the hall caught you off-guard. It was at least 12ft (about 3.66m) high with intricate carvings of characters out of dark folklore and a single diagonal slit.

You were about to turn away when you saw nothing thinking it was a small haunted house joke at your expense when the mirror flashed.

In your place was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, but it still looked like you..sort of. Your hair was long, luxurious and gently flowing. Your eyebrows, eyelashes, and nails were immaculate. Your nose was adorably broad and your lips were sensually full (the type of full women would shell hundred’s if not thousands of dollars for). You wore a diadem with thick gold chains ladened with diamonds, onyx, and rubies and around your neck was a ruby and onyx amulet. You were dressed in a loose, yet sleeveless form-fitting Vivaldi red gown with hints of fiery red and a thin rosewood colored shoulder veil connected to the dress by a ruby broach in the middle of your cleavage.

You looked about four or five inches taller and the mirror version of you made you feel nervous about your curves being out on display.

Curious, you reached out to touch the mirror. Your hand was less than a centimeter away when your mirrored self opened it eyes. Suddenly, it grew curved horns and its eyes glowed pale gold.

The mirrored version of you grabbed your outstretched arm and dragged you through the mirror all while you screamed hoping someone would come to your rescue, but to no avail.

Samael, or ‘Sam’ was notified of your departure and the trio had to excuse themselves from the festivities to congratulate Sam on finding his bride.

You woke up with a start and shout clawing the air but stopped once you realized that you weren’t falling anymore. Instead, you were in a huge, opulent room filled with treasures that not even Windsor Castle had. Curiosity seemed to have taken hold of you because you walked out onto the connecting balcony to find that you were on a different planet/dimension/realm, whatever!

There were floating landmasses (the smallest of which was the size of your small town) and five planets ranging from Moonbow Gold to Venetian Red in color.

You thought about where the fuck you were and how you could get back home when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

The source of the voice was a demon with Antique Ruby skin with reddish gray undertones and Cinnabar and Rosewood colored hair. She had two short outward curved horns with a gold chain and aquamarine teardrop connecting them. Her eyes were an inviting aqua blue eyes with a dark red sclera.

“Hello! My name is Scheherazade, but you can call me Sherry. I’m your Lady in Waiting. I’ve brought some food.” Sherry offered as she set the tray of food on a small table next to a dresser.

You smiled cautiously at your new elevated handmaiden,”Do you know why I’m-”

“Oh, I almost forgot! We need to get you ready for your presentation!”

The Fuck?!

“What do you mean ‘presentation’?,” you asked as nicely as possible, but reality came out more like a demand.  

Sherry stopped her ministrations and faced you,”Well, when the monarch, crown prince, or princess declares their mate, they are presented to the royal court,” she then returned to her task of finding a suitable dress for you not catching the mortified expression on your face.

This day can’t get any worse. Wait?

“What time is it?”

“Oh, yes, It’s pretty much always night here. The sun only comes out for three hours. Would you look at the time! Everyone’s waiting!”

“One last question,” you started as Sherry began dressing you,”Who am I marrying?”

“Why my second cousin, King Samael, one of the Three Demon Kings,  of course!”

You fought the impulse to faint.

It took thirty minutes for Sherry to make you look unrecognizable. Thankful for her assistance, you followed the floating torches to the throne room. The throne room was an enormous room with high wide vaulted arches, delicately carved pillars and columns, and a small bridge connecting the ground at the door to the center. The court comprised of beautiful yet fearsome demons of all shapes and sizes.

The king himself was seated on a grand, ornate throne atop a huge dais with at least 25 steps. He seemed familiar.

As soon as you were passed the threshold, the king raised his head and everyone stopped talking and cleared a path for you. Several courtiers whispered as you striddled towards the dais. When you finally reached the dais, the king got off his throne and walked down the steps to greet you.

You almost face-palmed. The king was Sam Wilson! Or at least, looked like him.  

Sam for his part was devastatingly handsome. He had a tall, powerful build, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, muscular thighs, short well-kept hair and beard with surprisingly kind eyes.  

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” Sam uttered as he pulled you in for a hug. You could’ve sworn he sniffed your hair, but you didn’t want to go into that right now.

“Everyone!” The court turned to the throne,” Thank you for coming. I have finally found my bride. We will be married tomorrow night!” Sam exclaimed to thunderous cheers and applause. He slipped on a magnificent ruby and diamond engagement ring with a black gold band.

