#god i can still hear him rumbling. what on earth is he doing

[britneyshakespeare]

They that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.

Viola, Twelfth Night 3.1

[hotchnerwrites]

Omg can you write about the bull rider position (not rlly an actual position) for hotch!

(image from pinterest)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Word Count: 0.6k

Warnings: NSFW, smut (18+ only), bull rider position, degradation kink, swear words, implied age gap, PWP, consensual don't worry, no use of (y/n), one mention of Beth

A/N: Firstly, if someone did this to me, they'd be getting their nose smashed. Secondly, thank you so much for your request, anon. I'm sorry it took me so long, I had no idea what this position was initially which is why it took me a while to come up with something. Lastly, it is my first time writing smut so go easy on me! 😭 I hope you like it.

My requests are open. Send me stuff!

“Aaron, please! Don’t… don’t stop, oh my god!” 

Aaron’s holds your hips in place as he increases his pace, pounding inside you. Your wet cunt makes an embarrassing noise as you stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re on your hands and knees and you’re struggling to hold yourself up at this point. A white-hot rod of pleasure shoots up from your belly to your brain. 

“Taking me so well, you’re just made for this,” Aaron grunts out, his hips keeping up their bruising pace. You arch your back more; you’re desperate for more friction. Just.. just a little bit more, and you’ll cum. You buck against Aaron and try to match his movement. The moans spilling out of your mouth are obscene.

“Yeah, you’re liking this, aren’t you, you little slut? So good for me. I could tell you wanted my cock the second I walked in the door today. Such a horny little thing,” Aaron rumbles. 

His words rile you up, and your pussy clenches tight around him. You feel his rhythm slow for a second before picking up the pace again. His grip tightens on your waist, bruisingly so. 

“Please, harder baby, I need this so bad,” you beg.

“Of course you do. Of course, you like this, such a good little slut for me,” Aaron throws his head back, you can tell he’s getting closer from the way his cock twitches against your walls. You squeeze against him experimentally and almost come right there.

He’s pulling his cock out all the way to the tip and then slamming himself back into you forcefully. It hurts so much, but it feels so good. Your moans escalate in volume. You feel like you could scream and you grab onto your pillow for dear life. 

“Please, Aaron, I wanna cum so bad,” you plead, tears pricking your eyes from the building overstimulation.

Aaron bends over, and you can feel his breath on your neck. He nips at your lobe and mutters something in your ear. Your brain feels like mush, and it takes you a minute to put the words together and compute the meaning.

“What did you just say?” You mumble out, hurt masked as anger flooding through you. You’re still in disbelief, probably pleasure addling your train of thought.

Aaron chuckles darkly without stopping his bruising pace. “Even Beth didn’t beg like this. I thought you’d take this better. Guess I shouldn’t be so disappointed, you never seemed the obedient type.”

The words echo in your head, and you buck against him. “Get off me, Aaron,” you snarl. Aaron just laughs and snaps his hips harder against yours. His cock hits that one spot that has you seeing stars, and your struggles weaken.

“You’re too young to know better. Just cum on my cock like the good girl you are. God, I’m so close baby, I know you want my cum deep inside you,” he pants, his hips stuttering.

“Aaron, get the fuck off me,” you scream, but your struggles are in vain. Aaron’s stronger and he holds your hips in place as he spills into you, his breath fast and hot against your neck. It’s not much longer till you cum too, fast and hot, still angry. 

Aaron rolls off you and crashes onto his back. You bury your face in the pillow as you gasp for breath. You can hear a light laugh escape him. You raise your eyes to his. He’s grinning. What on earth?

“You’re sexy when you’re angry at me.”

“That’s what this was about?” You ask incredulously. “Aaron, next time you want me to yell at you in bed, just ask. I’ve no problem telling you what to do.”

He scooches over to you and gathers you in his arms. You nestle against his chest as you both come down your highs. “I know that all too well, honey.”

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and follows are appreciated! Constructive criticism is welcome :) Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

May I request a yandere naga x gn reader, [smut can be optional]

I love monster men! Sorry this took so long

Yandere!Naga x GN!Reader

CW: Death, blood, abduction, short drabble

A virgin sacrifice?

1974

The friend group of incredibly drunk college kids stood near the edge of a forest, headed by Nathan who was wielding a ridiculously goofy dagger he had found in a thrift shop, reading an incantation from equally goofy book.

"Oh Fentoo, deity of the Earth, hear our cries!" Nathan waved his dagger. "Behold, our virgin sacrifice!"

(Reader) snorted. "Who's the virgin?"

Nathan glared down at them from the stump he was standing on. "You are, now shoosh."

"But.. I'm not a virgin?" (Reader) rolled their eyes, exhausted from their friend's antics. "Why not use Gayle; he's a virgin."

The awkward nerd beneath Nathan looked up at his leader with wide eyes. "Please don't sacrifice me, Nathan."

Nathan dropped his arms to his sides, sighing, clearly upset over the amount of times his ritual was being interrupted. "Gayle's a virgin because, well.. look at him, no offense Gayle. But you're.. decent looking? Fentoo will be more likely to come if he thinks you're a virgin, right?"

(Reader) rubbed their eyes, exhausted after the amount of beer they had been chugging all night. "Right, and what happens to me when he finds out that I'm not a virgin?"

"I don't know..? He doesn't eat you?" Nathan shrugged. (Reader) couldn't tell if he truly believed in the nonsense he was spewing, but allowed him to continue regardless, ignoring him in favor for another beer.

Gayle shook, unstable on his feet. "So what do you get if Fentoo accepts the sacrifice- (Reader)?"

"Uh.." Nathan flipped through the worn out book. "Fine metals of the earth, which is his domain."

"Damn, you're going to kill me for some gold?" (Reader) playfully asked in an offended tone.

Nathan opened his mouth in a wide smile, ready to respond, but suddenly fell slack jawed, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

A dark shadow rose behind (Reader), engulfing them in an unnaturally coldness.

"No.. you shall receive nothing, but death."

A voice deep and gravely growled so lowly that it rumbled in the drunk adult's chest and made their knees knock together. Very slowly, (Reader) turned, alcohol failing to give them any liquid courage.

Blocking out the light of the moon, a being emerged from the trees and extended up, rising to his full height. With ink black, scaly skin that elongated beyond his waist, a half human half snake monster that was like a living shadow smiled down at the humans beneath him, the only visible feature being his bright white fangs.

His movements were faster than a lion's, launching past (Reader) and striking the two drunk men before they could run.

(Reader) was powerless as they watched their best friends get ripped apart in from of them, torn open by the monster's bare hands. Blood splattered everywhere, even hitting (Reader's) face with splashes of red.

And they could do nothing.

As he moved under the night sky, the moon now illuminated his body, revealing the blue shine to his scales and skin, the strong features of his mostly human, noseless face, and his long locks of black hair cascading freely down his muscular back. His black eyes appeared to be staring at everything and nothing, unblinking as he murdered two innocent humans.

(Reader) was ready to die. Frozen with fear, their drunken mind accepted their fate. Even after watching the god's jaw unhinge to consume the pieces that used the be their friends, (Reader) was still.

But their death never came.

They watched the monster eat until there was nothing left but blood stains, however, when he turned to (Reader), he was nothing but smiles.

"The debt has been paid." He stated while grabbing the ceremonial dagger off the grass.

(Reader's) face must have conveyed their bafflement, because the creature chuckled before explaining; "The sacrifice has been accepted. Now you shall be rewarded."

Liquid gold poured up through the dirt around the horrified young adult's feet, solidifying as it came into contact with the air.

A single tear cleaned away blood from (Reader's) cheek. "I don't want gold."

His smile grew, revealing the inhuman split in his cheeks. "Oh? And what is it that you want?"

He reached out a cold hand, caressing their stained face.

"Jewels?"

".. no."

"Iron? Copper?"

Each time they nervously shook their head 'no' it seemed to please the deity more.

"Would you perhaps.. wish for a long life? One full of joy, and free from pain?" His voice softened as he rubbed his thumb against their trembling bottom lip. They could see the round of Nathan and Gayle as they moved through his body to be digested.

More cries escaped them. "Yes, please."

As soon as the words left their lips, (Reader) was scooped into the creature's strong arms, cradling them to his chest.

"Good."

He carried his newly claimed partner towards his domain, the land of the immortal.

"I am Fe Ntu. And I'd be honored to give you joy and love, for the rest of eternity."

[rogueddie]

Warmth and Safety T | 808 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

Steve knows he should be in his own hospital room. Not only so other people can visit too, but because of how his head spins as he struggles to walk down the corridor.

