#ohhh ash you’ve done it now.

[hermithomebase]

oh he did 😘

https://twitter.com/ashkabosu/status/1682736044477755394?s=46&t=QMPvHE9vT3rqnp3tgDfRkg

i love that man.. wore a 1975 tshirt yesterday even.. YOU COULD NOT PAY ME ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY TO DEFEND THAT MAN ON THE INTERNET ARE YOU KIDDING ME 😭😭😭 HE IS CHRONICALLY RETARDED LET HIM BURN ALONE

[pikapeppa]

Karlach/Dammon: Burning Blue

A wish fulfillment fic to answer the question: what if Dammon was the lucky guy to break Karlach's ten-year celibacy streak?

NSFW smut, ~7500 words, from Karlach's precious POV. This takes place the same night that Dammon makes Karlach very touchable again. 🥰 Read here on AO3 instead.

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I’m nervous. Gods, I’m fucking nervous. No, no, don’t be nervous, Big K, you’ve got this. It’s nothing you haven’t done before! It’s just a good old-fashioned come-on, that’s all. Just a good old-fashioned invitation for Dammon to do the beast with two backs with you. No sweat, nothing to worry about, no reason to feel like your engine’s gonna thrum its way right out of your chest.

Ugh, fine, I’m nervous. I’ll admit it, all right? I’m nervous. But how can you blame me? It’s been a decade since I laid a finger on another living soul. One who wasn’t a hellspawn or trying to kill me, I should say. Yeah, the Avernus kind of laying-a-finger-on-someone is really not what I have in mind right now.

All right, there he is. I mean, of course he’s there, it’s his smithy setup in the barn, where the fuck else would be be? Shit, I’m so nervous. What if he says no? What if he doesn’t want to hit the bedroll with me? I might just crumble up into a pile of ash on the spot if he turns me down…

Ohhh, no you don’t. No more doubt. Not another negative word, you hear me? We’re doing this. Come on, soldier, shape up, be confident, all right? Just be your usual big beautiful bold badass self, just like Brynn said. Back straight, head high, tail-barb up: come on, girl, you can do this.

“Dammon! Hi! How’s the hammering going?” Nice, good start. Solid greeting, nothing weird about that.

“Karlach!” he says. “You’re back. I thought you were off to camp for the night.”

He’s smiling at me. Gods, does he ever have a nice smile. It’s like his whole face gets lit up with sunshine. And those eyes? Phwoar. I wonder if anyone’s ever told him how pretty his eyes are. Like two big blue jewels. Or like lightning turned into jewels. Wait, what’s all this nonsense I’m saying? I think I’ve been spending too much time with Gale. Ha, saying something would be a good idea right about now, wouldn’t it?

“Yeah, I’m back. I was wondering, do you — are you done for the day?” It looks like he’s done for the day. His forge is still hot, but it’s just coals now rather than a big old fire. Gods, I hope he’s done for the day.

“Yes, I’m just finishing up,” he says (yay!). “Did you need something repaired? I can rekindle the fire, it’s no problem—”

“No, no, all good. Everything’s tip-top, thanks to you. Listen, I was wondering: d’you want to have a drink with me?”

His whole face lights up, and my gods, I swear: if I had a heart, it would’ve done a fluttery thing like something from a romance book. “That sounds great. Let’s go on inside.” He hangs up his apron, and then we’re heading to the inn.

Yes! First step done, we’re off to a cracking good start! Here we go, inside the inn for a drink, just me and Dammon. How great is this? I mean, not that it’s not wonderful being with Brynn and Wyll and all the rest of those adorable little dumplings, but there’s something special to be said about being alone with just you and the person you’ve got mad horns for.

Here we are, at the door to the inn — and Dammon touches my shoulder. “Go ahead.”

He’s touching my shoulder. His hand, that strong callused hand on my shoulder. He’s touching me, he can touch me, and it’s all thanks to him. Gods, I want to ride him until the sun comes up.

Keep it together, Karlach. Stay cool until you find out if he wants this too. Ha, stay cool! I can sort of almost do that now! Enough for touching, at least, which is all I want in the world right now, and Dammon is touching my shoulder, and… and I should probably get inside the inn now.

I step inside — quick little rub of Darkmaw’s paw for luck. Ooh, Jaheira is still awake, I love her, she’s so damned cool!

Dammon leads me to one of the tables near the bar. “What can I get you? Wine? Beer? The beer is even cold, thanks to Jaheira—”

“Cold beer? Sign me the fuck up!”

He smiles — ugh, swoon! — and off he goes to the bar to find some beer. And here I am, sitting at this table, happier than the happiest clam that ever lived in the sandy banks of the Chionthar. Ha, that was a funny line! I mean, I think it was funny. I bet Wyll will, too. I’ll have to tell him about it — maybe he can add it to one of his stories!

Gods, this inn is nice: all candle-lit and quiet since it’s nighttime, real cozy-like. Perfect for telling a certain smith that he’s one of the kindest, warmest, most wonderful people you’ve ever met and that you fancy his pants off — literally, if he wants it that way. Ohh, I’m getting nervous again. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s going to be fine.

Dammon comes back and sets down two steins. “Are you all right?”

“I’m better than all right. I’m fantastic.” I lift my stein. “Cheers to you, Dammon. For everything. I really mean that.”

Another killer smile. “Cheers back to you, Karlach.” He taps his stein to mine, then brings it to his mouth, and I do the same — ohhh, beer. Cold beer, my gods, I’d forgotten exactly how good this was! I take another swallow and another — okay, honestly, I am so thirsty. And now I’m out of beer, and Dammon is smiling at me, and no, no, I can’t throw myself at him across the table, I can’t.

He chuckles and puts down his stein. “Can I get you another?”

“Naw, I’m good,” I laugh. “This was great, thanks.”

He nods and rests his elbows on the table (hellooo, rolled-up sleeves and forearms). “So what did you want to talk about? Do you have questions about your engine?”

“No, it’s not that.” No fucking way am I thinking about that right now. “I wanted to ask if, um…” Don’t be nervous, girl. You’ve got this. “You said before that I was — that I’m… touchable. Very touchable.”

Oh no, his smile’s fading. “Yeah, I did. I’m…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about that. Maybe I crossed a line…? This is a big — a huge deal for you, I know it must be overwhelming, the last thing you need—”

Wait wait wait! “Hang on, slow down. You think you crossed a line?”

“I… didn’t I? That’s not what you wanted to say?”

“Hells, no!” Woah, voice down, there are people sleeping in the room next door. “Are you kidding?” I say (quietly). “If that’s what you call crossing the line, I want you to cross all the lines.”

He looks gobsmacked now, which is really fucking cute. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. I really, really do. If you want to, I mean. I don’t — I mean, I know I’m a lot of heat to handle, but I…” Fuck, my engine feels like it’s roaring. Please, gods, let him want this too. “I want to be with you, Dammon. I… It’s been so long since I was with anyone, and — and now that I can be with someone, I… I want it to be you.”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s staring at me like a fish, actually. Oh fuck, am I totally off base here? Noooo. “No pressure, though! No — I mean, if you’re not into… If I’m jumping the hatchet here, that’s totally fine, it’s not a problem—”

“No!” he blurts. “It’s not that. Believe me, Karlach, it’s not that I don’t want to. I mean — what I mean is that I…” He’s smiling again, thank all the fucking gods. “I would love to be with you, actually. I just… I can’t believe it’s me you want.”

I would love to be with you. I would love to be with you. He said that, right? Those were the words he said? Dammon the amazing smith with the amazing sinew-y hands said that to me, right? Oh shit, he’s still talking.

He gestures at me. “I mean, look at you. You’re Karlach. The Karlach, the destroyer of demons and devilspawn. You’re a hero.”

Oh my gods. Is that really what he thinks? “Wha—? Oh come on! It’s not like that.”

“It is like that,” he insists. “Haven’t you spoken to the kids? Mattis and Ide and them? I mean, I know you have, but you know they worship you, right? You’re like a goddess to them.” He looks around like he’s checking for spies, then lowers his voice. “Honestly? I think you’re better for them than a goddess, because you’re real to them. You mean something to them, Karlach. You’ve given them someone to look up to. That’s no small thing for a group of tiefling kids with no parents to look up to anymore.”

Fuck, I’m gonna cry. He doesn’t even know about Mum and Dad, and he hit the nail right on the fucking head.

He touches my hand — oh fuck, he’s not just touching my hand, but holding my hand. Turning my hand over on the table, his fingers sliding over my palm, his fingers curling into mine like he did right after he fixed me… Gods, my entire throat is full of fucking tears.

“I would love to be with you, Karlach,” he says in the softest voice. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”

Oh, hells. He’s going to make me weep. Swallow it down, soldier, gulp those tears down! “Let’s get outta here. Will you come back to my camp?”

“Actually…” Ooh, what’s this cheeky look on his face? Cute! “Would you be interested in a bed?”

What? No way! “A bed? You’ve got a claim on one of the beds here?”

“Sort of. Me and the other grown-ups have a rotation with one of the rooms upstairs. Taking turns having a little peace and privacy for a night.”

“You and the grown-ups?”

“Yeah — well, we offered to the kids, too, but they want to stay together on the main floor, where the Harpers are. Can’t really blame them, either. But anyway, um, what I was trying to say is, um.” He clears his throat. “If you’d rather use a bed than a bedroll, there’s—”

I’m already on my feet. “Bed. You and me. Now.”

He smiles — gods, that brilliant smile. And he’s on his feet too now, we’re heading for the stairs — oh my gods, he’s holding my hand again. Dammon is holding my hand, his fingers are between my fingers, how fucking nice is this? How long have I been thinking about this — no, dreaming about this? Easy, Karlach, keep those tears in your eyes.

He gives me a little smile as we walk up the stairs. “Fair warning that it was Rolan’s turn in the bed last night, so it might smell a little magical.”

What! Is that a thing? Gale and Brynn never said that was a thing! “Really? What does magic smell like?”

“Oh, no, I — I’m just joking.” Dammon smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “It was a bad joke. Sorry. Pretend you didn’t—”

I kiss him. How could I not kiss him? He’s so — oh, gods, he’s kissing me. His lips, my lips, his hands in mine, we’re — we’re kissing, we’re kissing! Dammon the smith is kissing me, and he’s… Would it be naff as all the hells if I said he was dreamy? Fuck it, who cares if it’s naff? He is gods-damned dreamy. As much as his hands are callused, his lips are so fucking soft, and I’m… I am melting. I swear, I’m melting, he’s making my lips melt apart like a hot knife in butter, he’s touching his tongue to mine… Gods, his hands though? How he uses them? This is fucking magic. His thumbs are sliding over my wrists, his palms skimming up my arms, over my shoulders, oh gods, oh gods oh gods…!

His hands cradle my neck, and his tongue slides into my mouth, and I’m — I’m… I can’t think. I can’t think, I can’t — I can just feel. I feel him: his lips his tongue his hands — how close he is, the nearness of his body to mine, I feel… fuck, I feel everything, every touch of his fingers and every stroke of his tongue, and I — he — shit, was that me? That little kitten-y sound: was that actually me? I’ve never made a sound like that in my life.

He breaks the kiss, presses his horns to mine. “Are you all right?”

I’m a puddle. I can’t talk. I just nod.

He smiles (arghhh, as if I’m not melted enough already!). “You’re burning blue,” he whispers.

Huh? “Huh?”

“You’re burning blue.” He rests his palm on my chest — oh shit, I really am burning blue. I… I’m burning blue but — but I’m not burning him!

“You’re…” My hand’s fucking shaking as I press it over his. “You don’t feel that? Not even a little singe?”

“Not even a little singe.” His eyebrows do that little mischief-quirky thing. “I told you, I’m good.”

I laugh. I can’t help it: I’m as giddy as a kid on her birthday. “Oh ho-ho, boy, you don’t know what you’re doing by saying things like that in a voice like that.” I step closer to him.

His gorgeous smile gets even bigger. “Or maybe I know exactly what I’m doing,” he says, still in that voice — oh, gods yes, his hands are on my neck again, so callused and so fucking gentle—

“Ahem.”

Fuck, Jaheira’s right behind us! “J-Jaheira! I mean, uh, ma’am!” Shit, should I bow to her? What should I do? She’s looking at me!

She smiles — the Jaheira is smiling at me! — then tilts her head. “Karlach, is it?”

She remembers my name! Snap to attention, soldier! “Yes ma’am, that’s me.”

She nods to Dammon too. “Dammon. Good evening. Let it be known that no one begrudges you your fun, but perhaps you should have it elsewhere that isn’t right at the top of the stairs. The only stairs that leads to the upper floor…?”

All right, now I’m going to melt from embarrassment. “Of course! Right! Uh, right! Uh—”

Dammon cuts me off, thank fuck. “Sorry, Jaheira,” he says. “We’ll get out of your way. Out of the way, I mean.” He takes my hand again, and I’m following him down the hall to one of the rooms: a simple little room with a nice cushy-looking double bed.

He leads me inside and closes the door. We look at each other. And we just crack up, we just totally — we’re both laughing like loons, just laughing so hard I can hardly fucking breathe. Augh, my ribs are starting to hurt, I’m laughing so hard!

“Here, sit down,” Dammon chuckles. He leads me over to the bed, and I let him guide me there.

Then I push him down and straddle him.

His gorgeous eyes get big. “Oh! Are you—”

I kiss him again — gods, he’s so delicious. Soft lips, hot tongue, strong hands: oh, I could just die for the touch of his hands. They’re circling my waist, they’re gripping my hips, they’re curling around my thighs… Fuuuck, gods, I’m sparking. Feels like everything’s sparking, like everywhere he touches is shooting with sparks, and I can’t… I can’t wait. I can’t wait anymore. I need more, I need his fucking hands, I need his hands on my skin.

I rip off my top and chuck it on the floor, and his baby-blues drop to my tits. “W-wow. I—”

I grab his collar and I shove my tongue into his mouth — fuck, his tongue tangling with mine: mm, just imagine feeling that sweet tongue in other places… Hellfire take me, I need this man more than I need air.

I climb off of him and start unbuttoning the ol’ trousers, and he grabs my hands. “Hey, hey. Easy, Karlach. Slow down. You don’t need to rush.”

Easy? Slow down? He’s kidding, right? It’s like I’ve never known the meaning of the word. “I…” Fuck, I’m breathing hard, I’m breathing so hard, and every breath feels like it’s making me hotter. Easy, Karlach, slow it down for him.

I gulp down a breath. “I hear you, soldier. But I have to tell you, I… Sometimes it feels like I’ve only got two modes: off, and on-on-on. I don’t…” Damn it, Karlach, breathe. “You might need to show me how to do this slowing-down thing.”

He smiles, and I swear, something inside of me absolutely melts. He’s got this way about him when he smiles, like his smile makes his face softer even when he’s showing his teeth, and it just… It’s such a special smile, you know? Like the way it feels when your mum watches you eating your favourite meal that she made? That’s how Dammon’s smile feels, and I swear on my life, if I still had a heart, it would be swelling up to five times its normal size.

He shifts off of the bed. “I’m happy to show you,” he says, and gods save me, he’s using that voice again. “Maybe I can start with…?” He gestures at my trousers and gives me a can-I? kind of look.

“Yes,” I say loudly. “Fuck yes.”

A big brilliant smile, and then he’s — ah, fuck yes, he’s undoing the buttons on my pants. He’s popping the buttons one by one, not even touching me as he does it, but I swear to all the gods, watching him do this is making me hotter than I’ve ever been in my life. And that includes when Zariel first put this fucking engine in my chest. No, don’t think about Zariel, forget about her.

Dammon pops the last button, then looks at me. “Can I take them off?”

“Please. Rip them off for all I care!”

He grins — gods, he’s a stupidly beautiful man. He’s pulling down my shabby trousers now, finally, pulling the damn things down over my hips and my ass and — oh. Oh my gods, oh my gods he’s kneeling in front of me this is not a drill!.

He sighs. “Karlach, you’re… really beautiful, you know that?”

He’s kneeling in front of me. Dammon is kneeling in front of me. He’s looking at me, his hand is curled around my ankle, and — oh, fuck me, his tail-barb is tracing my calf, his tail is coiling around my calf. His tail, his hand, his — even just his beautiful blue eyes on my skin: he’s seeing me, all of me, my bare fucking skin that nobody’s seen for ten fucking years.

“Are you all right?” His tail-barb strokes my knee, his hand squeezes my calf — fuck, I can’t cope with this.

I grab his shirt and pull. “Please, I — please, Dammon!”

He stands up. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

I kiss him again. I know, I know, I keep fucking doing it, I keep sticking my tongue down his throat, but he’s so… I… Fuck, his hands are on my hips, on my back, he’s — shit, he’s stroking my shoulder blades. His fingers are tracing over my vents like it’s the most normal thing in the world to touch a woman with fucking vents in her skin, and I’m… I feel so… It’s like I’m full, my chest, my tummy, it’s like I’m so, so full — but it just reminds me of how empty I’ve been for so long. And I need him to… I need more. I have to have more. I need him to remind me of how good it is to feel this fucking full.

I grip his collar. “I need you naked. Right now.”

He laughs: argh, that laugh, how soft it is, how sweet! “I thought you wanted me to show you ‘slow’.”

“You can show me slow with your kit off.” I know what I sound like, I sound desperate as all the hells, but I do not fucking care. A river of blue heat is running through my veins, and my skin is fucking vibrating for more: more of him, more of his skin touching mine — gods, I want to slide against him like we’ve both been fucking greased.

“All right,” he chuckles. “You talked me into it.” He takes off his scarf, then starts taking off his vest, and I start working on his belt. I’m just helping, right? Just being a good old helper, that’s me. Ha, his belt is off, his vest is off, just a pesky shirt and trousers now — oh-ho, he’s a fast one with the shirt, we love a man who can strip like a fast-changer at the circus! It’s just the trousers left now. I grab for his laces —

Oh yes, he’s kissing me. His hands on my neck, his tongue so fucking sweet and slow in my mouth — gods alive, kissing is fantastic, so fucking fantastic it’s unreal. He’s pulling me close, his hands on my hips and his chest — fuuuck me Dammon, his sternal ridges are rubbing my nipples.

I can’t fucking cope. I can’t fucking cope, I can’t think, it feels so fucking good, I’m making that noise again like a hungry kitten begging for milk…

He peels his lips from mine. “See? I knew you could do it.”

“Do what?” I whimper. Yes, I whimpered like a kitten, all right? Whatever, shut up about it.

“You’re going slow,” he says in that voice. “You’re doing it right now.”

I’ve not a clue what he’s talking about. I’ve never felt less slow in my whole fucking life. “What do you mean?”

“My trousers,” he says. “You stopped trying to take them off.”

I burst out laughing. (It’s mostly hysteria, I’m fucking telling you.) “It’s not ‘cause I want to stop! I just can’t, uh…” Oh gods oh gods: his tail. His tail-barb is caressing my butt and giving me shivers — gods, what a life! When was the last time I got a shiver about anything? — oh my fucking gods, his tail is twining around my thigh.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m alive with desire, I’m so fucking alive, and all he’s doing is curling his tail around my upper thigh. But his tail is so close — he’s so close, the smooth heat of his tail curling so fucking close to where I’m burning so hot…

That kitten noise squeaks out of me again. “Dammon, please…” I stroke his chest — my palms on his chest, my fingers on the ridges of his ribs, I’m touching him. I’m pressed against him from thigh to chest, I’m pulling him closer with my tail, I’m petting the ridges of his back and his shoulder blades — ooh, he’s got wingtips!