You could not believe this, “I can’t-,” you started, but Sam discreetly grabbed your wrist, “Pre-wedding jitters,” and led you to a side room.

You expected him to hit or yell at you like so many other royals in a similar setting, but instead he gave a sad smile and asked if you were truly happy in your old life. You thought about your crushing debt, little to no job prospects, both parents dead, no friends and you had to admit your life did suck, but he didn’t get to decide.

Disappointed, Sam casted a small compliance spell and pulled you in for a kiss. Your pupils blew out in lust and you lost yourself. When he finally decided to break for air, Sam stated that you will be his bride and he will not be denied any longer. You smiled and gave him a short but passionate kiss. He moaned but had to end it before he went too far.

Tomorrow night he promised himself.

He quickly called for Sherry to return you  to your quarters.

Sherry woke you up the next ‘morning’ with a small army of beauty experts and maids.

“Rise and shine, Your Grace! We’ve got a bride to present!” Sherry proclaimed.

Damn it! It wasn’t a nightmare.

They managed to stuff you into a marvel of a wedding dress. It was a Torch Red long-sleeved mermaid wedding dress with soft yet detailed lace work made to look like an enchanted forest, diamond, dark ruby and pearl beads, and a floor length train. On your head was a black gold spiked sunburst goddess with deep ruby roses and a simple ruby teardrop chain that rested on your forehead, the ends of which were wrapped around your horns.

“Not even Lilith could compare, Your Grace!” Sherry gushed at her handiwork.

The wedding procession and ceremony was done in a swift fashion as Sam didn’t want to wait much longer. The vows were short as well. You wanted to object, call for help, anything but a voice in the back of your mind beat you to it.  

A couple hours into the wedding festivities, Sam announced that it was time for he and his new queen to retire and led you to his quarters. It’s the fanciest suite you’ve ever seen dripping with luxurious reds, violets, and obsidian.

In all your awing of Sam’s quarters, you failed to notice him approaching you in only a simple loose shirt and trousers. He gently put his hands on your exposed shoulders,”Alone at last, my love.”

You recoiled, “Can’t we wait for a few days? It’s just…” you trailed off as soon as his jovial expression vanished replaced with something darker and hungrier.

“I’ve waited for so long to have you here with me, love,”  Sam confessed while you moved towards the exit,”and I will not be denied any longer!”

In an instant, Sam pulled you in for a demanding kiss. He pushed his tongue past your lips moaning when your tongue tepidly danced with his own and from the sweet taste of your mouth. He pushed you onto a bed that had to three times the size of a California King and his lips moved jaw and neck, egged on by needy whimpers and moans.

He took his time ripping off your gown, enjoying the view like a child on Christmas, ”Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Utter perfection,” Sam murmured as he watched your breasts bounced free. He alternated between sucking and pinching your nipples with his hands and mouth,”I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered in your left ear and he continued to play with your breasts like a concert-level musician. All the while moaned and cried out feeling pleasure you never thought possible.

Once satisfied with his handiwork with your chest, Sam’s hands roamed over your stomach and hips followed by strategically placed butterfly kisses that made you squirm. He tore off the last of your wedding gown causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of cold air touching your pussy.

You used your last bit of willpower to plead, “Please stop! I’ve never-,” Sam stopped and raised his head to look at you.

“I know, love. I’ll be your first and only,” and with that, he gives your folds one long, slow lick and growled at your sweet and tangy taste, “I’ve wondered how you’d taste. You’re even better than the best Kharian wine. I could get used to this.”

He dove back in and played your pussy for all it was worth. His tongue worked its magic stroking and circling your clit sending you higher and higher into euphoria. Sam kept you right on the edge of an orgasm, just enough to beg for release.

“Say you’re mine!,” you mewled in response, to blissed out to use words. “Say it or I’ll leave!”

“Please let me cum, My King!” you cried out when he thrusted two fingers into your pussy.

“That’s a good girl. Now,”Sam started as he vigorously rubbed your pussy,”cum for me, love.”

Your orgasm came like a tsunami and Sam made sure finish his feast.

You got out of your post-oral haze to see Sam looming over in all his naked glory. His body must’ve been made by the gods because it was divine. His frame was an ode to sexiness wrapped in sinful warm sepia skin.

