#she was alone for so long that she forgot her own name simply because there was nobody to call her that

[1233531]

Headcanon: laby speaks in third person because she is scared of forgetting her name again

[heliads]

Hi!! I’m so excited your request are open I love your work!! I would like to request Charles leclerc x reader where he finds out the girl he has a crush on is a street racer and decides to finally approach her and talk ending up in him asking her out on a date. I hope this makes sense, sorry if it doesn’t 🥲💗

'first sight' - charles leclerc

masterlist

Charles Leclerc has never found himself as thoroughly engrossed in the dynamics of street racing as he is right now. He has, of course, been vaguely aware of it before, as someone who was born in Monaco’s lap of luxury and then subsequently indoctrinated in the grand and glorious art of racing sports cars, but not like this. Never like this.

If he were in the mood to be particularly honest, Charles would admit that he’s not just interested in street racing all of a sudden because of the same need for speed that’s consumed his life and led him to Formula One. Nor is he here because he’s developed a taste past sports cars to souped up tin cans. No, he’s here because of one driver, a woman. A woman named Y/N L/N.

See, this was never Charles’ intent. He would have been able to skip this unfortunate little obsession in his life were it not for the fact that he’s best friends with Pierre, and Pierre is way too fond of his girlfriend Kika to ever say no to her. So, when Kika begged Pierre to come with her to watch a friend’s street race, Pierre decided that he simply couldn’t do it alone and forced Charles to tag along as well, because of course there’s nothing Charles likes more than third wheeling the two of them on yet another flirtatious date night.

Charles had assumed it would be another long night of alternating between wishing he was back home, worrying he should be on the simulator more often, and wondering if he should have dragged along a brother or two so he wouldn’t have to watch Pierre and Kika ogling each other for the thousandth time that night. However, all of that changed when Kika led them over to meet her friend Y/N, who was racing that evening.

Charles is no stranger to pretty people. Every race, some new slew of celebrities gets a tour of the Ferrari motorhome. Charles has seen plenty of actresses and singers pose by his car and wear his merch, but it’s never really meant anything to him. He can tell when they’re fans or if they’re just doing it for good PR. Most celebrities are just people in higher tax brackets with higher rates of avoiding their taxes. You meet one, you meet them all. No amount of perfect smiles or dazzling faces can change that.

Y/N, though, was different. She was gorgeous, and Charles immediately felt as if he might have been run over by his own car several times. One look from her and he was lost in it, tumbling over and over in his mind. She had this charming confidence that Charles could only wish to emulate, the sort of ease you get when you know you’re better than everyone and don’t need to remind people of it because you know you’ll prove it the second you get to work.

If it were not obvious by now, Charles is in love, alarmingly so. Even after Kika makes some quick introductions and Charles manages to shake Y/N’s hand and stammer out a few pleasantries about it being a nice night for a race, he’s still left wishing he could get himself together long enough to be a real human being. Y/N probably thinks he’s insane, but she’s still smiling when she leaves them, so at least he hasn’t done too terribly.

Pierre, by contrast, seems to think otherwise. Y/N is barely out of earshot when the other driver turns him, unable to hide his laughter. “Charles, man, what was that? You look like you forgot your own name.”

“I don’t need to remember mine,” Charles murmurs, watching Y/N go, “Just hers.”

Pierre rolls his eyes. “Be serious. You fall in love a hundred times a week.”

Charles sputters indignantly. “That is not true. And besides, this is different.”

Pierre can’t persuade him otherwise. The drivers on the scene that night start their engines, and Charles watches from the sidelines, captivated, as Y/N accelerates to an early win. Once the race is over, Y/N runs over to Kika, who embraces her friend with an excited hug.

“Well?” Y/N asks Charles once she’s released from Kika, “What does the Formula One driver have to say about that? Fast enough for you even without V6 engines?”

Charles does his best not to fall to pieces. “Um, yeah. It was very great.”

She flashes him a bright grin. “Perfect. See you at the next race, Leclerc.”

With that, she pushes back into the crowd, receiving congratulations and praise from her other friends. Pierre is grumbling something about not getting asked as well since Charles isn’t the only F1 driver around, but Charles just laughs, still giddy on the aftereffects of those shining eyes on his.

Pierre expects him to just bounce back from this little crush, and truth be told, Charles would appreciate it if he could, but no such luck. Even a few weeks after that first race, Charles is still hopeless over Y/N. He scans articles on street racing, memorizes the names of her competitors, and becomes an expert on her win history. She’s fast, super fast, and it looks like the easy victory Charles had seen was just a typical habit of Y/N L/N when it comes to racing.

Needless to say, he was captivated. Although Charles usually tries to keep a little pride when it comes to these sorts of things, he only made it two weeks before caving and asking Pierre if he and Kika were planning on attending any more street races. Charles wondered this for no reason, of course. Just, you know, his natural love of racecars.

Pierre sees right through it. “You want to see Y/N that badly, huh?” Pierre asks skeptically. “Jeez, man, I didn’t think you were such a simp.”

“You didn’t even know what that word meant until Kika taught it to you two days ago,” Charles says scornfully. “Now answer my question. Are you going or not?”

Eventually, and not without a fair amount of teasing, Pierre admits that they were planning to go to another race that Friday. Charles is able to convince his friend to let him tag along, but only under the condition that he would actually get up the courage to ask Y/N out instead of just staring like a lovesick puppy. Pierre’s words, not his.

This time, the race is actually legal. Y/N’s day job is a drag racer, although she tends to get bored on the weekends and shoot for a few undercover street races as well. So the fan Twitter pages say, at least. Charles definitely hasn’t been snooping around enough of those to know.

Now that he won’t get chastised by Ferrari PR for attending illegal races, Charles is free to post as much as he wishes about the race, the cars, and most importantly, the drivers. Barely half an hour has gone by before fans across the Internet are calling him out for ignoring literally every other car there to post about Y/N, but what does he care? Y/N’s probably too cool to look at those sorts of posts. Hopefully, or she’s going to think he’s insane. Again.

This time, though, when Y/N strolls by their area to say hi, she doesn’t just immediately focus on Kika. She says hi to her friend, of course, and thanks both Kika and Pierre for coming, but stops directly in front of Charles. All that separates them is the barrier of the stands. Well, that and the immutable fact that Charles is clearly crushing hard and she is clearly just having fun.

“Good to see you back, Charles,” she says.

Charles grins. He’d promised himself he’d play it cool this time, but he’s already failing at that aim. “You remembered my name?”

“I had plenty of your social media posts to remind me,” she says, one eyebrow quirked.

Pierre facepalms by his side. Charles ignores him. “I was excited,” he tells her as casually as he can. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know yet,” Y/N muses. “I suppose I’d have to get to know you better.”

“I have no problems with that,” Charles grins cheekily. “How about I take you out to dinner and you decide for yourself?”

In Charles’ peripheral vision, he can see Pierre’s look of desolation turn to slow shock, but come on now, there was no chance Charles wasn’t going to follow through and ask Y/N out. The only thing he needs now is for Y/N to say yes.

She doesn’t answer immediately, but judging by the way her cool smile brightens, it’s less because she dislikes him outright and more because she enjoys playing with him, which is perfectly fine by Charles. If he respects the game, he has to respect the players as well.

“I’ll have to wait and see how I feel after the race,” Y/N responds at last. “Maybe I’ll lose and I’ll be too devastated to go out with anyone.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I doubt that will happen, but alright.”

Y/N gives him a surprised look. “You’re willing to bet that I’ll only go out with you if I win?”

“I’m willing to bet on the excellent odds that you win every time,” Charles answers with a wink. See, Pierre? He can be smooth when he needs to be.

Y/N laughs at that, evidently pleased. “I’ll have to make sure I don’t let you down. See you after the race, Charles.”

With that, Y/N joins the throng of other drivers heading towards their cars to begin the race. Once she’s gone, Charles turns to Pierre, far more proud than he should be. “I don’t want to ever hear you complaining about my flirting again. Did I not do what I had to do?”

“You did,” Pierre grumbles, “but she still didn’t say yes, you idiot.”

Charles scoffs. “She absolutely did. She didn’t say no.”

Pierre can’t technically argue with this, so it’s up to Kika to distract them both from technicalities by asking them about one of their upcoming races, a surefire method of changing the subject. It does little to divert Charles from his own nerves, though. Suddenly, he’s gripped with an impossible terror that something will happen with Y/N’s car, or maybe she might come in second place and not first, and she wouldn’t want to go out with him after all. He shouldn’t have left it up to chance like that. He should have just gone after what he wanted in the first place.