“You have wingtips!” I gasp. “Aw, how lucky are you? My mum always said these were good luck!”

He laughs that precious little laugh. “My grandmother said the same. Said it means I’ll be able to fly in my next life.”

“Aww, I love that. Makes me extra-wish I had a pair myself.” I trace the sharp little hooks with my fingers, then keep running my hands over the ridges of his back. Damn, skin is amazing. It’s really an amazing, amazing thing, and nobody even bothers to think about how amazing it is. Skin and muscles, too, like these nice wiry ropes of muscles in his upper back and his arms… Phwoar, his arms are bloody fit. I mean, of course they are, he’s a fucking smith, but still: I didn’t realize just how damn fit he was under his clothes. And these veins in his forearms? The way they pop, and the burn scars on his forearms and his hands? He might even have more scars on his arms and hands than I do, which is saying a hell of a lot.

Hellfire fucking take me, he is gods-damned beautiful. The scars, the ridges of his spine and his sternum, the wiry muscle of his smithy’s bod — not just his body, either, but his jaw, his nose, that heart-melting jewel-eyed smile…

Oops. Embarrassing. I went totally silent while I was touching him. “Sorry. Went into my own little world for a minute there.”

Another soft laugh. “Don’t even think about being sorry,” he says, and he lifts his hand… Ohhh, he’s touching my cheek. He’s holding my cheek in his palm, just cradling my cheek like it’s a baby bird… How long has it been since I’ve had a hand on my cheek? A nice hand, mind you, not a blood-covered clawed hand trying to gouge my eyes out. Too fucking long, that’s how: too fucking long with no caring hands to touch me or hold me or hug me when things got fucking rough. But that’s all over now, thanks to Dammon. I can touch and be touched, I can kiss and be kissed, I can climb this rip-roaringly gorgeous man in front of me, and I swear to every god that’s listening that that’s what I’m going to do all night long.

I kiss him and pull him close with my hands and tail. I stroke his spine with my tail-barb, I lick his tongue like it’s the sweetest thing in all the realms, I rub myself against him like I’m some pent-up kid who doesn’t know what they’re doing yet, and it all feels fucking fantastic. And he’s touching me too, his claws scratching my neck so super-gently while we kiss, his hands on my back, my hips — wowee, his hands on my ass! I want that, yes more—!

He palms my backside and pulls me tight to his body — fuck, he’s hard. He’s hard he’s hard he’s hard, I can feel him rubbing against my ladybits through his trousers — augh he’s still wearing trousers, fuck my life upside down!

I break from his kiss. “Take your trousers off,” I beg. “Just take them off already, all right? I need them off, I can’t — I really really want them off!”

“I’ll take them off. It’s all right,” he says in this dreamy calm-soothing voice, and his tail starts uncurling from around my thigh—

Fuck fuck fuck oh my gods yes his tail is sliding between my legs. It’s — fuck, his tail, he’s petting my cunt with his tail, it’s sliding between my legs and stroking me as it unwinds from my thigh and oh my gods it feels so good, how am I supposed to survive—? “Mm ah fuck!”

His tail is gone. His arms are around me. “Was that okay?”

I am fucking gasping. “You tease,” I choke out.

He laughs, his lips close to mine. “Not a tease. I’m going to carry through, I promise.” Mmm, he’s kissing me again, he’s so fucking yummy, and he’s untying his trousers and I’m vibrating and I can hardly keep fucking still—

He pushes his trousers down and his cock is out. His cock, it’s hard, he’s hard — oh my god his cock. It’s gorgeous. I mean, it’s a cock, cocks are always a little funny-looking, I don’t know how folks who’ve got ‘em can cope with them, but Dammon’s is out and it’s gorgeous — fuck me yes he’s stroking it I want to do that.

I push his hand away, replace it with mine, and he gasps. “Ah—”

I kiss him. I’m stroking him, I’m walking him back toward the bed, he falls onto the bed and I’m climbing onto him and gasping into his mouth and stroking this thick pretty cock of his—

His hands are in my hair. “Karlach, slow down,” he gasps. “Slow down for a minute, all right?”

Fuuuck, fuck fuck, I can’t. No, I have to, I have to slow down for him. “Help me,” I beg. “I don’t know how.”

“It’s all right,” he pants, and he presses his horns to mine. “Just breathe with me for a second, okay?”

I nod. Breathe, I can do that, that’s totally something I can do. Just breathe. I close my eyes, I feel the sweet ridges of his horns against mine, I feel his breath tickling my lips because he’s breathing too, I feel — woah yes, that’s his tail. His tail-barb is tracing my lower spine, tracing lower still — eep he poked my bum!

I burst out a laugh. “You rotter!”

He laughs, too: fuck me, I adore his laugh. He’s laughing against my lips, his tail-barb is gliding down over my bum… oh fuck, it’s moving down to my thigh, around my thigh, drifting between my legs, is he going to—? Oh gods Dammon please yes!

“Yes!” I gasp — fuck, his tail, he’s petting my cunt with his tail oh my gods I’m going to explode.

“Easy, Karlach,” he whispers. His hands cradle my neck, perfect callused hands, fuck his tail is petting me, caressing me, touching parts of me that I’ve been dreaming of being touched for years — ah yes that’s the fucking spot right there, right there fuck right there yes!

“Dammon,” I mewl — yes, I fucking mewled like a cat, I’m mewling and my back is arching like I’m a bitch in heat, but really? That’s exactly what I am. I’m in fucking heat for this man. I’m burning for him, burning for more of this, burning alive with his tail petting that red-hot little button of love. Dammon’s breathing hard, too, his fingers gripping my hair and his hips moving under me while his tail-barb does its work between my legs. It’s like he’s getting desperate too, so desperate that he can’t keep still while his tail is petting me, and I love that he’s getting desperate. I want him to unravel just like I’m doing now. I want to hear him moaning, I want to see him bucking his hips for more, I want — I want him so badly, I want this so much, it’s happening right now and I still want it like it’s out of my reach. How does that make any sense? Why am I longing for something while it’s happening right now, right here, with this insanely beautiful man I’ve been fantasizing about since I first clapped eyes on him?

Oh fuck, why am I getting emotional?

He strokes my hair. “Hey, are you okay?”

Oh gods, there’s a moan to his voice already. He’s breathing hard like he’s the one being touched, like he’s the one who’s getting tail-fucked more perfectly than even my best fantasies — ah, fuck me, his touch, the way his tail is rubbing my clit just right, it’s so — he’s so, so fucking perfect, he feels so right, this feels so right: Dammon’s hands in my hair, his body under mine, his tail petting my cunt and his lips breathing into mine… My gods, I’m so… he’s so, this is, I’m… fuck, I’m so close, I’m getting closer, I’m going to fucking blow I’m going to—

Yes. Yes yes yesyesyesfuckmeican’tbreatheohmygods kiss me Dammon fucking kiss me—

His tongue in my mouth. Moaning, is that me or him? No idea, who cares, I’m a fucking inferno. Everything sparking, like lightning under my skin and scorching my throat in the best fucking way, all because of him.

His lips leave mine. His voice, husky and soft. “You all right?”

I whimper. Still vibrating. No words, can’t talk. Need him to fuck me.

He strokes my broken horn, strokes my cheek. “You’re burning blue, Karlach.”

I sure fucking am. Burning blue, burning alive in ways that I didn’t think I ever would again, and it’s all because of him. It’s all him, it’s Dammon — his sunshine smile, his jewel-pretty eyes the colour of a summer sky: I’m burning blue, all because of him.

I nuzzle his ear. “I’m going to ride you until you see stars, soldier.”

He laugh-moans. “Yes please. I’m all for that.”

He’d better be, because I can’t hold back now. I can’t do slow now. I am on, on-on-on like I’ve never been before, and I’m sitting upright on his lap and I’m stroking his cock while he grips my thighs — gods I want to taste him, I want his come in my mouth, no no I’ll save that for later, I need him inside of me right fucking now—

Fuck yes he’s inside me fuck yes. Dammon is inside of me, and he feels like fucking heaven.

He groans, and it’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. “Gods, Karlach!”

I take it back: hearing my name like that is the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. I stroke his chest — beautiful chest, beautiful ridges of his ribs — then I brace myself on his abs and start fucking him hard.

He groans, arches his neck in a way that makes me want to bite him (ha, don’t tell Astarion!): oh, my sweet fucking gods, he feels amazing. His cock is driving into me so hard, so sweet and hard that I’m making noise with every stroke, and he’s making noise too and gripping my thighs — ah, his tail, it’s coiling around my forearm in a way that makes my tummy flutter, and his eyelids are fluttering too like he’s really letting loose, which I love to see. I love seeing him like this, I love seeing him looking as good as he makes me feel, and fuck does he ever make me feel good. His thick fucking cock, the hot driving punch of it reaching so deep… Holy fucking hells, I missed this, I missed it so fucking much, and it’s so much better than I remembered. Dammon’s solid body under mine, his strong smithy’s hands on my hips and thighs, his tail squeezing my arm like the way he holds my hand, and those eyes: his beautiful eyes, the way he’s watching me under his half-lidded eyes while I ride him like my life hinges on his cock… Fuck me, did it ever really feel like this? Was it ever really this good?

Wait, wait a second: was sex ever this fucking good before?

I’m staring at Dammon now. Just staring at this kind and gorgeous man who’s filling me up within an inch of my life, and I… I don’t know that it’s ever been like this. I don’t know that it ever has been this good before. Sex is always great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s never… My gods, it’s never been like this. It’s never felt so… so close. So right. Fuck, it’s never felt as right as it does right now with him — how fucking weird is that? We’re in an abandoned inn in a place that’s been cursed to the shadows for a hundred years, and it’s somehow the most right that I’ve ever felt while being naked with another soul.

Wait, though: it gets even weirder. I’m with Dammon, an infernal smith who I might never have even spoken to if it wasn’t for the engine in my chest — the engine that’s slowly burning me alive. If I didn’t have this damned thing in my chest, I wouldn’t be here with him. We wouldn’t be here together doing this.

I’m having the time of my fucking life right now with the most wonderful man I’ve ever met because of something that’s going to kill me.

No, no no no, stop it brain, don’t think about it—

“Hey.” He’s sitting up on one elbow — no, he’s pushing himself upright and reaching for my cheek. “Hey, hey now, are you okay—”

I kiss him. I shove my tongue into his mouth and grip his neck, and I fuck him like there’s no tomorrow. I fuck him like this is it, like this is the only chance we’ll have and I have to show him how much this means, how good this is and how good it is because of him, because it’s him, Dammon: it’s Dammon’s body under mine, and his hand and his tail holding me, it’s all him, and I need him to know that there’s nothing I wanted more in this world than to be with him.

He breaks from my lips with the most incredible groan. “Ah, Karlach—”

I nuzzle his ear. “I want you so bad, Dammon. I want you more than anything.”

He groans again — gods, if only you could bottle a noise and keep it for later. “I’m all yours. I promise.”

My gods, what a promise. What a thing to say, what a thing to hear from someone who’s so fucking good. And now I don’t know what to say, my tongue’s a knot, my throat’s getting thick — gods, just fuck him already, just wring the pleasure out of him like he did for you.

I fuck him. I’m riding him hard. I’m bouncing on his beautiful cock and staring at his beautiful face while it crinkles up with pleasure — come for me, Dammon, I want you to. I really want him to, I want his come more than anything in the world, I want him to let it all go inside of me — oh yes, good boy, he’s getting even harder, he’s getting harder inside of me oh my gods fuck I know he’s going to come—

“A-ah, please, y-yes—!” He kisses me, Dammon is kissing me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth and his hand firm at the back of my neck, he’s shuddering and pulsing deep inside — yes, I can feel him giving me his come, and I want it all. I’m fucking hungry for it, for every last drop of him, every little bit of proof that this was me and him together: Dammon and Karlach, Karlach and Dammon, two hells-touched tieflings finding our little place of light among the shadows.

He breaks our kiss and presses his horns to mine again. “Gods,” he pants. “Gods alive. You are… incredible.” He laughs, this husky I’m-out-of-breath-because-I’ve-been-fucking kind of laugh, and I swear I’d give my unbroken horn to be able to hear that laugh every day for the rest of my life, no matter how long or short it is.

He leans away a little and strokes my hair. “How are you feeling?”

Gods, look at him: he’s perfect. He said I was burning blue, but I swear on my life, his eyes are incandescent. They’re the brightest, most electric blue I’ve ever seen in my life, and it’s like they’re scorching my soul, branding this amazing moment deep into me so that it’ll never be forgotten, no matter what comes next.

Fuck, I feel so full. I’m so… my chest, my throat, my entire fucking soul feels full. Oh no, my eyes feel full too, oh no — don’t do this, Karlach, don’t you dare.

“I—” Oh fuck, I’m sobbing. I’m sobbing? Why now, why?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Come here, it’s okay.” He’s tucking my head against his neck — oh my gods, I’m falling apart. He’s hugging me, his tail is stroking my back like he’s comforting a child, which is funny ‘cause I’m weeping like a baby. No, not weeping: I’m fucking bawling. That’s fantastic, Karlach, that’s just great, let’s just bawl all over the gorgeous smith while his cock is still in me.

Okay, that’s kind of funny, but… Fuck, I can’t stop crying. It’s all just coming out now, everything, all the stuff that’s been going on: the tadpole, my engine, the shadow curse and how fucking awful it is here, Lae’zel almost dying at the crèche and Mizora being a fucking bitch to Wyll and Astarion making his snarky little jokes like he’s not dead-scared of Cazador. I’m just fucking sobbing, I’m howling for me and them and everything, and more stuff keeps coming out: Gortash, Zariel, Avernus, Mum and Dad — everything, it’s just fucking everything, it’s all the things, so much shit I haven’t cried about for years, and it’s all coming out on poor Dammon because he’s hugging me.

Dammon is hugging me. He’s just hugging me while I cry all over him, hugging me tight like I haven’t been hugged in fucking years, and I don’t know if I can stop.

I do stop, eventually, when it feels like every tear in my body is on his neck instead of in my eyes. When I finally stop crying, he speaks. “Are you all right?”

Gods be damned, his soft voice, his hand petting my back… He’s going to make me cry again. “I’m okay,” I say. “Stuffy, but okay.” I lift my head — eurgh, yep, lots of tears and snot on his neck. Real attractive, Karlach, really sexy stuff.

“Sorry.” I wipe my face real quick and start wiping his neck. “Sorry. That’s gross. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “You needed that. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Oh hells, now he’s wiping my cheeks… Did someone make this man on purpose to turn me into the world’s meltiest puddle? He’s wiping my cheeks and looking at me in that so-soft way with his beautiful soft eyes… Oh boy, I’m a goner. If I wasn’t already all fluttery for him, I’m a total loss now.

He strokes my shoulder. “Do you have to head back to your camp?”

No way. I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here with him and make this night last forever. Don’t say that, though, you’ll sound like a limpet. “I can stay for a while,” I say, all casual-like. “If you want, I mean. I — unless you have to sleep? You probably have to get up early for the forge—”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I can get up whenever, that doesn’t matter. Either way, if you — if you don’t have to get back, maybe…” He clears his throat — aw, he’s looking shy! Why is he looking shy? “Maybe you’d like to stay the night? With me, I mean?”

He wants me to stay? He wants me to stay! “Yes! I mean—” Oh gods, I’m laughing now. “Yes. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiles — oh gods, that killer smile. He’s going to destroy me with that smile before the night is through, I swear. “Great! That’s — that’s really great. Okay.” He laughs a little and strokes my arm. “Maybe I can take my trousers off, if that’s okay with you?”

“Your—?” I twist around on his lap to look — ha, oh shit, his trousers are down around his calves, and he’s still wearing his boots!

I laugh and climb off of him. “You didn’t take them off? Bit eager, are we?”

“Me? You didn’t give me a chance! So much for slowing down.” He’s grinning now as he pulls off his boots, and he’s so damned pretty that all I can do is smile back at him. Gods, I really am a goner.

He drops his boots on the floor. He’s totally naked now, naked and warm and perfect, and I don’t want to waste another second not touching all of that perfect naked skin.

I straddle him and wrap my arms around his neck, and he smiles and strokes my hip. “Back for a second round already? I’m game, but I’ll need a little more time.”

I press my horns to his. “Dammon, I…” No, Karlach, don’t say it. Don’t tell him what you’re feeling, it’s way too soon. It is too soon, right? It’s too soon to know if this is just lust or if it’s something more, right? Something so much more, so much bigger that it feels like it’s filling my entire damn body… I can’t know yet for sure that this is what I think it is, can I? Fuck, I’m breathing all shaky. Stop it, K, don’t cry again, just don’t.

He strokes my neck — gods, his magical hands on my skin, I can’t get enough. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Take your time. Talk when you’re ready.”

I nod, and I kiss him. For the dozenth time tonight, I’m kissing Dammon, melting under his soft lips and tasting his tongue and feeling every inch of my skin coming to life under his hands, and I can’t be fucking bothered with talking. Who cares about words or talking or even thinking when there’s this, when there’s him? Not me, that’s for sure. All that matters is being here with Dammon, skin-to-skin with him like all my hottest dreams, and I don’t give a shit about anything else.

Tonight, I’m burning blue for him. And that’s all that fucking matters.

[midnightsun-if]

How would the ROs react to getting amnesia when they and the MC are together, and the MC is telling them that they are (were, maybe, if the amnesia negates it) in a relationship?

Ohhh… That’s interesting! Especially given some of the dynamics that MC would have with the ROs before ever getting into a relationship.

Koda: He’d be surprised, but he’d probably be the one that’s most accepting of it. Would look to his family to make sure that he wasn’t being duped in any sort of way, but he’d be willing to listen and actively try to ask questions to get to know you and your relationship with him once more. Never knowing that he’s staring at you in the same wonder he always does.

Scarlett: This is going to hurt… Scarlett wouldn’t believe it. If you think you’ve seen her act cold… You haven’t seen anything yet. She’d want you out of her sight immediately, wouldn’t want to hear anything you might say, before shutting down completely. Her being in love? Allowing herself to feel that emotion after what happened? It’s completely improbable. Especially if she fell in love with you. Her mind wouldn’t be able to wrap itself around the idea, even as her heart cries out in agony the moment you turn away. Something that may push her even further into denial. It’d take Scarlett a long time to be in the right headspace to speak with you— even when some part of herself wants nothing more than to have you near the entire time.

Cyrus/Cyra: They’d be alarmed quite frankly. Not fully because they don’t believe you, but they’d be thinking of all the things that must have happened if what you said is true. What happened to Ash? Did their parents call off the engagement? Were their parents okay with them finding a new partner? What’s the state of House Aurelia currently? It’d honestly just send them spiraling into their head, but they’d their best to listen to you throughout it all.

Quinn: They’d listen to what their wolf is telling them. Even if their human side forgot, their wolf wouldn’t. If their wolf recognized you as their mate (or potential one) then they weren’t going to argue. It’d still take them time to figure everything out, to wrap their head around what’s happened, about how much they’ve clearly forgotten, but they’d settle knowing that they’d have you by their side.