Sam caught you biting your lower lip and cocked his head, “Like what you see?”

Damn that cocky bastard, but damn if he wasn’t right. Part of you wanted to fuck his brains out…and that was before you saw his cock. Standing proud and erect with angry veins, his cock had to be the biggest you’ve ever seen (not like you had much exposure, just a few pornos).

Sam crawled up to you, lifted your chin and gave a soft kiss on the lips sensing your unease, “Relax, love,” He then lined his cock to your entrance and slid in as gently as he could.

You hissed from the pain, he was just so damn big. Sam praised you on how well you fit around him like ‘you were made for him’. Once the pain subsided, you bucked your hips into his causing him to moan at the sensation. He smiled at your eagerness and picked up the pace, making his thrusts come out to just the tip was in you and slamming back into you. You cried out his name each time he filled you to the hilt, pleading with him to go faster. Soon he reached your G-Spot causing to orgasm again, this time with you crossing your eyes and coming with a squirt.

Not too long after your second orgasm, Sam came with an otherworldly roar and glowing bright gold eyes shooting rope after rope of thick cum into your womb. He then flipped you onto your stomach and forced you onto your hands and knees so that he could take you from behind.

He got ten orgasms from you, each one more mind-blowing than the last. Once he was satisfied, he let you sleep.

“Soon you will be round with my seed, and we will have many children. I can’t wait.”

Ah hour after you closed your eyes, Sam left his, now yours, quarters. “Make sure she doesn’t leave,” he orders the guards although, he’s confident that she’s not going anywhere with the way he hammered her.

He strode down the corridors until he reached the dungeon. There, he found a rather nice looking apartment-style cell with only one prisoner, your mother.

“I’ve taken your daughter. Do you want to see her before you go?”

You see, Samael, Mikael (Bucky), and Stelios (Steve) were demon warlords who began conquering kingdoms left and right 1200yrs ago. They fought their way to the last free kingdom, Kharan. By the time your grandparents were brought before them, they had killed your uncle, the heir to the throne. The king and queen begged for their lives and the kingdom to be spared.

The trio agreed on one condition: if the next child the queen bears is a girl, then she would be Sam’s mate (Mikael and Stelios already had mates).

The king reluctantly agreed. The queen gave birth four months later to a girl, but she was in demon form. The queen had two of her most trusted attendants spirit the child away to another realm and raised her as their own.

Sam had your grandparents slaughtered and razed Kharan to the ground for their trickery. No matter, he was immortal. He would bide his time.

Eventually, your mother was told about her true parentage and form. She learned to control her powers, found love and she too was with child.

Sam found her a week before she went into labor and said that it was time to collect. She promised you in her stead immediately in hopes that it would buy her some time.

It did. She was able to pass you, a cambion, off to a friend of hers who wanted a child but couldn’t conceive and gave Sam a fake baby. He had your mother thrown into the dungeons.

Sam searched for you, but discovered that your mother put a cloaking spell on you. So, he approached your mother with a deal: her freedom for you becoming his mate.

It took your mother three years of torture for her to say yes.

Once the spell was lifted, Sam went to work. He made sure your adopted parents had a little ‘accident’ when you were old enough to take care of yourself, made sure that no one would want to hire you, and saddled you with debt. He even got Mikael and Stelios to pose as ‘The Star Spangled Trio’ with him to finally get you to the Hall of Mirrors.

Your mother bowed her head in shame, “No. It’s best for her to believe that I don’t exist.”

Sam unlocked the cell door with a simple spell, “You’re free to go. Have a nice life,” and returned to his quarters to be with his mate and queen.

Your mother took one last look at the palace,”I’m sorry, my little moon and stars,” and disappeared into the night.

Taglist: @jtargaryen18​ @threeminutesoflife​​ @giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @sherrybaby14​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @life-of-yn​ @mcudarklibrary​ @marvelfansworld​ @imdarkinme​ @sapphirescrolls​ @samingtonwilson​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @pseudonymphet​ @dahkness​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @golden-ariess​ @chixkencxrry​ @anyatheladyclown​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @saint-bvcky​ @cherienymphe​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @cockslut-padalecki​

[ask-healthy-light]

A chill ran down Spike's back when he realised that what he remembered had not been a dream at all, and he gently hugged Eclipse's leg as he shuddered in response; and Nox and Luna briefly glanced at each other when they figured that it was Grim who spoke through Spike, and told Shining and Cadance to ask for help, yet they did not understand why he decided to intervene to speak to them directly.