Charles is a nervous mess the whole race. When the checkered flag waves, though, he’s finally able to relax. Y/N wins, and that means Charles has just scored himself a date with the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. 

Y/N takes her time in coming around to his section of the stands, just to mess with him. At last, though, they’re face-to-face again. Y/N is breathless and thrilled with the victory. Charles thinks he could bask in her glow forever.

“So?” He asks casually, “How about that date, then?”

Y/N grins. “I think it’ll work out. You can pick me up at seven. Does Saturday work for you?”

“Saturday is great,” Charles says a little too quickly, then tries to recover. “Wear something pretty.”

“Don’t I always?” She jokes, gesturing to her race suit.

Charles laughs with her. It’s easy. He can imagine doing it many times again. “Of course.”

Her laugh settles into a quiet smile. Even in the tumultuous uproar of a race that’s just been won, Charles can focus on her instantly. He wants this, he decides. He wants her. And, with the way she’s looking at him now, mirroring the incline of his head towards hers, Charles knows that she wants the same thing. This is just the beginning. He cannot wait to see where they go from here.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[queenofbaws]

"i missed hearing your voice.." Jossam post game? I hope things are going alright

He told himself that he wasn't worried, that he'd pulled off crazier stunts than this without breaking a sweat. The ball was in his court, after all, and even if he didn't have the home team advantage as he parked his car and stepped out onto her driveway (salt crunching under his feet like grit from the mines), other advantages abounded: he looked pathetic, for one, bruised like an overripe summer peach; he'd had time to run his lines, for another, drafting before refining, refining before editing, editing before finalizing, finalizing before practicing, practicing, practicing.

Even now, as he carefully climbed the steps to her front door, setting a little more weight than usual against the side rail (he'd landed strangely when he'd fallen into the vent shaft, and all the kings horses and all the kings men hadn't quite been able to figure out how or why he'd managed to fuck that muscle group up in such a particular fashion), he worked through the script in his head:

Hi there, long time no see! I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd check in...I think maybe you forgot to pay your phone bill this month - the damn thing just rings and rings when I call, no answer, no voicemail, nothing. Hey, look, don't sweat it, I don't even care that you kinda-sorta blew the lodge to smithereens, that's what we've got insurance for, know what I mean? What's a little property damage between friends? Oh, quick question while I have you: You don't, ha ha ha, hee hee hee, hoo hoo hoo, I don't know, hate me, do you?

But before he could so much as knock, Sam opened the door and his oh-so-brilliant plan crumbled into so much dust.

She had that effect on him. Always had.

Why hadn't he planned for that?

There was a beat where they simply stood like that, opposite one another in a hundred separate ways, her arms folded despite being on the warmer side of the threshold, his open wide despite the cold, both of them posturing, posturing, posturing as if they could fix the problem through body language alone.

Josh wet his lips. Forgot his lines. "Hi." There. Hi there. That was what he'd practiced, that was what he'd written, that was part of the plan that would endear him to her again. It wouldn't come out, though, couldn't squeeze its way through the pinhole of his throat, not now that she was actually looking at him, not now that they were close enough for him to smell her fabric softener and see the butterfly bandage holding that cut over her eyebrow together.

He tried again, took it from the top as Dad would say...and failed just as spectacularly. "I, uh, hi."

Sam's entire body seemed to move with her breath, drawing up on the inhale, folding over on the exhale. She was tired, he saw, she was so, so tired - and all because of him. "What do you want, Josh?" she asked, the question smooth and unhalting, improvised but earnest.

He hadn't considered that. Hadn't planned on a question. He hadn't practiced any answers, hadn't drafted a line of banter that would come across as suitably apologetic while still being rakish and playful, and -

And...

And.

And, God help him, it all just came out.

"I wanted to see you," he said, the rush of blood in his ears deafening him to his own voice, filling his head with panicked radio static. "I know I'm the last person you want to see, but...you weren't answering your phone, you weren't answering your messenger, you weren't answering your email - holy shit, Sammy, I almost picked up a pencil to write you an actual hand-to-God letter, but I was worried you'd throw it in the shredder as soon as you saw my name, and there'd go my seventy-three cents of postage. In this economy, I - "

Her eyebrows went up. His stomach sank into his feet.

He tried again.

"Look, I...I know you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I wouldn't want to talk to me either, but...but you don't have to talk. You don't have to say a word to me if you don't want, you can close the door in my face right here, right now, and I'll get it, I really will, but I just..." His throat was a desert. He swallowed hard, found his words cracking anyway. "I miss hearing your voice. I miss seeing you. I...I miss everything about you, and I know the only person to blame for that shit is me, but I don't know how to fix it, so..." Out went his arms again, a pathetic mimicry of himself, a gesture as hollow as it was familiar. "I'm open to suggestions."

Sam took another breath, her shoulders rising then falling, her gaze never flinching, and something in the shape of her mouth, the jut of her hip, convinced him that he'd been right, that she was only a second away from slamming the door in his face, turning the latch so hard he'd be able to hear it click. After what he'd put her through - after what he'd put them all through - it was what he deserved, what he had coming, what he'd brought down on himself, what he'd -

"You should probably start by coming in, then," she sighed, finally dropping her eyes from his as she held the door open, making space for him to step inside. "My list's a little too long to go through with the wind blowing like that - trust me, I've timed it."

"I bet you have, Sammy," he said as he took that first step onto the mat, his eyes prickling from the warmth of her house and something else, something he wasn't quite willing to let himself believe yet. "And I'm all ears."

[seventeenlovesthree]

@digimon02countdown Day 2 - JOGRESS/DNA-DIGIVOLUTION

It doesn't fit the prompt 100%, but the themes of relationships, bonding and compatibility are just so important to me and the potential it has for partnership evolutions will never not intrigue me. So while I was browsing through Digimon Adventure 02 to catch my favourite scenes, I noticed a very important parallel. Initially, I had just wanted to create a collage showing off the meaning of Jogress for Daiken in particular - because their bond, the development of their closeness and mutual trust, willingness to save and protect each other... All of that is very dear to my heart. And then I realized - the inherent parallel between Ken with Daisuke and Hikari with Takeru:

Both Hikari and Ken have a connection to the world of darkness, they have been drawn to it at several points in their lives - and still have to deal with the aftermath one way or another. They're haunted by it, with Hikari being stuck at the dark ocean to help repopulate the world and Ken being kidnapped by Oikawa to have his dark seed scanned and distributed to other children... And Takeru and Daisuke are 200% ride or die committed to save them respectively, supported by their own armor-evolved partner to ride on and the partner of the one they want to save, guiding and helping (and being comfy with them) as much as possible.

Takeru's connection to Hikari is what makes him get access to the other world - and Daisuke's persistence is what makes him succeed in reaching Ken.

While, at this point in time, Hikari is not able to detach herself from darkness, she knows that she's not alone and that she's got a trusted friend by her side...

... And Ken also learns that, despite everything he has done, he's being supported on his path to redemption every step of the way. Especially by the friend who simply forgot that he used to call him by his last name just a few hours ago and who will reassure him with one of the most beautiful speeches of the entire series.

Long story short - Daiken and Takari are such a wonderful display of having a support system to trust in. I wish the kids' headcanons of multiple different Jogress combinations had become true, so we may have Jogress evolution between Hikari and Takeru as well, since they are portrayed to be just as compatible as Ken and Daisuke.

[emlovslennon]

bed chem

plot: it’s your first yet last year at Hogwarts. You finally decided to attend as a freshly 18 year old young woman, but following being put in the Slytherin house, you fancy the long haired professor that owned it.

(yes, this is based off a sabrina carpenter song because i love her and this song is so him).

warnings: smut, age gap (the reader IS AN ADULT), snape did not know her as a child, fluff ending cuz why not.

-

“So what took you so long to attend Hogwarts?” Your friend, Hermione asked. You and Hermione were in the same grade, she was just a year younger than you were.

“I ‘dunno, I just thought I’d give it a try.” You replied. You felt zoned out nearly the entire morning until a tall, fit, man walked past you. He looked as if he was the human embodiment of a raven.

“Moine… W-who is that?” You whispered, slightly nudging her shoulder.

“Oh, him? That’s Professor Snape. I wouldn’t bother him, he can be quite grouchy.” Hermione explained. You could hear him talking in the distance, he was merely a few feet away from you. Sounded like he was discussing grades with some student that, from the sounds of it, was not doing well.

“Oh my god, his voice.” You nearly squealed. Hermione shushed you almost immediately, followed by a giggle.

“He has real good hearing, y’know. He could be listening in.” Hermione giggled. You couldn’t say she was wrong, because before too long, Snape turned directly in your direction, walking toward you. Your heart began to pound as your eyes went from his face to the floor.