Caden: Forgetting isn’t new to them. Being forgotten even less so. But knowing that they’ve forgotten someone so clearly important to them? It’d fill them with grief that they don’t even fully understand— like a part of them is already mourning something that the rest isn’t even aware is gone. Caden would try their best to listen to you, to be an active participant, but you’d see a far-off expression in their gaze more often than not.

Sloane: All of their previous progress with reconnecting them with their wolf? Everything that they’ve strived to achieve? Would be completely undone. Sloane would refuse to listen to their wolf, its led them astray before, and knowing that their wolf is backing you? It would not endear you to them in the slightest. They wouldn’t want to speak to you, reverting back to anger to try and push you away, because they couldn’t handle all of this right now. All of their jumbled thoughts and feelings alongside their lupine forms own agonized feelings at their human side pushing their mate away.

Blake: They’d be so confused. Not understanding at all what you’re talking about. “We’re best friends, angel. What do you mean?” They wouldn’t believe that they’d push that line with you, something that they’ve never done for anyone— despite how much they care for you to begin with. You’d probably see Blake more in their thoughts after hearing the news, as they trust you too much to question you, or to think that you’re lying, but it’d still fill them with a wave of various emotions (some of them unsettling). It’d be even stranger to feel the swell of emotion that bubbles up within them every time they look at you now— something they’re used to, but it has a different edge to it (which is something they’re not).

Reginald/Regina: Would think that they’re being pranked or something. Would look for either Ashton Kutcher or a film crew. Come on, really? A vampire falling in love with them? The producers couldn’t think of another trope to use, or another potential joke? After they’ve settled down, and you’re able to prove that what you’re saying is true, at least to the point that this isn’t a prank, they’d just be shocked. Not believing that they’ve somehow entered a relationship with a vampire and didn’t even remember it. How unfair is that? You’d be getting so many questions sent your way once some of their shock wears off.

[foxclcves]

𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒆 (𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 03)

She should have known better than to give out her real name. Now she was running. Again. Ohhh, you stupid, stupid girl, Lucille! Look at what you’ve done now—gotten yourself into a real pickle. She didn’t quite understand the meaning behind such phrases, but if it were ever appropriate to describe any part of her life, this would be it. Along with a handful of other things, but the past was unwanted by her; best left forgotten. Best left denied, even.

Taking another bite out of her small loaf of bread, Lucille scrutinized the town square from the narrow mouth of an alley between a book store and a tea room. She ate despite her labored breathing, having run from the market place to where she found herself now, having regrettably lifted the bread in her hands and thinking nobody would care, that nobody would recognize her. But oh no, her life here, as it turned out everywhere else, was not so simple.

Not even four days ago, the baker found her, freezing and starving and trying to sneak her way into the backdoor of his kitchen for a bite to eat and a warm, dry place to sleep. She wasn’t going to take much, only what she needed: a couple of rolls, perhaps, and enough wood in the oven to light and keep her warm through half the night, so she could sneak out again before everyone opened shop bright and early and none would be the wiser. She relayed this to the baker, her pleading falling short and overcome by fatigue. He took pity on her and fed her more bread than she was anticipating, and in the morning she even found a little chicken pot pie, still steaming and waiting for her. Oh, how deliriously happy she was, and full! So full, she could not remember the last time her stomach had been pleasantly quiet for a whole morning.

But, as she had anticipated, there was a catch. The baker offered her his kitchen for shelter and his oven for warmth, his bread for meals, if she were to work around his shop. Just the things she could handle, as she was quite petite and scrawny—sweeping, taking out the garbage, putting pans upon pans of bread in the oven and taking them back out again at times most appropriate; they could not exceed a certain time or bake any less than needed, not even by a minute or two. Her arms tired quickly carrying those pans, and she lost count of how many times she had burned herself trying to shovel out the damned loafs, possibly more in this span of time than in all her nine short years of life thus far.

The first day and the second, they weren’t so bad, but by the end of the third, Lucille grew tired of the routine, depressed, really. As fortunate as she was to find an adult who seemed trustworthy, and who fed her straight from his own hands no less, she could not shake the notion that he meant to trap her here. Perhaps till the spring, when his oven was no longer required by her, or maybe longer. Would he let her leave, or would he not. Maybe he’d think her labor wasn’t enough to make up for his loss of resources? So many scenarios raced through her mind that night, as she was unable to sleep, what his true intentions could be, if she would become a familiar face to the locals, and it made her afraid. She did not want to be familiar, but she was lulled again into complacency; made too comfortable. Not trusting anyone was ever so painful, but it was what she had to do, and it was a miracle that she came even this far, after last time. She then decided that she would leave in the morning, and to take something with her for the road. Why, she figured she had swept up the ashes extra good this morning, and hoped the baker would notice, and that he would understand. She had taken a small loaf, enough to last her a few days maybe, and something that wouldn’t inconvenience him too much, no harm done. Lucille had smiled at her resolve, a weight lifting off her shoulders as she quietly left the bakery behind her, hugging the bread to her chest.

And that’s where it all went wrong. Someone had stopped her on the street—a woman with a baby in one arm and a small child holding her free hand. Even explaining her circumstances to the weary mother did not soften her, and the grim purse of her mouth made Lucille doubt herself, gazing down at her attire and shoes, unsuitable for the season and boldly announcing her as a homeless beggar no matter where she went. They were abruptly interrupted by a constable, and with a deep jolt of panic, Lucille took off running. And she was sure then that the baker would not vouch for her. A dirty, aimless and unwanted little girl, soiling his kitchen and his breads and using up his firewood. A pang in her chest caused her to gasp, and she tried not to start crying, her breathing already ragged.

The baker would tell them her name, surely. Perhaps she needed a new one. Something more refined, like… well. What made a name fancy, anyway? Lucille certainly didn’t look fancy. Her hair had been shorn off several months ago, and now it was bobbed and chaotic, each coil and curl having a mind of its own and resting wherever she wanted it to. She had bangs now, though; she’d always wanted those, but it wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. How did people keep the damn things out of their face?! She would have to remedy it, somehow. Having hair in your eyes, especially as course and thick as hers was, put one as her at a considerable disadvantage. Only when she ran did the winds of momentum grant her reprieve. Well, she’d just have to keep running, then. Lucille finished the entire loaf begrudgingly, thinking it’d be best if she wasn’t caught carrying it around anymore, and slipped alertly out of the alley. Come tomorrow, she’d have to figure out what to do for food, as she’d become spoiled these past few days. But first, she had to find a way out of here. A coach leaving, a cart—even one filled with stinky farm animals, anything would do.

No one here paid her any mind, word of a little bread thief not circulating yet. No constable in sight, either. Against her better judgement, Lucille heaved a sigh of relief, and her back straightened and her shoulders bobbed. She was a superstitious person, it was true; in her short life she had heard plenty of talk of superstitions and karma, and it was one thing in her past that she kept fondly close to her heart, even if it scared her sometimes. She would rather be scared than sad though, not that that’s much a good choice to begin with. The serious or laughing faces that also appeared with these memories were always quickly stifled, but not fast enough to keep a lump from forming in her throat. Lucille kept herself from shaking her head at her ever wandering and worrying mind, wanting to come off normal along with everyone else in the square, wanting to seem like someone heading home from wherever whence they came. She wanted to be like those she was constantly surrounded by: seeing and hearing as little as they did, and clueless about the true way of things. She folded her arms now, tucking her hands under them, her fingers numb and smelling of fresh dough.

She walked for a long time, occasionally glancing at her reflection in storefront windows; using her spit and palms to wash up her face a bit, running a hand through her puffy mane and wincing when her hand would catch and pull a lock of hair, or several, taut. Her clothing, she could do little about, unless she wanted to try to steal clothes that would not be missed—maybe some pants with long and thick pant legs, and pockets! Yes, pockets would be good, as she had no sort of carry-on to keep things in, not that she had anything to put in one. Pausing on a street corner, Lucille considered her options. On one hand, she was desperate to leave town before anyone could catch her, and on the other, there was the possibility of obtaining warmer clothes. A coat would be splendid, even if it was too big—even better, for sleeping in. Gloves, a scarf, boots, for the snow—no, was that too ambitious? Would she have time? She pondered staying in town, hidden, until nightfall, when she would have a better chance of sneaking into a clothing store and taking what she needed. But that went over so well with the bakery, didn’t it, Lucille? Perhaps the seamstress would be even more sympathetic toward you and your ghastly and deteriorated fashion sense, dressing you up all lady-like and then assigning you to sew this and that for her, or worse, condemn you to patching everything that needed patching. Oh, no, no—at least the baker had an oven.

Realizing that she was staring down at her shoes, Lucille’s head snapped up in time to notice two constables walking down the street. She ducked low behind a parked carriage undetected, and was careful to avoid the horse’s hooves. If need be, she could easily slip under the carriage if she had to, and by extension, move to its other side and make a break for it, if she was overestimating her stealth yet again. She waited, tried not to breathe too much even though they wouldn’t be able to hear her. Her knees trembled from her uncomfortable kneeling and the frigid air, her ears straining to track the constables’ every step and every word mumbled, satisfied that they continued on their way without a care in the world but keeping herself guarded until they’d round the corner.

There were footfalls behind her, so suddenly, that she had no time to turn around or act at all. She gasped and became rigid, her breath held and her eyes wide, bracing herself. Oh, stupid, stupid, girl! You became too focused on the two constables and now you’re in trouble, someone found an opening, you thoughtless, stupid girl, now--!

The footsteps passed her without breaking pace, not in the slightest. Surely someone would have noticed her strange position or demanded that she step away from their carriage. Lucille lifted her head and looked after the footsteps, at first not seeing a thing. She shivered. Then a figure appeared, shimmering like a wave of heat in the cold, clad in all black and walking away from her. At first, she thought it to be an old man because of his silver hair but no, he was young. Older than her, certainly, but still too young to have the color drained from his hair. In his gloved hand, an equally silver pocket watch peered back at her between his fingers. She could hear it tick so clearly, slowly. She found it very strange. She found him very strange. Something did not quite feel right.

And then she knew. It was happening again. She was seeing what could not be seen. Lucille got to her feet and stood by the carriage, mesmerized by the young man’s figure as he widened the distance between them. She could see him… but he had not noticed her. Intent and chary to keep the reasonable gap between them, she moved to shadow him.

[japanifornication]

20 fic questions

i was tagged by @mutxnts thank you ash!!

1. how many works do you have on Ao3?

21, ayyy, one less than ash!!

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

189,718. this does not surprise me.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

ace attorney and very rarely ff7 and the last of us.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

late night (257 kudos), tasting (121 kudos), finality (114 kudos), alive (91 kudos), distance (88 kudos) all of these are ace attorney, three of them are part of a series lol.

if we want to include my art that i've posted to ao3, holding would actually be in second place, with 218 kudos.

theoretically another fic should be in the top five instead but i left it out because i just don't like it and don't plan to update it again/will prob remove it at some point (it was my first in the fandom, was trying to do a case fic before realizing i am bad at them).

5. do you respond to comments?

i try to always respond but sometimes i just don't know what to say! that being said i am always open to chatting about my fics. please. please talk to me oh my god i want to talk about ace attorney.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oughhhh....... i guess no one told me it would be beautiful? it's one of my shortest fics and part of just a short series of a post-apocalypse au. it's not exactly the angstiest ending, i have another series in mind for that, but the whole fic has an undertone of angst, and series will too. i just write it in spurts when i feel the need to write something that isn't one of my WIPs.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i think most of my fics end on a sort of higher note! my fics have strong undertones of angst but with lighter endings, but i think the winner would go to status :) because it's the happy ending to the long angsty series! and also it just makes me happy, i feel like i really stuck the landing, we get to see the boys laugh over the most absurd situation and it makes me laugh too.

8. do you get hate on fics?

i've never gotten hate on a fic but shortly after i posted fic that met this description in the tags once, someone i follow made a post making fun of the idea that edgeworth would ever be a sexy dom. listen we are all playing in our own sandboxes.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

we all know me, come on now. i write trans phoenix getting railed in all configurations smut. every e-rated fic has at least one creampie. we know this.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i don't, but i do have one in mind. i've been planning a severance ace attorney fic for a long time.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

no

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

no

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

kind of? tybalt wrote a fic in the universe of one of my series! which kind of counts? idk! but he didn't feel like posting it so i did lol (he's co-author on it). but i do RP a lot, just none is published yet. maybe some day.

14. what’s your all time favorite ship?

of all time??????? tifa/cloud/aerith probably

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

ohhh god maybe my vampire fic, wait for the morning. i'm trying. i'm trying for the homosexuals.

16. what are your writing strengths?

i think i'm best at writing dialogue honestly, that is what i love to write the most, especially arguments. otherwise in the Real World i am very good at writing passive-aggressive but still somehow polite and professional emails to get shit done.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i have a lot of problems with just repetitive vocab.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i have a lot of feelings on this i can't exactly elucidate well. i only speak english fluently. i have a very beginner's knowledge in french. i'm also indigenous, but i don't speak the language of my people, which despite being one of the largest indigenous speech communities in the US, still only has around 2,000 native speakers.

so... i have a lot of feelings about language that take up a lot of space in my chest. but i just am kind of stuck writing in english. if i need to write dialogue in another language, i try to source from friends who speak the language first, then elsewhere on the internet if i don't know anyone directly who speaks it (e.g. asking in a public discord or reddit or somewhere), and use online translation tools as a last resort.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

theoretically it was accidentally tomb raider when i was in 3rd grade but i didn't know that's what i was doing at the time. intentionally, the first fic i ever wrote fanfic for was ff7.

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

i really and truly cannot choose here. it's like picking your favorite child. for the writing skills alone i have to pick wait for the morning (unfinished, i'm sorry). clarity is another one i think shows off some writing skills, idk, i just like it! for the characterization, something about decadence really floats my boat. and for the one that really earns its e-rating, it's tasting (especially chapter 3), my magnum opus of smut.

i am tagging.... who am i tagging. i hate tagging ppl bc i get sooooo anxious that ppl will be annoyed but i am going to tag @sandboxer @m-aximumjoy @samioli if you want to do it, and i have forgotten everyone else's tumblr urls in this exact moment it's like the men in black just memory-wiped me

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Finishing the readthrough of the last of the drama tracks, ft. a translation courtesy of shinseimcd on Twitter. Thoughts upon initial read below a cut:

I love the energy Man A's bringing to the block party. He's here to have a good time, follow the rules, and tell cops to fuck off on sight. He's not even causing trouble; he's just a walking ACAB billboard. God bless. We should all aspire to be like him.

I love that Riou is defending Dice's atrocious eating habits.

"Gentaro said he’s got other business to attend to so he’ll come right before the show starts." I have a terrible feeling that Gentarou is up to no good. (Jk, he's probably doing some hooey with the manuscript he memorized.)

I'm charmed that Doppo and Juushi think Sasara is funny. Normie-ass senses of humor.

"I never would’ve thought that there’d be a factory in an abandoned subway." This sentence took me the fuck out. I wasn't ready. Never change, Hypmic, for your bizarre-ass circumstances.

"So, I hired a skilled hacker to track down the one who tampered with the registration records and got their IP address." ...Did he hire Saburou, by any chance?

"Kotosarai just released all the criminals that were held in the Special Prison." #prisonreform

"I’m heading to Chuoku now. I’ll definitely be back before the start of the festival." I love that the festival is still high on Riou's list of priorities. True Hypmic right here... "Oh fuck, there's life-changing plot going down... but I still need to rap, since it's the gimmick of the franchise!"

"Jyuto: Finally awake, huh?"

(Big thank you to my lovely friend Ashe who had no idea what this was being used for but willingly drew it anyway.)

"Zannen: Long time no see, everyone." Oh my god, they're back. I guess it's cheapest to keep reusing their VAs instead of getting new enemies of the day every time.

"Rosho: I’m done. I’m gonna do this." Roshou's inner punk is showing. Good for him! Good for him! Fuck 'em up!

"Guess I’ll join in the fight with my mic stand too!" As ridiculous as it sounds, I think Sasara's mic stand is probably one of the best to use as a weapon. It'd hurt like hell to get bopped with it. This is also very on-brand for Sasara...eagerly joining in the violence if someone he cares about is threatened.

"0123" is literally the least secure password in the world. What in the actual fuck? It couldn't have been, say, Rei's wife's name or something? Her birthday, at the very least?

"I’ll be waiting where a choice was given.” Ohhh they show this in the manga. It's something about joining Rei (to find out what happened to the Yamadas' mom...?) which Ichirou vehemently rejects. The location is always whited out, though.

"Samatoki: You’re [Riou] one crazy son of a bitch!" Couldn't agree more. It's his charm point.

"Rosho: Sasara, you got my back?! Sasara: Yeah! ‘Course I do!" Quit flirting in public.

"These are rubber bullets. They don’t have lethal power. They just lost consciousness. " If a rubber bullet hits you hard enough to knock you unconsciousness, you're probably not going to make it, but I guess this is well within the scope of usual fictional silliness.

Dice moments...

"Samatoki: Even if you and I clash at the end of our ideals, I won’t hold back. Be prepared for that. Nemu: Okay. Samatoki: See you. Don’t catch a cold. Nemu: Thank you, onii-chan." OOF... SAMATOKI AND NEMU MOMENTS......

"Ansho: Busujima! Kubiki! Rio: Commander! You’ve regained your sanity! Ansho: No, I don’t know if I’m sane. My consciousness gets clouded multiple times a day." Can confirm, this is how insanity works. Psychosis resigned!

"Kubiki: Busujima. Let’s take Commander and return to our base. Rio: I’d love to, but… Kubiki: What’s wrong? Rio: There is somewhere I need to go. Please take care of the Commander." The fact that this somewhere is a rap performance is so, so funny to me.

I saw some people talking about the Ramuda and Jakurai scene on Twitter. It doesn't do much for me, personally, but I am very amused because this whole scenario is a hugely popular trope in shoujo romance comics right now. Physically weaker (usually the girl in an M/F pair) character tries to stand up to the villain even though they don't have the strength to be effective just so their strong, handsome, can-do-no-wrong partner (usually the guy) can swoop in and do the ass-kicking for them.

"Relying on weapons is the mark of the weak." This is a jab at Sasara and his mic stand, no doubt.

"From my perspective, everyone else is abnormal." Damn... We really do live in a society.

I don't know how I feel about Hifumi attempting to understand Honobono's perspective. I am...very torn. And this scene is very anime.

"Do you remember when I used to make you miso-stewed mackerel?" OH... HIS FAVORITE FOOD...

The Rei/Ichirou showdown is very NGE.

Hell yes, Roshou and Sasara becoming a duo again on their own terms. You love to see it.

"Ichiro: And mom was killed in the midst of that, right!? Rei: I wanted to crush them right away…But as a fugitive, I couldn’t make any overt moves." I love how he doesn't answer.

"So, if three individuals, who share such a resilient connection in their spirits, were to truly understand each other…  Ichiro:  Don’t tell me, the true purpose of the Division Rap Battle is… Rei:  After experiencing the 2nd Division Rap Battle, I became certain. The six teams that made it to the championship tournament have strong enough bonds to master the True Hypnosis Mic." HAHAHAHAHA. HELP. God bless. I love contrived shit. Well, this explains how Jakurai'll wake up Yotsutsuji, I guess.