As the others all idly started to wander around, once again struggling to understand what they were told, it swiftly became clear that it was of little use to discuss the matter further at this time; and with a quiet sigh, Shining suggested they continue in the morning, for not only was Cadance not present to listen, however doubtful he had grown of her view, even he failed to understand himself.

Although he feared that the group would disagree with him, and insist on finishing their discussion before heading to bed, to his immense relief, the others agreed with his suggestion, and wished him a good night before he left; but when Light, Spike, and the Princesses walked over to the others on the couch, they found that they had fallen asleep already, and they would not dare to wake them up.

After Spike helped the others find the blankets, they all carefully covered Starlight and Sunburst, Amethyst and Star, and Stygian and the Bearded, who were sleeping in each others' embraces; and one by one, Celestia, Eclipse, and Spike wished the others a good night, before they all headed back to their rooms, or set off to find one instead, but Luna quietly asked Light to wait before they left.

With a solemn nod, Light politely asked Luna what she wished to ask them, to which she merely shook her head, and replied that they had to see something she found after following the Pup to the Upper Hall; for in the pile of documents in the Pup's bag, she found a map that she could not place, with a note she did not understand, since it mentioned an area she had only ever read in foals' stories.

Ever so carefully as to not make a sound, Light moved aside their blade so Luna could show them the map, where they found the same familiar hoofwriting as what they found on the scroll they received; but they were now only more confused as to how the Pink Pup could know Boomlord, since it was clear that the map was very old, and not something he would give away to any random pooch off the street.

Peering over the shoulder of her Mother at the map she had found, Nox merely sighed quietly, before whispering that she had never seen any area that looked like that, either; but she smiled warmly to Light, and said that she was certain they would find it, for even on the most precise of maps, many areas remained undiscovered, and she wondered whether the Pirate's Bay could be one of such places.

For a moment, Light thought about the idea Nox proposed, but as they told her that Boom had written to them about being in the Dragon Lands, they realised they could not recall ever seeing a detailed map of that area, and said that she might be right; but they would have to ask Boom about his goals in the Dragon Lands to be certain, as the map could be unconnected to the reason why he went there.

Still, Light figured that they would head out to meet Boom again soon, since they could think of no other reason to stay in the Empire, as they could not make him wait forever, especially not in such a perilous area as the plateaus around the Great Volcano; so they rolled up the map, and gave it to Luna for safekeeping, before they picked up their blade, and gestured to Luna and Nox to go to bed.

The trio quietly made their way out of the Hall, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief when they made it to the Hall without waking up the others, before they headed towards the stairway; but here, Nox and Luna noticed Light had stopped, and was quietly looking at the doors to the Palace, before they sighed deeply, and met up with the two Princesses, who worriedly asked them if they were all right.

As an exhausted smile grew upon their face, Light quietly said:

"After the long dark of the lightless prison… I would very much like to see the stars again."

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing

[kindheart525]

Aunt Sunset wasn’t going to be leaving very soon, and Luster couldn’t spend forever hiding in her room. As awkward as she felt around these new relatives, it was getting lonely hiding from them, plus she had to admit it was a bit rude. So Luster decided to finally come out and show herself.

She’d heard quite a bit about her Aunt Sunset before. How smart she was, how close she and Sunburst used to be, that kind of stuff. Mostly good things…and then she ran away for some reason. Luster didn’t know why and finding out wasn’t one of her priorities, but it did make her wary about the kind of pony Sunset was.

The only thing she could do was find out for herself.

“Look who finally decided to come out!”

Her Nana Stellar chirped out wryly, her “welcome” only making Luster more uneasy.

Sunset wasn’t having it, she shot her mother a dirty look and gestured for her to zip it. To go easy on the poor filly who surely must have been through enough.

Then she turned to greet said filly herself.

“Hello Luster! It’s so nice to meet you!”

Luster stared up at this stranger, this aunt she’d never met, and almost didn’t know what to say.

“Um, hi. It’s…nice to meet you too.”

She had hardly a clue where to start, she barely knew anything about this mare at all. But if there was one thing she learned from her studies, it was to start with the things she did know.

“I uh, I’ve heard a little bit about you. From…Papa. Like that you used to be really close before…I don’t know.”