“Good morning, Miss L/N.” He greeted, his grim voice making you tremble.

“H-hello, Professor… um” You stuttered. You could have sworn your brain stopped working. I mean, Hermione just told you his name and you already forgot.

“Snape, silly girl. You should be becoming accustomed to it. You belong to Slytherin. I would start to become less ditzy, if I were you.” Snape scolded. Your blushing became so severely evident. You felt so embarrassed, but Merlin, he was attractive. You felt ashamed over how easily the most inappropriate thoughts scattered your mind at the sight of him.

“Y-yes, Professor Snape. I-I have your class, right?” You asked. Hermione gave you a look, as if to say, “why did you ask that?” Mainly because most students were horrified of him, and pretended to not know when his class was to avoid attending.

“Yes, you do. In fact, it starts right now.” He replied, the bell ringing for first period echoing across the cafeteria.

“Follow me.” He said. You turned to Hermione and gave her a goodbye hug before getting up and heading to class.

“So, I see you’re befriended with Hermione. The insufferable know-it-all.” He blurted out, clearly trying to start a conversation.

“Y-yes. I am. We’ve been friends since children, I just never attended Hogwarts until now. I think it would be better to graduate here.” You asserted.

“Makes sense, I suppose.” He responded. Your face was burning red, your hands were clammy. You couldn’t believe you made yourself such a nervous wreck over a man you just met. You prayed to Merlin he didn’t notice, but from your look alone, it could have been evident from a mile away.

“You look flushed, Miss Y/N. Why is that?” He questioned. Your heart sank. You felt as if your chest was gonna burst from how hard it was pounding. How do I explain to him he’s the “cute guy with the long black robe and the thick accent that I think I’d have really good bed chemistry with?” Simply impossible.

“I just, um. Don’t feel good.” You lied.

“Funny, you were just fine when you were snickering about me to your insolent friend.” He retorted.

“How did you know?” You asked. His brows furrowed up slightly, knowing he caught red handed.

“You know, Miss Y/N, it’s rude to talk behind someone’s back. Surely you’re smart enough to realize that.” He says, his voice lowering. At this point, we stopped walking and he stood in front of you, nearly towering over your body.

“I… It wasn’t bad. I just, I just said I liked your accent.” You stated. He chuckled darkly at your poor attempt to defend yourself.

“Is that so? We will discuss this more after class.” He said sternly. Discuss what? The fact you liked his accent? What kind of absurdity was that? Needless to say, you had no room to really complain. I mean, alone, together, with the guy you find hot. What’s wrong with that?

After class, although your body started to tremble, you made your way to his desk. He was still sat, his hands on the table clasped together.

“Sit.” He demanded softly. You obeyed almost immediately.

“What was it you wanted to discuss?” You spoke. The awkward silence between you two was damning, especially because you already know what he was going to talk to you about.

“I believe you know very well what I wanted to speak to you about. I know what you’re trying to pull, Miss Y/N.” Snape said, your breath hitched.

“I-I don’t know what you’re-“ you were shut up by the sound of your Professor getting out of his seat and walking towards you and kneeling right in front of your body.

“Silence. If you came here merely to bed me, I’d have you greatly mistaken. First and foremost, if that be the case, which it most certainly is, I suggest you actually pay attention in my class and not spend your time daydreaming and drawing while your know-it-all friend blurts out the answers that nobody else knows. Secondly, you can’t even attempt to deny your attraction when I can see your thighs trembling with lust. I know what you want, but I’m not so sure you deserve it, yet. I believe I’ll need some… Proof, if you will.” Snape confessed. If your panties weren’t fucked before, they sure as hell are now. You could feel your wetness seeping onto the chair. You mentally slapped yourself for wearing a skirt and no tights.

“Professor… I-I-“ You shushed yet again as he put his index finger to your lips.

“Severus. Do not call me ‘Professor’ right now. I am not your Professor in this moment, do you understand? You prove to me your… Submission, and you’re no longer my student, nor I your Professor.” Severus reprimanded. You nodded your head vigorously.

“I-I know what would make sense to me in this very moment.” You mumbled, nearly a whisper. Severus raised his brow at you in curiosity.

“I think you picking me up and turning me around over your desk just makes sense.” You whispered, leaning towards his ear. You could have sworn you heard a growl coming from him.

“Very well. Get up and bend over my desk. Now.” Severus demanded, sternly this time around. When you hesitated slightly, just by the mere shock of it all, he picked you up by your shoulders and pushed you into his desk, nearly slamming your chest onto the top of it.

“Silly girl. Can’t obey one task? Such a shame.” He mumbles. He lifts your skirt up to your abdomen and pulls down your cherry decorated panties.

“How juvenile. But, I mustn’t lie, I do enjoy them.” He compliments. Well, kinda. His fingers run across your soaked slit, he groans at the feeling of his fingers fondling your wetness.

“Such a needy little thing. Tell me, Miss Y/N, what is it that you want from me, hm?” He asks, his voice is low and seductive. You could not believe this was happening. There was no way in hell you could ever tell Hermione about this.

“Y-your fingers. Please, Severus.” You pleaded. Severus chuckled darkly at your pathetic pleas and shoved two fingers inside your core. You gasped at the intrusion. Severus made sure to keep his thumb on your bundle of nerves. For a man his students think get no action, this man knows what he’s doing.

“This? How pathetic. But, I must say, you’re such an obedient little girl. So eager for me.” Severus praised. Your legs shook at his vicious attack on your core. You moaned loudly, feeling a large hand cover your mouth.

“Quiet, incompetent girl.” Severus whispered. You felt so embarrassed at the fact that you were already getting close. But it felt all too overwhelming.

“Already close? How feeble. So pathetic. I suppose I should let you finish, hm?” Severus cooed. You were way too caught into finishing until you felt a harsh slap to your rear.

“Answer me. Or I won’t.” Severus ordered.

“Y-yes. S-Severus. P-please.” You managed to stutter out. He was right, you were pathetic. Nearly drooling on your Professors desk as he fingered you mercilessly. But it couldn’t end here, you wouldn’t let it.

“I-I need more, Severus. Please.” You begged. Severus looked at you with a confused look. As if he was shocked that you really wanted him to violate you.

“What do you want?” He asked, mere whisper.

“I need you to deflower me.” You mustered. Severus eyes widened, clearly taken aback by what you said.

“Y/N, I need to understand something right now. Once I start, I will not contain myself. Losing your innocence is something that is not of little importance. When it’s gone, it is gone. It will belong to me.” Severus clarified. You nodded.

“I don’t care, I need you entirely too much. I need you to bed me, right here, right now.” You admitted. It was with this admission that something changed within Severus. He picked you up and turned you around onto your back, now laying on his desk. You covered your face in nervousness as he removed his trousers. Without warning, he pushed into you. Causing you to yelp out.

“Y-you couldn’t even give me a warning?” You squeaked out.

“Why should I? I told you. I’m not containing myself. Explaining myself again would be futile.” Severus grunted. However, seeing you had tears prickling out of your eyes from the violation, he stayed still. Waiting for you to let him move.

“S-sorry, I’m just trying to get used to y-“ you stopped dead in your tracks as Severus cupped your face with his hands and kissed you. It wasn’t aggressive nor rough, but passionate and quite…. meaningful. You moaned into the kiss as he sped up, your skin colliding in a sinful orchestra.

“Gods, you are beautiful, Y/N. Does it still hurt?” Severus panted into your ear. The burn was lingering, yet fading. You became engulfed in bliss as he began to roughly thrust into you.

“N-no. Y-you f-feel so good. Don’t s-stop.” You moaned out. You expected Severus’ hand to come over your mouth, yet nothing. It’s like he didn’t care anymore. Which to be fair, he shouldn’t. It was late, and one little moan shouldn’t be so loud that everyone in Hogwarts heard it.

“I do? You’re enchanting, you know that?” Severus chuckled. You were dazed beyond recognition. It was so deliciously sinful that it was too much for your little mind to process. Severus bent his head down to attack your neck, for sure to leave hickies in the morning. You make a mental note to wear a scarf for tomorrow.

“F-faster.” You squeaked. You felt yourself getting so feverishly close, so close yet so far. it was killing you. Severus took the hint that your climax was approaching by you tightening around him and your pants and moans were up an octave. Severus grabbed your hips and began to, for lack of a better term, pound into you. You looked up at his disheveled face. His raven hair was slightly stuck to his forehead from sweat, brows furrowed slightly, and his mouth agape, panting like a dog in heat.