As a side note, I'm curious as to if Roshou and Sasara "truly understand" Rei well enough for the three of them to Pacific Rim pilot a True Hypmic.

Get in the True Hypmic, Shinjichirou.

"Rei: I’ll shut down the True Hypnosis Mic factory. So, no more complaints, right?" I do not trust this man to follow through on this for an instant.

"Sasara: And that’s when I woke up." If this was an ARB event, that's how this drama track would end.

"Sasara: It’s him we’re talking about, he’s probably somewhere out there watching us, right?" Man is getting his ass kicked by his eldest son....... I love how they're talking about Rei like he's dead and watching over them from heaven and not just getting fucking bodied in an abandoned lab somewhere.

"Ichijiku: Now, we need to think about how to recover our approval ratings." Ma'am, I think you have bigger issues to take care of first.

"Otome: I will be stepping down from politics." Good! First rational action of hers in this story.

What a goofy hell of a ride this was. I love Hypmic.

Hi Slug! If you've listened to the full songs in the new EP, have your opinions of the trailers changed? Also, the new dramas are HEAVY, so if you've listened to them, I'm curious to know what you thought of them. As always, thanks for the translations!

I like listening to Hypmic music on shuffle during workouts, so I've most of the new songs in full by now. I don't think my opinions have changed majorly. I really enjoy Black and White, and Move Your Body Till You Die is a phenomenal work of art.

As for the drama tracks... truth be told, I haven't even listened to the one that came out in April, so I'll read through some TLs now and record thoughts below the cut:

No One Lives Forever, translation courtesy of shinseimcd on Twitter

"Anti-Party of Words faction" Huh, like a government faction? I'm surprised the PoW allows other political parties or at the very least open dissenters. There was talk in some chapters of the manga of them punishing protesters, not to mention the way they crushed the TDD rebellion in its primacy. Either way, interesting, and I hope we learn more about this as time goes on.

Ichijiku and Nemu baking together is really cute lol

I love the way Ichijiku's whole personality shifts around Otome. Gap moe (????)

It's a cool tidbit that Nemu tends to prefer plainer outfits, as that tracks with how she dresses in TDD. Also, Nemu and Ichijiku shopping together is kind of bittersweet, since Ichijiku is clearly using Nemu as a replacement figure for her deceased sister...

Ichijiku secretly wanting to fall on the cute side of the cute/elegant spectrum is a pretty classic trope but a fun detail that's been hinted at already, since we've seen that she keeps a bow collection.

??? Rei's lab is on Battleship Island? Ohhhhhhhhh this is why Twitter was blowing up with controversy right after this track released... The IRL Battleship Island was home to forced labor of Korean and Chinese citizens during the twentieth-century push of Japanese imperialism which was later, iirc, denied in part or totally by the Japanese government to immense international backlash. Using this as a setpiece for Hypmic is oddly provocative, and I can't think why the writers would want to do that. On a much lighter note, this is also a headscratcher to me because isn't this a UNESCO World Heritage Site? The whole point of that is conservation, and I don't think building a clone lab counts as conservation... Unless they're implying the clone lab was built prior to the 1950s? Hm. Let's not go down this rabbit hole.

"I would like all of the True Hypnosis Mics. As well as all the Amemura clones." Oh? Are there more still alive? I thought Honobono ordered the death of the last remaining three... Well, that scraps a piece of writing I was working on LOL

"Your biometric data is required to access the mic storage facility" So how did the PoW get in?

Her? Heart stop beating? Oh for fuck's sake, is Rei's wife also in a coma? How many fucking characters are in a coma in this series... Whichever mfer invents a device that restores people from comas with no significant brain damage will make a fortune in this universe

"And I won't try anything funny." I do not believe this for one instant

Hmm, the framing of Otome planning this and the way she brushed past talk of countermeasures for the anti-PoW faction implies that Rei is heading this faction.

Oh, so they couldn't get past the biometric locks after all, I see.

I strongly dislike the idea of thirty clones for thirty mics and the nonchalance in which Rei goes, "Yeah, I'll ship them off to Chuuouku" like they're a parcel and not human beings, but that's my personal bone to pick w/ this character and setting.

I was intrigued by the notion of the PoW holding caucuses, implying there's some sort of democratic process in terms of choosing their own party members or positions, but the JPN audio doesn't specify that exactly.

"We no longer require the cooperation of Jakurai Jinguji." I know that this took like four years in real time, but in terms of the Hypmic universe... I mean, Jakurai didn't even do anything for them, did he? He went through all that moral dilemma for nothing, as far as I can tell. (I get that it sets up the reconciliation with Ramuda, but that's it? Seriously?) That's disappointing to roll it back so quickly.

"During the Division Rap Battle, the people of our nation will be focused on the tournament, giving us the opportunity to use the True Hypnosis Mics to mind hack the Anti-Party of Words faction who stand in our way, ultimately pulling them over to our side." Otome always has the most batshit plans. God bless. A consequence of her needing to drive the plot forward is that she'll say some of the truly silliest things I've ever heard. What a complete misappropriation of government funds lol. Also... is this stating there are only 30 dissidents (????), or can the True Hypmics brainwash more than one person at a time?

"Once that is complete, we will move on to other countries. And when we have taken over the world, then, in the true sense of the word, peace through the power of words will be achieved." LMAO? I'm sorry, this isn't very considerate of me, but in my initial impressions of this, I am well and truly gobsmacked. What in the actual fuck. How many clones will die for this? How much money will it cost? How does she think she stands any chance at governing so many people across such an area, even with a downsized population after WWIII? Homie... Never change, Hypmic, you are the wildest.

I can't believe Ichijiku is so whipped she's willing to go along with an absolutely nonsensical plan for world domination. Ma'am, Otome is not going to fuck you, and even if she is, it's not worth it! Ma'am!!! I'm sorry, I'm being petty and not giving this a lot of in-depth thought but LORD this is a trip on first read.

A FUCKING CLONE UPRISING AT THE HANDS OF REI? HAHAHAHAHA.

"World domination, huh, what a joke." Man after my own heart.

I'm actually quite interested in how this "mics are disabled forever" thing works. I guess the mics have a kill switch in them? I vaguely recall someone saying that in the manga years and years ago... Oh yeah, it was Ramuda in TDD 12. Huh, interesting if that was intentional foreshadowing (I'm not sure if I want to be that charitable). At any rate, can't everyone in the room just get new mics? Or does it affect their speakers and such too? I'm curious how that works, like if you build an affinity with a certain mic or some nonsense.

"looks like we won't be having any Division Rap Battles from here on out." Ah, and this is why the other half of Twitter was up in arms like "No more DRB??? End of Hypmic??" I guess.

The Block Party tracks are quite long, and since it's getting rather late for me, I'm going to leave off here for the moment. I'd like to continue this at my next available opportunity... WHAT a ride. Not sure when that will be, but I will add to this with a reblog when I can. And I know it's been months since this track came out, but I would love to hear other people's thoughts. I wasn't around much when it first launched, so I missed most of the commentary on it.

[roxy206]

first listen

Goner

I was like why does this sound familiar then remembered that it was part of a Friday Gooped post. A bop tbh. And I think it’s a really good bridge between her other albums & this new release

Boyfriend

I wish you were my boyfriend & we could just sleep in

I wish you were my boyfriend so I could move closer, cuz if you were my boyfriend, put my head on your shoulder, when I look in your eyes I can see all the sky’s constellations in view

when the moment is right I’ll be there by your side

GOODBYE GOODBYE THAT IS ALL I CAN SAY RIGHT NOW GOODBYE

C’mon Loretta

Thank god I’ve already heard this song so many times I need a little break to try to PROCESS

Also a bop. So catchy … despite the subject matter

Love You In HiFi

Oh okay this is a shift. This is gonna be such a concert hit

you ready boots? start walkin’ — ohhh love a lyric reference!

Hello Hello

The order of Love You In HiFi to Hello Hello is so good though

I Want You To Want Me

I fucking love when Trixie does a cover. And I need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You immediately

Just … Trixie’s voice!?

New Thing

Please her having backup lyrics in French HER SINGING IN FRENCH

Kind of a favorite!

White Rabbit (feat. Michelle Branch)

First of all, I’m so happy for her having a song with Michelle 🥺

Why is this making me cry

I knew when you walked in you’d leave it where we started

you keep on teasing that you’re breathing just to please everyone

I have been emotionally devastated by this song cool cool cool

Stay The Night

Oh wait this is the Trixie Motel theme song right

Who Loves You Baby

from the way you looked at me, something’s begun; anyone from the outside looking in can tell you it’s over & done; tell me, who loves you baby

and we’re wasting time

Girl of Your Dreams

No this is so cute

so maybe you’ve been burned before, but baby will you ever know if you never go go go — LOTS TO UNPACK THERE DAMN

Wake Up

we’ve been here once before haven’t we babe; we turned to ash & crashed with the sea waves; my heart is never broken just broke in

tell me where you go when you sleep, what you see when you dream

Okay but the way this ties back to Boyfriend — is genius. And also the dream & burning tie in with Girl Of Your Dreams. She said themes

This Town (feat. Shakey Graves)

Truly one of my favorite Trixie songs 💕

Vacation

Once again, Trixie is the queen of covers. This is fucking gorgeous

[kindahoping4forever]

I Want Your Midnights // Ashton Irwin

Happy 2021 everyone! Thank you to everyone who feverishly (yet politely) requested a follow-up to Under The Christmas Lights; those holiday fics were really fun but kind of a lark and I didn’t expect that any of them would get that kind of reaction! I hope this continuation lives up to your expectations. 

Big, big thanks to @cal-puddies​​ for setting me back on the right path more than once while I was writing this - I honestly gave up about halfway through and she (lovingly) refused to let me give up so if you enjoy reading this, it’s because of her tbh.  

Warnings: Equal parts fluff, banter and smut, mentions of quarantine, frantic resolution of sexual tension, protected sex within a new relationship, references to consensual voyeurism, masturbation and oral sex on a male, oral sex performed on a female, discussion of and use of sex toys, single joking use of the word “Daddy”

Word Count: 5675

Hoe For The Hoe-lidays Masterlist

Masterlist // Taglist and Ko-Fi linked above

Let  me  know  what ��you  think!

11:29pm, December 30

“So we really overestimated our self-control skills tonight, didn’t we?”

Ashton laughs raspily at your comment, the sound travelling from your phone speaker straight down your spine, giving you chills. You prop your head up on your pillow, gazing towards the direction of your window, towards his bedroom window, a sight you’d become quite accustomed to these past few nights.

You’ve talked to Ash everyday since your feelings for each other became obvious and ever since your Christmas encounter when your intentions for those feelings became explicit, you’ve spent your nights engaging in some sort of mutual self-pleasure either via text, phone call or window watching.

Tomorrow the quarantine you both agreed to will be over and you'll safely celebrate New Year's Eve together; earlier, the two of you decided you should forgo your nightly socially distanced rendezvous in the interest of building anticipation for your imminent in-person one. But you were already in bed when Ashton called to ask if there was anything he should bring tomorrow and one suggestive comment led to another and before you knew it, your hand was between your legs yet again.

“It’s my fault, I asked what kind of chips you wanted me to bring, I should’ve known that would get you hot and bothered,” he jokes, the sound of him pulling tissues from the box on his nightstand now a familiar tune to your ears.

“Pretty goddamn slutty of you, honestly,” you laugh giddily.

“Can’t imagine what you would’ve done had I asked if I could bring soda as well,” he cracks himself up.

You giggle, “Ohhh, listen, if you talk Dr. Pepper to me, I’ll have no choice but to break quarantine and have my way with you right now.”

“Explain how that’s supposed to deter me from the subject,” he teases. You hear his sheets rustling and know he’s settling back into bed. He exhales loudly before admitting, “I’m nervous for tomorrow.”

"Aww, why? It’s just me… just us.”

Ashton is quiet for a beat before answering. “I think part of it is it’s been a long time since I’ve had something to look forward to,” he ponders. “But also… I can’t remember the last time I wanted something… someone… this badly.”

Your heart feels like it skips a beat, like it always seems to around him, since the day you moved in over a year ago. “It’s gonna be good, Ash,” you quietly reassure him, reassure yourself. “We’re gonna be so good.”

10:45am, December 31

You wash your breakfast dishes in record time, focused on all you need to do to finish your work day and get ready for tonight; it’s only when you’re drying your hands that you mindlessly glance up and notice the sight before you.

You look up just as Ashton, midway through his daily workout, is reaching to peel off his white tee that’s mostly soaked through; you find yourself staring as his muscles flex, tighten and relax again as he pulls the material off his body and then uses the discarded shirt to wipe the sweat running down his chest and neck.

He takes a swig from his water bottle before he starts up again and you hear yourself audibly gulp as he bends and stretches, giving you the opportunity to admire his ass and thick thighs in his athletic leggings. You watch his body and lose yourself in thoughts of him hovering above you, moving over you the way he's moving over his mat on the deck.

The alarm on your phone set to remind you to clock back into work snaps you out of your lusty daze. You silence the noise and then quietly cackle to yourself as you type out a text to Ash: “Watching you stretch is really making me look forward to the stretch I’ll be feeling tonight.”

You hang by the window, waiting to see his reaction. He reads your message and a self-satisfied smirk spreads across his face; he looks towards your kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of you in all your surely flushed glory, but you’re already gone.  

4:07pm, December 31

Despite your mind's best efforts to distract you with wild thoughts about tonight, your work day finally ends and you head upstairs to get dressed. You stand in front of your closet, weighing your wardrobe options when your phone's text chime sounds out.

You scoop it off the bed, clicking on a message from Ashton reading, "If you need suggestions, you could wear your green dress… I’ve been thinking about taking that off of you for a while now.”

You shake your head at how instantly your heart speeds up once that image is in your mind. You bound over to the window to find him standing in front of his, waving with a cheeky grin on his face. You greet him by holding up the dress he mentioned in one hand and your middle finger in the other. “No spoilers” is your texted reply as you pull your curtains closed for the first time in weeks.

5:10pm, December 31

The doorbell rings and you’re shocked you can hear it over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears; you make yourself count to ten before you answer it. You take a deep breath and turn the knob, opening the door to reveal Ash beaming at you excitedly; one look at him and you feel any nerves that were nagging at you dissipate.

“Hey neighbor,” he greets you with a chuckle.

It takes you a beat before you realize you can reply with more than the shy wave you’re used to and you step forward to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. You breathe him in, grateful to finally decipher the scent you’ve caught occasional wafts of over the fence and have spent so long trying to pin down. It’s sweet, spicy, woodsy and fruity all at once; you can’t wait to have it all over you by the end of the night.

You pull back to study him, it’s the first time you’ve really gotten to look at him up close and he’s stunning. You never noticed his dark hair was dyed but now you see the light roots at his hairline, softening his face; some stray curls have fallen out of place and you sweep them aside, revealing the laugh lines crinkling around his eyes as he smiles at you. His eyes are deep pools of hazel you already feel yourself drowning in and his cheeks are much rounder than you realized, growing bigger the more he grins at you. His lips… well… his lips look soft and shapely and suddenly you feel like you might die if you don’t taste them this instant.

You place your hands on either side of his face, running your thumbs over his beard before closing the gap and pressing your mouth to his. It’s everything and nothing like you’d imagined your first kiss would be: soft, slow, cautious yet undeniably heated. You feel his tongue slide over your bottom lip and you allow him to deepen the kiss; he murmurs as your tongue connects with his for the first time and he pulls away to check in with you.

You offer him a sweet smile that quickly turns into something more frisky. “I think we can do better than that, we’ve spent the past week listening to each other cum,” you tease.

Ashton smirks at you, stepping inside; in one swift motion, he kicks the door shut behind him and scoops you in his arms, backing you up against it, lips crashing into yours. Suddenly it’s like your mouths can’t move fast enough, feverishly trying to make up for lost time. You kiss him like you’re trying to commit his taste to memory and maybe you are.

He breaks away to mouth over your neck, immediately licking and kissing over the parts of your skin his beard scratched moments before; you run your hands through his curls, marveling at the fact that’s something you’re allowed to do now. His mouth ends up sucking over a spot behind your ear that’s such a specific turn on for you, your mind races to remember if you told him that during one of your phone sessions or if he just knew. He bites down a little and you cry out, pushing him back, ready for more.

You slot your lips with his again, already missing his taste on your tongue. You walk him backwards as you kiss, trying desperately to lead him to the nearest surface, any surface where you can get him between your legs.

You make it to your desk at the other end of the living room and you thank your past self for taking the time to put away your work from earlier, although it would’ve been fun to see Ash do the cliché “impassioned arm sweep” to clear it. You hop up on the edge and spread your legs, pulling him close, needing as much of him on you as possible.

Ash groans when your hips move against his and you grin at the feeling of his cock straining against his pants, brushing over your clothed heat. “Hard for me already, eh?” You tease, biting at his lower lip.

He gives a lighthearted scoff. “Please, I’ve been hard for you since I saw you in this dress through the window before I walked over here,” he rasps, gliding his hands up and down your body in the form-fitting outfit to illustrate his point. “You look incredible, by the way.”

You rut against him again and you both moan. “God, I can’t wait any longer, Ash, I need you,” you rush out, breathless.

“Yeah?” He checks, looking over your face, noting the desperation in your eyes. “I have a - ”

“Yeah, please, Ash, fuck,” you pant, out of your mind with desire.

He kisses you hurriedly as his hands skillfully slide under your dress and tug your panties down your legs, setting them aside; he reaches to retrieve a condom out of his coat pocket. It briefly crosses your mind how absurd it is that he’s still wearing his coat and you’re about to move to help him out of it but then he’s pulling his cock out and you can’t focus on anything other than getting your hands on him.

You give him a feather light squeeze before starting an agonizingly slow rhythm on his shaft and reaching down to cup his balls like you’ve seen him do; he’s as thick and heavy in your hand as you imagined and you feel yourself becoming wetter with every stroke. He brushes your hands aside so he can roll the condom on and you capture his lips in a lusty kiss because you’re not sure what else to do.

One of Ashton’s hands cradles your head as you kiss him, the other trails between your thighs and starts teasing your clit; he murmurs into your mouth when he feels how wet you are, how after just a few touches, you’re already rocking into his hand. He breaks the kiss to push your skirt up over your waist so you can both watch as he lines himself up at your entrance. He glances at you and with your eager nod of approval, he starts pushing in.

You inhale sharply at the sensation and he pauses, eyes darting up to yours. “No, it’s good, more,” you insist, hooking your legs around his waist. He continues to slide in and you feel your eyes roll back, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. It's obviously been a while since you've had anyone inside you but the fact that it's Ash and the size of him… what a way to get back in the game.

He groans as he starts moving in you, slowly at first, eyes trained on your face to make sure you’re comfortable. You pull him into a kiss that’s all tongue, tangling your hands in his hair, needing to feel as much of him as you can in this moment. You've started moving along with him, your body asking for more, so he carefully lays you back on the desk, gripping onto your thighs so he can ramp up his pace.