The mention of her deceased father only made her feel even more crummy, so she did her best to shove that thought down and shift the topic elsewhere.

“And also that you used to be Queen Celestia’s student? That’s…cool.”

Luster forced a smile to show that she really did mean it despite her nerves.

Sunset could tell that the filly was having a hard time warming up to her. She didn’t want to talk about her dead brother either at the moment. Or…really anything from her past. There was so much she regretted that she didn’t want to get into it with her niece who she’d just barely met.

She could empathize with Luster’s unease, she felt it too, but her eagerness to get to know her kind of overpowered that as she started to fawn over her. She was overcome with nostalgia at meeting her brother’s foal, and she didn’t really know how else to connect with her in that moment.

“I did! And Mom—I mean, your Nana tells me you’ve been studying with Twilight Sparkle! She’s a really close friend of mine, you’re lucky to have her as a teacher. And I’m sure she’s lucky to have you as a student! I have no doubt that you’re a bright learner, it runs in the family. And also—“

As Sunset rambled on, Luster had trouble keeping up. It was nice that, for once, she had a relative who seemed to be treating her like her own pony and not just an extension of…them. But it was still so overwhelming, she barely knew Sunset at all yet Sunset was acting like she knew everything about her.

She didn’t know that deep down, Sunset was having a lot of the same doubts. All she could think about was how she was going to get acclimated to her new cousins on top of everything else going on.

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Pellicle Next: Smooth Sailing

[soopersara]

Rebirth

Zutara Week 2020: Day 7

AO3 | FFN

@zutaraweek​

While Katara is resting, a still-injured Zuko wanders off and gets stuck by the turtleduck pond.

Just a few minutes, she told herself. After so much time healing him, monitoring the slow rise and fall of his chest, she could hardly keep her eyes open anymore.

A few minutes of sleep couldn't hurt. In one of his brief moments of semi-lucid consciousness, Zuko had assured her that the palace staff and the Fire Sages—the few who remained—could be trusted. Katara was less than convinced, but Zuko's condition was more stable than before, and her head kept drooping toward her chest for a few moments at a time before she jerked awake again. She couldn't keep watch over him forever.

It should be fine. So long as she stayed close, nothing bad could happen to him. Not in a few minutes. Not if Katara just curled up in the chair beside his bed for a little snooze. She would wake up at the slightest disturbance, ready to protect or heal him at a moment's notice.

Or that was the idea. Instead, Katara let her eyes slide shut for what felt like a single blink, and when they opened again, she found herself staring at an empty expanse of rumpled, blood-red silk.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.

She shot out of her chair, bleary-eyed and only half awake. "Where is he? Where did he go?"

She crashed her way into the corridor, then rammed into a timid looking servant woman.

"Where is he?" Katara repeated, a frantic edge to her voice.

The servant fumbled to keep her stack of clean linens from toppling. "Where is who, Miss?"

"Zuko? Where is Zuko?"

"The Fire Lord ordered that you not be disturbed, Miss. I believe His Majesty mentioned fresh air—"

A bit of the sleepy fog lifted from the edges of her mind, and Katara's expression darkened. "Oh, he'd better not."

She took off at a run, careening down one hallway then the next and the next. By the time she realized that the light blanket she'd worn for her brief nap was dragging after her, it was too late to turn back, and she hitched it up around her shoulders like a cloak and kept running. For all the palace's beauty, it was entirely too big. There were too many rooms and balconies and gardens—too many places where Zuko might have wandered in his fevered and dazed state. She ran toward the northern wing of the palace, peeking through doors and shouting for directions whenever she crossed paths with a servant.

At last, she saw a patch of pallor lying in a shady spot beneath a tree. Zuko. She darted out the door toward him.

Zuko lay on his back, one arm bent behind his head like a pillow, bare feet dangling a few inches over the surface of the pond. Katara's heart sat in her throat.

He was okay. He was safe, and he was still breathing.

He was an idiot.

"You were supposed to stay in bed and rest," Katara called as she marched toward him.

Zuko rolled his head her way and blinked, eyes unfocused. "Katara?" His voice came out thin and cracked. "I told them not to wake you up."

She crossed her arms. "They didn't. You wandered off."

"Mmm." His eyes slipped shut, and his forehead creased as though he were deep in thought. "You were tired," he eventually rasped.