The white walls are too clinical, too metalic. They look nothing like the Russians underground lair, but mixed with the sharp stench of bleach and medicine? It's mixing into a cruel cocktail that has his instincts screaming for Robin.

He pushes forward, gritting his teeth and- trying- to ignore the memories trying to haunt him.

"Steve," Eddie greets, when he finally makes it through the door into his room, sounding exhausted. "What the hell, man?"

"I'm fine," Steve lies, hating how breathless he sounds. He sags into the chair next to Eddies bed, grimacing. "Just need a minute... catch my breath. There's, like, so many stairs."

Eddie is silent for a long moment, but Steve can feel his eyes boring into his head.

"What?"

"Wh- you shouldn't be here, man!" Eddie says. He sounds too exhausted for the stern tone to have any effect. "The nurses have told you already. You need to heal. You can't do that if you're dragging yourself around to... I don't know, check on us?"

"I need to make sure you're ok."

"We're in a hospital. We're as ok as we can get."

"I get that, but..."

The clock chimes, the earth rumbling as the town reads apart, Dustin's screams...

"Yeah, I know," Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I understand, alright? But you need to cut this shit out."

"I can't."

"Steve-"

"I need to know that you're alive. I need to know. It's not enough to hear that you're ok, I need to see it. I need to, Eds."

"Jesus Christ," he throws his head back, sighing heavy and dramatically.

But then he lifts his head, smirking a little as he opens an arm out towards him, beckoning him closer.

"Come here, big boy, let me give you a hug."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he does as he told, standing up so he was shuffle to the bed.

"You don't have to say it all creepy, man, you'll give me ideas."

"Promise?" Eddie wiggles his eyebrows. But his playfulness quickly morphs into exasperation again when he huffs out, "just sit down, Steve, come on, come here."

It takes a lot of gesturing and, eventually, slight man handling, but eventually Eddie gets Steve to lay down next to him. He tugs Steve's head down so his ear is resting on his chest and, with some hesitation, he curls an arm around Eddie's waist.

He can feel his heartbeat, thumping against his ear, matching the beeping of the monitor.

"There," Eddie mumbles, brushing his fingers down Steve's spine. "Better, right?"

"... yeah."

His heart is pounding, almost as much as Eddie's is. It's only a little reassuring that Eddie is just as nervous as him- he can only hope it's for the same reason.

"You need to take care of yourself too," Eddie continues. "Who's gonna run around after those brats of you don't heal right? Me? I'm a bad influence, Stevie, you know I'll make 'em worse."

"You'd do great, they love you."

"Noooo," he squeezes Steve a little tighter, whining as high as he can get his voice to go. "Please, I'm begging, I'll go insane if I have to deal with them alone!"

"Now you know how I feel."

"God, I wish I didn't," Eddie sighs, turning serious again so fast that Steve feels like he's getting whiplash. "This whole thing is fucked. Those kids are only, like, fifteen."

Steve hesitates for a moment, before whispering, "I was sixteen, when this all started. Back in 83.x

"Jesus."

"Yeah, it's... I don't know. Like, I know it's horrible, but I like it when it's like this. Everyone in one place, knowing that there's doctors and shit nearby."

"That's not horrible. You know they're being cared for."

"Yeah, but it's worse this time. Like... I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and we won't have made it. This will be some stupid dream and you and Max..."

"We're still here," Eddie brings a hand up to his head, brushing his hair back. "You can feel it, right? I'm right here. We're not going anywhere."

Steve nods, closing his eyes so he can focus on Eddie's heartbeat.

"You know I love seeing you, right? Just... at least get a wheelchair or something. Please?"

Something is his chest cracks at how Eddie's voice breaks, how pained and desperate he sounds.

"Ok. I can do a wheelchair."

"Good. You start taking care of yourself and we can do this everyday."

"Promise?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, hand finally coming to a stop, cupping his cheek. "Yeah, I promise. Whenever and for however long you need. I'll be right here."

[andy-15-07]

hiii, hope you’re doing well! i was wondering if you could write something where y/n is an actress and meets aaron at some awards or maybe the met gala? i’d appreciate it soo much, i love your writing! thankss

Champagne & Fate

pairing: Aaron Taylor Johnson x female!reader

word count: 1031 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Aaron Taylor Johnson Masterlist

The cacophony of the Met Gala pressed in on y/n, a rising starlet still navigating the treacherous waters of Hollywood’s elite. Her emerald green gown, a daring choice, felt both like armor and a spotlight. She’d just finished a slightly awkward interview about her latest indie film, her nerves making her responses sound stilted. Sighing internally, she snagged a glass of champagne, hoping to blend into the glittering backdrop. That's when disaster struck. A sudden jostle from a passing waiter sent her bubbly cascading down the front of someone’s impeccably tailored tuxedo.

“Oh my god, I am so incredibly sorry!” y/n gasped, mortified. She dabbed uselessly at the spreading stain with a napkin. “I’m such a klutz.”

The man turned, and y/n’s breath hitched. It was Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Up close, he was even more striking than in photographs. His green eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, a disarming gesture that eased some of her panic.

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled, his voice surprisingly warm. “Champagne showers are practically a Met Gala tradition. Consider yourself initiated.”

“Still,” y/n stammered, feeling her cheeks flush. “I’m y/n.”

“Aaron,” he replied, extending a hand. His grip was firm and warm. “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

They stood there for a moment, the spilled champagne forming a small puddle at their feet. y/n, still reeling from the embarrassment (and the proximity to him), blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I loved ‘Kick-Ass’!”

Aaron laughed. “Thanks. That feels like a lifetime ago. These days, I’m trying to graduate from superhero vigilantes to something a little more… nuanced.”

“Like what?” y/n asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m working on a psychological thriller at the moment,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “It’s dark, twisty, and completely messed up. I’m having a blast.”

“That sounds amazing,” y/n said. “I’m a sucker for anything dark and twisty.”

They talked for the next hour, oblivious to the swirling crowd around them. y/n was surprised by how easy it was to talk to him. He was intelligent, witty, and refreshingly down-to-earth. He didn’t treat her like some starstruck ingenue, but like a fellow artist. They discussed their shared passion for film, their favorite directors, and even debated the merits of method acting (he was for it, she was skeptical).

“You know,” Aaron said, leaning closer, his voice a low rumble, “I’d love to hear more about your indie film. The one you were talking about earlier.”

y/n’s heart fluttered. “It’s a small project, but I’m really proud of it. It’s a coming-of-age story, set against the backdrop of… well, it’s complicated.”

“Complicated is good,” Aaron said with a grin. “I like complicated.”

As the evening drew to a close, Aaron pulled out his phone. “I’d hate for our champagne-soaked conversation to end here. Would you mind if I got your number?”

y/n, trying to play it cool, but failing miserably, rattled off her digits.

“Great,” Aaron said. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Maybe we could grab coffee and talk more about… complicated things.”

“I’d like that,” y/n replied, her smile mirroring his.

The next day, a text arrived: “Aaron T-J: Coffee tomorrow? My treat. And maybe we can discuss the proper etiquette for champagne spills.”

y/n’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “y/n: Deal. But I’m warning you, I’m a terrible influence. Prepare for more accidental beverage-related incidents.”

Their coffee date turned into dinner, which turned into late-night talks on his apartment balcony overlooking the city. They discovered a shared love for old vinyl records, a mutual disdain for reality TV, and a surprisingly compatible sense of humor. The whirlwind romance that followed was a blur of stolen kisses, whispered secrets, and a growing sense of connection that neither of them could deny.

One rainy Saturday afternoon, they were curled up on Aaron's couch, watching an old black and white movie. A comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the crackling of the fireplace. y/n felt a sense of belonging she hadn't experienced before. She looked at Aaron, his face illuminated by the flickering light, and a warmth spread through her chest.

He turned, catching her gaze. He smiled, a soft, intimate smile that made her heart skip a beat. He reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"y/n," he said, his voice quiet, "I know things have moved quickly between us, but... I can't imagine my life without you in it."

y/n's breath hitched. She knew what was coming, and her heart pounded in her chest.

"I love spending time with you," he continued, his eyes searching hers. "You make me laugh, you challenge me, and you make me happier than I've ever been. I was wondering... would you want to move in with me?"

y/n's mind raced. Moving in together was a big step, but it felt right. It felt natural. She loved being with Aaron. She loved their late-night talks, their shared laughter, and the way he made her feel.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "Yes, I would love to."

Aaron's smile widened. He pulled her closer, kissing her softly. "I can't wait," he murmured against her lips.