The sound of his hips hitting yours, your clothes rustling together and your intertwined grunts and moans of encouragement for each other fill the living room. He lets go of one of your legs so he can move his hand back down to your clit and as he rubs circles on it, you curse under your breath, stunned you already feel as undone as you do.

"I'm already close," you whisper, gripping his arm as he leans in, bracing himself on his hands on either side of you.

"First of many tonight," he smirks, trying to maintain his sexy cool demeanor but failing as you both burst into giggles at his remark. He lightly encourages you, "Tell me what you need."

You squeeze your clothed breasts and use your legs to bring him even closer to you. "Hard. Just. Hard," you pant.

Ash growls, grabbing your legs again, pushing them up towards your chest, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts with force. You cry out at his renewed vigor, at the change in angle making him somehow feel even thicker and longer inside you. You bring your hand to your clit and it only takes a few seconds of pressure for your breath to catch and your body to start shaking.

"Ash… fuckfuckfuckfuck oh my god," you breathe, pawing at the collar of his coat, your back arching up off the desk as your orgasm crests.

You're not sure if he was holding off waiting for you to finish or if the intensity of your body climaxing around him does him in but Ashton follows you over the edge less than a minute later. He gasps your name as he cums like you've heard him do many times over the phone but hearing him say it as he hovers above you, knowing your pussy is the reason for his pleasure is a different experience entirely.

He collapses on you briefly and you revel in the tactile experience: his lips pressing gently against your neck as he comes down, the texture of his wool coat under your fingertips as you rub his back, the unexpectedly satisfying scratch of his beard on your skin.

Ashton's lips travel back up to yours in an unhurried, relaxed kiss before he pushes himself back over you, joking, "We've really got to work on that impulse control thing, don't we?"

7:52pm, December 31

The two of you enjoyed a nice dinner comprised of delicious food and compatible conversation; you’ve talked a lot over the past few weeks but being able to finally be so close, being able to touch his arm when he says something sweet, feel his laughter vibrate the wood of your table - there’s an air of normalcy and domesticity that wasn’t there before. It’s nice, almost like there aren’t strange global circumstances that led to this evening, like you haven’t been basically dating from a distance.

You stand up to clear the table and when you reach for his plate, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap, hugging you tight and thanking you for inviting him over. He helps you carry the dishes to the kitchen because of course he does and when he stands at the sink to rinse them, you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into his back, because that’s something you've always wanted to do.

You move to the living room, coffee mugs in hand but they’re soon forgotten with the return of Ash’s lips to your neck and your hands in his hair. You’re not in the hurry that you were earlier so everything feels much more relaxed; you’re able to appreciate the little things more, like the way he hums into your kiss when you brush his hair behind his ears, the quick pecks he sneaks in as he’s pulling out of a long liplock with you.

He finally undresses you, laying you gently on the couch in your underwear. “For someone who said they’d been waiting to get me out of that dress, sure took you a while,” you tease, gasping as his hands massage your breasts through the lace you’re wearing and his mouth peppers kisses over your stomach.

“Looked too good, wanted to enjoy it a little longer,” he smoothly replies, hooking his thumbs in your panties, glancing up at you to make sure it’s okay for him to continue. You nod, lifting your hips to aid the process. He kisses his way back up your legs, beard dragging across your skin, murmuring, “Something else I’ve waited too long to do…” before pressing a series of wet kisses directly over your clit.

You squirm against his face, eager for him to get into it but Ashton seems determined to take his time, slowly teasing up and down your lips, moving over to nip at your thighs and then returning to your pussy, tongue lavishing attention everywhere except where you want him most.

You’re just about to speak up when his fingers spread your lips apart and his tongue starts fluttering at your clit, causing you to suck in a breath instead. “God, Ash, yes, like that,” you encourage, fighting to keep your eyes open so you can watch him work. It feels so much better, looks so much more erotic than you ever could’ve imagined.

His mouth remains attached as he slips a finger inside you; the way your hips start grinding against him tells him when you’re ready for another and you moan as his tongue and fingers find an alternating rhythm to please you.

You paw at your tits, pinching your nipples through your bra as he works you. He pulls off to catch his breath, pushing himself up near your face to check in. “This working for you?” He asks, panting.

You affectionately swipe over what you thought was sweat on his beard, groaning at the realization it’s actually moisture courtesy of you. “Are you fucking kidding me, dude?” You laugh. “The other night I came thinking about you doing this and it’s already better than both the fantasy and the toy I used.”

He grins with pride. “Good,” he winks at you before diving back in.

Ashton eats your pussy with confidence, attentively listening to your sounds to determine what you like best. It’s when he sets one of your legs over his shoulder, angling your hips up slightly, that you start sounding really desperate and he smirks to himself. “Aww, ready to cum already? I was just getting started,” he taunts playfully.

You let out a guttural moan at his remark, gripping his hair a little bit rougher, holding him to your body a little bit tighter. He grabs on to your hips as they try to speed up and you murmur incoherent praise as you cum on his tongue.

He continues to lick at you, cleaning you until you push him away, clamping your legs shut. He massages over your thighs tenderly before moving up to kiss you. With a twinkle in his eye, he asks, “So what other fantasies of yours can we best while I'm here?”

9:24pm, December 31

After an enthusiastic but quicker than either of you would’ve preferred blowjob on the couch, you and Ash end up back in the kitchen, ready for a snack. You giggle to yourself as you stand in just his shirt, digging through your kitchen junk drawer, searching for a rubber band to help grip the jar of nacho sauce neither of you seem to be able to open.

“It’s not funny, how humiliating that I’m showing such weakness on our first date,” he jokes through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to turn the lid.

You grin, enjoying the show of Ashton clad only in his boxers, pouting as he loses the battle against a jar of cheese sauce. “Yes, you’ve fed me, done my dishes and made me cum twice since you’ve been here but I clearly still need you to prove your worth as a mate to me,” you smirk, passing him the rubber band you discovered. “Although I have to say, if you want to keep trying to open that yourself, I don’t hate watching those tattoos dance while you struggle.”

He laughs sarcastically as he fits the band over the lid and effortlessly pops it open seconds later. “Easy, I don’t know why you were so worried,” he giggles loudly before he even finishes his sentence.

He begins pouring the cheese over the chips you set out and you slide yourself under his free arm, fitting easily into his side. “New Year’s resolution, you clearly need to work on your upper body strength,” you tease, playfully biting at his shapely bicep.

He snorts, smiling as he passes you the plate of food to put in the microwave. He leans against the counter, observing you fondly while he wonders out loud, “Are you a New Year’s resolutions person?”

You move to get the other toppings out of the fridge; you stop and think before passing him the goods. “I mean, I’ll make them but I never really follow through. It’s like after the first week or so it just kind of slips my mind... maybe I’m making the wrong resolutions, I guess.” You shrug, setting the heated plate on the counter. “You?”

Ash shakes his head, hopping up on the counter so he can easily look at you and dress the nachos at the same time. “I never really understood why the calendar resetting is supposed to be this all-powerful impetus for change. If you want to do something, you should just do it no matter what the date is,” he says passionately, with furrowed brow.

You nod, pouring two glasses of soda. “It’s important to make goals but the rigidity of a resolution kind of just chains you to one thing when the whole point of a new year is that you don’t know what it will bring," you point out. "I think that's what's slipped me up before. Instead of saying 'I'll work out five days a week' I should be saying 'I want to live healthier.' It shouldn't be about the thing, it should be about the change you want to see."

You notice he's gone quiet and you look up at him inquisitively. You find him gazing at you, enchanted. "I agree," he reassures you. "I was just enjoying hearing you talk about it."

You feel your cheeks get warm and you pause to take a sip to collect yourself. "What I do like about New Year’s is the opportunity to reflect on the year you’ve had and let that inform what your next year will be like," you share. "So. What's one thing you didn't do this year that you wish you had? And not something because of quarantine, that's a copout."

Ashton doesn't hesitate to say, "I wish I had gotten to know you sooner."

10:53pm, December 31

You chuckle at Ash's wide-eyed interest, “No, I haven’t used that one to get off with you yet.” You take the thick blue dildo from his hands and smack it on the headboard of your bed, yanking on it to demonstrate the suction cup. “It’s more of a shower toy… or sometimes I’ll stick it to one of my chairs and ride it.”

His cock twitches with interest and he absentmindedly gives it a subtle squeeze. “Well we’re gonna put a pin in that, I guess,” he mutters, peering back into the drawer. “Also I like that you said ‘yet.’”

You smile widely at him, enjoying his enthusiasm. You’d finally made it to bed and were getting ready to ride him but when you opened your bedside table to grab a condom, your toy collection caught his attention and curiosity took over; you’ve spent the last five minutes watching him eye your toys, eagerly asking which ones you’ve used during your phone conversations with him.

He jumps as a pink contraption he doesn’t recognize starts to rumble out of his grasp with the push of a button. You giggle and reach over, unfolding it, placing the top portion of it over the back of his hand. “I used this one last night,” you admit, clicking the second button, watching his jaw drop as he feels the toy start lightly sucking at his skin.

“You’ve definitely had a much more fun quarantine than me,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief as he turns up the settings of the vibe. “What do you even need me here for?”

“You’re a lot nicer to talk to,” you say sweetly, leaning in to give him a playful kiss.

“I also would’ve accepted ‘your cock is much bigger, Daddy,’” Ash deadpans. He waits a beat before bursting into loud laughter, clarifying, “I’m totally kidding.”

“Well we’re gonna put a pin in that, I guess,” you tease, reaching down to lightly give him a few strokes. “Although I don’t know if I can say that first part, you haven’t seen my other drawer… I’m totally kidding.”

He scoffs, kissing you hard, placing his hands on either side of your ass and moving you closer to him. ”What’d you do with that condom?”

You pat around the bed for a few seconds, triumphantly holding up the stray package you found lost in the sheets. You roll the condom on him while he continues rifling through your belongings. “This is cute,” he declares, rolling a purple bullet vibe across his fingers. “And tiny. We could probably use this right now, huh?”

You raise your eyebrows, surprised but impressed at his openness. “Yeah, if you want, that’d actually be great,” you agree.

He beams at you, tossing you the vibrator while he settles back against the pillows; you set it aside and sling your leg over him, leaning in to kiss him thoroughly. You lean your forehead against his as you line yourself up over his cock and start rolling your hips back and forth, teasing the both of you by running your pussy over him; you watch him bite his lip, not sure whether to cry out from pleasure or object in frustration. Finally, you reach to guide him inside you. You take him a little easier than last time but the stretch is still deliciously intense and Ash can see it on your face. He plays with your tits while you adjust, watching you closely to see what you like.

You eventually start moving, lightly bracing yourself on his chest as you get going; you set a moderate speed, eager to let him fill you but cautious of trying to pace yourself, trying to pay attention to what he seems to respond to. You switch from rocking to a bouncing motion after a couple minutes and his hands move to squeeze your hips, helping you along; you notice his eyes haven’t left your breasts since you started moving like this and you whimper, running your hands down your front, stopping to pinch and play as needed.

Ashton's hands soon replace yours again and you arch your back, allowing him easier access. He gives a low groan, you’re giving him such a show, he’s not sure where to look. You’re leaned back and bracing yourself on his thighs, hard nipples jutting out, begging for attention; you expertly work your bodies together and he finds himself hypnotized watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again.

You love how he’s staring at you; it’s making you feel wanted and bold and you decide to tease him a little. “Working so hard to take all this cock, does it look as good as it feels?” You murmur, lifting yourself off almost entirely and then sliding back down on him with ease. “You like watching me fuck you?”

A growl escapes his lips and his hands roam your body wildly. “Doing so good… look so fucking good riding me,” he says, voice rasping with desire. “Better than I ever imagined.”

He feels the overwhelming need to make you moan for him and he sneaks his hand between your folds; you jolt at the contact, letting out a yelp and he smiles at his victory. He reaches over and grabs the vibe, tapping your leg to ask if you’re ready. You answer with a breathy “uh-huh” as you continue riding him.

He clicks the button, setting it to the lowest speed and presses it to your clit to gauge your reaction; you shift your rhythm, slowing to allow yourself to feel the new stimulation. You lick your lips, mumbling, “Oh, that’s nice,” as you grasp his hand to move the toy over just a bit until you’re moaning outright.

Ash holds the vibe on you for a bit longer until you sit up to change position. After a short spell of trial and error, he slips the bullet between your bodies and you help him once again fit it against you until it’s giving you the kind of stimulation you need. You roll your hips a few times, testing the setup and within seconds you’re whining, his cock hitting inside you in just the right place and the vibrations making you squirm above him.

He runs his hands up and down your thighs, watching you work yourself on him, using his body and your vibrator to build your climax; he gently rocks up into you, not wanting to disrupt you but between your movements and the stray buzzing of your bullet, he’s starting to become overwhelmed himself.

“Ash! Fuck… good… fuck,” you mutter, falling forward, place your arms on either side of his head to prop yourself up as you keep fucking him. “Close. God, I’m so close. Please.”

He recognizes that tone of desperation in your voice and knows just what to say to help you over the edge. “Fuckin’ me so good… ‘bout to make me cum for you… need to feel you cum around me first,” he wraps his arms around your back, panting in your ear. “Come on, baby, you deserve it.”

Your breathing speeds up and you whine his name as you start to pulse around him, losing your rhythm, clawing at his shoulders. He holds you as you cum, riding it out until you can’t take it anymore and you reach between you, throwing the vibrator across the bed, not even bothering to shut it off.

Ashton chuckles softly at your frenzied action and notices what looks like a wince as you rock yourself lightly on him. “Hey, I can finish another way if this is too much for you,” he offers.

You shake your head vigorously. “No, it still feels good,” you tell him insistently. “I’m just tired. Maybe you could…”

He gathers your meaning and pulls you down into a sloppy kiss before you move your mouth to his neck, slowly sucking to leave a mark, humming as his beard scrapes your skin; he grips your ass tightly with both hands and starts fucking up into you. He begins cautiously, wanting to make sure you’re still feeling good and as the noises pouring from your lips reassure him that you are, he increases his speed, thrusting up with force.

Your moans blend together in perfect harmony until yours trail off as you lose your breath; before you know what’s happening, you feel yourself cumming again and hard. You bury your face in Ash’s neck, hands tugging roughly at his hair. Feeling you squeeze around him again and with such intensity is enough to set him off and with a few loud grunts, he’s filling the condom.

He sighs deeply, rubbing your back as the two of you come down; your breathing falls into a synchronized rhythm and you bask in how nice it feels just to lay with him for a minute.

"Well that was something," he comments, pecking the top of your head as he helps you off of him, laying you on your pillow.

You quickly pull him back in, planting a quick kiss on his lips before he gets out of bed. "No, you are," you coo.

12:39am, January 1

"Ash… Ash… we missed it," you laugh softly, pressing kissing along his collarbones until his eyes flutter open.

"Huh?"

"We fell asleep and missed midnight," you explain with an amused smile. "Happy New Year."

He lifts his head up, looking around the room in confusion. After you’d both cleaned up, you climbed back in bed, intending to relax and chat until it was time to watch the midnight countdown on TV. Evidently, once the cuddles started, exhaustion from the night's activities overtook you both and you awoke to the sound of fireworks going off in the neighborhood.

"Oh," he frowns, rolling on his side to face you. "Well. Happy New Year." He leans in and gives you a soft kiss that easily could turn into more but you pull back, wanting to say something.

You run your hand up and down his side and say, "I'm glad we did this." He raises an eyebrow, smirking at you and you playfully pinch his arm. "You know what I mean. I'm glad you came over. I'm glad you're here."

Ashton's face softens and he scoots closer to you, placing his head next to you on your pillow. "Me too," he responds sincerely. "Sorry we missed midnight though, wanted to kiss you."

“Well lucky for us, we’ll get another midnight in about 23 hours,” you grin, reaching over to scratch his beard.

He slips his hand around your waist, pulling you to his lips. He murmurs against your mouth, “Do over at my place? It’s a date.”

————-

Taglist issues again so my apologies if you get notif’d more than once (or not at all)

@mymindwide​ @suchalonelysunflower​​ @pxrxmoore​ @loveroflrh​ @ghostofmashton​ @sexgodashton​ @feliznavidaddycal​  

@castaway-cashton​ @ashtonlftv​ @cashtonasfuck​ @megz1985​ @ashdork-irwin​ @angelicfluffs​ @findingliam-o​ @youngbloodchild​  @irwinsbetch​ @everyscarisahealingplace​

@wiildflower-xxx​ @metalandboybands​​  @realisticnotes​​  @makeamovehemmings​​ @golden166​​ @burstintocolor​​

@mfartzzz​​ @babyoria​​ @petunias-pet​ @youngblood199456​​ @notinthesameguey​​ @seanna313​​  @zhangyixingxing1​​ @stardust-galaxies​​  @zackoid​​

@lovelybonesetc​​ @xsongxbirdx​​ @justhereforcalum​​   @ashtonangst​

@laura66sos​​ @calumrose​​ @karajaynetoday​​  @pilunb​​ @jazzyangel242​​ @babylon-corgis​​  @heyheyhaleyd​​ @calmsweetcreature​​

@spicycal​​ @talkfastromance4​​  @holystxne​​

@meetmedowntown​​ @myloverboyash​​

@irwindoll​​ @cheekysos​​ @carrielfisher​​ @lukedorkyhemmings​​ @creampiecashton​​ @lovelywordsblog​​

@trix-arent-for-kids @uh-huhh-honey @tobefalling @aladyofalbion @likehuhdude

@curlycalums​​  @cxddlyash​​  @reddesert-healourblues​​

@fedorable-killjoys​​  @iamcalumswhore​​   @i-like-5sos​​  

@millennial-teenybopper​

  @Too-et-moi215 @photochic18  @kouska901 @Indermeow  @dantord

[dancelikeanarchitect]

Fic writer tag...

I was tagged by @astridcontramundum​ so, here we go!

How many stories do you have on AO3?

Three. I’m new

How many fandoms have you written for?

Published? Just one--Inspector Morse/Endeavour. Have written and plan to publish? Eight--Sherlock, MCU, Star Wars, Jane Austen, Temeraire, Tamora Pierce, Sound of Music (plus Morseverse). Probably more, eventually!

What’s your word count?

Published on AO3? 46,052. Saved on my laptop to be published someday? 200k+

What are your top five three fics by kudos?

1) Ashes and Sparks

2) The Dark of Night

3) Don’t Fuss

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes, always! Sometimes it takes me a while to get to replying, but I love interacting with people about my fics :-)

6. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Almost definitely Don’t Fuss, since I ended that one with a Major Character Death... oops. 

7. Do you write crossovers?

I do! I have two crossovers in the works currently: Jane Austen + Temeraire (because who doesn’t love regency ladies and dragons together in one story) and Falcon and the Winter Soldier + Sound of Music (because I saw it on tumblr and now I can’t get it out of my head).

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, thank goodness!! 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! Well, at least, I plan to publish smut in the future. As to what kind? I don’t know, the smutty kind?? It will probably be pretty vanilla to start with, but someday I might explore kinks. 

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. Again, thank goodness.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, but I’d love to try it sometime!

13. What's your favorite all time ship?

Ohhh this is hard.... Johnlock is amazing, but I also adore Morse/Lewis... Probably those two are my all time faves. 