“You’re close, I know you are. I want you to release for me, lovely girl. Can you do that?” Severus panted out. You nodded lively as you felt your sweet release wash over like a wave. Your legs shook at the force and you bit your lip to prevent a scream, causing blood to trickle down your bottom lip.

“Foolish girl, don’t do that.” Severus reprimanded. Taking his sleeve and wiping the blood from your chin.

“I-I want it on my… face.” You whimpered. Severus stopped thrusting and looked at you.

“You want me to…. Violate your face is such a way?” He questioned.

“Yes, yes I do.” You panted. Severus gave you a look of complete disbelief, but pulled out of you and grab your hand to help you stand up. He giggled as you wobbled when you stood.

“Get on your knees, then.” He demanded darkly. You wasted no time getting on your knees and sticking your tongue out for him.

“What an indecent minx you are.” He said. He began to stroke his member at a vigorous pace, biting his lip in the process.

“Gods, keep your mouthing open. Sweet, obedient, girl.” He moaned as he released on your tongue, face, and clothed breasts. Once he was done, his left hand cupped your face, admiring your profane beauty. He let go and went to grab tissues to wipe your face.

“I see I… painted your blouse.” He joked. Your white blouse covered with his semen.

“Well, I’d assume that’s what washing machines are for.” You retorted, causing him to chuckle.

“I assume this is a one time occasion?” Severus asked. You could hear the slight disappointment hinted in his voice.

“Not unless you want it to be. You interest me, Severus.” You replied. Severus’ face lit up as he heard the confirmation. He cupped your chin and gave you one last kiss.

“I’ll see in the morning, wicked girl.” He whispered. You nodded and smiled as you zipped your skirt back up and walked out of his office and back to your dorm. Gods, the excuse you’re gonna have to make up to Hermione.

-

HEYYYY GUESS WHOS BACK BACK AGAINNNN!!! Yes, I’m having a BAD SNAPE phase so my apologies BUTTTT I HOPE YOU LIKE THISSSS!!!

[mdianasims]

Grace Hastings

for @bloomingkyras Travelogue Journey Bachelor Challenge.

Name: Grace Eleanor Hastings Age: 26 (young adult) Aspiration: Renaissance Sim Traits: Horse Lover, Squeamish, Genius, Business Savvy, The Knowledge. Likes: sunrise yoga, spa days with friends (hand massage and manicure are essential), riding along the shore with her horse, grandma's signature Beef Wellington. Dislikes: cooking (would start a fire if left alone in the kitchen), bugs (will drive them away with high-pitched screaming), mucking out stables, people who think they are funny when they're not.

------

Grace grew up in Brindleton Bay, with her parents and younger brother. A lot of her younger years revolved around horses and Grace became a skilled equestrian. Many Summer holidays were spent on her grandmother's estate in Henford-on-Bagley. The family spent their Winter vacations in Mt. Komorebi to go skiing.

In her teenage years, Grace dabbled a bit as a Simfluencer. It did make her more popular in school and even got her elected as prom royalty, in spite of graduating early (the really smart kids aren't usually popular). She still has a love for S-Pop (more of a guilty pleasure these days) and her signature hot pink nails and lips to show for her Simfluencer days. She wanted to take a gap year and travel, but her parents didn't allow it on account of her being too young. So, Grace went to study economics at Foxbury and, of course, graduated with honours.

After graduating university, Grace took a job in her mother's business, something to do with the San Myshuno stock exchange. Instead of using her degree and connections, Grace opted to start at the bottom of the corporate ladder. Which may have been a mistake. Apartment life in San Myshuno didn't agree with our country girl. She got into a relationship with a co-worker and things got messy, both at work and privately. After she broke up with him, she moved back to her parents house in Brindleton Bay. She was more than happy to commute every day if it meant spending more time with her favourite horse, Artemis.

Recently, Grace felt that her job didn't really suit her anymore. And things were complicated enough, with her ex and her mother constantly around at the office. She went back to what she knew best: Social Media. Of course, Grace has to start all over again, but she can take a more serious route this time. It still requires a lot of trips to San Myshuno (because that's where 'it' is happening), but at least she can do so on her own time.

Grace is good at almost everything she does and that makes others perceive her as arrogant. She simply does her best and certainly has her flaws. It's not a coincidence she's participating in a bachelor challenge with a bachelor who enjoys cooking. But that's not her only reason for participating. Grace feels she does have a few things in common with Shawn and hopes they can find that common ground and build on it.

A few notes:

Grace's backstory talks about a few things. I did not actually play through all of that. I created her as a young adult in CAS and then cheated some skills and a job. So she has no degree or reward traits from her teenage years.

I wanted Grace to have the overachiever trait in addition to her 3 base traits. But I spent soooo long on compiling her outfits, that I didn't feel like playing her for a long time as well (I have my own BC to get back to ;) ). Also, respect to people who are good in CAS - we all have our own talents, and mine is in build mode.

I know there was more I wanted to tell you about Grace, but I either forgot or didn't manage to work the into the story the way I imagined.

@bloomingkyras if there is anything else you want to know, feel free to message me.

To conclude this, here's the (mandatory for all BCs) swimsuit photo ;)

[the-insouciant-scientist]

5 for everyone??

5. How did you choose their name and why? Was it simply based on vibes or is there any specific meaning behind the name? Are the reasons behind their name different in- and out of universe?

Oh wow, hope you're ready for a very long explanation because I have a Lot to say about this and a lot of characters dhfgdjafdgj. Including some ~secret never before seen middle name lore~ just for fun! Under a cut because this got very, very long.

(Most of these were chosen by scouring lists of Victorian era names, so I probably don't have to mention that every time. Just take it as a given!)

Harper (Middlename/Theory/Marten/Russula/Twillbert/etc.) Faraday

Since Harper was made as a slightly different character before getting Flondon'd, I don't actually remember the details of their first name specifically! I think I was just angling for something reasonably gender neutral and around the right era, and Harper just stuck. Faraday came when I realized I needed a last name for them and just panic googled Victorian-or-earlier-era scientists and realized that Harper Faraday sounds absolutely delightful to the ear. So, named after Michael Faraday! Which is, ironically enough, about what happened in character too. They do not have a defined middle name because they (and I) forgot they needed one for way too long, so now if asked they usually just say the first thing that comes to mind, which is not usually a name that normal humans have. They will never live "Twillbert" down for the rest of their days.

Phileas Emrys Clarke

Phileas was a combination of Jules Verne reference, it being slightly reminiscent of a recurring family name, and just being objectively fun to me. Clarke fit the vibes more than anything else, plus I liked the idea of it being a name picked up from his time working in Irving's shop! It was initially a job related surname, after all. Emrys came way later and definitely reads to me as one he would have chosen himself (as opposed to his first name, picked up as an urchin, and his surname, received as an older teen), and means immortal, which really loops into his whole "I will never die there's too much cool stuff to do and trouble to get into while I'm alive" very nicely.

Irving Basil Merritt

Hers was extremely vibes based/just names that sounded nice with each other I'll admit! I was going for the sense of like, this is the name of a very stereotypically proper Victorian Englishman, except no this is a very gender-nonconforming tailor/dressmaker who is so very gentle and friendly to literally anyone who comes into her shop and not that at all. Basil, however, is a loose reference to the character of the same name in The Picture of Dorian Gray. Not in a way that means you should be concerned for her own safety! Just. That artistic touch and devotion and queerness really resonates I think.

Caoimhe Ann Coledoc

I knew from the get-go that I wanted her to have a Very Irish Name, and I wanted something that could sound nice alongside her twin (who also needed a Very Irish Name), and who I was naming at the same time. Caoimhe was the one that caught my eye the most, and I especially liked the softer sound of it compared to the rough and tumble butch I was sticking it on. Cian suited her brother pretty well, so together it just worked. Fun fact, Coledoc is not their real last name! It's a derivative of their mother's maiden name, Colloc, or rather the word that was derived from. It's an old Breton word that means beloved, at least according to the sources I've seen. Idk, I'm running with it. Either way, it was a bit of a secret password between the twins, so when Caoimhe descended to the Neath alone and needed a new surname, she kept that close as a reminder of why she had gone. Ann was honestly a bit of an afterthought, just needed a one-syllable name to bridge the gap and it was relatively popular in her region of Ireland around when she was born, so!

Agnes Maria Day

Her entire name has so many layers to it. Baseline it's a play off "Agnus Dei", but it's also a reference to St. Agnes of Rome, who has a very sad story even by saints' standards. Maria is technically her confirmation name, not a middle name, the Italian version of Mary. So her entire name is uhhh extremely Catholic, which makes sense based on how she was raised on the surface! But really that pun kinda took on a life of its own.