The next few weeks were a flurry of packing, organizing, and merging their lives together. y/n's apartment felt empty without her, but her new home with Aaron felt full of promise. They painted the spare room a warm, inviting shade of blue, turning it into y/n's writing room. They rearranged the furniture in the living room, creating a cozy space where they could relax and unwind after a long day.

One evening, after they had finished unpacking, they stood in the doorway of their apartment, looking around at their shared space. y/n leaned against Aaron, her head resting on his shoulder.

"It feels like home," she said softly.

Aaron wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. "It does," he agreed. "It feels like we're finally where we're supposed to be."

And as they stood there, surrounded by the quiet comfort of their new home, y/n knew that she had made the right decision. She had spilled champagne on her future, and it had led her to a place where she truly belonged.

[strawberrykidneystone]

From Earth with Love

summary: phone sex with garrus while shepard is in lockdown on earth

a/n: garrus’ voice y’all…..

tws: voice kink, phone sex, masturbation, turian male genetalia written as hemipenes, cursing, intentionally all lower case, implied exhibitionism

ao3 link

it had been a week since shepard had been on earth and she already had cabin fever.

there was only one person who she wanted to talk to.

or turian she should say.

shepard was laying back against her headboard and pulled up her omni-tool. it had limited access and the call would definitely be monitored, but at this point, she didn't care. the ache in her legs was enough for her to disregard any shame she might've felt otherwise.

as she pressed the call button, she waited with bated breath as her hand found her way under her pajama shorts. she started rubbing her clit and closed her eyes as she imagined it was garrus' fingers instead. suddenly the voice that she had been dying to hear came online, "hello? shepard?"

shepards breath hitched at the rumble of his deep voice and as it went straight to her core, her hand momentarily stopping, "garrus... i need you."

"shepard, you know you can't have any unregulated visitors on earth right now-"

"that's not what i mean vakarian. i mean i need you right now."

"oh. oh."

garrus knew what kind of effect his voice had on shepard, ever since their shared night together before the collectors, he felt how her body reacted whenever he praised her. it was nice to know that she longed for him as much as he missed her, but a call like this was still somewhat unexpected. he couldn't help but feel pity for whoever had to listen to the recording of her calls.

"you sound positively breathless shepard, did you already start without me?" he teased as he hastily got up from the basic grey desk and locked his office door. being a “reaper expert” had given him his own office that he didn't use very often, but it was very convenient for moments like this. he sat back in his plush chair and unbuckled the armor of the bottom part of his plates. his hemipenes extended from his slit as he imagined her touching herself, holding both shafts in his hand, running his blunt thumb talon over the heads.

shepard huffed and rolled her eyes, "you were taking too long vakarian, wish you were here right now," she said in a sultry tone and started to circle her clit again.

"yeah? what would you want me to do if I was there, hm? spare no details sweetie," he purred and started stroking himself, squeezing at the base every so often.

"well," she thought and bit her lip, "i would want you on your knees in front of me with my legs over your shoulders, i'd want you to fuck me with your tongue the way you know i like."

garrus groaned and bucked his hips up just thinking about the taste of her, he'd give anything to be buried in between her thighs right now, "god i miss the way you taste shepard, i'd fuck you with my tongue all night if you let me."

shepard audibly whimpered and inserted a finger into her hole, curling her knuckles towards her and thrusting them inside herself, "I just can't fill myself like you do garrus." she knew that saying that would inflate his ego, but her brain was already going fuzzy from pleasure.

garrus purred in appreciation and thrusted up into his hand, picturing her on top of him, riding both of his cocks with both of them stuffed inside of her. "I know shepard, I know. if I was there, i'd fill you up with just one, until I could feel that you were ready. then i'd split you open with my second cock and stuff you full. you'd like that wouldn't you shepard? my good girl, your little fingers can't fill you up the way I can."

shepard groaned and arched her back, putting two more fingers inside of herself and squeezing her eyes shut as she imagined garrus filling her up with both of his lengths. "god yes please, need you inside me, miss your cocks so much", she whimpered and rubbed her clit with her thumb as her fingers tried their best to intimidate the lengths she was fantasizing about.

"oh? i can hear that you're close already, are you gonna cum for me?" he said smugly and happily clicked his mandibles. he really had no room to tease her, he wasn't too far from cumming himself.

she whined and used her free hand to tug on the back of her hair, just like he would, "garrus please, need your voice to cum."

garrus let out a raspy moan and increased the pace of his hand, the heads of his cocks starting to swell, "you're doing so good for me shepard, filling yourself with your fingers but still being so empty. god i need to be in that tight little pussy again, so good and tight around me, nothing can compare to you, squeezing ever last drop out of me every goddamn time."

"yes- yes!" she shamelessly moaned as his voice and praise pushed shepard over the edge, cumming on her fingers. lightyears away, hearing her climax made garrus cream all over his hand.

the two sat in silence for a minute, listening to the other pant and catch their breath over the audio of the omni-tool.

"so..."

"so."

"i miss you garrus."

"i miss you too shepard."

"can we talk again soon?"

garrus chuckled, "to do this again or to actually talk."

"depends on you big guy." she teased and giggled softly, cleaning herself up. garrus used the tissues on his desk to wipe himself up and buckled his armor back into place.

"how about a mix of business and pleasure? i'd love to catch you up on the outside world that you're missing inside that prison of yours."

"they prefer the term 'house arrest' for all intensive purposes."

"i personally would call the whole thing crap."

"careful vakarian, big brother's listening."

"big brother?"

"yeah, you know, 1984? the book?"

"..."

"not in the turian education system huh."

"nope."

the two of them continued their conversation deep into the night, and had many similar nights over the next 6 months.

wk: 1,030

[kouchabu-archive]

Koisuru Scramble - Chapter 2

Writer: Nishioka Maiko Translation by: Sophie // Proofread by: Mirei

NOTE: I EXPLICITLY PROHIBIT USAGE OF ANY PART OF MY TRANSLATIONS ON ANYTHING THAT RELATES TO AI.

This story is fully voiced in-game! You should read while listening to it~

Episode 8: After School Rumble!

< A lot of things have happened since then but… one day amidst their normal everyday life— >

Hajime: (Let’s see… Which one of these should I pick…)

(Don’t think of this as just a measly seat change! My beloved comfortable school life lies on this blind draw! Of course I’ll be fired up!)

Airi: He~y. Earth to Hajime~ There are still people waiting behind you, you know? You’re taking this wa~y too seriously.

Hajime: Ah, sorry sorry~ I just don’t know which ones will have good or bad placements, so I'm just at a loss on which one I should pick.

Airi: Well, I feel you~ I wish I’ll get a seat at the very back near the window. Perfect spot for an aftie nap!

Hajime: Aftie nap? Hold up, you’re not planning to live off my notes right before exams again, are you?

Airi: Teehee~ ☆

Hajime: Don’t give me that~ Take your notes properly at least, please.

Airi: Yes ma’am~ But anyway. Go, go! Just pick one already.

Hajime: I can sense an ominous result… Well, whatever.

Hm… Okay, let’s do this one!

Let’s see. Seat number 14…

Number 14… Number 14… Ah, it should be this one. Right beside me is…

Miki: ……

Hajime: (K-Kurose-kun?! Are you kidding me?! Why did I pick a seat beside him, of all places?! What to do… he looks like he’s in a really bad mood. This is awkward…)

……... [ Her gaze is darting all over the place. ]

Miki: ……...

Hajime: (Oh God. Our eyes just met.)

Miki: …… (Glares.)

Hajime: (Eeeek–?! H-He’s so scary! Do you really have to glare at me like that?!)

Miki: What? Quit staring.

Hajime: S-Sorry…

(Ugh. Do I really have to be seatmates with him, of all people?)

(I bumped into him twice the other day because I was so clumsy. I'm sure it left a bad impression on him. And I’m pretty sure he hates me.)

(But now that I remember it, I wasn’t able to properly apologize to him for that, right?)

(Being beside him is the perfect chance to do just that. I wonder if me being seatmates with him is some sort of divine help from God…)

Mm. Okay, let’s do this.

U-Um, Kurose-kun!

Miki: …What?

Hajime: (visibly flinches)

(No, no. Don’t be a coward, self!)

The other day, I… I was so clumsy that I ended up bumping into you twice, so I’m sorry for that. And well, I wasn’t able to properly apologize for that so it always bothered me…

…T-That’s all.

Miki: ……

Hajime: (I’m so ready to be told off but… this silence is so unnerving…)

Miki: Don’t mention it. I mean, I have my own share of carelessness too, so, my bad, I guess...

Hajime: Huh…?

(Um… Did I hear that right? Is he really apologizing..?)

