#opening to a longer fic

[kudossi]

kept like jewelry, kept with devotion

Violetkit cries as Needlepaw picks her up. Her grip is gentle, but she’s being torn from Twigkit, and she reaches out toward her sister with desperate, clumsy paws. Twigkit runs after her, squeaking angrily, and ShadowClan almost surrounds them before Alderpaw’s voice comes, strong even in the chaos. “Stop!” he commands, and Needlepaw hesitates, her head turning toward him.

Alderpaw’s dark ginger pelt is fluffed up, his amber eyes narrow and angry. “Tearing apart two kits? Taking them from the only family they have? I never thought ShadowClan was heartless,” he hisses.

“ThunderClan has had enough prophecy cats!” Rowanstar growls from where he’s perched high in the oak, his claws digging furrows into the bark. “ShadowClan helped find these kits, and we have a rightful claim!”

There’s silence for a moment. Violetkit struggles, but Needlepaw’s grip gets stronger, and she isn’t able to escape.

“I am almost fully trained,” Alderpaw says at last, the words pulled from him slow but strong. “You have lost your medic. You have no one to heal your sick and injured.”

Rowanstar’s face scrunches angrily, eyes stormy. “What? Are you going to pull Flametail from the lake? Raise Littlecloud from his grave? Are you so special, royal-born?”

Royal-born? Violetkit thinks, but even her thoughts are drowned out by the ripple of offense from ThunderClan’s ranks.

“I am almost fully trained,” Alderpaw repeats calmly, stepping farther from the ranks of his agitated Clan, “and I will trade myself for Violetkit.”

“You can’t!” Squirrelflight’s voice comes. She’s standing on the roots, her eyes wide and desperate. “Alderpaw, no!”

Rowanstar turns a narrow gaze on ThunderClan’s medics. “Is it true? Is he ready for his full name?”

Leafpool’s mouth hangs open, but Jayfeather gathers himself. “He would have gotten his name at this half-moon or next,” he says, voice reedy.

Rowanstar sits back on his haunches, considering. Violetkit manages to wiggle from Needlepaw’s now-loose grip and runs back to her sister, who throws her paws around Violetkit’s black-spotted neck and pulls her nearly to the ground. They huddle under Alderpaw’s large paws, pressed against each other. Fear runs like ice through Violetkit’s veins. “Very well,” he says eventually, though he doesn’t sound happy about it. “ShadowClan accepts this trade.”

Squirrelflight wails. Alderpaw breathes a sigh of relief, dipping his head to touch first Twigkit’s and then Violetkit’s ears. “Be good. Be strong and clever and swift. May StarClan bless you both.”

And then he’s gone, striding across the clearing, not looking back. Needlepaw’s gaze meets Violetkit’s own, and then she too looks away.

(This is how Violetkit loses the only parents she’s ever known.)

[myokk]

fast sketch of my one-shot with Ominis💓

legilimency

Word count: 1.700

Rating: M (language)

Ominis Gaunt is a lost case - lost to the whims of one very determined Gryffindor sitting at his side.

They sit in the back of the History of Magic classroom, the only two students not lulled to somnolence by their professor. He: trying his hardest to focus on Professor Binns’ droning (easier said than done). She: trying her hardest to distract Ominis while not being entirely sure of being successful or not (easier attempted than understood).

Professor Binns is completely insufferable, of course. Ominis wonders if the ghost is as blind as he is: Binns willfully ignores the fact that all of his students use his class as an excuse to get a nap in (maybe he simply doesn’t see them sleeping - only one of many reasons why Ominis has decided he could never be a professor), rambling on and on in the most boring way possible. As if he were trying to be as dull as possible (maybe he does it to avoid interacting with the students which…can’t be to blame). In a different life, Ominis could see himself quite liking the subject, but as things stand he despises it.

Especially now.

Ominis fervently wishes that he could fall asleep.

Then, he might avoid hearing her thoughts - they’re consuming him and he can’t ignore them as much as he would like to.

Normally, he loves this class - not the subject, obviously - but the class itself, for the sheer fact that it is the only time where he gets some peace and quiet. Everyone’s minds nice and quiet and shut off for the time being while they sleep. Although he has gotten used to ignoring the thoughts of everyone around him, their various voices mixing and mingling with each other into a dull thrum in the back of his mind, it is nice to have some quiet once in a while.

But right now, with everyone asleep except for the Gryffindor at his side, her thoughts are so loud it’s like she’s screaming at him.

So here he is, wishing he could fall asleep, leave the class, maybe turn off the infernal legilimency that has haunted him his whole life.

(His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

He is stuck listening to her.

It doesn’t help that she seems to have caught on to him - something he had managed to avoid until now. Nobody else, not even Sebastian or Anne, has ever suspected a thing. But, in all fairness, those two are extremely loud and say every single thought that passes through their minds out loud even when they should remain quiet, and nobody else has had the opportunity to spend enough time with Ominis to begin to suspect anything.