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

A story called “It Should Have Been Me”. I started it in high school, it’s a reverse Reichenbach story in the Sherlock universe. I’d LOVE to finish it someday, but it’s definitely currently at the bottom of my pile underneath a bunch of Morseverse and MCU stuff, so...

15. What are your writing strengths?

I think (I hope) I’m good at capturing characters’ voices and making dialogue and actions feel authentic to the characters and fandoms I’m writing. I’m oddly good at writing British English for an American--probably because I read Harry Potter way too many times as a child and watched way too many British murder mystery shows. 

Otherwise, I think (hope) I’m good at accurately capturing emotions and making readers feel something with my story. That’s my goal, anyway!

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I second guess myself. Constantly. And when I start second guessing myself, I often abandon the story I’m working on.

I get frustrated when my first draft doesn’t come out perfectly, which can also lead to stories getting abandoned.

Sometimes plotting and pacing can be a struggle for me. Coming up with plot twists that aren’t too wild or too boring is always hard!

17 What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If it makes sense in the story and it’s a language I know a bit about, sure! If I don’t know anything about the language I’ll probably stay away from it, though, for fear of accidentally saying something I 100% don’t mean.

18. What’s the first fandom you wrote for?

Wrote for? Sherlock. Published? Morseverse

19. What's your favorite fic you've written?

Ashes and Sparks. I had no idea I was capable of writing a 40k multi-chapter fic and having it turn out okay, but I’m really quite proud of it! 

So I really don’t know who exactly of my followers writes and hasn’t done this already, but if you feel inspired to please copy paste and tag me so I can see your answers!

[lions-arch-chronicle]

Issue 14! Special thank you to everyone who came to our impromptu meet up for a photo!

Image ID Below Read More

Title: EXCLUSIVE! Interview with the Mad King Thorn

Story: Courica: First of all I’d like to thank you for taking the time out of your very busy fall schedule to speak with us King Thorn.

King Thorn: Well of course, what better way to let all of my wonderful subjects know that their beloved king has returned than an utterly exclusive interview.

Courica: Now, I don’t know that you’ve heard but in your year of absence you have gained a new form of popularity thanks to a certain well known author.

King Thorn: Oh really? Do tell.

Courica: You and your romantic past have become the subject of a new novel by the critically acclaimed and critically panned author Snargle Goldclaw.

King Thorn: Romance? Hardly interesting wouldn’t you think? A history on my glorious and permanent reign would have been more fitting? (laughs)

Courica: We have a copy on hand here if you’d like to take a look?

King Thorn: Ohhh don’t BIND if I do. Get it? Bind? Laugh or this interview is over and I’ll feed you to the spiders.

Courica: (extremely nervous laughter)

King Thorn: “The viscount purred.” He Purred? That bastard has never informed me that he’s capable of purring... Rotten corn cob has been holding out on me.

Courica: Wait are you confirming there are accuracies within this story and that it’s not entirely fictional? 

King Thorn: Aw now where’s the fun in spoiling the end of the story, now if you excuse me I believe it’s about time to acquire a new charr rug.

Title:  Kuritata’s fashion reviews: SCARY SHINY?!

Story: Oh oh oh, it’s time for the friends to wear the spooky outfits! This one comes with shinies! The shiny gloves look like they should be hot and would burn skritt if she touched them. Do they hurt? Is the shiny worth the ouchies from the gloves? Very grabby grabby looking  must come in handy for grabing onto shinies. Friend also has big scarf! Skritt is proud that friend is wearing weather appropriate clothing since it’s getting cold out. Very functional and it has spooky colors too! You look like a very soft and friendly looking pumpkin to  skritt. Speaking of pumpkin friend has pumpkin face! Sharp teeth and shiny glowy eyes! Skritt thinks that she could look into your shiny eyes for days . Skritt would also like to request, to borrow, your weapon, forever. It is very shiny and would be good to hold and appreciate for its shinyness. Overall a very soft looking shiny spooky holiday friend 13/10 but only if skritt can keep your sword.

Want to have your outfit reviewed?Submit your fashion photos to us! https://lions-arch-chronicle.tumblr.com/submit

Title: You have all this candy corn now what?

Story: We were originally going to provide our beloved readers with some various recipes and helpful guides on what to do with the excess amounts of candy corn obtained over the holiday season but in our research, we realized that candy corn can barely be considered food and advising any sort of consumption of it or the use of it as an ingredient would not be in the best interests of our readers. Rather we have decided to recommend a simple yet effective solution to all excess candy corn.

1. Prepare a double boiler pot of your choice and bring the water inside up to boiling temperatures.

2. Insert leftover candy corn and let it melt until it becomes soft and malleable.

3. Remove the candy corn from the heat and begin to shape into your weapon of choice.

4. Let cool and enjoy your free candy corn-based weapon.

Title: The Boasting Hall: Quaggan wants to make a new afterlife for quaggan.

Story: Coo Quaggan has something to ask of the people of Lion’s Arch. Quaggan thinks that he should be given another chance for a good afterlife. Now, foo on quaggan’s previous mistakes from his lifetime. Quaggan only needs a few more pieces of candy corn to start a good life. Consider finding me in Lion’s Arch during the festival and donating at least 100 candy corn to a poor ghostly quaggan in need ooooo. Yoooou won’t regret helping quaggan. Quaggan has made a series of questionable afterlife choices but would like to make up for it by offering my wares as well to kind people who would like to shop from quaggan. I only have the finest Prickly Spider Legs and Globs of Globby Gloop available, but later. Quaggan will need to restock so gifts of candy corn will do for now coo.

Title:  How to fully commit to your costume this year 

Story: If you’re anything like me, you might be struggling to find a costume that feels right for this year’s festivities. After all, how is one to improve on perfection? When you look this good year round, it can be hard to find something that looks better than what you wear everyday! Halloween is a time to go above and beyond, even if all you do is kick your feet up and read the paper. We all know the classics, devils, jesters, witches, royals, assassins, all that jazz. But have those tried and true options really achieved true perfection? Of course not, I say! If you’re looking for a costume, take something that’s been done before, and do it to the MAXIMUM! Jester? Learn to juggle! Learn to juggle KNIVES! Why not? Have you ever tried? Royalty? Go all out. Start writing flirtatious letters to members of the monarch’s line. Marry into a noble family. Wait a couple years. No one can tell you you’re not really a princess NOW, can they? We’ve all tried our hand at magic once or twice, but do you really need it to be a witch? NO! Move to the swamp! Say ominous and dreadful things to strangers! Eat strange grasses! Wear rags and scowl! I, personally, am going as a Charr, and while the Blood Legion sent my resume back unopened, I am still waiting to hear from Ash. This is the season to be whatever you want, but why must that only be a month? Become what you wish to be! Who’s going to stop you?

[merrybandofmurderers]

writing tag game

tagged by @midnightprelude

How many works do you have on AO3?

ten.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

really gonna make me do math for this huh 95,933 words.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Time Has Come, Through The Ashes, Where We Will Thrive, Lost Love, and Surprising.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i do. i don't get very many comments, so it's not difficult, and i want those who comment to know that i appreciate each and every one

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

at present, i don't really have any angsty endings, but Lost Love has something of a bittersweet ending and Fire Prevention's ending, while triumphant, isn't exactly happy.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Surprising or In Heart's Drumming.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

no, and i doubt i ever will. i'm not particularly into crossovers. it's one of those things that i always filter out sorry crossover writers.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

uh, once lol. they didn't like how the story was progressing or how my OC was acting, and honestly fair. it was a learning experience; i appreciate negative comments, too.

oh and i've received a couple transphobic comments, i guess that counts.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

yea, i guess i do now lmao. if by "kind" you mean the content, it's typically what you'd encounter in slash fic. as for explicitness, it's gonna be a journey of discovery for all of us lmao.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but i'd be thrilled if someone wanted to.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

depends on if you count all the ideas i've given quill lol.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

ohhh god uhhhhh let's just list the top ones. fenris/anders, dorian/inquisitor, fenris/zevran, fenris/carver, alistair/zevran, dorian/bull.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

fuck well at this rate i'm not sure i'm ever going to get those stephen king fics finished, but the one i've officially given up on is the uhhhhhhhhhhh twilight re-write 💀

What are your writing strengths?

dialogue, characterization, mood.

What are your writing weaknesses?

endings, fight scenes, transitions.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

honestly i really like it. i do appreciate when there's author's notes explaining what was said, but i don't mind breaking out google translate. for myself, i've only done fantasy languages, but it's fun.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

No. 6 and it was entirely by accident lol.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

The Revolt Inside Me.

tagging @mrs-theirin, @thegingerjedi, @gaysolavellan, @dumbassentity

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #434

“i hate this town, it’s so washed up, & all my friends don’t give a fuck  /  they’ll tell me that it’s just bad luck, when will i find where i fit in?”

You get a text from your ex. He/she wants to hang out. How do you respond? Admittedly, I would. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex that you secretly want to be more than friends with? No. Well, there are times where I think I WANT to like-like Girt, but I just don't. And yet he's always been there for me without fail, is super funny and kind and chill... but I think we were just friends for too long; he feels like my brother by this point in time. If your partner smoked, would that be a problem for you? If it was cigarettes, yes. Even weed (UNLESS it was for medicinal purposes and not a constant thing) I'd be iffy about. I just don't want to date a smoker. Lung damage is lung damage and weed actually has more carcinogens, and I don't want to sign myself up for all that. I don't want to watch my partner wither away from nonstop smoking and also have myself suffer from second-hand smoking. When will you next see your best friend? There's no telling. Right now I'm trying to be realistic and responsible with the money I DO ever get and put it towards more important investments, but I really do want to take a plane up there at some point. But that's also waiting until Covid is in the past. Heeeell no would I be stepping into an airport right now, even being vaccinated. How many tattoos would you like to have? Too many to count, ha ha. I want LOADS. Paint me, baby. :') Do you like your first name? I actually do. Have you ever talked to a boyfriend about an ex-boyfriend? Yes. It's kind of inevitable when you go into a new relationship, hoping it'll go well and be seriously invested, that you let your partner know "oh hey, this happened and seriously affected me to where I'm going to have 'my days.'" Greatest birthday gift you ever got? My snake Venus was technically a birthday present, though I obviously picked her out. Worst memory you have? Losing Jason. I can't say enough that the night of the breakup still doesn't feel real. First memory you can remember? My brother going down our slide into the Hurricane Floyd flood in our front yard, ha ha. I was around two, I wanna say? I don't feel like looking up the date of the hurricane. Oldest object you own? When did you get it? I'm sure that would be a stuffed animal we have stored away somewhere. Or my baby blanket, also safely tucked away. Meanest person you know? Why do you feel this way? I don't "know" Colleen anymore, but God knows she fit the bill. She was so fucking rude to people (yes, she was one of those people that bitched out store employees that have no control over things that inconvenienced her), the world revolved around her problems, she started drama with the damn grass... It's funny even picturing how she was my best friend once. My standards were lower for who I could befriend back then, but goddamn. Ever been dumped? By who? Yes, Jason. Technically Sara as well, but "dumped" seems like an unfitting term? Like we just talked it out and sorta mutually agreed that it was wiser that we weren't together at the time. Have you ever dumped someone? Why? Yes, mostly because I didn't like-like them. Juan was more so because I believed a rumor by Rachel, and Tyler, I just wasn't invested in and had NO desire to put up with the "we need to talk every five minutes" crap. Where do you buy most of your food? Wal-Mart. Last house you have been to: whose was it, and why were you there? My sister's, for my nephew's birthday party. Have you ever been a drunk driver? No, and fuck you if you've ever put others (and yourself) at risk like that. One kid you cannot stand? None that I know, and that's very few. Has anyone ever saved your life? Jason and Mom literally have. Last thing you cried about? Ha ha, I finished watching another SOMA playthrough earlier, and I will ALWAYS start to cry at the end. Without fail. Would you sacrifice your life for someone else's baby? I honestly think I would if it was a split-second decision. Tell me about your latest dream: I think my APAP mask wasn't positioned well last night, because I had a SHITLOAD of nightmares. Too many to even remember. Have you ever been in a limo? No. I've always wanted to experience that once, man. Have you ever been the maid of honor in a wedding party? No. Has anyone ever seen you naked? I was born naked, my man. Mom used to give my sister and I baths together, and I took a bath with a best friend once as a kid. Then one other person has. Do you have a calendar? If so, what is the theme of it? Not a current one, no. Nicest thing you have ever done for a complete stranger: I have no idea. Meanest thing you have ever done to a complete stranger: *shrug* Have you ever been sent to the principal's office? If so, why? And how did you feel? Yes, I think because they wanted to ask the reason behind all my morning tardies. I was soooo scared, just being a kid. Person you hope you never run into again: Colleen. Have you ever streaked? Heeeeell no. Why do you hate your ex? I don't hate any of them. What animal did you last pet or hold? Roman, my cat. What color is your hair? It's my natural brunette right now. I want to dye it SO badly. Have you ever fallen asleep in someone's arms? Yeah. Have you ever had to clean a cat box before? Yeah, seeing as I own an indoor cat. Christmas is coming. Who are you buying gifts for? In the hypothetical situation where I had the money, I'd buy things for my parents, my stepmom, my two immediate sisters, Ash's kids, as well as her husband, but only because I'd feel obligated to as he's considered a close member of the family. I'd also totally get something for Sara! When somebody intimidates you, how do you usually act around them? SCARED. I get quiet, stutter if I do talk, and possibly cry. Is your favorite singer in a band or does he or she ride solo? He was originally the singer of Black Sabbath, but he's been solo for forever now. I prefer him solo, honestly. Did your parents ever hang your old artwork up on the walls? Ohhh yes. Mom still does, ha ha. What is the weirdest obsession you’ve ever had? Nothing really "weird," I think... How long can you be in a car before wanting to get out? It depends on if I have my music or not. If I do, I can last hours, but if not, I don't really like being in the car at all. Have any songs ever inspired you to play an instrument? No. Do you ever use Pandora?No. Are you better with creative writing or writing essays? Creative writing, but I'm fine with both. What is the weirdest animal you’ve ever seen as a pet? I know OF someone who rescued I want to say a baby bobcat, or something along those lines, but I didn't know that guy personally. I don't think I've ever actually met someone with a truly *strange* pet... The most unique I've seen is probably just a chinchilla. If you had to change one, would you rather change your hair or your eyes? My eyes. I don't like them much, mainly the shape. What was your favorite computer game as a kid? I loved the various Oregon Trail games, as well as one I think was called The Amazon Trail 3. Then there was a few dinosaur games I LOVED, and then there were the classic kids' games like the Putt-Putt and Fred the Fish series. Any shows on TV that you flat out refuse to start watching? 13 Reasons Why. I don't even support that show existing. Pajamas with feet: yay or nay? NOOOOOOOO, that is so uncomfortable. What is your opinion on fruitcake? That's an even BIGGER "no." Who did you last dream about? I don't remember. Do you have trouble remembering important things? Yes. .-. I barely remember anything. Which animal can you imitate the best? I dunno? Have you bought any drugs this month? I don't do drugs, so. Have you ever set foot in a tanning bed? Nope, never will. Do you know the Soulja Boy dance? Ha ha, I did as a kid. My then-best friend, younger sister, and I wanted to learn it. I don't remember it now, that's for sure. What is the best ice cream flavor? Ben and Jerry's "Phish Food" is GODLY. Wallpaper on your computer's desktop? Teddy, my late dog. Do you clean when you’re upset? Hell no, I do the opposite: nothing. Do you sleep with the door open or closed? It stays open. My cat would pitch a fit otherwise. Do you know anyone who has actually been in an alcohol or drug related crash? Yes, actually. It was incredibly tragic; the both of them were high (maybe drunk, idr for sure), and my friend was driving with her best friend in the passenger seat. They crashed, and said friend's best friend died. For YEARS she would share pictures of them together on Facebook, "talking" to her, and it was just so heartbreaking. I doubt she's forgiven herself to this day, but she seems to have mostly moved on the best she could, being married with a daughter now. Have you ever gotten a professional massage? No, and I do NOT want one. I don't want some random stranger touching me in ANY way. Do you have a good relationship with your first love? No. We haven't talked in years, so maybe he feels no hatred for me at this point, but I do for myself. I don't hate him at all. Do you feel like you have life figured out? bitch hell no What would you do if you were faced with an unplanned or unwanted pregnancy (at your current age)? Was I raped? I'd almost certainly abort because I would be traumatized as FUCK. If it was my own fault, I think I'd go through with the pregnancy, but give the baby up for adoption. There is no way I could raise a kid right now. Or probably ever. Water or Gatorade? I don't like either, really, but I HATE Gatorade. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? It's been pierced twice, and I'm thinking of getting it redone again, but this time use a hoop instead of a stud to keep the damn piercing from falling out and closing in my sleep. Have you ever slapped someone? On the arm as a kid. That doesn't excuse it, though. Who are the pictures of in the room? I have a lot of posters, but no real photographs of anyone. Have your parents ever smoked pot? Dad did a lot of drugs before I was born, but Mom's never touched anything. I think. Would you ever consider moving to a different country? I'd love to live in Canada, if that didn't entail leaving my family. What is your favourite food from your culture? Cheeseburgers, alsdf;alwer Do you know any pick-up lines in a foreign language? No. What degree are you or will you pursue while in college? I've dropped out of college three times. I am never going back to major in anything. I changed my major quite a few times while I was there. Favorite arcade game? I don't really have one. One of my life goals is to go to an arcade that has Silent Hill: The Arcade, though. There are very few throughout the world, and it looks fun. Would other people consider your sense of humor inappropriate? I don't see how. Some inappropriate things can make me laugh, but it's definitely not my favorite form of humor, and I myself don't really make jokes of that sort. Who is your biggest celebrity crush right now? Mark Fischbach. :'') What are they famous for? He's a big YouTuber, aND WILL ALSO BE A MAIN ACTOR IN A SHOW NEXT YEAR. LET'S GOOOOOOOOOO. Have you ever had a controlling boyfriend/girlfriend? No, I would NOT stand for that bullshit. Do you have any gay family members? I know my mom's... cousin I want to say is gay. Somebody related to her is. Was your first kiss romantic? I feel like it was. What are you most likely to go to jail for? Pirating shit. Well, can you even be locked up for downloading minor shit? Shows what I know. Have you ever liked someone that was in a relationship with someone else? Boy, have I. Would you ever get a boob job? When (or if...) I lose all the weight I want, I can almost guarantee a breast lift will be something I'd want. Certain things happen when you lose a shitload of weight alsdkf;alkwe Have you ever tried to break up anyone because you liked one of them? Not intentionally. What would you think if you found out your ex was gay? If we're talking THE ex, safe to say I'd be shocked. Did you ever think someone didn’t like you, but come to find out they really did? It's weird, I've felt both ways with Girt? Like there were times I was pretty much 100% certain he liked me, but I'd also be like "nah, no way, he sees me as a sister." Turns out he like-liked me. Are you worried about anything right now? I can't possibly recall the last time I WASN'T worried about something. When you are home alone, do you still close the door when you shower? I don't shower when I'm home alone because I'm afraid of ever fainting and busting my ass again. What noise do you hear? I'm currently listening to "All Signs Point To Lauderdale" by A Day to Remember, and I can also hear my fan going. Do you go online everyday? Pretty much without fail. It'll probably be a cold day in Hell before I willingly don't come online, ha ha.