Miki: …You didn't get hurt after that, right?

Hajime: (Uh… I’m not sure I follow but… did he really notice me?)

Nope! I’m all fine and dandy! I’m not that fragile.

Miki: Hm. Then that’s good.

Hajime: ...Hehe~

Hajime: (I thought Kurose-kun is a scary guy but… maybe he’s actually kinder than what he shows.)

-----

[ School bell rings. ]

Airi: Hajime~ Let’s go home together—

Oh, hold on. Why do you still have your notebook and pen case with you? Not going home yet?

Hajime: Ah, sorry. I’m gonna hit the library today so you can go ahead first.

Airi: Library?

Hajime: Yup. I thought I should get my part in the group work done and over with. It’s hard to do it without references, so I have to stop by there.

Airi: Oh, that thing~ I’m in charge of compiling everything in place, so I can't really do my part if everyone won't be there.

Welp, guess I should leave you to it. I’ll go ahead now~ Bye bye~

Hajime: Mhm. Bye bye!

-----

— And, there we go. That should be enough references.

Okay, let’s get this over with~

(Flipping through the material.)

(I wonder if this layout makes it more pleasing to the eyes… Or maybe this one?)

Hm…

Eiki: I think this one is better.

Hajime: Eh?

Eiki: ……... ♪

Hajime: N-Nakaouji-kun!

Eiki: Shh. We’re in the library. Look, the librarian is shooting us daggers.

Hajime: Ah, I’m sorry…

(whispering) And um, what brings you here?

Eiki: I saw you deep in your thoughts and contemplating quite hard, so I thought you’re stuck in making some sort of decision. Was I wrong?

Hajime: Well, um, you got that right, but… what I meant is what are you doing here?

Eiki: Oh. I was doing my own research for something when I saw you, Koino-san. And then I just thought I’d make myself comfortable and sit beside you.

I know I should’ve asked this before I just sat down, but… do you mind if I join you?

Hajime: .........

(Wait, wait, hold on! Be still, my heart!)

Eiki: Is that a no?

Hajime: Oh no! N-Not at all!

(But oh God I don’t think my heart is ready for this! The right side of my body feels completely frozen with him right beside it!)

Eiki: I’m glad to hear that. Well, I’ll continue making myself comfortable.

Oh? Your group picked this particular era to talk about? This seems like one of the eras that didn’t have that many major events, isn’t it?

Hajime: Is that right? Well, it was a unanimous decision between all of us, so I haven’t given much thought about it. But now, I’m realizing that I don’t know a thing about this era at all, so I’m kinda regretting just going with everyone’s flow.

I think we’re the only ones who chose something like this. I’m pretty sure the others picked more popular eras out there.

Eiki: Come to think of it, Miki said something about discussing the announcement of Edo’s end.

Hajime: Miki..? Are you referring to Kurose-kun? You guys are close?

Eiki: Yes. Well, we’ve been neighbors since we were children. I guess it’s more appropriate to call it being basically just stuck with each other because of that very fact. Ah, you spelled that one wrong.

Hajime: Oh, you’re right. Thanks for pointing that out. I see, so you guys are like that. It must be nice to have a childhood friend~ I wish I had something like that too~

How about you? Which era did you guys pick?

Eiki: We’ve chosen the Sengoku period. For some reason, the samurai freaks have gathered in our group. They’re all raring to map out the old Japan during wartime.

Hajime: Ahaha. Oh gosh, what’s up with that? But hey, it sounds really exciting.

Eiki: Doesn’t it? Even I am starting to look forward to it.

Hajime: Um…

Eiki: Hm?

Hajime: If it’s okay, can I ask for more of your advice on whether my work makes sense or not? Ah, but it’s okay if you can’t! I don’t mind!

Eiki: Fufu. You really didn’t have to be so formal about that. But to answer your question: sure, if you’ll have me.

Hajime: Thank you.

-----

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter // Translation Masterlist

[samuelroukin]

Look just as a sample:

Soap blends into the pub, at least, grabbing the wobbly, ancient table by the shadowed corner. The shit seat, clearly, since no one thinks to look in that direction even as the evening crowd filters in and fills the space. His accent doesn't quite fit, but he's close enough, and looks the part watching. Funny, he thinks, scanning the room promising himself he'll recognize her if he sees her even though it's been years and he was just a boy when she left, but sure anyway, that this sinkhole of a village was harder to get to than some of the scars in the earth he's been sent to with a gun in his hand. He feels a little naked without it, compensating with knives. Ghost would be proud, if Ghost wasn't done with Johnny completely. Big bastard. Soap can almost hear that rumbling Manc purr in his ear: haven't a plan, have you MacTavish? It's true. He's always been impulsive, has Soap. And when Ghost cut him off, broke the promise to join him on leave, left him staring down the barrel of awkward days in his mum's dingy flat while she pressed him about leaving the forces and settling down, his sister Katie too weigh down by her bairns and her job and her husband and her church, Soap had thought I fucking wish Elspeth were here. She had always understood him best, always was a little of sync with their Mother's God and her rules, hair cut short and sneaking him off to things that would never be approved. He'd love her, and then she'd simply been gone. He'd come back from school, rushing for the call, only to find she'd rung early and their Da, alive then, was screaming that she was a whore down the line. He didn't even really know why, piecing it together with a child's mind and the snippets overheard. He hadn't called his mother and said he had leave. He'd used the skills Queen and Country had given him to access the ancient computer system of Elspeth's old uni and found this fucking village. Found her, he thinks. He'd asked about a bit, trying to seem like a lost, rock stupid tourist. And the postmaster had finally taken the bait. Grabbed his fucking arm, like John was some civilian, like he couldn't shake off an old man with a nose full of broken veins after long years drinking. Best leave the Uaths alone, he'd said. Mrs. Uath was a respectable woman, a pillar of the village. He still remembered when she'd first come there. And, besides, Uath women didn't often come to town. It'd be even rarer if they knew someone like him was hanging around. Soap had almost taken off down the lane. The fuck did it sound like, then? Ellie trapped, locked away, implied to be married to a jealous fucking ogre. Soap had done bad things. Making his sister a widow seemed easy enough. But the whatever the fuck they're celebrating here, the harvest or plowing or some such shit farmers care about was better. A chance to look in. The whole village had come, filling their ugly little pub. Soap waiting, nursing a beer. She would come, he knew she would come. And he would know her. He was sure he would know her.

[Anyway yeah they do recognize each other but her sons nearly jump Johnny assuming he's a creep of some sort. And she's horrified bc she loves her baby brother but she can't leave and he will die if he stays she need him to GO]

ooooh the setting, the drama 👀also what the Fuck is ghost's problem, just leaving him like that?

[samsblades]

mari do you have any hozier songs or lyrics that you relate to sam or like to imagine in relation to him? ♡

oh anon you're in for a treat (i hope)... i'm going through my whole playlist right now hehe... i'll probably miss some since i have to go to work in a bit, but i'll try to get what comes to me strongest and most naturally!

we can start with the hozier classic lol. take me to church — every sunday's gettin' more bleak, a fresh poison each week. we were born sick, you heard them say it. | i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. i'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife. offer me that deathless death. oh, good god, let me give you my life.

that you are — carve their lines into a curve, like blades. all i get to are mistakes half-made. leave the door ajar. but i'd be anywhere that you are.

swan upon leda — one more sweet boy to be butchered by men. but the gateway to the world was still outside the reach of him. would never belong to angels, had never belonged to men.

i, carrion (icarian) — while you're as heavy as the world that you hold your hands beneath. once i had wondered what was holdin' up the ground, but i can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down ... if you need to, lean your weight to me.

butchered tongue — so far from home to have a stranger call you "darling" and have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand, in some town that just means "home" to them. he deserves sweet things :((

cherry wine — this whole song is samruby to me @_@ her eyes and words are so icy, oh but she burns like rum on the fire. hot and fast and angry as she can be, i walk my days on a wire. | the way she tells me i'm hers and she is mine, open hand or closed fist would be fine. the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine. | calls of guilty thrown at me, all while she stains the sheets of some other. | but I want it, it's a crime, that she's not around most of the time.

arsonist's lullabye — when i was a child, i heard voices. some would sing and some would scream.

almost (sweet music) — i'm almost me again, she's almost you. | i got some colour back. she thinks so, too. i laugh like me again, she laughs like you. (angsty fic where sam can't get over jess and hears her in your laugh)

who we are — all of it pretty much :,)

to be alone — never feel too good in crowds with folks around, when they're playing the anthems of rap culture loud. crude and proud creatures baying. all i've ever done is hide from our times when you're near me. honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes, i feel like a person for a moment of my life.