Until her.

He had to go and let that blasted girl worm her way into his life, not leaving him alone ever, always looking for excuses to talk and ask his opinion, and being so intelligent that he wanted to invite her to study with him and talk with him and…

Since it happened a few nights ago, he hasn’t stopped cursing himself for that stupid offhand comment he made. They had been studying in silence in the library together, by the history books where nobody else ever ventures (thank you, Professor Binns), and he could have sworn that she asked him if he was finally going to walk her back to her common room (he blames a lack of sleep and wishful thinking for this mishap). His traitorous face had flushed and he had jumped at the chance to escort her - maybe she would let him carry her bag, or… - only to feel his whole body go cold and his stomach drop when her response wasn’t what he’d expected.

A pause: then: a confused voice: ‘Ominis, I didn’t say anything.’

His Gryffindor wasn’t stupid like Gryffindors were normally wont to be. He knew her, and he knew that after his monumental mistake, the gears in her brain were turning and he was terrified that somehow she had figured it out.

(His Gryffindor?)

She had been unusually quiet around him since then, although he bitterly noticed that she was still acting normally with everyone else. Still finding every opportunity to punch Sebastian in the shoulder and laugh with Anne, still whispering with Natsai about Merlin knows what, still…

But she had been avoiding Ominis. He couldn’t stand it.

Well, avoiding him right until this stupid class, when she had to go and sit right next to him (ignoring the fact that she always sits next to him in History of Magic, that everyone already has and adheres to their unofficial seats), and he can’t ignore her.

She’s pretending to take studious notes, but he knows better. The scratching of her quill blending with the droning of Professor Binns’ voice but not drowning out her thoughts. They float above the other noises, her voice sweet and piercing. Ominis wonders vaguely what she’s actually writing, because he’s positive it isn’t notes.

Professor Binns looks so sexy right now with his medieval hat, talking about…whatever it is he’s passionate about. I wonder if he would let me talk to him after class without floating through me like he normally does…

Ominis is determined not to react. She’s obviously trying to bait him. But…what if she is attracted to Professor Binns? Is he an attractive man? At the thought, the fist that’s resting on top of his desk clenches, but he works to make sure his face remains impassive. Apart from a twitch of his lips, he thinks he’s been quite successful.

She: huffing and shifting in her chair, her robes rustling as she crosses her legs. He: keeping his head facing forward, steadfastly ignoring her.

She changes tactics.

Maybe she’s just as insufferable as the other Gryffindors, after all.

I wonder what Ominis would say if he knew I woke up moaning today after a dream about him -

He shifts slightly in his seat, hoping that she’s so busy taking notes (who’s he kidding) that she won’t notice his discomfort as his trousers tighten -

…the girls in my dorm have been bothering me nonstop about who I’ve been mooning over but I don’t want them to…

His hand is in such a tight fist it’s a wonder he’s not breaking any fingers as he tries to remain as still as possible, but his traitorous arousal is making her thoughts harder and harder to ignore. Had he ever been able to ignore her?

…his tongue was deep inside me as I screamed his name…

He feels his face heat up at the thought - where had she learned such vulgar language? - and his whole body stiffens. He’s sure that she can feel the tension and warmth radiating off of him in waves but that…she…his insane little lion keeps shouting at him in the silence of the classroom. She’s now stopped all pretense of taking notes and is sitting stock still.

…his cock deep inside of me as…wait…what else did I hear Garreth say to Leander that night?…um… She shifts uncomfortably, her knee grazing Ominis’s as she moves to squeeze her legs together. It’s all he can do to not groan and remain impassive. Oh god…I…what’s that feeling? This was just supposed to get back at him for probably - maybe - reading my thoughts and I’m officially insane because how would he even be able to do that?…his ears turning red from embarrassment are so adorable and I can’t stand this anymore and…

Ominis tries his hardest not to move his head in her direction. His jaw flexes. Maybe he can drown her out if he starts reciting potions ingredients, or if he focuses on what Professor Binns is saying, but even he knows its futile. He’s hanging on to her every word - thought? - and his head slowly turns in her direction as she keeps going.

…does he know how much I think about him? Oh god, what if he dreams of me the same way I…

He slams the open book in front of him shut, the loud noise causing Sebastian to jerk awake and babble incoherently for a moment before slumping back over his desk, drooling and snoring lightly. Nobody else in the class seems to notice except her of course. Blissfully, she has stopped talking - thinking - and he can finally -

It’s no use. He needs to get out of there. She has invaded his mind and…What if she starts up again with her filthy thoughts that are bleeding into his own and -

Did he hear me? I didn’t actually think…oh god, can he hear me now? What have I done?