Geneviève Blackwell

Another vibes-based name! I knew I wanted something incredibly dramatic sounding, and just kind of picked though name lists until I found some that fit! Still haven't decided on a middle name for her yet, hard to get something to fit alongside the others sdlkghfgklhd.

Hyakinthos Athanasiou

I put waaaaay too much effort into this guy's name I'll be honest. Hyakinthos (also known as Hyacinthus) was the name of a Spartan prince, beloved by both Apollo and Zephyrus, and in some stories killed out of godly jealousy and others by accident. Turned into a hyacinth flower after that. I really loved the contrast between the softness of the floral name vs the whole "was murdered" thing, drawing a line of death through his entire character, and then additionally some victorian floriography assigns the meaning of "sincere care" to hyacinths, which! Yeah!! And then Athanasiou is a really fun one, because given the time period he's from it literally means "son of Athanasios" rather than being like. A family name? But the kicker is that Athanasios means immortal. He's the son of immortal and he can't die. Running around in circles and kicking my feet up about this guy I had a Blast figuring out a name for him that was both thematic and actually historically accurate! This literally could have been a name back then!! Sorry I'm just so excited about that.

[miilkybnn]

I know these have been requested already but I adore your 09 and cowboy Ghost/Roach/Soap art and would love to see more!! Also, do you have any cowboy/gunslinger headcanons for the three??

I, too, adore ’09 GhostRoachSoap AND cowboy/ranch life GhostRoachSoap so you absolutely WILL see more of them, I promise!!

As for ideas/hc for the cowboy au, it’s a lot more “ranch life” based than gunslingers so if you are into that, keep reading below the line!

If not, then you are more than welcome to skip over this :}

Disclaimer: Most of my ideas are a bit scattered so I apologize for the messy layout, I’ll try my best to keep it coherent. Also, this is not all of them I don’t want this to be overly long

Background:

The AU takes place in Roach’s family ranch where all three members have been discharged from duty.

In this AU, because I like happiness, there is no war over the horizon and is simply a group of people living their lives out on the rolling plains of either Texas or Tennessee— I’m leaning more towards Texas just because I know more about the agriculture of the Texas plains.

In this AU, the 141 & Co simply live their lives from either being retired/discharged/etc. While everyone is involved (except for Shepherd, eat shit and die Shepherd), they all do their own thing but primary attention is mainly on GhostRoachSoap

Roach (+ extended background):

Roach and his other 5 siblings have the ranch under their and their parent’s name. He and two of his siblings, the youngest and the second oldest, are more active in taking care of the ranch's needs now that their parents are well into their ages. The other three help ever so often with more minor things but they have their own families to tend to and his parents don't actually live in the ranch anymore (again, due to age) and live closer to the city.

Roach, however, is the main caretaker for the ranch. He spends the most time on the land and is often alone, that was until Ghost and Soap came

Headcanons;

His accent left when he joined the army. Came back tenfold after a week on the ranch.

Has a collection of cowboy hats and each one serves a purpose (although his favorite is his very worn-out Cattleman that he leaves by the front door to take on his way out)

Expert horse rider. I'm not saying you would see this man at the Rodeo, but he’s had his fair share of bucking broncos, and not ONCE has he been bucked off.

Though there are horses on the ranch, his horse is Estella— a Chestnut American Quarter Horse with three white socks (forelegs + right hind leg) and a star + stripe. She loves to chew on people’s clothes if they turn their backs on her.

Has slept in the barn before (multiple times) and regrets it every time (wouldn’t recommend it, very lumpy and you WILL wake up with straw in places you don’t want it to be)

LOVES cattle work, and hates paperwork 💀 (he lets Ghost, and his two other siblings take care of it) due to this, he is good at reading the animals and knowing when something is wrong!

Are good friends with the vet! (It’s his ex 💀) (They broke amicably though so it’s okay!!) (“So, like, when I kiss you??…. it’s gross” “OH thank God, I thought it was only me")

Gets SOOO distracted when Soap is picking the hay bales. Bff short circuits for a good minute before Ella gets miffed at him and throws her head back

Cows > sheep (will make an exception for baby lambs tho)

Soap:

Along with Ghost, realistically both would not actually retire in some rural Texas town but because I can, let's say they decided to retire to some rural Texas town.

Soap is the most recent member to the farm and took to it like a duck to water. (We'll ignore the times he forgot to lock the chicken coop). He was on active duty but after a close call that was too close to comfort, he decided that maybe it was time to retire. Price is the one that mentioned the ranch to him, although at the time he did not know it was a ranch.

All Price told him was “if you are looking for something a little different, take a look here" and looking he went.

Headcanons:

Not on the friendliest terms with the cattle dogs but boy do they LOVE him (they’ve tried to herd him multiple times and have succeeded) (he cusses both Ghost and Roach out for watching and letting it happen)

Loves the nitty gritty work. Hay bales? Check. Cleaning the stables? On it. Shearing the sheep? The Clippers are all warmed up already. If there’s a job that involves getting his hands dirty, he is the first in line

Sheep > cows

His horse is a Buckskin American Quarter Horse that he very proudly named Buck. This name came after Roach told him the color of his coat but was reinforced when Soap tried riding him and was almost bucked off. They became the best of pals after that, and Buck occasionally tries to nibble Soap’s mohawk for fun.

His favorite chore is feeding the animals! He loves watching them all flock to their food and munch away. He doesn't find it much of a chore as it fills him with such joy to see all the creatures he cares for flourish.

Gagged the first, second, and third time he saw a sheep give birth. Man has seen a soldier’s leg come clean off from a bomb and recovered in less than 5 minutes but BIRTH? Get the bucket ready.

Ghost:

Discharged after a mission had gone wrong, Ghost had no idea where to go. With no family to go back to and no friends to crash with, civilian life was looking very bleak until Price came to him with a plane ticket and an address to some rural town in Texas.

Ranch life was… different for Ghost. It wasn’t bad per say, and he can’t really find much to complain about, but it was just different. It is... steadier? softer? he's not too sure but at least it lets him sleep easier at night.

It took him and Roach a while to find a rhythm. It wasn’t easy and it was very awkward at first but eventually they were able to settle on something unique for them that worked out.

Headcanons:

Sheep > cows

He likes to roam around with the LGDs. He greatly respects their jobs and has grown a soft spot for them. He knows he’s not supposed to distract them, but he just can’t help himself and always gives them a good belly rub.

Became good friends with the farrier. Farrier does most of the talking but Ghost will join in here and there. He really likes learning about the Farrier's different methods and likes to watch him work on the horses. (Lowkey thinking about making Jackson the farrier bc why not)

One of my favorite personal hc's about Ghost is that he is shit at naming things so yeah, he named his horse, Horse. Roach almost took his horse privileges away because of it but anyway, his horse is not an AQH like Roach/Soap but is instead one of the two draft horses the ranch has! His horse is Blue Roan Clydesdale with a very splotchy coat that loves peppermints and loves napping her days away (she’s had three kids alright she deserves it)

Genuinely enjoys doing the ranch paperwork. Sure, he has to ask Roach here and there where some of the stuff is at but honestly? Could spend hours reading and organizing the books and such. He's very interested in the topics discussed.

Earliest riser. His favorite time of the day is just before the sun peaks over the horizon where everything is blue and foggy, where condensation sits on his skin, when the crickets are still chirping, and when the mourning doves are softly cooing. Roach wakes up soon after him.

[the-rest-of-what-remains]

What type of did does Icyrain have? Like, are his alters different people or more aspects of his personality? also, do they have names? Is Icyrain the host or just the collective name they all go by?

Icyrain's DID is very heavily based on my own DID, so I can't really tell you if it's a specific type or not, but below the read more is all the information about him, how he developed DID, and his alters! And this is the reference for how they all view themselves. While fronting in the dark forest, you can occasionally see flashes of their faces, especially when they're emotional. Only First Star feels dysmorphic about being in Icyrain's shape, but that's because he's used to being giant and having horns. Paws has issues walking when fronting because them paws too big.

Icyrain was victim to "kitten snatching", a tactic that started when numbers became scarce in Huntclan. Originated by Ravenstar (and even the tactic used to get Midnightstar, his son), warriors were encouraged to find romance outside of the clan and then kill the partner to take the kits. Sometimes though, they'd find single parents out on the territory to steal from instead. His mother was killed, and he was brought to Huntclan as an orphan at only a moon old. He was cared for only as an asset to train, and he developed DID to protect himself from the rigorous repeated abuse he faced during his "apprenticeship". He's the host and most of the time he's fronting unless something triggers one of his alters to front.