She wanted to be annoyed with him. She wanted to fuss about how worried she'd been to find him missing, she wanted to raise a stink about how his servants ought to intervene when Zuko did stupid, dangerous things like wandering the palace alone while injured and disoriented. But even with his forehead creased like it took all his effort to string words into coherent sentences, even with a feverish sheen on his brow and his hair clinging to his forehead in streaks, he looked easier, more peaceful than he had in days.

He was safe. He was going to be okay.

Katara sat beside him, letting her feet dangle over the pond beside his. "I was tired, but I'm not the one who jumped in front of lightning."

His eyes opened a slit. "When was that?"

She studied him. Though his eyes were open, they drifted a bit, struggling to focus. She wasn't sure how she should feel about it. There were hundreds—thousands—of questions she wanted to ask him about the Agni Kai. Why he'd agreed to it in the first place. Why his eyes, his voice had gone so soft when he promised that she wouldn't get hurt. Why he'd taken the bolt of lightning when he knew he couldn't redirect it properly, and why, even after he'd fallen, he kept reaching for her. And yet she remembered all of it. The horrific cry that tore out of him as the lightning burned him from the inside out, the tremors that ran through his limbs even hours after the fight was over, and the weak, stuttering pulse that took far too long to mend. She wasn't sure she wanted him to remember any of that. He'd lived through it once, that ought to be enough. She never wanted to see him in that kind of pain again, even in memories.

"Do you remember it?" she whispered.

Zuko's brows crept downward in thought. "I remember jumping. I remember you coming back. And your hands—" he made a feeble attempt at mimicking her healing stance, and again his eyes closed. "The water felt good. Everything else is—fuzzy." His expression slackened. "Appa is fuzzy."

A small laugh bubbled out of her, and her shoulders eased a bit. "Weirdo." She pushed his hair away from his eyes. "The comet was a few days ago. You've been sleeping most of the time since then."

"I had weird dreams," he mumbled.

"I'm not surprised." She hugged her knees to her chest, staring across the pond at the remains of what must have once been a lush, beautiful garden. "Is that why you came out here?"

Zuko shook his head slightly. With a slow breath, he opened his eyes again. "No, I—" he tried to push himself upright and made it almost to his elbows before a pained groan tore its way out of his mouth. He fell back, clutching his bandaged middle.

"Zuko!" Katara rose to her knees, bowed halfway over him. His breathing came too harsh and too fast, and the sudden shock of pain had drained all the color from his face. She cupped her hand gently around his cheek. "Zuko, look at me."

He only managed to open his eyes for a second before he clenched them shut again and curled inward.

"I know it hurts, Zuko, but you have to let me see it so I can help."

Zuko couldn't seem to respond, but he allowed her to pull his hands away and unwind the bandages. The lightning wound looked the same as it had for days, the same sunken red splotch just under his ribs, the same pinkish rays of burned skin reaching outward. Katara tried not to feel the heavy lump of guilt that settled into her chest. Encasing her hands with water, she pressed them to the wound and pushed past the sunburst pattern etched into his skin. Between the scar and his life, she would choose his life every time.

She poured herself into the work, feeling for the still-raw edges of the lightning's path and for any fresh damage. His heart, thankfully, was as strong as she could remember it being since the comet, and his lungs, though knotted with painful energy, still shrank and swelled with his breath. She kept working, smoothing the tattered edges and drawing out the set to work mending the burned flesh and drawing the knots of energy away until Zuko's breathing finally eased.

Katara let out a breath she hadn't realized that she'd been holding and sat down, suddenly spent. Zuko was paler than before, his forehead creased, and his eyes pressed shut. She rested a palm against his forehead.

"You should still be in bed," she told him.

"Mmm." He drew in a slow, shuddering breath, and his eyes opened a slit. "Too late. I'm stuck here."

She almost wanted to argue with him, to order him back to his bed so he could rest and heal properly. So that she could keep him and the supplies—the fresh bandages, the clean water, the medicines—all within reach. But he had a point. If he couldn't sit without being overcome by pain, he wouldn't be able to walk back to his room. And the thought of trying to carry him was too much for Katara. She was tired too.

"No wandering off without me next time," she ordered. "I don't want you getting stuck anywhere dangerous, understand?"

Zuko gave a small nod. "Mmhmm."