Ominis very slowly brings his hand over to where he knows hers is. The quill falls out of her hand and he hears a sharp intake of breath at their contact. His fingers trace her knuckles and then he slowly trails them up her arm. His fingertips are so sensitive that he could swear that he feels every thread that he passes, her skin warm and alive underneath the fabric. Then to her neck, her throat bobs and he feels her erratic heartbeat. Finally, he reaches her face. She remains very, very still as his fingers brush over her features for the first time.

He has never touched someone like this before.

Her skin is like velvet, soft everywhere he touches. Now that he knows what it feels like he’s not sure he can go back to before. His fingers trace the curve of her eyebrows - he finds that her nose is straight before it flares up a tiny bit at the tip - his fingers ghost over her impossibly soft lips. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip as her tongue darts out to wet them. It’s impossibly intimate and the world has melted away and it’s just the two of them in that moment.

He leans forward.

“Ominis, I…” she whispers, stricken.

His hand moves to tuck some of her loose hair away from her face - does she always wear it like this? - and his lips brush against her ear. He inhales deeply, her sweet smell invading his senses. She shivers under his touch and he breathes, “I heard everything.”

[johnslittlespoon]

8k words of fwb modern college au clegan getting it on at a halloween party for the wota server's halloween event? more likely than u think :)) (posting at the end of the month sry lol)

[shouyuus]

roll the dice, hit rewind - open character

daughter of a casino mogul reader + orphan/street rat character who’s a hustler/street magician but grows up with reader after running into you in an alleyway. you sneak him back into your casino and he learns to count cards. as a teenager, you even manage to get him a job as one of the table dealers where he becomes one of the most popular attractions, with his dashing looks and heart-rending charm. his innate talent doesn’t go unnoticed, and one day, you wake up to find his casino uniform and a short letter of resignation, telling you that he’s had “an offer he can’t turn down”. you’re hurt, of course you are — you’d promised each other, it was you and him against the world. and yet here he was… leaving you behind.

years later, long after you’d drifted out of each other’s lives and you’d taken over the dark, dirty business that your parents had left behind, now a fearless ice queen of your parents empire, well-known for your deadly intellect and razor-sharp tongue, you meet him again — only, he’s now an fbi agent who specializes in lie detection/deep cover and has been assigned to bust the lucrative black market auction that your parents had been running for years and has just handed over to you.

as you both fall into this dangerous yet tantalizing game of cat and mouse, you both start to realize that neither of you are the naive children you remember each other to be anymore.

[lcdrarry]

📽 Grab your popcorn! 🍿 LCDrarry is back 🎞

"Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry, LCD) is an anonymous prompt-based fest, where authors and artists create pieces that are inspired by or based on a film, a theatre play, a TV series/show, a podcast, an audioplay/drama or an audiobook. The main pairing for all submissions is Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter ("Drarry"). Podfics are also very welcome! More information in the fest rules on AO3.

Find all of the important infos & links under the cut!

Fest Timeline

Prompting: January 10 to January 17

Claiming/Sign-ups: January 20 to March 15

Submissions due: April 15

Posting begins: May 1

Reveals: June 15

Important links

LCDrarry Prompts for Fic and Art <- browse the fic & art prompts!

LCDrarry Prompts for Podfics <- browse the podfic prompts!

LCDrarry Sign-up/Claiming Form <- OPEN TILL 15 MARCH

LCDrarry Rules and AO3 Collection

LCDrarry Fest Discord

Please share and signal boost! We’re so looking forward to all your ideas and creations! 

Your LCDrarry mods Tami @celilasart​ & Suzi @erin-riwen​

[babychosen]

amangela meetcute for your prompts

word count: 1025

After finishing a Moon Goon performance, Angela and a few of the group members stayed back in the audience and chatted with a few friends that came to support them. By the time they finished talking, it was nearly time for the next scheduled show to start, so she rushed backstage to gather her things and get the hell out of the theater.

Angela hated getting in the way of the next performers because she knew how cramped the dressing room at UCB could get in between shows. 

She scurried backstage and paused in the doorway of the dressing room, trying to recall where she left her jacket and bag. She scanned the room while she weaved around the new performers, casually exchanging greetings with a few familiar faces. Her eyes landed on the couch near the back of the room, and she saw the faintest shine of her leather jacket draped across the back of the couch.

Angela made a mental note to remind herself to wear her glasses more often because it took way too long, and way too much squinting just to find her belongings in the small room.

After Angela was done talking to a few performers in the room, someone sat down on the couch right in front of her jacket. She froze in her spot. Great, Angela thought. Now she had to go through the awkward confrontation of telling this person they were sitting on her jacket.

She looked a little harder, just to see if she recognized the person. Angela gulped after taking in their appearance; now she had to ask the most gorgeous stranger she’s ever seen to move so she could get her jacket.