Iris was the first alter to split, being an introject based on distant memories of his mother before he forgot. She's an ideal caretaker, gentle but informative with a natural talent for medicine. Iris cared for the kits until they were big enough because Icyrain had this intense fear of accidentally hurting them. She has the best connection with Icyrain, causing the least amnesia when she switches in. She's often trying to co-front in some amount like a mom watching her kitten play.

First Star split during the intense training sessions he was forced to endure. Based off the idea of the very first leader, a dream Icyrain had frequently about a kind and just but immensely powerful leader. First Star is methodical and skilled in combat but has a very strong moral compass and often polices other alters to ensure they don't lose sight in their morals. He's not very good with words, remaining stoic and aloof. He believes very strongly that there is good in the world.

Paws was split during a very confusing time in Icyrain's life. He had for the most part been able to avoid confronting the situation through dissociation, but to remain unaware of it while trying to raise children wouldn't be ideal. In an effort to not lose that innocence when Icyrain began to confront everything, Paws formed. He's goofy in all the ways that Icyrain lost, obsessed with species of bugs and especially ants. The rest of the system works to protect him, so he doesn't front very often. Think of bug like a representation of the childhood Icyrain lost, able to be protected and cared for despite everything.

Softnight split when Icyrain became tasked with more and more things. He was almost always alone, doing menial or intense work, dissociating during it. Softnight formed to deal with them, working long into the night without much of a word. She's selectively mute and sensitive to noise. She was absolutely thrilled to learn pawspeak, like a part of her had been missing without it. She's unfortunately the least connected with Icyrain, and he has absolutely no memories of what she does.

Icyrain has no word for what he experiences, simply referring to the voices that seemed to stick out from his own thoughts as his "thinking buddies". The body is collectively referred to as Icyrain during life, but in the afterlife, things get a little weird. While they can never separate from him as all part of the same soul, fronting alters can influence the appearance of the soul now that they're not bound to a real body. Quartzpaw and Opalglow learn their names to go along with the flashes of their faces after the initial fright. Lots of "ooooh, that makes sense now" ensues. Opalglow has a bit of a harder time understanding it because she relies on Icyrain emotionally and it makes her distressed when he's not there. Being able to communicate properly helps though, and it does comfort her that she now knows that Icyrain wasn't changing his personality on her on purpose, it was just his alters fronting. Softnight and Opalglow get along. Quartzpaw doesn't notice at all, all of these alters helped raise her, they're all fun playmates. She thinks First star is the coolest guy ever because he's so good at dueling, but he monologues too much before remembering Quartzpaw is deaf. She thinks it's funny to watch him blabber and then look mortified when he remembers.

They're ultimately parts of Icyrain that formed to protect him, and the idea of separating themselves from him make them all deeply uncomfortable. Now that Icyrain doesn't need as intense protection, they're able to both discover themselves and turn their attention to protecting Paws.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Bear with me as I have The Tortured Poets Department on repeat and Taylor wrote But Daddy I Love Him for John Egan and Julie Jean -

I forgot if this was ever fun, I just learned these people only raise you to cage you - in reference to Lana’s life long career pushed on her by her mother in order to be the money cow for the entire family so if it was something that she ever did for enjoyment and not for the benefit of her mother’s approval it has been to long a time and she can’t recall anymore.

I just learned these people try and save you ‘cause they hate you; to high a horse for a simply girl to rise above it; they slammed the door on my whole world; the one thing I wanted - No one is keeping John away from her for her own benefit they simply don’t want her to have the one thing she wants and the one thing she’s willing to fight for because they want her to continue following the path they have laid for her and her mother stealing her letters and trying to convince her John was dead was never for the benefit of Julie Jean but so she can continue to be only Lana Tierney.

Now I’m running with my dress unbuttoned

Screaming “But Daddy I love him

I’m having his baby”

No I’m not but you should see your faces

Oh Julie Jean, I can see their faces when you guys marry in every Allied territory between Europe and America just so they can’t keep you two apart. I can see their faces when you are having his baby.

Dutiful daughter, all my plains were laid; tendrils tucked into a woven braid

Growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all

Julie’s never defied her mother, she has the career her mother wants, is marrying the man her mother chose, and her life is carefully played out by her Mother’s scheming hands. John is the one thing she’s wanted for herself and has fought against them for. In many ways Julie Jean never got to be a child. She’s been working since she was a child but in other ways, her mother has never allowed her t grow up. And she won’t get to experience that until she’s free and she’s with John and he opens her eyes or helps her to mature those aspects in their life together.

He was chaos, he was revelry

Bedroom eyes like a remedy

Soon enough the elders had convened; down at the city hall

“Stay away from her”

The saboteurs protested too much

Lord knows the words we never heard

Just screeching tires and true love

Her Mother and the studios and the press and the fans are all going to have a lot to say once they finally get to be together but none of it is ever going to hurt them or even reach them.

I’LL TELL YOU SOMETHING RIGHT NOW

I’D RATHER BURN MY WHOLE LIFE DOWN

THAN LISTEN TO ONE MORE SECOND OF ALL THIS BITCHIN’ AND MOANIN’

LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING ABOUT MY GOOD NAME

IT’S MINE ALONE TO DISGRACE

Sing it with your entire lungs because okay Mrs. Julie Jean Egan GO OFF! Is she not scheming to get closer to him? Playing the game better than the studios and her mother to wait for him? Disgracing her name and sacrificing her body for a chance with him. *ahem, jack Huston*

ME AND MY WILD BOY AND ALL THIS WILD JOY

-

AND NO YOU CAN’T COME TO THE WEDDING

I KNOW HE’S CRAZY BUT HE’S THE ONE I WANT

Take that Mother Dearest and Studios and Jack Huston your asses cannot come to the wedding and yes he’s fucking crazy at times but is she not the same amount of crazy for him? Is she not the only one who can be with him through it all and accept him and not need one single thing to change? He’s just her wild boy.

This is my favorite essay

[lunerabo]

florem agreste

cw: self ship, SuguLune (Suguru/Lune), hunting/animal death mention, implied smut, major character death, gore, much shorter than my usual stuff

Note: @mydarlingdahlia 🫵 inspired by u! Mainly because I forgot self ship fics were a thing you can do. But I liked yours and wanted to write my own :3

He had first caught sight of her—a sight he had ignored—in school. Lune was foreign, that much he could tell just by looking at her, and hadn’t been here long, which he could tell by listening to her speak. But Satoru was too distracting, because how could he not be, and few conversations between the two were ever had. They had fed each other their names, known of each other’s backgrounds, and no more. They were not friends. She had watched silently from the background as he lost his mind, and promptly disappeared soon after him.

He remembers her hunting ground. He remembers the arrow between the ribs of the doe, and the one in the tree trunk inches from his face. It had been snowing. She was not suited for the cold, and her aim wavered as she shivered. She had missed. She didn’t like being followed, especially not when she had taken measures to prevent being found.

He recalls asking for her help. Telling her she had no reason to join him, nothing to gain and everything to lose, but he was desperate. Despite his composed demeanor, raising two children by himself at his age was a daunting task, and one he had been wholly unprepared for. He needed the help.

He hadn’t fallen for her immediately. She was a wild animal kept in his home, coaxed into eating from his hand without biting, letting him touch her without fleeing. The wilds of Japan were not her natural habitat but the desert was ruthless and the forest forgiving, and having grown in the conditions that she had made her suited for everything but the cold. The cold. The cold that swayed her decision to allow him to bring her into the warmth of his home, of his arms, of his bed. He did love her, as wild as she was.

But to love her was to burn beneath her sun, to blister, to boil in his skin.

He walks with legs that aren’t his, to a home he’s not certain he’ll be welcome in.

Poor fool, he thinks, as he cards through memories of her and wonders what she dreamed that night, that night that she lay bare and asleep beside him, ears twitching and nose wrinkling. He could swear her skin had scorched him when he held her, burned his tongue when it met hers. He had dispelled her nightmare with a gentle hand, feeling her breath, her pulse, the swell of her ribs, the stretch of her muscle. This was, he had determined, someone walking the line between man and beast. This was someone who could and would have his throat between her jaws if she wanted to every time she nudged her face there, and chose instead to kiss. Perhaps if he had never needed help—had simply left the wildlife alone—she wouldn’t be in this predicament. If only he had never traced the contours of her spirit with his fingertips, never looked into charcoal eyes, never buried his face into dry curls, bleached a rust hue by the very sun whose heat he couldn’t handle.