Slowly, Katara exhaled. He was okay. Even if he was a little fuzzy, a little confused right now, he was going to heal, and he would be healthy again.

"Here." She picked her blanket up from where it had fallen behind her and spread it over the prickly, dry grass. "This should be more comfortable."

Slipping her hand beneath his shoulders, she pulled him up just far enough so that she could help him scoot onto the blanket an inch or two at a time. Zuko grimaced and groaned at the motion, but when Katara finally lowered him back to the ground, his face relaxed again. With a contented little sigh, he nestled against her side, and his hand crept out to find hers.

She gave in, squeezing his hand in response before lying down on the blanket beside him. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder, and he smiled, soft and small, eyes still shut.

"I came out here because I wanted to see the turtleduckies," Zuko said, barely over a whisper. His brow creased. "Tlurtleduckings. Turtledluckings."

"Turtleducklings?" Katara offered.

He nodded. "Those."

She smiled and snuggled into his shoulder. "I think you might be delirious."

"Am I?"

Reaching upward, she smoothed the hair back from his eyes. "Maybe just a little."

"Mmm." He let out a small sigh. "The turtleduckies must be sleeping."

Katara couldn't help herself. Hand still cupped around his face, she stretched upward until her lips brushed against his scarred cheek. She hovered there, pressing all the affection, all the care, all the love she could muster into a small, soft kiss. When she finally pulled away, the faintest hint of a smile playing across his lips was the only sign that he was still awake.

"I'm sure the turtleducklings will be very happy to see you when they wake up," she whispered to him.

His mouth twitched into another small smile, then he lapsed into silence, his breathing growing slower, steadier, until he finally dropped off to sleep.

Beside him, Katara rolled onto her back and stared into the arching branches overhead. Someday. Someday soon he'd be well enough to kiss her back.

[purplealmonds]

Hey, remember when I said this Rusty Quill Streams sketch would be shelved for a while longer? Just kidding – this was too fun and self-indulgent not to work on! Not mention, RQS just got partnered on Twitch so it was good timing that I finished this in the nick of time! 

I sifted through the social feeds to cram the games they’ve played thus far and as many references as possible into this piece. Random trivia/commentary, and full list of cameos below the cut! 

Trivia:

This was originally gonna be a simple piece with the prompt “something using Mike and Anil’s favorite colors”. Mike likes electric blue, and Anil likes purple, burgundy, and yellow (there are a probably a few more, but I threw away the post-it not I jotted it down on). 

That said, I don’t think Mike owns an electric blue shirt, or the jacket. I just thought it looked neat! His jorts are something of an inside joke though, according to some regulars in the stream.

Anil’s blue shirt is definitely taken from reference, though I forgot to paint in the headphones...whoops! 

Things just...spiraled out of control when I got it in my head to add game cameos. Much of the playthroughs were not uploaded to Youtube yet, or deleted after 14 days on Twitch VODS, but I tried my best to include whatever inside jokes there were in the streams I did make it to! 

Since I already invested a lot of time in this thing, I decided to go the whole 9 yards and make this look like a design for a neat vintage poster!

I was unfortunately unable to include the Euroquill and Donut County though, since the composition was getting real crowded by the time those playthroughs came around. Sorry!! :(

The abstract halo/sunburst pattern used in the background was borrowed from a Rusty Quill banner I saw in Anil’s earlier streams. 

Mike’s hair was altered to blue at the last minute since he dyed it this past weekend.

The ship for Tharsis and house for Gone Home were modeled in Sketchup from scratch! The gears/cogs were initially cylinder placeholders, but I swapped them out with actual models I found in the 3D warehouse so I didn’t have to map out all the teeth in perspective.

Cameos (listed from top center, moving clockwise):

Gone Home

Tharsis 

Hatoful Boyfriend 

No Man’s Sky 

Geography trivia quiz

Anil’s cards 

Lego Batman 2 

West of Loathing 

Valorant 

Cult Simulator 

Dishonored 2 

Witcher Wild Hunt 

Flower 

Rusty Quill/The Magnus Archives

Casper (Alex Newall’s Cat)

Hamid (Rusty Quill Gaming)

SOMA

F.E.A.R.

War Thunder

Sid Meier’s Colonization

My Time at Portia

Mike’s snacks & mug

Mike’s salt lamp

Derek the comfort camel

Good Cows (TM)

FTL

Cities Skylines