Angela fidgeted in place and thought about it. Surely she didn’t need her jacket, right? She could just go home and then get it the next time she’s there… right? Her jacket had her car keys in it, and she sure as hell wasn’t taking the bus home from downtown Hollywood… so her options were very limited.

Like ripping off a band-aid, Angela crossed the room and stood in front of the woman. “Hey, so,” Angela started, pausing for a little too long.

“Hey! Angela, right?” The woman asked, a wide smile on her face. She gestured for Angela to take a seat beside her. “I’m Amanda.”

“Uh-” Angela cleared her throat. “Yeah, that’s me. How’d you know?” Angela sat down, feeling herself being pulled in by Amanda.

“Dude, you’re practically famous around here. You’re like, UCB royalty,” Amanda scoffed, chuckling at Angela’s modesty.

Angela knew she had made a name for herself in the LA comedy scene, but it felt surreal hearing it from someone she was so immediately drawn to.

“I’m kinda new to LA, just moved here from Boston last year,” Amanda explained. Angela hadn’t asked about who this woman was, but she was definitely curious. “I’ve been trying my luck down here with auditions, but it’s a tough crowd.”

The same pull that brought her to sit down beside Amanda, led her to want to offer Amanda support. “If you ever need help with making connections, let me know. I know my way around these parts pretty well,” Angela offered genuinely.

Amanda raised her eyebrows and shyly smiled. “I-I wouldn’t mind being shown around.” 

Amanda looked Angela up and down, and Angela couldn’t tell if she was imagining it being suggestive or if it actually was suggestive—either way, she wasn’t mad about it.

They were taken out of their bubble when people started clearing out of the room, and it was obvious that their conversation had to come to an end.

“I’ll see you later?” Amanda questioned, standing up from the couch.

Angela nodded excitedly with a tight-lipped smile, and then watched Amanda walk away from her. Amanda paused in the doorway to turn around and wave goodbye to the woman still glued to the couch.

She stared at the door for longer than she needed to, going over the conversation in her head. Angela was flattered and awestruck, and she had butterflies in her stomach.

Finally, she stood up from the couch, grabbed her jacket and bag and made her way towards the stage exit door. Once outside in the cool night air, Amanda’s words dawned on her—see you later. Later… when? After the show? At another encounter determined by fate? The instructions were unclear and Angela’s critical thinking skills weren’t kicking in.

In her panic, she spent the next hour walking around the neighbourhood, stopping by an ice cream shop, and hanging out around the stage door, waiting for Amanda to be done with her show. 

Near the one hour mark she began pacing outside of the stage door. Just ask her. Ask for her number. It’s fucking easy, Angela thought to herself.

In a blur, the stage door bursted open and Amanda came storming out—or at least it felt like it all happened that dramatically to Angela.

“Yeah-uh, yeah. I'm still here. Yep. Sure am,” Angela stuttered, cutting herself off before she could make a complete fool of herself.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t think you would still be here,” Amanda beamed, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets and walking up to Angela. She looked even more stunning than she did an hour earlier, Angela noted.

“There’s a bar around the corner. You free?” Amanda raised an eyebrow and the corner of her lips curled up into a smile. Angela knew exactly which bar Amanda was referring to.

First she got out of having to ask Amanda to move so she could get her jacket, and now she just got out of having to ask for her number—and she’s going out for drinks with her? Yeah, okay, Angela wasn’t going to say no. She smirked and started taking steps backwards from Amanda in the direction of the bar.

“Shall we?” Angela asked confidently, waiting for Amanda to follow.

“We shall,” Amanda drawled, jokingly holding out her hand for Angela to take. Angela graciously took her hand and led Amanda towards the bar, beginning what she had a feeling was going to be an amazing night.

[frankiebirds]

LOOK AT THEM READING TOGETHER,,,i can hear them bickering already. jj constantly telling reid she wasnt done and him bitching before turning the page back. the reason theyre making the faces they are is because reid has read this page five times already and jj has told him a thousand times to wait until she says she's done before turning the page but he doesn't LISTEN!!!

[ladylynse]

I was gifted with yet more beautiful fanart for my Huntsclan!Jake AU fic Unbound (FFN/AO3). This one represents scenes from earlier in the fic, but the parallels and the imagery that our fantastic anonymous artist captured has had me staring at this for entirely too long. Repeatedly. Please admire it with me.

(If the artist ever consents to be known, I will update this post with their information.)