It’s so interesting, he muses, that the head he now holds between his hands contains this entire past. Such lovely memories to think of, yet it isn’t savoring any of them. This head screams and cries as he crushes it, thumbs digging into eye sockets and blood seeping from ears, as blunt nails rake across his arms. Skull caved in and face a messy pulp, she at last falls, as all things do.

Not him, though.

Kenjaku merely wipes his hands of her filth.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Martin had had exactly one relationship that miraculously lasted for longer than a month. It is kind of funny. He knows his mom has fucked him up, knows that his every thought and action is tainted by that woman. She has made him long for solitude while being terrified of loneliness. She has made him beg for affection while resenting the person he willingly demeans himself for. She has raised an aching mess of contradiction and doesn't even have the decency to look her own abomination in the eyes. She was forced to raise and put up with him through poverty and sickness and sometimes he can't even bring himself to feel the proper gratitude she deserves. It was her responsibility as his mother to take care of him. She was sick and she deserved better than to be forced to live with a fuckup like him for so long.

(He used to daydream about what it would be like to live together. With Jon. His dreams were always warm and fuzzy and bubblegum pink and completely unrealistic. Because in reality Martin simply wasn't built for a domestic life. And his boss also absolutely hated him. That was half of his appeal, after all.)

His name had been Tim. It was not the same Tim that would become his coworker, although his heart did stop in dread for the first month or so whenever he heard the name. Both Tims had been remarkably similar. They both loved reading and they both forgot everything around them when they were focused on a particular topic and both were loyal and nerdy and friendly and conflict avoidant. Both looked happy whenever they saw him. They moved in together, and Tim made both of them coffee every morning (Martin never told him that he hates it) and sometimes surprised Martin with his guilty pleasure (funny shaped pancakes with chocolate drips and condensed milk) and did half of the chores always on time and without complaint (he playfully scolded Martin whenever he put the responsibility to keep the entire house clean and functioning on himself alone). He was always the one to go to the supermarket (Martin hates going to the supermarket) and he never misgendered or deadnamed him (if it is so easy why could his mother never-). It was perfect. And Martin absolutely hated it.

Because he had been molded for years and years until his edges were too jagged for a comfortable life. He didn't fit into a good and healthy relationship. He is wasn't built for it, his shape is all wrong. He is always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when it doesn't, he throws it himself. He can't help it. (It runs in his veins.)

Whenever Jon would be way too harsh because of a minor mistake, Martin's heart would jump in elation. And, shamefully, whenever Sasha and Tim (the other one) tried to comfort and reassure him something inside him preened. People cared, so surely it couldn't be as impossible to like him as his mom had always implied. (He just needed to keep it up).

He secretly relished Jon's meanness because it meant that the world would end before the other liked him back. (Oh the irony). It was a comfortable place, or at least as comfortable as a twisted form like him can manage. As long as Jon sneered at his every move and refused to drink his tea, Martin could continue his daydreams. Because they were impossible, which meant they weren't real, which meant that they felt good. And sometimes these stupid fake dreams where both Jon and Martin became people that don't really exist were his only reprieve from real life.

(It had been his choice to break it off. With Tim. It had been his choice to move apartment. It had been his choice to live alone. And oh, how Martin does hate the loneliness.)

Living with Jon is not like the dreams he would escape to whenever day-to-day life became too much.

Living with Jon is waking up with a bony elbow pressed against his chest. It is finding long strands of hair in every nook and cranny and it is being permanently banned from the kitchen and it is not quite getting most of his jokes and it is also being reminded of his lack of higher education sometimes (he knows that Jon doesn't mean it, that it is just Martin Blackwood making everything harder for himself like always, but it still stings). Sometimes they go to bed angry and sometimes they can't bear to look in the mirror or at each other and sometimes they need to feel each other - skin against skin - or they feel like they are going to die. It is not perfect, sometimes Martin wishes he still had a flat for himself alone, but that is what makes him love it. That is what makes it real. Martin Blackwood Hello Jon apologies for the deception -

[imbaby-ca]

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything so I thought I’d give it a try in honour of pride month! This piece takes place when Bambi was 7!

Love was in the air and one little miss Bambi Moore could not have been more captivated by it. Flowers were blooming, baby animals were peeking out of their nests, and most importantly, two days ago, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, Bambi’s cousin’s girlfriend Aleksa had gathered her entire family for a late lunch at the botanical garden to share life changing news. Mere hours before, Aleksa had proposed to Bambi’s cousin Saffron in these very gardens, and Bambi had been among the first to see the ring and the pictures!

As the only little girl in either of their lives, they had, of course, immediately offered her the role of flower girl, and Bambi was so excited that she forgot to listen to anything else that all of the grown-ups had to say.

Because this was the biggest news Bambi had ever heard, she knew she had to do something special when she told all of her classmates. So, she spent all of Sunday laying out all of her dresses, trying them on again and again until she found one that was just. right.

It was an almost-white dress that came down to her knees. The top layer was made from lace with a distinct flowery pattern, and the middle sported a thick baby pink sash that matched two of her hair bows. All she had had to do was ask her dad to braid her hair in the morning before he drove her to school, and the look would be complete.

-x-

At school, she proudly told anyone who would listen, “my cousin’s getting married, and I’m going to be her flower girl!” And as one of the resident quiet kids (she wasn’t, not really - others usually just didn’t give her enough time to talk), she was gathering quite a lot of attention and excitement.

With the freedom her newfound (and temporary) popularity allowed, Bambi simply ignored anyone who didn’t share her enthusiasm. By recess, she’d amassed a group almost as excited as she was about weddings, and by the first lunch bell, kids were whispering and giggling about who they wanted to marry. It seemed to be decided then, that tomorrow at lunch, the kids of division 14 would host their very own wedding. They just had to decide who was getting married!

-x-

At lunch, Bambi found herself sitting to the side of the group, seemingly drifting further and further out. She had to admit, she was a little disappointed; this wasn’t the type of excitement she’d meant to stir up, and her news was already being forgotten!

Bambi didn’t find herself alone for long, however, as another little girl by the name of Willa came over to her. “Hi Bambi,” she started, hands tucked behind her back.

Bambi looked up, scooting over on the rock she was sitting on to make room for her classmate. Willa wasted no time getting to the point, “d’you wanna marry someone?”

Bambi picked at her dress as Willa swung her legs back, using the rubber of her shoes to bounce her feet off of the rock. “I wanna be, um, a flower girl. ‘S’why I, ummm, told people.”

Willa poked at Bambi’s free hand, “but it’s your idea, you can be the bride.”

Bambi crumpled the lace in her hand, looking over just as Willa looked away. “I dunno. I don’t have, umm, a fiancé.”

Willa let her dark hair fall in front of her face, shoulders hunching just a little as her volume dropped to a mutter, “we can get married.”

Bambi barely had time to tilt her head in confusion before a handful of semi-crushed cornflowers were being dumped in her lap. Willa risked a peek at her, quickly glancing back away upon meeting her eyes.

“Ummm….” Bambi started, debating whether she should ask for clarification or just go along with whatever Willa was telling her.

“It’s okay!” Willa squeaked out, hopping back to her feet before Bambi could make up her mind. “Forget it! I’m gonna go play.”

Willa ran back to the group, leaving Bambi to stare down at the blue petals in her lap. She hoped they wouldn’t stain her dress…

[randomfoggytiger]

😎

Thanks for dropping in! :DDDDD

The below might seem like I'm gassing you up or being overly sugary and sweet; but I cannot underestimate how much I mean every single word. Your fics were in my first round of xfiles fics ever; and they were cemented into my cracks before I ever got adventurous enough to feed the addiction and read 800+ authors.

This'll be long, so I included a cut.

(**Note**:Editing and proofreading my paragraphs? What is that?)

I begin, again, after 20 minutes of thorough combing

I spent 15-20 minutes grabbing link after link after link because... quite simply, your fics are grafted into my brain because of how many rereads I've done-- I can't separate them from each other, I can't pick favorites, I can't. I had to go by my tip top, cannot-pass-by-without-reading fics:

Whispered Words (Tumblr): Everything about this is perfection. Every time I read someone else's cancer fic, I immediately think of this one (and hunt it down for a reread.) Scully's symptoms, how and when Mulder notices; the blend of sickfic and angst and fluff together, no parts outrivaling the other... it's, again, perfection.

A New Day Has Come: It's such a cornerstone of my earliest cancer fics that this is how I always expect Mulder to react in other fics I read-- it's automatic programming at this point.