[ashesurnsjewellery]

As of late has there been an awakening in our way of life that recognizes and approves the component of this loss. So essentially the weight of supporting or concealing this loss has been reduced in the grieving interaction. Also, presently there are assets and networks accessible, devoted to assisting the grieving pet parents with arranging a way ahead into acknowledgment and mending.

There is a result of the grieving interaction. On the off chance that you have lost a pet, presumably, you have encountered it… yet maybe you hush up about it… 

It's the exercise that comes from enduring anguish: when you settle despondency into a more profound comprehension of life, you know the caring energy you imparted to your pet is there for you, generally. 

5 reasons why cremation jewellery for pets is a beautiful method to Cherish 

Along these lines, here's the reason an ashes jewellery for pets piece, modified with your pet's photograph, name, and even charms that recount the special story of your pet, is a recognition to be appreciated – presently and forever. 

Keep the Memory with You, Always. 

Cremation jewellery for pets goes with you – regardless of where you go. A look down at your wrist or a speedy look at your accessory so see that little beautiful jewellery piece is everything necessary to revive immediately a fire of bliss that makes you feel good inside. 

What could be better when you get yourself away from your pet, made up for a lost time in a world so foreign to that bliss? 

Our designs aren't particular. They are intended to go all the way with you and your pet, any place that leads. So we ensure they are however tough and comfortable as they seem to be significant. Also, of a degree of value befitting your memory. That is the reason the entirety of our pieces are fabricated and carefully assembled here in-house. 

You Can Make Dog Years Last Forever 

Or on the other hand any pet years. Hypnotized by the surge of consistent life, or in partaking in the snapshot of carrying on with an existence with your pet, we would prefer not to remember that this excursion we offer will have an endpoint sometime in the not so distant future. 

What should be done is to make a guarantee to catch the achievements along the way, in pictures and in photograph charms of cremation jewellery for pets that will serve your caring association for some years to come. 

Do it now, on the grounds that the excursion passes far excessively fast. 

Honour Your Pet's Unique Personality 

Obviously, each pet has its own character – and singular quirks or characteristics. A small piece of them in ashes to jewellery pets and your response is carved forever in your heart. For me, it's fulfilling each time you glance at your small piece and remember the memories of your beautiful pet. 

Ashes to jewellery pets catch these minutes praise the uniqueness of each pet. Particularly in case you are fortunate to have had more than one pet, honour the manner by which every one of them has advanced your life in altogether different manners. 

Engraving for names – particularly nic-names or "pet" names upgrades the seriousness of the memorial wristband or memorial neckband. Add an appeal portraying that unique toy or item that your canine is crazy about – and you have your special tale about a dog or pet who was extremely exceptional to you.

Offer Your Love and Pride for Your Pet 

Positively you've heard individuals grumble about pet owners who can't quit discussing their pets. 

Like that is something awful. 

At this point don't do included dog and pet guardians need to abdicate to social inclinations and conceal the pet's unmistakable quality in their home, enthusiastic and otherworldly life. 'Cuz it's anything but something terrible. 

Also Read:- Eternalize Your Pet With Cremation Jewellery for Pets

A custom ashes to jewellery pets wristband or photograph jewellery accessory with your pet shows that you get this. Also, other people who accept as you do get that – promptly – when they see it. It's a symbol – a source of inspiration for others battling the social inclinations that try to lessen the commitment of our pets to our lives. 

Also, nothing beats the feeling of imparting pet pictures and stories to other pet parents. 

Heal a Broken Heart 

Ohhh… back to despondency. 

Indeed, everybody should discover their own particular manner through the distress that enters us at the death of a darling pet. What's more, we wish we could guarantee that ash to jewellery pet piece will quickly resolve the agony and make it disappear. we can't. However, we can promise that these will offer some solace to your aching heart and give you a chance to hold on to your pet even after they are gone.

[onwesterlywinds]

To Navigate the Dark

On some days, it was easier to exert himself than to think. It was one of the finest and most enduring lessons he'd learned from his stint in the Ala Mhigan army: he'd had a greater share of hard thoughts than most of the other recruits, and although his growing pains alone had done little and less to dispel them, his specialized Riskbreaker training had given him ample room to throw himself mind and body into a clarified purpose when the rest of the world offered him no answers.

After a five-malm run around the Goblet and a full day of repairs in the Sandsea's forge, he could at last reconcile his mental exhaustion with physical fatigue.

He took the stairs up from the basement slowly, dripping with sweat and hyperconscious of it. As he reached the topmost step, he laid eyes upon a traveler, broad-shouldered and covered in layers upon layers of cloth draped about him to accommodate journeys in inclement weather. He was covered head to toe in sand; he knocked it from his boots against the carpet at the entrance, shook it from his braided hair, even rubbed it from his beard before at last settling his eyes upon Rosenheim.

"You know," said Hawthorne Silverbrand, "she told me it would probably throw me for a loop, if I came here, but I didn't actually expect you'd just be wandering around in areas where daylight might accidentally reach your face."

Rosenheim stepped closer - less to greet the man and more to give him a more thorough examination. Briars from the Shroud were stuck along the hems of his garments; he carried a water jug and a bag large enough to fit several days of rations; he wore a haphazard collection of armor but no weapons that he could make out at first glance. Neither did Ashley intend to surveil him. Of all the people whom he had expected to come through the door, Hawthorne - let alone a Hawthorne who looked to have walked all the way from the Lochs - was not one of them.

"...Who told you?" he managed, by way of a greeting.

Even in the façade of an old and weary traveler, exhausted from a trip and weathered by any misfortune of age, Hawthorne's footsteps resounded through the hall. He raised his hands, his lazy gaze falling appraisingly across the estate. "You can say it was an order from the Red-Haired Representative of the Undercity."

"Keep your voice down," he hissed. Between Southern Flame poking around in places he shouldn't have been and Twelve knew who else had eyes on his daughter, he refused to take any chances in who could be listening in, even within the walls of the Sandsea.

"Ohhh, oh right. Secrets." But Hawthorne laughed through the admonition - a low and rumbling sound that rolled like thunder over his words. "Unfortunately, y'see, we never learned to talk quiet at the temple. Too much yelling across the stone corridors. Good for the lungs, though." Hawthorne scanned the upper balconies, glanced back at the fireplace, and made his way over to the bar. "Impressive area," he said. "It's a wonder how far the Riskbreakers have reached."

"Ashelia told you I would be here?" Rosenheim pressed.

Hawthorne gave a quick nod as he sat himself down upon one of the stools. "We had a conversation, recently. Mostly about her choice in a change of job. And - I'm sorry, maybe this is too honest of me, but I do have to wonder-" He spun in his seat to watch Rosenheim's approach, turning to keep his shoulders squared on him, with a very wide smirk on his own face all the while. "Is that anything you had talked to her about? At all?"

Rosenheim did not follow Hawthorne to the bar. Instead he went behind it, to procure first the biggest glass of water he could find - and then, as an afterthought, a glass of wine of matching size.

He did not say that he appreciated his honesty - that he always had, on the serendipitous occasions Hawthorne had ever deemed to give it.

"We have spoken of it," Rosenheim replied. With that, he went to sit beside his friend.

"Now I am very genuinely surprised to hear you two had that conversation." And Hawthorne did look it. "Believe me, it was one shock to hear that a Riot at all was taking up the mantle for Ala Mhigo's malignant tumor, but then I had to be nearly beside myself to find - even as expected as it wound up being - that she didn't even know my father's name."

And Rosenheim couldn't help the sigh that very nearly left him. Gods, Ashe.

"Or any of the other names of note, unless she just forgot to rattle them off while going over everything else she didn't remember. My guess had only been that she'd taken that Undercity dive in secret. It felt... I dunno, wrong to assume that she'd spoken to her father, and he'd just opted to leave out anything that might be of a mild assistance."

Slowly, Rosenheim unclenched his fists where they lay upon his lap. "I've told her what I think of the idea of speaking for the Undercity with any sort of motive, let alone a political one. Twice, now." He took a sip of his wine, trying to calm his nerves. Only after a few more flexings of his hand did he recognize Hawthorne's presence for what it was: a sign of concern, at least on some level. If the old monk meant for Ashe to fail, or for him to suffer for her failure, he would simply leave the Riot family to their own devices. He did not know if the generosity behind his friend's presence was a reassurance or cause for even greater worry. "Setting aside the question of whether or not I might be able to stop her, be it her goal to provide for the Undercity or to enter it at all-" And that, too, was a question he had previously considered at great length: he could not stop her. "-I cannot act in any way that might hint towards my continued survival. For my sake and hers. There is simply no telling who in the Undercity may still be loyal to the Empire, or-"

Hawthorne held up a hand to stop his ramblings. "Hah. This isn't at all about stopping her or not. Whatever kind of father you might be, I'd be loath to bet against her in a wager of 'Ashelia Riot vs Any Idiot That Wants To Hold Her Back'."

Even he couldn't suppress a grin at that.

"Now, sure," Hawthorne continued. "Any number of holed-up dissidents might be dissidenting their way towards the glory and resurrection of imperial rule - not like the Alliance runs any sort of streetcleaning very often. But if Our New Saviour keeps her tongue - as she has said she'll start learning to do - then I don't think you'll be at any level where anyone important might find out you're not in a grave." He paused, and shrugged. "Though that's already going poorly."

"What do you-"

"-I do have a point to make, I promise." Hawthorne interjected himself suddenly, leaning further forward with a hand upon his chest in a near mockery of an earnest plea. "And a reason for being here, a very strong one. But before I get to that, I have two scenarios that I want you to sit and listen to. I trust you can do that, you've done it quite a lot before. Though, try not to fucking zone out this time, okay?"

"I'm not going to fucking zone-" He stopped himself, reeling from memories of their shared youth. "Fine."

As Hawthorne chuckled, he took a large swig of wine to wash the acquiescence down.

"Scenario one." Hawthorne held up an index finger, still covered in dust from the road. "I tell you that I am retired from crime. I am woeful, my heart heavy with the burden of my deeds, and I have taken on a new frame of mind to live past my ghosts and absolve myself of this hereditary sin. What do you say?"

Rosenheim could not read Hawthorne's expression, nor did he wish to linger over it. Because "I don't know" seemed an unwise or unkind answer, he replied, albeit with some hesitation, "I've never thought you incapable of such a thing."

At that, Hawthorne did burst into laughter. It was a sputtering, shocked kind of noise that was a world away from how he usually laughed, how Rosenheim had once been used to hearing him; a harsh gasp or two cut the laughter off intermittently in a way that made it sound as though someone had actually managed to punch him in the gut. This continued on for several moments, with Rosenheim taking another sip of wine in the midst of it all, until Hawthorne could collect himself enough to continue his train of thought.

"Okay! What does the you of twenty years ago - the one that wasn't a lying pissant - say?" Rosenheim opened his mouth to reply, only for Hawthorne to brush his answer aside with a wave of his hand. "Don't answer this one, I'll tell you: You repeat the job offer, repeat the pay, and continue on with the specifications, and then maybe repeat it all again three or four more times because we both know the truth of our situations."

No matter how earnestly he had spoken previously - no matter how much he might have wished Hawthorne's words did not conjure a majority of their interactions in the years since they had come of age - he could summon no refutation. The Riskbreaker and the Fist. The Undercity lord and the Silverbrand.

Perhaps that was all they had ever been, even now.

"What, Ashley, do you think your daughter said, when I told her of my retirement?"

"I've no idea what she said, Hawthorne."

"She didn't say anything." And for perhaps the first time in Rosenheim's memory, Hawthorne's mien was deadly serious. His smile had fallen, somewhere; his slouch was pronounced in a way that made him seem even larger, his eyes locked on Rosenheim across the one barstool that stood between them more like a mediator than anything truly innocent to their shared scene. "And in truth, I never told her. She showed up on my doorstep with a letter from my sister, knowing my family name and sitting at my table. Thanking me for my assistance and asking me to help her save the country. Meeting me, even, in a mouth to the tunnels themselves, and again thanking me for the advice I passed to her from my father. Never once asking me if I'd actually held off on dumping any bodies in the salt that month. But what do I know, maybe that isn't important to her."

The words cause something to rise up in him: a frustration unlike any he'd felt since before Garlemald. And he could not blame that sense of impotence, of powerlessness on Hawthorne alone. The man spoke his own twisted sorts of truths, but what he could not abide were the implications for Ashelia, least of all because Hawthorne was right: despite his every effort throughout the first five years of her life, his daughter was already complicit in the workings of the Undercity.

He was gripping the stem of his wine glass far too tightly.

Hawthorne held up another hand, showing two fingers this time. "Second scenario - though, not as much a scenario as it is a short-answer question. Because I've forgotten. What exactly was it that happened the last time an honest man from Ala Mhigo, with an entire country making up the heart in his chest, poured his trust into another man that just happened to be very very charming when he spoke?"

There was a hardness deep in Rosenheim's throat, and bitterness rising from somewhere in his gut.

"I feel like I remember about a few thousand dead youth at the bottom of a wall, and a reeeally bright light in the sky. But by Rhalgr, Ashley, I can't remember what that bright light was! Or what became of it!"

With that, his hands begin to shake as he recalled, not for the first time since Ashelia revealed her ambitions for the Undercity, the summoned form of Blackram's primal.

You understand - don't you, Ashley?

"Listen." Hawthorne's word was quiet - a genuine whisper, one more worthy of a crumbling passage than of a famed anti-imperial bar. Rosenheim might have been able to pass it off as another ghost, as yet another misremembering, had Hawthorne's lips not actually moved. But of course they had, and of course the monk leaned forward after, with a stare locked on Rosenheim and a very grim expression on his face. "Ashelia needs to know how to navigate the dark, or we are looking at a possibility of another tragedy for Ala Mhigo. Be it Baelsar's Wall, be it a gory retelling of your escapades with Blackram, or be it whatever new chaos the gods have forgotten about in all the shit of it. Good people leaning heavily into things they don't understand.

"Now, surprisingly that's not even the point I'm here to make, Ashley. It's this one: Fucking neither of us wants to see this country razed to the sands for the fifth time in a century. If you don't teach her these things, I'm going to. And the important thing about all of that is that you are a semi-decent piece of shit, and I, despite however convincing I am at protesting the truth, very much work for my father. And I'll tell you what. The conversations I'm having right now with Ashelia? All going as just about in her favor as any of the ones Lodewijk had with you. Except she's polite enough to thank me. Smart girl."

When it was all over, when he was certain the man had at last said his fill, Rosenheim set his half-finished glass of wine upon the counter, its soft clink a very pointed sort of noise in its own right, and stood from the stool. He needed to pace, after what he'd just heard, or else he knew he would fall into a stupor of the sort that he had not endured in a very long time. In the meantime, Hawthorne seemed to pretend not to notice; he did, however, slip a swig from his wine glass as Rosenheim made to turn his back. Once behind the bar, Rosenheim pushed his hair back from his still sweaty forehead, his chest heaving before he could calm himself enough to notice it, let alone stop it. Even so, it took him several minutes before he could speak.

"We both should do it." For all his turmoil, outward and inward, his voice was as firm as ever. "Gods know there are things I'm as ignorant of as she is, after twenty years." He took another deep, deep breath and let it out, rhythmically, in a gesture Marco used to do whenever he was on the brink of stress. "...If I teach her how to run underground, how to listen, how to avoid cave-ins, how to be silent - can you handle the rest?"

Hawthorne smirked. "Now I was under the impression that you were still a married man, Ashley. And Ashelia is an adult! Joint custody?! You know I'm terrible at parenthood."

Under any other circumstances, Rosenheim would have summoned the darkest glare he could muster. At that moment, he had no indignity left to spare.

Hawthorne stood from the bar, slamming a hand upon the counter as he did so - and beaming once again. "I guess I can handle 'the rest'. I suppose now that I think about it, it is a rather vast contrast to learn from the mapmaker instead of just the man who buys it. Hey, though! An affinity for great ideas is why you worked for Theodoric, while I was just the riffraff. I'll let that subject slide, then."

And Rosenheim finally spoke the recognition that was dearest to him throughout the whole of their conversation. "...You know that were he alive, this would fall to Marco." This being the task of proper induction into the Undercity - without fear, or shame, or excessive trauma. Ashelia's birthright.

Hawthorne shrugged, reassumed his unassuming posture and all the various trinkets with which he had adorned his traveling garb. And of course, he gave no reply to the mention of Marco.

"Final question, Ashley: The first time you ran into me after crawling out of your grave, you were looking for a cold bitch of a woman. Ever find her?"

"I did." He hesitated, but knew it would be overly petulant to refuse that branch of conversation now. "You can tell that sister of yours that she's been making good on her promise to pick off Ul'dah's slavering curs, one by one."

Hawthorne silently lifted an arm to his back, grabbing from within the draping fabrics a simple walking cane that'd been strapped there. "Now, if she knew you knew she made this, she'd probably rip your balls off. But let's be honest with ourselves, she'd probably do that anyway. No, she doesn't know you're alive. I doubt Ashelia wants some bitter crone banging her door down with a pair of shears. And Gelva actually asked that no one be informed who made it at all - she wasn't sure if the woman even needs canes still, and gods, such useless tools, such an embarrassment to the merchant class."

Hawthorne set the long cane on top of the bar. It was meager and plain, but polished; it was made from an old kind of wood, but clearly sturdy. But what transfixed Rosenheim was the emblem of the Malheur clan drawn in detail into the head of it, painted with a bright ink, carved and polished and waxed and polished again. It was as exemplary of a thing made in Little Ala Mhigo as it wasn't. Despite its plainness, Rosenheim could tell even before lifting it that it had been made well, and constructed with great care.

Hawthorne shrugged. "I mean, my sister never carved wood. So it couldn't have been her work."

Rosenheim could think of nothing to say that could represent Tia's thanks, and so he gave a wordless nod.

"Well." Hawthorne shoved his hands in his pockets and let out a sigh. "You seem back to your old self. So I'll head out before you snap out of it and go back to talking. Good to see you not dead. If you see Ashe before I do, tell her hi for me. Don't worry for now about me telling my father the same."

Hawthorne turned to leave, raising a hand into the air for a strange sort of half-wave - and as Rosenheim watched him go, trying and failing to conjure some meaningful reply, he could give voice to no fact save that his daughter was about to be furious with them both.

Hawthorne Silverbrand belongs to @xivelliot​, who wrote Hawthorne’s dialogue!

[gingerwritess]

ok this one is really really sad, one where the war in the whole universe is done and loki and reader has to part ways just because loki has to come back to asgard and live 5000 more years and like they're saying their goodbyes while reader is crying so bad she can't say i love you to loki and loki's like "see that shiny thing in the sky? that's asgard, I'll watch you all the time" but then on their last goodbye kiss loki just did a trick and cleared out reader's memories with him??? imsosorry

okayyyy i apologise in advance for this. and for doing this when i have like 20 other requests that came before this one.

i edited the plot a lil for clarification, so it takes place right before The Snap™️ but Loki was on earth with you so no stupid stabby boi. ohhh you wanted elliot in this too??? enjoy heh

also why is your url give-me-fluff when you’re putting ideas like this in my mind you sly dog

if you wanna cry, listen to this song on repeat while you read. trust me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Something is wrong. Extremely, horribly wrong.