More from this artist here and here

[splickedylit]

Can't believe I thought I was almost ready to start posting this GamKar winter soldier pastiche like two years ago on halloween it's grown by several hundred pages and 100,000+ words since then. Current count is 325 pages, 167,000 words, 15 chapters. fukkin UNIT of a fic

EDIT for my own personal satisfaction:

10/25: 167,000

10/29: 174,700

10/31: 180,460

11/7: 185,775

[collegeboysam]

Summary:

After many years of self-destructive reflection, Aemond Targaryen has come to terms with the conclusion that he needs Lucerys Velaryon getting run through. Be by his sword or by his cock, he does not care. Both, perhaps, if he’s being honest with himself. So, when time comes for Lucerys—heir to Driftmark and second son of the Queen—to become betrothed following the old costume of political unions, all his suitors start to drop like flies. Aemond watches with amusement the chaos that the harm and disappearance of high-borns causes across the realm, all with a perfectly composed expression. Mostly. He knows it won’t take long before someone in the small council or his family finds out the entire thing’s his doing. Doesn’t matter. His dear nephew simply cannot belong to anyone else when he still has so much to repay to Aemond first. Flesh for flesh is what he wants. No, what he needs. More so after realizing Lucerys himself might be plagued by the same desperate hunger Aemond has been fighting for years. Can’t have any of it if the little fucker is getting married to someone else.

Fic on AO3

Pairing: Aemod Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon

Rating: Explicit

Main Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Aged-Up Characters, Hate to Love, Mutual Pining, Mutual Lusting, Slow Burn, Mutually Obsessed Body Worship/Sex.

[idliketobeatree]

Crawly, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions: that he was an angel, that he was a bit of a bastard, and that he desperately needed to be pinned against the Eastern Gate.

[lottieurl]

here's my problem since some people want to ignore genuine criticism and act like anyone who is criticizing the writing or the pacing is "not accepting things we accepted in s1" by comparing this to doomcoming

doomcoming is. i cannot stress it enough. an episode where the characters are drugged and high on shrooms. when they chase travis and when they nearly kill him we are SHOWN they see a stag

now yes you can compare their doomcoming hallucinations to the hallucinations of it chooses but even the framing isn't really on your side here is it? when the show wants you to doubt to what extent they're really even aware of what they're doing or the level of.. delusion present it has absolutely no problem showing you that! we saw them having an ancient greek feast while ripping apart jackie's body and we saw too many near death hallucinations and other hallucinations to even COUNT on one hand

so they're aware of what they're doing when they draw the cards. while they were shown to NOT BE during doomcoming at least while it happened. and now the question is do you think we have reached that point? if you do i'm happy for you genuinely. i wish i agreed. but i just do not. when they agreed to do this they agreed to not only potentially get themselves killed they also agreed to the death of their loved ones if they draw the card. why was van shown doubting everything she believed in (including lottie that goes without saying) in the previous ep and now willing to get herself or taissa killed for a ritual meant to save lottie? and don't Tell me what you think. i am capable of making up an explanation. i can come up with a bunch of theories. but there is No exploration of that in the actual show. why was taissa fine with this? why was nat? do i think those characters are all such lottie believers they'd go to those lengths? no not really cause all they were really doing before was having dbt group therapy with lottie and then lottie proceeded to fail in all her predictions about the baby

there were absolutely ways to make this more believable (like! maybe show nat and travis get injured while trying to hunt and they start thinking it's because lottie isn't blessing them before they leave anymore. show everyone lost without someone to look up to. put more focus on how hungry they are. maybe use some makeup to make them look more malnourished. show taissa's actual sleepwalking come back - and yes i know there was that one other taissa scene but it wasn't quite enough for me to buy that tai would be all for this. unless they're pulling another Other Tai Did This surprise but it's getting a little old imo) but they rushed through it in a way super jarring. and no it shouldn't be! yes it should still be shocking but we START the show with those murder cannibalism rituals. we watch the show to find out how it happened exactly. every single viewer should be watching this feeling overwhelming dread because it FEELS inevitable that they'll decide to do this. we should be quite horrified but we should also be 100% convinced that's the choice all those characters would make. this scene is what all those 18 episodes led to and regardless of whether someone liked it or not the overwhelming majority seemed to be shocked this happened already. which. quite literally means the build up wasn't there

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

📖 🔫 🩹 ? Love ur writing btw :)

Use Your Sharp Claws to Hold Me Gently - Murdoc/Reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, pet names, lonely!reader (he fixes that don't worry).

Wordcount: 2354

Summary: You were alone, he knew it the moment he entered your apartment and saw only you in every inch, but you were also interesting, and that was something he couldn't let go of.

Notes: Thank you so much QwQ I was SO tempted to make the reader take care of Murdoc as I was song hunting to set the mood, so if I get this combo again know that I won't be able to resist hehe I ended up going with this song, full disclosure, and it fueled me so much that I blacked out and when I came to this was written so I hope you enjoy, cause I really like this one a lot 💗💗💗

He was in town again, his only warning the single text from his unlisted number, the other end going dead as soon as the message was received, no number to save to your phone and reply back to. You’d been doing this for a long while now, your arrangement to keep him close carefully discussed behind closed doors the night before he had to hop on a plane and become scarce again. You understood completely why that was, it didn’t scare you like he’d expected, but then again, he’d expected a lot of things to scare you, things that would scare anyone else for very rational reasons.