nfwmb — when i first saw you, the end was soon. | ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graces? ain't it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes? ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay. ain't you my baby? ain't you my baby? nothing fucks with my baby. nothing can get a good look at my baby. nothing fucks with my baby. nothing fucks with my baby. nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. | if i was born as a blackthorn tree, i'd wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies.

anything but — if i was a riptide, i wouldn't take you out. i don't want to be anything, but i would do anything just to run away. i don't wanna be anything like this at all.

july — you can keep a dream in your mind only to fin it's the hope that was killing you. but you arrived like sunlight in the gloom and burned off the haze when the year was still new. keeping me going how you show up like july. | and you can got to work until you're a disaster, babe. build your temple, the sound, and stone. put in all of their time only to find, by the end, that your god has flown.

as it was — before the otherness came and i knew its name. the drug, the dark, the light, the flame.

and some whole songs : would that i, fare well, who we are, francesca, hymn to virgil (esp i'd walk through hell on living feet for you), de selby (part 1), abstract (psychopomp), like real people do, through me (the flood), nobody's soldier, first light, unknown/nth, first time, FROM EDENNNN T_T, foreigner's god

there's probably more but. i got tired and idk sam is just insanely hozier song coded to me so i already went overboard anyways LOL

how about you??? anything i missed?? hehe

[stark---contrast]

@stevetonygames team Future | "Intimacy" | Earth-8096 (Earth's Mightiest Heroes) | 1050 words | Tw: body image issues

Jan briskly walks through the mansion with no small amount of irritation. It's three hours before the biggest charity gala of the year, and Hank decided to cancel on her. Again.

"Oh, Jan, but think of the ants," she mutters to herself. "It's been eleven years since this species was last sighted, of course I have to leave immediately. Just say you don't want to come, asshole."

Fortunately, Janet Van Dyne has one last trick up her sleeve in the form of one Anthony Stark. It's been a while since they went to one of these shindigs as each others' plus ones, but at least showing up with Tony would be much better for her image than showing up alone.

"Tony?" Jan calls, knocking on Tony's door as soon as she reaches it. "Are you in there?"

There's no reply, but when she tries the handle, the door opens easily. At this hour, Tony should already be getting ready—Jan would be, too, if not for the sudden wrench in her plans.

"Tony?" Jan tries again, stepping into Tony's suite. "Did you have a date to the gala? Hank just canceled and I thought we could go toget—"

"Oh, come on!" Tony's voice echoes through the space and Jan jumps. Well, at least he's home.

Relief floods through Jan and she course-corrects to Tony's bedroom where the sound came from. If she's lucky, they'll have time to make some adjustments to Tony's suit to make their outfits match better.

"Are you sure about this?" a distinctly not-Tony voice rumbles.

Jan freezes; she didn't account for the fact that Tony might not be alone.

Who even was that? It didn't sound like Rhodes, and none of Tony's friends have a habit of spending time in his room over the mansion's common areas anyway.

"I can take it, Cap!" Tony exclaims.

Jan frowns. Cap? What is Steve doing in Tony's room?

"I don't wanna hurt you," Steve says.

"Ugh, just give it to me!" Tony complains, and, oh.

Jan's face flames hot as she stands rooted to her spot in Tony's living room. Suddenly, it's very clear why Steve is in Tony's bedroom: she knew there was something between the two of them, but not this kind of something!

"It's not gonna fit," Steve says and oh, god, Jan needs to leave right now—

"It'll be fine! Things stretch, you know," Tony says.

"Tony, it's the size of my forearm!"

Jan gasps and quickly covers her mouth; another thing she never considered is the implications of Steve's generous…proportions.

"Did you hear that?" Steve asks.

Jan curses under her breath and quickly zaps into wasp form, not about to be caught eavesdropping. She flies out of the room and makes a mental note to cover for Tony if he ends up late to the gala or seems to be walking funny.

Jan is grinning as she reaches her room. Going to the gala solo doesn't matter: not when she's the only one privy to some of the juiciest gossip imaginable.

Meanwhile…

Steve stares at the bedroom door and listens. He could have sworn he heard someone out there…

"God, Steve! Stop being so dramatic!" Tony complains.

With a sigh, Steve turns back to where Tony is standing with his hands braced on the counter of his ensuite bathroom. Steve holds up the—extremely tiny, in his opinion—corset and silently wonders how it will ever fit on Tony's muscular torso.

"This thing's gonna break your ribs," Steve says.

He sees Tony's eye roll in the mirror. "I've worn that damn corset plenty of times before and I'd rather not get torn to shreds in gossip rags over my holiday pounds, thankyouverymuch."

Steve bites his tongue and looks down at Tony's naked back and the so-called holiday pounds. Tony's broad shoulders and narrow waist still create a ridiculously proportioned triangle, though he actually has some meat on his bones now instead of the previously protruding ribs.

Yet the ruthless paparazzi and idiot socialites Tony mingles with expect him to don this stupid corset that's going to squeeze the air out of his lungs, nevermind the fact that the arc reactor already makes it harder for him to breathe…

"Now lace me up, soldier!" Tony demands. "Or are those muscles just for show?"

"What if I come with you instead?" Steve blurts out.

Tony frowns, looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror. "What?"

"To the gala," Steve says. "Nobody will think you look bulky next to me."

"Gee, thanks," Tony huffs.

"I didn't mean it like that," Steve says, splaying a hand on Tony's back in apology. "I just wanna take some of the heat off you. And…and maybe…"

Heat creeps up Steve's neck and he averts his eyes from Tony's reflection.

"Hm?" Tony prods. "Maybe what?"

Steve clears his throat. "Maybe give them a much bigger scoop than obsessing over your figure."

Instantly, Tony is turning around to face Steve. "You mean…?" Tony says, stepping close to Steve, a hand coming to rest on his sternum. "You want to tell them about us?"

Steve places his hand over Tony's smaller one and nods firmly.

"But...but I can't force you to come out," Tony says. "We haven't even told the team—"

"I don't care," Steve says. "I don't like the dog and pony show of your galas and parties, but I like it even less when you have to do them alone. It's time."

Tony looks up at Steve, eyes wide and disbelieving, but Steve knows that behind those beautiful amber eyes lies a brilliant mind that is already running through a hundred possibilities of how this could go wrong.

But then Tony smiles, and because he's not yet wearing eyeliner Steve gets to see every little line and wrinkle around his eyes that is proof of his happiness.

"Get down here and kiss me, you big softie," Tony says.

And Steve eagerly obeys, wrapping his arms around Tony' gorgeous body and kissing his smiling lips—

…And possibly flinging the offending corset into the trashcan while Tony is distracted. If he complains later, Steve will happily buy him undergarments that don't double as torture devices.

But tonight, Steve's mission is purely to show the world how lucky he is to have such an incredible man by his side.

[rynneer]

Blood of Durin

A reader-insert fanfiction

Y/N doesn’t know how she found herself in Middle Earth, how she found herself among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, or how she let herself be captivated by the elder Durin prince—but she does know one thing.

She’s carrying his child.

Chapter Five: The Rockrose and the Thistle

mild gore warning

a single thread hangs limply down, and i breathe, not now, not now

-The Rockrose and the Thistle, The Amazing Devil

Freezing wind bites at your face as you follow Kíli through the watchtower. He slows and presses to the side of the wall when you reach the end of the passage, pulling you close protectively and leaning out into the cold air.

“Anything?” you whisper.

Kíli doesn’t answer.

You shouldn’t be here.

You don’t know how you got here.

How did you get here? Why–

Boom.

A drumbeat echoes around the stone. Your heart drops. Vibrations pulse through the bricks beneath your feet. Little rocks rain down around you and Kíli���you tear away from him and scramble out into the wind, squinting against the light as you search the crumbling stone above you.

It’s Azog—but you knew that already. He’s got Fíli—but you knew that too.

He drags Fíli by the back of the collar and lifts him into the air like he’s nothing, dangling the dwarf over the edge.

“This one dies first,” Azog rumbles. You don’t know the language but you know what he’s saying. You know it by heart, by broken heart. “Then the brother.”

Kíli lifts his head slowly, confusion, recognition, terror all battling for dominance on his face. Terror wins as he stares up at Fíli.

You glimpse Thorin, Bilbo, and Dwalin on the other tower. Thorin rushes forward as if he could actually reach his nephew and skids to a halt. You’ve never seen him afraid. Never truly afraid, until now.

“Then you, Oakenshield. You will die last,” the orc sneers.