It brings Loki from a restless sleep before it hits you, shooting straight up from the pillows in a cold sweat.

Darkness still encompasses the room hiding you from view, so he reaches out to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into his chest. His fingers slip under your shirt to spread against your stomach—you’re still breathing.

Relief floods his mind and he moves his hand up to find your heart, needing to feel it beating steadily under his hand before he can fall back to sleep.

It’s there. His heart is ready to pound out of his chest, but yours seems fine, calm and steady and thankfully reminding him that he’s fine, you’re fine, and Elliot is f—

Elliot.

The baby had been cradled in your arms when you fell asleep, only being a few days old, neither of you had wanted to leave him alone. Loki pulls himself from your warmth to flip on the bedside lamp, rousing you from your sleep as well.

“What’s going on?” You mumble, blinking groggily at him over your shoulder. He’s running a hand over his face, traces of slumber evident in his eyes, but his breathing is shallow and shaky. “Loki, babe, what’s wrong?”

“Is Elliot alright?”

He looks terrified, cheeks paler than usual and his eyes are frantic; it’s scaring you.

You nod and roll back over to check on your newborn son, but the little bundle of blankets you had fallen asleep next to is empty. You’re wide awake now, that’s for sure, and you fling the covers off the bed—babies are unpredictable, right? Maybe he slid further under or-or rolled off the bed??

“Loki,” you hiss, jumping off the bed and checking the floor. Nothing. “Loki, where’s our baby?”

He’s on his feet in a flash, ripping the covers off the bed completely. “What do you mean, ‘where’s our baby’?”

Your voice raises with the panic in your heart: Elliot is nowhere to be found. “Loki Laufeyson, this is not a fucking joke. I swear to god, if you are pulling some shit—”

His fist closes around your arm and he gives you a rough shake. “Why in the name of Valhalla would I joke about this?” He hisses, eyes flashing in anger. Anger.

It’s been ages since you’ve seen anger in his eyes, especially when he’s looking at you. But his grip on your arm is unyielding and only getting tighter, his fingers digging into your bicep until you meet his piercing gaze with fear-filled eyes.

He freezes at the look on your face, how you’re staring up at him as if he were straight out of a nightmare, and immediately the grip on your arms loosens. “Forgive me…” he whispers in horror, bringing a hand to the back of your head and pulling you flush against his chest. “Forgive me, my love, forgive me.”

You quickly wrap your arms around him in quiet comfort, reassuring him that you’ve already done so. “I’m sorry too. We’re both scared,” you explain, rubbing a soothing hand over his back. “We need to find Elliot.”

He nods and slowly lets you go, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and something on the bed catches his eye. The blankets the Elliot had been wrapped in are still piled on the mattress and he quickly picks them up, unfolding them and shaking them lightly.

There’s ashes? Some kind of dust, scarily similar to ashes, falling from the blankets, and you run a hand through the dark ashes, leaving black smears and stains on your white sheets.

“No, this couldn’t be…” your mind is running a thousand miles an hour, too many possible scenarios ricocheting around your head. Only one sticks out, keeps popping up to taunt you no matter how hard you push it away. “Loki, this isn’t…?”

Loki looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“He did it,” is all he breathes, setting a trembling hand on the bed and picking up a fistful of the ashes, turning his fist over to let the ashes pour through his fingers.

You can hear your heartbeat pounding and you try again: “Loki, answer me. Is this our son??”

His wide eyes meet yours, all colour drained from his face and the light in his emerald eyes promptly extinguished. You want him to just answer you, to tell you no, that’s not your son, that Elliot is in the room down the hall safe and sleeping soundly…but he just nods.

It doesn’t make any sense. But Loki grabs your hand, smearing the ashes—your son’s ashes—over your palm as well and he puts his other hand to your face, holding your cheek and he’s staring at you, absolutely terrified.

Waiting for you to turn to ashes with his son.

He should have known you were too good to be true.

To be his.

There are tears in Loki’s eyes, actual tears sneaking from the corners of his eyes as he watches you, waiting for you to be ripped from his hands.

The tears come to you before you have a chance to fully process what just happened.

There’s a flash of light from the window—the bifrost, you realise—and your door slams open. It’s Thor, who hasn’t been to visit you in months since he’d been on Asgard.

“Asgard has fallen.” Panic hides in his rumbling voice, but you can hear it loud and clear.

Loki is dressed in the blink of an eye, armour glinting from his chest. “To what end?” He asks, stepping slightly in front of you, quickly wiping the tears from his cheeks. His voice is steady, strong…fake. That’s not your husband.

“Half our people,” Thor hoarsely tells him. “Half our people are gone.”

Loki swallows thickly with a nod and you notice his hand shaking against his thigh. You step behind him and grab his hand, twining your fingers between his and squeezing tightly.

I’m here.

“Are there…are there ashes?” He croaks, pointing to your bed littered with the ashen remains of your son. Just hearing him brings another lump to your throat and you let your head fall against his back, holding onto his hand with a death grip and hiding the tears trickling down your cheeks.

Thor nods, his face ghostly pale. “I apologise to the both of you. This…this takes no prejudice in its victims. Brother, I trust you will do what is necessary.”

Loki finally squeezes your hand back, tighter than you can almost bear. “Leave us.”

As soon as the door closes behind him, he’s pulled you back into his arms and he’s shaking, his face buried in your neck. Shaking with sobs, fear, rage, you don’t know, but this, whatever this is, has done something to him and he’s finally broken.

Right when you were starting to piece him back together.

“Loki—”

“Don’t speak.”

Your mouth snaps shut, shocked and confused at his command. It’s not like this isn’t affecting you too, Elliot was as much your son as his! You open your mouth to argue, eyes narrowing at your husband—mmph.

His lips are on yours before a single angered word leaves them.

Wet. It’s a wet kiss, in the worst way possible. It’s all tears and tongue and he’s desperate, clawing at your face and your back and staining your cheeks with his burning tears. By the time he rips himself away from you, your skin is streaked with black marks from the ashen remains on his hands.

“I have to leave,” he whispers against your lips, eyes tightly shut and chest heaving. “I have to leave and you cannot follow me.”

“Bullshit,” you answer firmly, grabbing his face and wiping away a tear with your thumb. “I’m coming with you.”

He shakes his head furiously, grabbing a fistful of your shirt and pulling you even closer to him. “You are not. You’re safer here. I won’t be able to care for you in the way you deserve.”

“You think I care about that?” You smack at his arm, undeniably getting angry with him; he’s not allowed to make these kinds of decisions for you. “That was my son too, Loki. My son. Your son…our son.”

Your words hit him like a brick and he lets go of your shirt, hand coming up to caress your cheek. “That’s why you can’t come, my love,” he mutters. “I’ve caused you enough pain already. I will not bring you any more.”

“That is so selfish,” you hiss, wrenching your head from his touch. “Selfish, Loki, selfish. Clearly the better way to ‘care for me’ is to stay with me, right?”

Not that you could’ve ever known, but those words would haunt him for the rest of eternity.

His mouth opens and closes a few times, unsure of how to answer such an accusation. “I…you know I love you,” he says, practically pleading with you. “I’m trying to protect you! Don’t make this harder than it has to be—”

“Take me with you, Loki!” You cradle his head in both hands and force him to look at your teary eyes. “Just take me with you, idiot, take me with you.”

He can’t. There’s no way. It would never work, with Asgard now compromised and destroyed, leaderless and on the run. He knows you wouldn’t be able to survive a single unavoidable battle, and he wouldn’t be able to be there to protect you.

“I can’t. I love you, and because of that, I can’t stay with you.” He pries your hands from his face to hold them tightly in his own, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You can hate me, blame me, wish I were dead. I don’t care. I refuse to put you through more pain than I’ve already caused.”

You back away from him, gaping and shaking your head in disbelief. He’s actually going to leave you. You want to hate him, to scream and yell at him until he wakes up and realises you can stay with him, but you don’t think there’s a bone left in your body with the strength to be upset with him.

“I can’t lose you too,” you say, your voice nothing more than a strangled whisper. “First Elliot. Not you too.”

He reaches for you and when you add a whispered “please,” his heart twists and breaks.

There’s only one way to rid you of this painful reality he’s created with you, but Loki wonders if he even has the strength to do it.

It would ruin him, the rest of his life, his spirits, and any hope for peace within him. But it would save you from a lifetime of pain, guilt, hatred…he won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t do it.

If he’s ‘selfish’ in your eyes, the least he can do is let you go.

You stare at him dumbfounded as he stands there, silent, out of words to say to you, his silver tongue finally stopped. Doesn’t he have anything to say to you? Any consolations, any comfort?

No, he’s just silent.

Then he puts a hand out, palm open in offering to you and you immediately place your hand in his. His skin is burning ice to the touch, biting through your fingertips, but you don’t let go, trying to let your warmth seep into his skin.

He curls his fingers around yours, his other hand coming to rest on the small of your back and gently leading you to the one window in your tiny apartment. Pulling aside the curtains, he leans down to press a breath of a kiss on your shoulder.

“You can hate me,” he murmurs, his voice steady. He has no more tears to shed. “You can curse my name. But I will not hurt you.”

“Loki, that’s not—”

He cuts you off by tipping your head up and kissing you again, molding his lips into yours. When he pulls away he stays there for a moment, just letting your breath caress his empty lips and running his thumb along your jaw.

“I will not hurt you,” he repeats, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you…do you see that star, my love? The one with four points, two to the left of the moon.”

He nods in the direction of the night sky, and you reluctantly follow his gaze to the left of the moon. Sure enough, a four pointed star blinks faintly down at you.

His arm wraps across your chest, running his thumb over your shoulder. “Let’s say that is Asgard. I will always be able to see you from up there, and any time you wish to see me, just look to the sky.” He presses his lips up the side of your neck, relishing the fading feel of your skin. “You see? I’m not leaving you, my love. Never.”

You know it’s a lost cause. He’s leaving and you’ve given up trying to convince him otherwise, so you just stand there silently in his embrace, letting him run his lips along the curve of your neck, knowing this may be the last time you ever feel his lips on you.

There’s nothing left for you here. It, whatever it is, took your son before he could even see the world you brought him into, and now it is ripping his father—your husband—from you too.

He lingers in your empty silence a moment longer before turning you to face him, cradling your head in both hands and brushing away your tears. “No more tears, my queen.”

He leans forwards, his eyes drifting shut and you know this will be the last kiss. You don’t know how you know, but something about it just seems so…final.

“I love you,” you blurt out, finally finding your voice. “I could never hate you.”

He rests his forehead against yours and smiles, a sad, heartbreaking baring of his soul, and he nods. “I know,” he softly assures you, then closes the tiny gap between your lips.

And for the first time, his kiss is warm. Not burning with passion, not the biting cold of a possessive lover, but warm.

He’s not speaking, but you can hear his voice clear as day echoing through your mind.

And I could never forget you.

The warmth of his kiss wraps your body in a saving embrace, filling you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head until his lips are barely touching yours.

The warmth is fading from his ghosting lips. Fading away, and you reach out to grab his arm, keep him here…

You’re standing in front of the window.

Why on earth are you up at such an early hour? You’ve got work in the morning. You should’ve been in bed hours ago.

With a tired sigh you trudge back to your bed, your bed that is much too big for just the one of you. Oh well, more space to sprawl, right? You pull the covers back onto the mattress—you must have kicked them off in your sleep—but there’s a dark streak of something on your white sheets.

Huh. You try to brush it off with your hand, but the powdery mark has stained and just rubs off on your hand. It’s weird, it’s almost like…ashes.

Oh well. You’ll wash the sheets tomorrow.

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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @sciluvcatz @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange

[headoverhiddles]

We've Got A Deal - Beetlejuice x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: Beetlejuice makes a demon deal that gets you desperately horny for him for 24 hours straight. You find out, and curse him back with the same affliction.

Notes: Ah, my spooky horndog ghost. Slowly getting back into Michael Keaton rn so this happened. Also, slight warning, this may be a little dubcon-y, if you squint. Both are consenting tho, as any relationship with BJ is insanely tumultuous a little wild.

Beetlejuice paces in the hellish abode of the demon he summoned.

"Alright, alright, just listen. Hey-- Hermano! You gotta help me out here."

The demon sighs. "What? What do you want?"

"I need something real good. Something that'll knock my socks off. Hers too!"

"Why don't you just do it?"

"Well. I would. Duh. I just, uh... y'know, I don't have the juice for it right now."

"You're not powerful enough," the demon smirks, sitting forward, and BJ growls.

"You want my business or not, chump?"

The demon sighs again. "I can offer you a sex curse."

"Curse..." BJ shifts. "Yeah, just... why don't we call it a spell, alright?"

The demon shrugs. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. Once I cast it, your lover will want you desperately for 24 hours."

"In other words, (y/n)'s gonna want me to rail her on every surface of the house for an entire day?" Beej grins.

"Essentially," the demon mutters, making a face. "Do we have a deal?"

"Hell yeah we do!" Beetlejuice jumps up, shaking the demon's hand heartily. "Throw in an extra hour for me, will ya?" He winks, and appears with a black poof back in the bedroom.

You come out of the shower, squeezing your hair out, and suddenly frown.

"What..." you murmur, and look up at your undead boyfriend, spread out on the bed with a dead rose between his teeth.

"Heya babes," he smirks, and you can't explain it-- you just need him.

You drop the towel, and stride over to the bed, sliding into his lap and making out with him. You drag yourself against his growing bulge, moaning softly into his neck. You must be PMSing, cause you've never wanted Beetlejuice so fucking bad.

You lick over his lips and up to his nose, nearly coming then and there as he grabs your tits.

"Awww fuck yeah!" BJ shouts, moving his hands down to your hips, and dragging you down against him, "I got 24 hours of this?!"

You pause, and tear yourself away from him for a second. Your eyes narrow, and you sniff him. He doesn't smell like his usual grave rot and deadly nightshade cologne. He smells like demon ash.

You get off him, crossing your arms, and he follows quickly, pants unzipped.

"Wait! Wait, babes, you can't leave me like this!"

"I can very much leave you like this."

Opening the book BJ had taken out on the mantle, you start to read the demon incantation.

"AW NAH!" BJ shouts, before you're transported down to the same demon's lair. You're a little bit freaked out, since all this dead, supernatural stuff only really started a year ago for you, but you adjust to the fiery living room you've just transported yourself to.

"Ah," the demon looks you up and down, then takes his reading glasses off. "(y/n) I presume?"

"Same spell," you grit out, "All day."

The demon chuckles. "Have fun." He shakes your hand.

When you get back, BJ is pouting in his old musty chair. He looks up.

"You didn't have to reverse it, y'know. It's basically just satanic viagra, I mean, c'mon."

You wait for it to hit, standing by the mantle, and when it does, he looks at you, eyes lit up.

"Oh..." he looks down at his crotch. "Oh hell yeah, babes, I am feelin' it..." He gets up, walking over as he realizes what you've done. "Oh, see this is why we're MADE for each other... oh yeah... I am gonna make that pussy feel so good, babygirl--"

"I'm inviting Barbara and Adam over for dinner."

"Na-ffija-ne-do-eeueuuigh!"

BJ watches you walk off, falling to his knees and throwing a mini tantrum.

Later, at dinner, you sit across the table from the ghostly couple you two are friends with.

"What a lovely surprise," Adam says, sipping his drink, "Barbara and I were just fiddling around the house when we got your invitation."

"That's what we're supposed to be doing," BJ mutters bitterly, "'Cept a little less fiddling, and a lot more f--"

You kick him in the crotch, and smile sweetly.

"We hadn't seen you in so long, figured it would be a good time." You try not to look at your boyfriend, as the spell is still in effect. Honestly, you just want to get down underneath this table and suck him off, but this is his punishment for putting a damn sex curse on you.

"Is... everything alright?" Barbara asks, exchanging looks with you, and you cross your legs, trying to ignore the lewd gestures BJ is making with his tongue at you.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, just... feeling a little hot."

"Wish we could feel hot," Barbara sighs, "Or feel anything. Being dead sucks sometimes."

"You're right, honey," Adam agrees, "At least we didn't go pale, though. Uh, no offense, Beej."

"None... none taken..." He must be really distracted, cause he totally would've taken offense to that. Your boyfriend suddenly clears his throat, and looks down. "Ah, look at that, dropped my napkin, oh..." He drops down to his hands and knees to crawl under the table. Your eyes widen as you feel him roughly bury himself between your legs. Barb and Adam raise their eyebrows in alarm as the table bumps up a little. You tilt your head back for a split second, before you clamp your thighs shut on his head.

"Get. Out," you growl, and the Maitlands look up at you.

"Did we do something wrong?" Adam asks, and you look up.

"N-not you! I was just talking to... um..." You look at the food on your plate. "I don't like my peas... in my gravy."

BJ sits in his seat again, holding his neck. You look at the exposed skin there, and want nothing more than for him to pin you down and destroy you. You want his spooky, dirty fingers all over you, on you, inside you. Is he...

You try your hardest not to look under the table... but you can't help it. Taking a quick peek, you see his hand on his cock, stroking himself through his slacks with his napkin over top. The clear outline of it is noticeable, and so fucking big. Your mouth waters as you tear your eyes away, and try not to rub yourself against your chair for relief.

"Come n get it," Beej hisses so only you can hear, smug smile on his lips.

"Well, this was fun," you suddenly say.

"Yes, I guess we should be--" Adam starts to say, but Beetlejuice has already started pushing them up and out the door.

"Love you guys-- love your shirt buddy, we still shop at the same store, good catch up, we'll do lunch, SEE YA!"

The door slams, and you're thrown against the wall by BJ's invisible force, chest heaving. Fuck, you've never been so horny, never needed anyone this bad.

Beej's eyes roam your body, and he starts doing what he likes to call his "mating" dance, shaking his arms and dancing toward you.

"C'mere, doll," he growls, and dips you, kissing you hard. You moan through it, and start to palm him, desperate to get that big cock out and inside you. He bucks into your palm, and you finally take him out, stroking up to the head.

"Fuck me from behind, daddy, fucking please?" you gasp urgently. Holy hell, you need him so bad. Beetlejuice looks at you, his voice becoming normal and serious.

"You know, when I died, I thought I would be doomed to my own eternal hell. They must have gotten the papers mixed up." He attacks you again with kisses up your back, and parts your legs a little more, pushing in.

"Oh, ohhh yeah..." Beej hisses, "Daddy's girl... so fucking good, babes..." He keeps thrusting, rocking you against the coffee table.

"Mmm," you whine, and you're both already so close. All you'd really need right now is--

He pulls out, flips you around, and goes back in, kissing you rough and sloppy. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, going even deeper with the new angle. You moan into his mouth, grabbing at his wild hair, and come hard around his cock. He grunts in relief, thrusting a few more times before pulling out and coming on your chest. You look down, and think about how hot that is.

"Oh, sweetie. You remembered," you tease, getting up and dragging a finger through it, "I like it messy." Beej lays back on the bed, letting out a breath.

"You know me, babe. I always get messy," he grins, whistling in awe. "Wowsers. What a roll in the hay."

"And we still have half a day of this stupid little curse left," you grin. He wiggles his eyebrows at you.