Not you though, not once you’d stared down the barrel into those brown eyes and fallen hard.

You were never supposed to be on his list, your presence a prime example of Wrong Place Wrong Time as you’d stumbled upon his hit just moments before he’d pulled the trigger. His target had pleaded with you for help when he’d seen you, money offered in sums you couldn’t dare to imagine owning, tossed around like it was nothing as he put a price on his own life. You never accepted, knowing that if you did then you’d be putting that same price on your own as well, wanting to risk your slim chance of survival as you just stood there, blocking off the alley so no one else would find themselves in the same situation.

He’d shot the man in that same instant, the gun pointed at you next without a hint of mercy.

You’d just stared him down, knew it was inevitable the moment you interrupted his carefully planned work, everything about him gave off the essence of preparations and structure and purpose, you were a fly in the wheel of all that to him, nothing more.

‘Just get it over with,’ you told him as you shut your eyes, trying to hide the fact that you were trembling and it wasn’t from the downpour currently soaking you to your now very tired bones.

He never did, wet footsteps approaching until you felt cold steel against your forehead. ‘Why aren’t you afraid?’ he asked you, eyes seeing right through you, down to your soul as he tried to find the answer. You opened your eyes then, his voice so much softer than the gun held in his leather gloved hand, rain dripping from his ginger-dyed bangs, the colour almost fully grown out from what had to have been a past disguise, and running down his face in streams. He was beautiful, you thought even as the thunder roared high above, the sounds of the city telling you that you still had a chance to run, salvation was only steps away, but you didn’t move, you couldn’t.

‘I am,’ you confessed, but it almost felt like a lie.

‘You should be,’ he replied lowly, and it held the same weight as your confession.

You took the back ways to your apartment, unable to miss how he dedicated every way to get inside without being noticed to memory, a silent promise that if you survived and told someone what you saw then he’d know exactly how to find you. You told him which window was yours, the fire escape leading right up to it, that fact the only reason you’d bought it in the first place; those metal stairs meant freedom for you in case of emergency, something you’d never had before as you moved to the big city and lived through too many unfortunate events to count.

He was taking that away from you as he jumped up, hoisted himself onto the stairs with such ease that you knew you’d never be able to outrun him even if you started now, no amount of window latches able to keep him out. You used the front door and met him upstairs, the security cameras sparsely spread throughout the building only catching you heading home, drenched but not giving away a thing. He hadn’t waited outside as expected, the window unbroken but still wide open as he dripped water all over your hardwood floors, shoes tracking mud over the thrift store rug in the living room.

He was seeing what you had to lose, but it wasn’t much he was soon to realize, your walls and surfaces bare of photos outside of the rare empty frame you’d bought but forgotten to fill, the default photo showing strangers looking happy behind the dusty glass. He lifted one of them up, knew they weren’t yours, and you heard him laugh at your loneliness, the sound so hollow like he didn’t even know what a laugh really was and was simply acting the emotion out. 

Maybe he was lonely too.

You offered him tea or coffee, not knowing what to do to fill the time until the gun would surely reappear again but he refused, his attention now on you like he hadn’t even noticed you come in. He walked over to your tiny kitchen, searching through your cupboards until he found a glass; he went to the fridge and pulled out the pitcher of filtered water, poured himself some without asking, left everything out for you to clean up later if you’d even get the chance. ‘Expecting anyone?’ he asked casually, eyes looking for any sliver of a trace that you shared your life with anyone, the answer in his head before you could even open your mouth. ‘No, you aren’t… don’t you know it’s dangerous to live on your own in a place like this?’

It held no real concern. You offered him no real worry as you just shrugged.

The lights remained off as he let you get on with your night, his eyes always on you as you grabbed a towel to pat yourself and your clothes dry, the takeout you’d gone out to get reheated as you sat at the table and ate. He was never out of sight but he never approached you either, the only other thing he grabbed being one of the kitchen knives from the hand-me-down block you’d stolen from home when you moved out. You wondered if he might throw it at you like a circus performer, maybe it’d hit its target, maybe it’d fly right past and embed itself in the wall behind you, a trick to be applauded for either way, but it never left his hands, the blade occasionally catching the light as he spun it in his fingers.

You thought he might be coming to slit your throat when he walked behind you as you tried to cut through the too tough meat, his arms around you and making you still as the knife was pressed down and sliced through with ease. His movements were so delicate like that of a dancer, he was well trained in what he did, and when he was done he lifted the knife up to his mouth to lick away the sauce before going back to the kitchen. It was tossed down loudly into the sink now that he’d dirtied it but you didn’t jump at the sound, your eyes on him as he then strolled over to the couch and sat down, recently dried mud flecking off his shoes and onto your coffee table as he got comfortable.