For a brief moment, Fíli struggles, squirming against the hand holding the last moments of his life in its grasp. It’s pointless, and he knows it, but you will him to keep fighting, to do something.

He stares across at his uncle. “Go,” he chokes out. You don’t know if you actually hear him say it or if it’s your mind filling in the blanks. His eyes dart down to you, as if in apology, then back up to Thorin. “Run!”

The blade rips through him as if he’s not even there. Fíli gurgles for a second, and his head falls against his chest. Even Dwalin cannot watch.

“Here ends your filthy bloodline!” Azog releases Fíli unceremoniously. The limp dwarf plunges to the stone before you, landing with a dull thud.

It’s so strange, that thud, because it wasn’t nearly loud enough to deafen you.

And yet no sound reaches your ears as you fall to your knees, scrambling towards Fíli. “Fíli! Fíli, Fee, please,” you gasp, pressing your hands desperately against the ragged wound in his abdomen. Whispered prayers spill past your lips—to Mahal, to Eru, to your own God, fuck, you pray to Tolkien himself. Bile rises up in your throat and threatens to choke you when your fingers instead plunge inside the hole with a squelch. It’s too wide, too deep for any gauze to fill. Blood pools beneath your hands. You search Fíli’s face. His chapped lips are parted, eyes dark and staring sightlessly at the sky. They’ll never see anything again.

You feel a hand grip your shoulder as Kíli falls next to you as well. He’s shouting something. He shouldn’t be shouting, you think dully. Fíli needs his rest so he can recover. So he can get better and he can see the birth of his baby and we can get married and he can see Thorin be crowned–

Kíli shakes you roughly and grabs your chin, turning your face to look at him. His bottom lip trembles, and it finally all breaks.

A scream tears from your throat, raw and rough and guttural, and you collapse into Kíli’s arms.

”Y/N…”

“Y/N? Y/N!”

You’re still screaming when you wake against Fíli’s chest. He pulls away to look at you. But in your sleep-addled mind, you don’t see the concern in his eyes. In the flickering firelight you still see the face from your dreams, slack-jawed and empty-eyed. You tear out of your sleeping bag and scramble to get away.

He reaches out, but you kick his arm away in panic, crawling desperately to the edge of the clearing. The Company stare at you in bewilderment as you press against the tree where you and Thorin had sat just hours before.

Balin rises from his bedroll by the fire pit and extends a hand to you, but you flinch away.

“Let me try,” comes a quiet voice from behind Balin. It’s Bilbo, who cautiously lowers himself next to you. He places a gentle hand on your arm, his face puzzled but kind. “Y/N?” He speaks softly, like you would to a frightened child. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Your fingers curl around his arm, and you bury your face in his coat, shoulders heaving. He closes his arms around you and lets you cry yourself dry.

“He’s gonna die, Bilbo, he’s gonna die,” you sob over and over again. “He’s gonna die and Kíli’s gonna die and Thorin’s gonna die and I can’t do anything because I’m not supposed to even be here…”

Bilbo doesn’t say anything, just patting your back comfortingly.

Finally, you lift your head, peering past the hobbit’s shoulder at the Company. It’s Thorin who makes a move toward you first, but he’s halted by an arrow whistling through the air and piercing the ground at his feet.

“Daro, gorn.” [Stop, dwarf (derogatory).]

A leg clad in brown leather appears before you. Tauriel’s bow is already drawn again. “Did they hurt you, my lady?”

Thorin reaches for a sword on his belt that is not there, but Tauriel raises her bow anyway.

Fíli leaps to his feet, and Tauriel turns her bow on him. At that same instant, Kíli jumps up and slides beneath her arm. He seizes you and Bilbo, pulling you from behind the elf. Tauriel starts to aim at him too, but lowers her bow when she recognizes him.

“What are you doing here?” Kíli demands, pulling you against his side. What would normally be a protective move makes your stomach turn; he had done the same in your dream.

His brother retrieves you, and you clutch at Fíli with a small whimper. He rubs your back gently, pressing your head down against his shoulder.

Tauriel’s face falters slightly as she watches the tender gesture. “I heard a pregnant woman scream and saw her trying to escape the dwarves with whom she travels. Now, have you harmed her?” she asks again.

You can feel the heat creeping up Fíli’s neck. “Harmed her?” he splutters. His fist balls up in the fabric of your tunic in anger. “Why would I harm the woman I lov–” He shuts his mouth so fast you hear his jaw snap. It was supposed to remain a secret within the Company.

You lift your head and look over your shoulder at Tauriel, who gapes at Fíli. Her narrow, green eyes find yours. “Does he speak the truth?”

Throat tight, you nod. “It’s his,” you whisper. Your legs start to fail beneath you as the adrenaline from your dream drains from your blood, and Fíli carries you back to your sleeping bag.

Tauriel doesn’t seem to know what to do, looking at the dwarves around her. Bifur and Nori look particularly mutinous—Bifur mutters something dark in Khuzdûl under his breath, running his thumb along the blade of a knife. With a sigh, Tauriel sits on the roots you and Bilbo vacated. She reaches over her shoulder and pulls a long bundle from her quiver, tossing it at Thorin’s feet.

His murderous expression turns to confusion, then surprise as he kneels and unwraps the cloth. It’s Orcrist. He looks up at her. “Is this some sort of trick?” he growls.

“No trick.”

“Why?”

She sighs again, longer and deeper this time. “I have left Mirkwood. King Thranduil did not agree with my suggestion to send a patrol to tail your party.”

A few of the dwarves take issue with that remark, but she holds her hand up to stop their shouts. “I mean only to ensure that the lady remains safe. I do not want the blood of an expecting mother on my hands.” Almost as an afterthought, she pulls another small bundle from her pack, tossing it to Fíli this time. More herbs.

“If you think I will allow an elf to follow my Company to our mountain…” Thorin doesn’t finish, instead fixing Tauriel with a furious glower.

Tauriel picks at a blade of grass. “I could return to the king and inform him of your destination,” she says lightly. “Or I could accompany you and furnish your lady with provisions that will ensure a healthier pregnancy than anything a band of dwarf men could.” She looks up at Thorin. “I would say the choice is yours, but I believe the lady’s opinion should hold more sway.”

At a loss for words, Thorin turns back to you. Glancing at Tauriel, you nod.

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Rest, Y/N,” he grunts. “We break camp at first light. Ori, Gloín, you take watch.” With a withering look in the elf’s direction, he returns to his bedroll.

Tauriel seems satisfied with this, beginning a quiet conversation with Kíli, who sits just a little too close to the she-elf. You release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Fíli gently cradles you against his chest and eases the pair of you to the ground. “You don’t have to tell me what you dreamt of if you do not want,” he whispers. “But I swear to you by all the gold in the mountain, I will never leave you.”

Your heart clenches, and tears prick at the edge of your eyes as you clutch at his arm. “Don’t make promises you don’t know you can keep.”

[uncle-dusknoir]

Mild, serious and hardy for the ask game!

- @withoutatrace-pkmn

this took way longer to answer than i expected it to

mild - on a scale of 1 to 10, how patient are you?

uuuuh like a fucking. 2, maybe?? i am not patient. i don't think i am, anyway. not with other people, at least. with pokemon, usually (thyme and skorna do not count) but if i dont have to be patient i will not be

serious - what kinds of topics do you never joke around with?

questions i assume they ask in therapy #27493

i... don't... know? i joke about a lot of shit. if i don't joke about things i think i will go actually insane. i guess, like... i dunno, basic safety. don't get crushed inside of old collapsing ruins kids

hardy - what's a pretty tough situation that you and/or your pokemon managed to get out of?

... it's not too late, yet. i think i have enough time for a story.

this is when i was... eighteen, i think. at that point i had toothy and skorna, and Toothy was still a Linoone. this is very late in our traveling- right before everything happened and i moved back to Unova.

we were in sinnoh, funny enough. the last major city we were in was Eterna, but we had gone to the underground- so we could have been almost anywhere at that point. Thyme had heard rumors that there was some sort of ruins under the city, and as always, I was gonna go with him.

by giratina, we were exhausted. even back then when i was still in shape, it was just... though thyme never showed it. i hated it, sometimes, that stupid grin on his face. i guess that's the one good thing about him being a dusknoir, he can't grin-

that's. off topic.