He let you finish eating in peace, your last meal no doubt, before taking the gun out again and motioning for you to go to the bedroom, your body freezing cold but surprisingly calm as you did as you were told. There was no rush at all as you both walked in, the door wide open and letting you know that you weren’t trapped, and you waited for his next command when the gun was set down in plain sight on top of your dresser. It was perfectly spaced between the two of you, only two steps away with the grip facing you, an open invitation to grab it and defend yourself.

Images of trying flashed through your head. You didn’t act on them, his eyes shining the longer you just stood there; there was no point, you didn’t have much of a life anyways, the empty photo frames reminded you of that every day.

‘Aren’t you an interesting one,’ he thought aloud, your hand twitching only once towards the dresser before you fell still again. ‘My job is done tonight, and I might have a bit of time free in my schedule if you’d like to hire me, little rabbit,’ he then told you, his eyes meeting yours even as half of his face was shrouded in shadows, the light from your bedroom window making the only parts visible practically glow between his dark hair and even darker outfit.

‘What do you do?’ Your voice didn’t tremble, he was impressed.

‘I make problems disappear, for a price.’

‘Can you make more than problems disappear?’

This interested him even more, and he took a few steps closer to you, your head tilting back so you could look up to him. ‘What did you have in mind?’

You couldn’t say it, he already knew the answer already, and he considered what you wanted before taking off his coat and folding it up, the slightly damp leather creaking as it was placed on your dresser next to his weapon. He opened his arms to you, the gun still just in reach as he waited, and you could only stare at him as you walked forward; he wrapped his arms around you as you let your head fall against his shoulder, and the hug held nothing but the transaction as he attempted to make your loneliness disappear. He was warm as the rain continued to fall outside, his controlled breathing rustling your hair ever so slightly as the trembling began, your shaking hands reaching up to cling to his black sweater.

When you’d awoken the next morning you’d found your apartment empty again, although there was a text from an unfamiliar number on your phone telling you, ‘Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful,’ the line pulled directly from your copy of Frankenstien, the book open to the page and waiting for you to notice it on your dresser where the gun had been.

He’d returned to you a few months later, another new number with a quote alerting you to his arrival before you’d heard him tapping on the window, this time waiting for you to let him in. This situation repeated many times over the year, each time with a text, each time the two of you just retreating to your bedroom where he held you and stole your loneliness for hours at a time, never once telling you about where he’d been or what he’d done. Your frames were still empty all the while, and with every visit he’d hold you closer, share his warmth with you as he threaded bare fingers through your hair, let you lay there in silence or cry into his chest if you needed to.

He slowly filled all your empty spaces, even if just for a little while, and you wondered how large your bill must be getting with each press of split lips to the top of your head and bloodied knuckles tracing the curve of your flushed cheeks. You never asked for something of his to remember him by until the night you finally spoke, your body completely in his lap as he held you, your fingertips brushing over fresh bruises spreading over his bare chest.

‘I might not be able to afford you at this rate,’ you murmured, and when he breathed out a laugh it didn’t feel like he was acting anymore.

‘I do the jobs that interest me for free, you know,’ he whispered into your ear, hand coming up to run over your jaw until you couldn’t help but look up at him. ‘That was just the first time, though.’

‘What about now?’ Something inside of you told you to be afraid as you looked into brown eyes so dark they almost looked black, the red and purple painting his eyebrow to his cheek warning you of the danger, but you weren’t afraid, you never had been.

He didn’t answer you, his mouth finding yours as colours shone through cheap curtains and shrouded you both in a halo of store neons and street lights.

That was months ago, his latest text reading, ‘There are darknesses in life and there are lights; you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.’ Bram Stoker, tonight, Dracula. You screenshotted it as you did with all his quotes, it saved to your phone with all the others before deleting the now useless chat and unlocking the latch over your window. He arrived less than an hour later, the smell of cheap takeout making him smirk as he looked at the feast laid out for him. ‘Hello again, little rabbit,’ he said into your neck as he wrapped his arms around you, his gloves already removed so he could feel you against his hot skin.

‘Hello, Murdoc,’ you greeted him back, his canines grazing over your skin and warning you of the danger as they always did before he noticed the frame you’d placed by your TV, front and center in the gap between the device and the edge of the stand they rested on. He let go of you and walked over to it, lifting it up and laughing genuinely at the sight of himself in your bed, a secretly stolen photo you’d taken when he’d fallen asleep in your arms.

‘You really are interesting,’ he mused as he put it back, still shrouded in darkness as he turned on his heel to face you, the sight so familiar as he filled up every last empty space inside of you.

Maybe he really had been able to make your loneliness disappear that first night, but he’d have to figure that one out himself as you pressed yourself against his chest and kissed him.

He smiled against your upturned lips like he already knew.

[zara-renata]

i have thoughts about your most recent fic and tumblr’s comment character limit has brought me to your ask box again 🙈

omgggg it’s so good to know sylus’s POV during that wine night!! and i don’t know why and how, but sylus’s thoughts about mc here, esp how he feels about her selfless tendencies (to her detriment), makes me feel vulnerable and seen. when i read reader-insert fics, i tend to imagine a separate character for mc even though it’s technically supposed to be me in my head. perhaps the character i made up resembles me (but better lmao), but different enough that she’s like an individual on her own. but when i read this fic, it’s like sylus was talking about me, as in the real me, which made me emotional. it could be that the way mc handles herself poorly in here resonates with me due to some irl stuff, but honestly it’s primarily how good you write about a character’s emotions and thoughts. it’s like the words reached across my screen and tugged at my heart. you’re such a great writer when it comes to expressing a character’s innermost thoughts. it’s like i’ve been placed inside a character’s mind to bare witness their raw self.

again, i love how your sylus x mc dynamics, at least for this series, revolve around an mc oblivious to how much sylus cares about her. it seems she doesn’t even believe she’s deserving of such affection, nor is she fitting to be the object of such primal desires. in a way, she’s kind of self-sabotaging in the sense that she thinks she doesn’t deserve kindness, help, and affection. she’s genuinely fine with taking the brunt of the pain and suffering – and not even in the hero, martyr kind of way. it seems it’s how she’s always been, such behavioral tendencies of hers seem to be as normal as the sky is blue, which is sad and concerning because she deserves so much. i’m honestly excited to see sylus try to knock down her hardened walls and have her realize how deserving she is of so many things. i hope she realizes she can relax, rest, take it easy, and feel safe. especially with him.

i actually laughed out loud about how unhinged sylus can be about his sexual desires for her. like the man is blue-balled to heck, but he isn’t the kind to succumb to his base urges. he really respects and loves mc. i think i would even say he reveres her, given the fan theories around their past. it’s like his urges are just something that come with his intense adoration and care for mc, which is so so admirable and attractive.

maybe i’m just a tad sensitive today, but i completely zeroed in on the emotional aspects of this fic – quite a difference as to how i salivated over your previous fic in your ask box LMAO. coincidence is such a funny thing because i feel like i really needed to read this fic today. i feel much better and more ready to face the day. this has been such a good read, and i humbly offer my apologies for yapping at your ask box yet again 🧎‍♀️🫣

First off, you never have to apologize for sending me your thoughts. I'm so happy every time I receive an ask, it's always an unexpected surprise. And your asks are always really thoughtful and fun to read! I wasn't just patronizing you when I said last time that it was really fun to receive such a spicy ask about the NSFW aspects of Sylus's character and dynamic with mc in these stories. A huge part of his appeal is his physicality and how he shows his affection through actions. Hot, hot, actions.

To be honest, this message from you is really reassuring, because I've noticed that a lot of the fanfic that gets a lot of traction in (any) fandom is of the NSFW variety (which, duh, I totally understand and appreciate and consume happily), and I worry that because I'm not currently focusing purely on that aspect of Sylus that people will be less interested in reading what I'm sharing, especially the installments that are so mc POV heavy. So to hear that you also like being in this mc's head, and can relate to this mc, that how I have Sylus respond to this mc's issues and hangups and trauma brings you comfort, is amazing for me as a wannabe writer. Although I also want to give you a hug (with your consent of course) if you can really relate to this mc because no one should ever have to feel what you so accurately point out about what this mc feels: that whatever pain you're experiencing is normal, and expected, and you can hardly imagine that someone would be so dedicated to helping relieve it for and with you. Because everyone deserves to feel cherished and demand more than the bare minimum from the world and the people in their life. I'm hoping that I can keep writing this story as an exploration of Sylus teaching mc that, and that you continue to derive comfort from it. Because in the end, fanfic can serve many purposes. And just like it can be a vehicle for exploring incredibly dark and disturbing and cathartic themes using our favorite characters, I think it can also be the ultimate comfort food, and sometimes you should just be able to feel fucking good reading it. I'm so happy to hear that this part did that for you. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts.

[mostremote]

Fic Update: We Wild Creatures

Chapter 14: Bed

Katniss experiments with a sexual relationship with Snow.

[i-like-forcefem]

You reading the human domestication guide only leads to one thing. Many many broccolis...

Human Domestication Guide is awesome!!! Im kinda considering writing my own fics for it, but there’s already so much of it so it might be best to just take it as inspiration as I continue to make my own short stuff :3