We'd set up a little camp in a small cave we found; I thought it was something left from the stream of miners. It just looked like it had been torn from the side of the wall, as if something had reached into the earth and pulled it out like a child digging holes with their hands. it seemed safe enough, stable enough; and after all, barely any pokemon lived down there. we were fine.

we woke up to the sound of something rumbling, and for a minute, i thought that we had fallen asleep in an onix's mouth, because the cave looked like it was starting to close in. which is, you know, Not Fucking Great, considering at that time all we had was my linoone, thyme's banette who was asleep in her pokeball, and a shitty dead bird that lived in my brain; so i do, you know, the first thing i could think of, which is try and Stop The Cave In With My Bare Hands.

(my shoulders are still a little fucked up from that)

toothy, my son, suddenly DARTS past me like a bullet, and right before me and thyme are caved in, manages to escape. he's my son so my first thought, obviously, is 'well at least one of us is gonna survive' before i hear the sound of something getting its ass absolutely whooped, and then something really bright flashing through the rocks, and then the rocks shattering into god damn dust

little motherfucker whooped the ass of what i can only assumed to be someone's released Rampardos before Evolving and Brick Breaking us out of there!! the only thing im sad about is that i didnt get to see him actually evolve, but a small price to pay for Being Alive

[ceadgearst]

I'm trying to help myself (long verse, long poem)

Ceadgearst

TW: mentions of self harm, mental health issues

Idk idk idk idk idk idk idk idk idk idk

Idk idk idk idk idk idk idk idk idk idk

Idk idk idk idk idk idk idk idk idk idk

I

decay

Where I stay

Watch me rot away in your face

I'm a waste I'm the waste

I stand on top of the world

With my favorite girl

And I twirl her around

There is music I can't hear a sound

Except for our heartbeats or maybe if she happens to speak

She gets me weak I feel so meek I rumble underneath

With my tongue inside her cheek

I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish

For what I had

I am glad but now I am sad

I am mad at myself for that gross negligence of wealth

Not in gold

but in good

I had everything I should

And I could've done more

So? Poor me

I weep in jealousy

I feel in envy of all I see

All the homies that don't talk to me

Sometimes I wonder what I could be if I never had to bleed

I wonder what it's like I think about it like a greed

I wish I was freed

But I'm always bound by something

But at the same time my wrists will remind me of the binds

Just like the pain in the back of my spine

Or my experiences uniquely mine

I wish I was fine

but I'm looking for a status quo that I don't actually know

I wish I could sit in the snow

And just lay there surrounded by a sea

That blends into me like light on a shadow

I'm glad though

that I've seen what I've seen sometimes because I can't mistake life for a dream

I see the cognation and the machine

The violence and the beauty seen

It makes me wanna scream because everything is a contradiction at it's seam

Do you dream?

Did you have a good dream?

I had a good one

We were basking in the sun

and we went to the lake and had a lot of fun

I can still taste your lips, the gloss, the caprisun

Did you think that I was done?

I'm only getting started

The way God drew you is the best art he ever did

I love you from head to shin

Beyond and in

When I look at you my future begins

I feel like you're my lucky girl at cards, when you're there I'm in

You came from the stars

I guess we all did but it's more apparent with you

it's true

there's something inside you stronger than glue

I feel the spirit in you and I just feel blessed by you

Ooo

I just love you

Delirious

I'm curious if I'm all that serious

Near to this thought is maybe that I'm not

if there was a shot

I would take it yeah not

My dad was named dot

and I hope he gets shot

He's everything I'm not and I'm actually pretty grateful cause he's a pretty hateful

guy I seen the devil in his eyes

Maybe I hope he dies

But part of me hopes he'll pull up to me with a burger and some fries

And say "sorry for all those years of lies"

But I would be too surprised so I'd probably expire and then my dad's engine would catch on fire

Me going somewhere and him going down

I don't know the fate of me the clown

There's others I can dam cause I know they're evil fucks

But when I weigh myself either way I don't feel enough

So maybe I'll just be a ghost or some stuff

That would be rough but it would be enough for me to read the newspaper

And ask all the questions about the tomorrow of later

I don't know, I'm rambling unstable

It's 3:48 it's pretty late but I gotta be up for some stuff around 7

I wish there was heaven but all I see is earth

The sky and it's girth

The sun in it's worth

The dirt the roots the earth's tooth

The rocks I tossed

like the stars when crossed

I lost my why somewhere down the line

so I confine myself to what I think is fine

This is mine

Cause there's nothing here

But empty fears and anxieties

Clothing stuck in the nineties

I smile kindly and then the memories remind me

Why I have no parents and I do my own arrends

Everyone talks to me how far it is to drive

When I walk everywhere just to keep alive

To get food to eat

A job to scorn

I get torn in half

And then I laugh like everyday

These emotions never stay

Just like the seasons I always change

But lately it feels like global warming isn't it strange

A flow of conscious I'm honest in what I think when I write with no ink simply sitting somewhere where I can think and breathe and talk to myself with ease

I've been alone for too long

I can't keep singing the song that's just wrong that hurts the ones I love but I just don't get it just because I think I do enough but I struggle to understand love

There is pain in something that'll you'll never read

There is life in every seed

That the crows pick up when they need to feed

October is my favorite month maybe just because I found my love then and that's enough

In my past years Octobers were so rough

But now with her I just feel so much love

I never want it to stop

But I don't want to scare her

Away

I want to keep her to stay

I want to lay with her all day

Pray to who you believe

The honest god, not the one that thieves

I feel the rain in my knees in my nose

The smell white people act like they don't know

The older I get the more I see my mom in my face

It makes me cry when I waste

huh

[lionguarded]

[ dress ]   your muse having mine dress up in lingerie. (Dante)

@ofwings-andclaws; urmmm did this escalate? yep. to my defense.. we know silas struggles with sexy clothes ahaha

mother nature could fuckin' fuck herself.

seriously, though.

silas was not joking, nor was he just ... angry at her. it was so much more than that. so. much. more. anguish. he felt anguish & it was her fault, entirely. she brought dante into his life, she made silas so he couldn't withstand, so he couldn't free himself from the alpha's grasp - no matter how hard he struggled. life within dante's bed was so much warmer than away. but he struggled nonetheless. he'd ... knelt - submitted his very self to him.

yet dante always found something else to demand, every glimmer of pride silas found within himself quickly dimmed & the omega was angry. like the cage wasn't torment enough - dante wasn't sated. he never was. the day dante found complete & utter satisfaction would surely go down in new haven's history.

"c'mon cariño. just once, it'll look good on you. try it on. you can take it off if you don't like it."

....dante said. well, his alpha was a little fuckin' shit of an alpha & one day... one fucking day silas would really punch him in his stupidly handsome face. until then, though.. well. he'd ... comply. what else was he supposed to do? how could he possibly deny him that request when he sat there... on their bed, shimmering crimson in his direction. fuck him, sideways. all the fuckin' ways.

sindra would have a fuckin' field day if he knew the lengths silas went to please his dumbass idiot of an alpha. you never tried to please me, he could practically hear him say. yeah, well - dante wasn't .... ugh. he was a douche & silas wanted to strangle him on the regular, but .. it was different than in the royal city.

which was the only reason he.... left the bathroom. yes, he'd fuckin' undressed in private. fuck everybody who had a problem with that. silas had only few qualms about his body, or nudity - his issue was what he was supposed to wear. that ...thing.

"lavender..."

it was light fuckin' purple.

"lavender's gonna look great on you."

uhuh.

leaving the bathroom... was ..not easy. silas was seething when he did, brows furrowed hard - that stupid piece of cloth, which .. wasn't much at all & his backside saw even less fabric than the front. where did he even... get this? & why? what had he done to anger him into asking him to wear this? hadn't he suffered enough?

fuck you, mother nature. i mean it. set a foot on earth, you're dead.

the grin on the alpha's face... gods, he was begging for a good, hard punch. one that made his teeth creak in terror. "happy?" low rumble. he was not ... happy. not at all.

"c'mon, turn around. let me see the other side."

..... mother nature, why are you testing my self-control? i'm trying to cut back on the bloodshed.

he tur—

"slower."

......deep breath. he turned around ...slower.

stop being cute. i hate you. the purr he could hear across the damn fuckin' room wouldn't save dante's hide when he was dressed again. silas didn't like thongs. he didn't get their purpose - no matter how often dante explained - in vivid detail & with examples for practical experience. he didn't... get what was wrong with just... taking off his briefs instead. then again... it was dante. he hardly made sense.

"on the bed. arch."

oh, how silas wished he could claim he didn't know what that meant. but dante had been very thorough in his ....education & unfortunately for him, silas was a good study & while dante fiddled with something behind him, he... climbed on the bed to ... arch. the mattress dipped under the alpha's weight, but otherwise ... he was quiet, his hands exploring. as if to emphasize how important this was, his hands solemnly focused on his bottom half, gracefully ignoring his front - not that there would be much use for attention with the cage in place - but still.

naked palm laid flat against an ass cheek & squeezed not-so-gently, but when he pulled away... the other found the same cheek, only this time... leather met skin in frenzy. slap.

... he wouldn't dare.

slap.

mother nature, just tell me what i did? i can fix this.

[projectorpheus]

NAIAD ⋅𖥔⋅ 28, W ⋅𖥔⋅ PERSUASION

trigger warning: cults

Perhaps in another world; in one where the Earth isn't dying and no one goes to bed hungry, you would have been a poet; a philosopher; an artist. But in this world — YOU'LL SETTLE FOR BEING WORSHIPPED. You were born with a music note stuck in your throat, stained by a melody the world had thought forgotten. There is no need for the art in this barren land other than the sound of gunshots at night, keeping rhythm for clocks that have long run out of battery; no use for fairytales when we all know how the story is destined to end, don't we? Death. Always death.

Yet you stayed true to yourself. You pulled out their doubts like baby teeth and let the blood stain your fangs pink. Soft. Romantic. The color of the sun before it sets — rare and wondrous, like a dream wherein the sky isn't fogged with pollution and you can stand under the warmth of the stars; feel the rain settle upon your lashes like the flutter of butterfly wings. Here, the droplets don't eat away at your skin like hungry fish nipping at fresh bait. Here, there is no hunger; no pain — the birds sing their bright tunes and you aren't reminded of rumbling within your stomach; you dangle your feet at the edge of the blue ocean, and it doesn't stretch open its jaw to swallow you whole.

They follow you now, ants lulled by the promise of honey. Lining up to hear your stories — to escape from a life that has left them battered and bruised. Food is dry, bitter. But your stories are just the right amount of sweet to chase reality away. They offer you their meals; they protect you like sunken treasure they've waited their entire lives to find. And you? Perhaps it should fill you with guilt to watch them wither away, bones aching for the very sustenance they present to you for just one more story. But you're not the god they make you to be. You're an artist, a creator — AND DEATH IS THE MOTHER OF CREATION.

DYNAMICS

HALIMEDE  ⋅𖥔⋅ I WAS A WINGED OBSESSIVE, MY MOONLIT FEATHERS WERE PAPER

Muse. It was by pure coincidence that you met him; in your early days of storytelling wherein your followers were few and you had to yell in order for your voice to carry above violence's incessant hum. And you recognized him immediately — prodigal son, S Corp heir. Aboveground. Delivering resources. Clearly stolen but dearly coveted nonetheless, those around you staring up at him with tears in their eyes and gratitude upon their lips. It made your stomach turn, the hero-worship for a man giving out mere scraps when he had an empire at his fingertips. BUT IT MADE FOR A GOOD STORY, NONETHELESS. Your tales of him were what started your fame, crowds eager to hear of the Robin Hood that would save them from the dark. You know he can't save anyone. You know he's doing this for nothing more than an inflated ego. Still, you drape his image in golden metaphor; assert that it's ichor that flows through his veins. At night, when your belly is full and you seclude yourself in your followers' safety, you laugh and laugh. Here's the thing about heroes — THEY NEVER LIVE.

SAGAN  ⋅𖥔⋅ HERE I WILL TELL YOU HOW THE STORY ENDS ALL THE POSSIBLE WAYS AND YOU WILL FIND ME IN EACH OF THEM

Your companionship was brief, but their presence will forever be etched into your memory by the way they left. You found them one night, injured and confused, donning clothing too fine to be risked by the elements aboveground. You took them in; you couldn't help it — always craving a good story. But they had no memory of how they got there, their mind splintered and their words more riddle than dialogue. You would have thrown them out to save resources if the way they clung to you had been any less pitiful, mouth gaping at your tales, consuming them in a desperation you had yet to witness. It almost made you hesitate when the news reached your screen of an escaped S Corp asset, their face rendered in stunning detail. But sentimentality has no place here, and the bounty was enough to compensate your loss of companionship. You never bothered to ask why they were wanted, or what punishment they could receive that could be worse than living aboveground. But sometimes, when the chatter ceases and the winds are silent, you hear the echo of their wail as they were dragged away by armed Enforcers.

SYCORAX  ⋅𖥔⋅ I WILL VANISH IN THE MORNING LIGHT, I WAS ONLY AN INVENTION OF DARKNESS.

Once, they had been your most promising client — rich, underground, and bored. There were even times when you allowed yourself to dream that they would whisk you away to the underground city; where you would finally be free of this endless fight for survival. You would lose your following, but you didn't quite mind. In the underground city, you could stop telling stories for food and simply write for yourself. But you should have known better than to dream. You are the weaver of stories. You are the one who creates the illusions; who paints them to astounding reality. When all communication was cut off without warning or apology, you realized that, for once, you had allowed yourself to become trapped in your own web of hope.

TAKEN BY ELLE ⋅𖥔⋅ ANOK YAI

[fagdykevash]

[ID: A compilation of tweets.

1. Tage Erlinger (@ TageErlinger): Haha, what a wicked and ironic comment bro. Now try saying someting true and beautiful

2. Coffee Lovers and Fans (@ tonyhawktruther): NASA just revealed a heaven-like planet where you can drink a beer at the lake. And they're calling it Earth

3. Theo Fanning (@ TheoFanning): After 50 years, Guitar Center finally makes the correct decision to stop using a guitar as a 'G' in their logo. Why it took that long is still anyone's guess. (Attached: the old and new Guitar Center logos) frog "kid Omelas" kosaric (@ yurirando) quote-tweeted: when they burned the library of Alexandria the crowd cheered in horrible joy. They understood that there was something older than wisdom, and it was fire, and something truer than words, and it was ashes

4. miss en abyme (@ saturnalreturn): Standing in front of the sun and doing shadow puppet shows on the moon

5. Linux (@ linux): When I kill God I will find the spigot from which he meters out grace and smash it permanently open

6. tania (@ boywaif): I had a french professor who once said if you just did something like going to the supermarket and experienced it fully without the goggles of habit and catégories you would go crazy with pure sense and joy. I think about it all the time. In a way this is all for him.

7. sand ghost (@ moutheaters): Me: Is the natural state of the soul quiet or chaos? Taco Bell cashier: Look buddy, it's transient, shifting like water

8. lil stinker (@ superlameballs): guys will make something called "the ultimate treat" and it's just a meatball sub it's just a meatball sub made on sub toasted garlic bread with cheese. homemade sauce, and all the love in their heart- their heart so filled to bursting with love you can taste it in the sandwich.

9. kat, your DM (@ kazzbotz): Whenever you're obsessed with stopping a prophecy you gotta ask yourself: am I enacting the prophecy's will? Is my obsession the mechanism by which the prophecy comes to pass?

10. Matthew (@ CrowsFault): People speak of hope as if it is this delicate, ephemeral thing made of whispers and spider's webs. It's not. Hope has dirt on her face, blood on her knuckles, the grit of the cobblestones in her hair, and just spat out a tooth as she rises for another go.

11. SOUL fembot (@_fembot): Its always "why did you not sleep" or "how many coffys did you have" and never "was the night dark and endless and full of promise"

12. [A thread:] John (@logicalpathos): This dog looks like my dog from my teenage years, Daisy. God I miss Daisy. aro (@ Arolexion): I miss daisy too dais (@ daisdNDconfused): It's okay… I was reincarnated into a real girl John (@ logicalpathos): Do you remember how we used to run

13. jims (@bubberdunkus): i'd tickle a fish if the wet chime of its laughter could heal us

14. lilies abounded (@petfurniture): i hope death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child & fell asleep on the couch during a family party. i hope you can hear the laughter from the next room

15. Linux (@ linux): We cracked open the skulls of our masters and found nothing but flesh and blood

16. [A thread:] azhar (@ emokendallroy) is there anyone even named sheldon irl? creature from the black leagoon (@ bigfatmoosepssy): my class turtle from 6th Grade :) erin m. brady (@ erinmartina): that's a turtle creature from the black leagoon (@ bigfatmoosepssy): When God sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir

17. sio (@ bestinsio): subway rat made eye contact with me and said "join us. when the train comes we slide under the tracks and feel it rumble over us like a warm thunderstorm. we live forever and we love to live" I said no thank you I am too large he turned away from me I cried

18. Not a wolf @sickofwolves: (in all caps) I hope this e-mail does not find you I hope your chair has grown over with moss I hope a pleasant but unobserved beam of light hits your desk perfectly through the collapsed ceiling I hope the silence is deafening.

End ID]

an incomplete collection of tweets i consider to be short poems