Every. Single. IVF fic you've written. I kid you not. To name a few (because it's not fun to just read "I liked it, lol" without some examples):  Name Calling/Archive is the pinnacle post IVF failure: the best, ohmyword. Unnamed post IVF treatment fic and Five Minutes - Chapter 1 are seared into my brain as a part one and two; but if it's a sheer numbers game? Five Minutes - Chapter 2 wins out. It's just... how do you hold a moonbeam in your hand, y'know? How can I describe something that IS me? I refer you to Scully's Memento Mori speech-- she says it more eloquently than I do. ;))))

Every. Single. AU Requiem fic and S8 fic and S9 fic and S11 fam fic. You do loving relationships so well: they talk, they breathe, they exist like real people. I treasure the S8 fics you wrote from my prompts and reread them frequently--though I forgot to label the second and need to find that link hmmmmmm. This is exactly how it appears in my docs: Here's a prompt (if you want): Scully goes into... (tumblr.com) THIS WAS MY PROMPT Ao3 By Your Side Is Where I Belong - Baroness_Blixen - The X-Files [Archive of Our Own] LOVE THIS

And for nonspecific genre fics that I adore and cannot live without:

#58 Mulder to Scully thanks! Ao3 Prompts & Drabbles - Chapter 3 - [Archive of Our Own] Scully gets hit in the head with a baseball bat and you nailed every. single. aspect of this fic and I can't read it enough (going to read it again right after this.)

Since you were looking for an angsty prompt for... (tumblr.com) Ao3 We Will Find Our Way Home - [Archive] Scully and Mulder on the ice and Scully makes Mulder go alone to the Snocat? YES PLEASE.

 I hope your muse comes back. I know she will soon!... Ao3 Things You Forget - Chapter 1  Mulder has amnesia and he and Scully have dinner with her mother and Bill while he remembers-- iconic.

A realization

...I'm staring at 20+ pages of your fic links (and 84 specifically marked ones that have LOVE THIS in bold and caps) and thinking that there is no way I can fit all of this into this ask. XDDDD

I'll close this by thinking of random moments in your fics that twirl around and around in my brain and put them down here:

Mulder waking Scully up by sneezing in her hair in Rain King.

Mulder and Scully crying after her recovery in Redux II.

Scully's annoyance and Mulder's complete stillness in the airport while waiting for their luggage in Five Minutes Chapter 2.

The hilarious way you wrote Mulder and Scully and Krycek and Doggett and Reyes in an Essence AU (Will is born in the car while they drive away from the FBI.)

Scully's head being squeezed like an orange in the baseball bat attack fic, and Mulder's irate panic from afar ("HE HIT HER")

Mulder's tie got stuck in a copier and Scully has to help him out (and Skinner doesn't even want to know.)

Maggie's not a fool when she catches Mulder and Scully a day or two after Chimera.

Scully gasses in the car and Mulder evens the playing field.

Mulder having amnesia after Millennium and only remembering his partnership with Diana (for a couple hours.)

Mulder delicately taking and holding and smiling over his scratchy list of baby names.

Scully feeling woozy in Three Words and Mulder helping her sit down.

Mulder panicking after Lamaze in Alone.

S8 Scully including Mulder in her late night snack and waltz session, as they discuss her neighbor's recently deceased husband.

Mulder swallowing the suddenly-too-sweet cake at Scully's baby shower (AU Essence~)

Mulder swapping places with Reyes in Essence-- it's he and Scully on the road, just like always.

Post Existence Mulder papa bear with little Will.

Revival baby girl being born on Mulder or Scully's birthdays (and the unique ways you changed the details of both versions.)

Mulder and baby Will showing up for Scully's "take your kid to work day" (and him rubbing Will in Colton's face, my word.)

(I'm not kidding when I mean every. single. one. of your IVF and S8 and family fics, so I'm not even going to BEGIN.)

All of your Millennium fics. All. But particularly the one where Scully is woken up by a grumpy Mulder who felt betrayed that she'd left and drove over, despite his injured arm, before calling her and asking for permission.

Mulder sobbing and holding Scully after the other agents tricked him into thinking she'd died in a car accident.

Diana locks Mulder and Scully up in the One Son fort for the night; and Scully's hurt and Mulder's hurt and their reconciliation and re-understanding is one of the fics I turn to when I need to sleep but also need a story to focus on. Makes my brain go wild.

TFWID Mulder having nightmares of his past lives with Scully. Another one of those stories that sets my brain on fire.

Revival Mulder's psychic powers comes back and he tells Scully in the restaurant (part I) and later senses their daughter's heartbeat (part II.)

An ending

And while I could go on and on and on, there's already a lot I put down. XDDDD Maybe I'll make a fic list with my top 85? fics that cannot be passed up-- although, I don't know if Tumblr will allow me that enough word space to fit them all in. Hmmmm.

Anyway, thanks for dropping in! :DDDDD And hope this was a good enough answer~. ;))))

[buglymcbugson]

found some old writing from 2021 - how beautiful is it to look back on old feelings and know how far you’ve come. trigger warnings on this one for sexual assault xo

“he keeps saying the c word, and it isn’t ‘cunt’”

i’ve started leaving the house now that lena is here

nowhere crazy of course

the other day i walked to yoga class 15 minutes away

alone

this might not seem like a large feat to some

but 6 months ago i had panic attacks leaving the house to walk the puppy

i even said hi to acquaintance yesterday at the grocery store

and i didn’t want to slit my wrists

lena being here brings me out of my shell

she met me without my hardened shell built to protect me from the toxicity of my hometown

she reminds me that i am more than the people of this place perceive me to be

i see this place through her eyes

last week i looked up to the mountains

and i saw mountains

beautiful mountains

i didn’t feel like they were moving in on me slowly until they squeezed all the air out of my lungs

because of my newfound ability to leave the house i’ve also been socialising more

mostly with my cousins, and with jayden

who i guess is one of the closest things to a brother i have (outside of my own brother of course but that’s an extra note in itself isn’t it)

we have naked baby pictures together

he can recount all the bad family fights at thanksgivings we had together

he even complains about my father in the same way i do

most nights jayden invites his friends over to hang with us too

this is another thing my anxiety would prevent me from doing 6 months ago

but jayden’s friends are cool

they all just smoke weed, play music, and tell dumb jokes

they weren’t the kind of people to keep tabs on me in high school

or call me a slut for who i slept with

or kept up to date on who i slept with for that matter

just a few nerdy stoner guys

jack was there tonight

the son of my 8th grade spanish teacher

i hadn’t seen him since middle school

he’s always been chill

no drama

and he was chill tonight, as usual

but then jack said the C word while we were walking down the street

and i had to stop and pause, unnoticed by the group who kept talking and laughing

and repeating the C word

and god how much I wish the word was “cunt”

but the word wasn’t “cunt,” the C word is his name

and as i soon as i heard it the mountains started moving in

it was a little harder to breathe

and my hangnails looked a lot more appetizing for my chattering teeth

i’ve been gone for so long

and isolated for so much longer (due to my severe anxiety first and a global pandemic second)

that i forgot he existed outside the person he is to me

he exists as a friend, a teammate, and a lover to others

but to me, C**** will always be my rapist

and it’s not like hearing jack say his name reminded me about him

there’s not a single day that goes by that i don’t think about him or what he did to me

but it was a reminder that in this place

he doesn’t belong to me or to my story

he’s not simply a character in the story of my life that i retell when i connect with someone in a foreign country

i am no longer the main character

because people perceive him apart from me

apart from my rapist

they perceive him as a jokester, an athlete, and a bit of a party animal

when they see him all they see is his long hair that frames his gap toothed smile and eyes i used to think looked kind

people tell stories and they aren’t about him fucking an unconscious child

they’re about the funny jokes he’s told and the gifts he had to buy for his girlfriend when he fucked up

and about a faaaaaatty bong rip he took one time

i have forgotten what it feels like to be silenced by his name

have my strength and power i’ve developed over years of self discovery pushed back down my throat

because i will never be able to say it here

i couldn’t while it happened

i couldn’t after it happened

and i can’t now

the only thing consistent in my life is the silence that traps me every time the wheels touch down at the Juneau International Airport

i wonder if i’ll ever get to the point where his name doesn’t make me stop in the street

i honestly doubt it

but i walked to yoga alone so i guess anything is possible

[fheythfully]

FFXIV Write 2023 - Day 21: Grave

When she arrives back in Old Sharlayan, she makes it a point to visit her father first.

She has no doubt that her mother has been informed of her return. The moment at customs when she had given her name - Amelia Grace, yes, House Grace - and the agent’s eyes widened, she knew that the rumour mill would start churning the moment her party departed. It would not have been such an exciting piece of information had she just been Amelia, wayward daughter returning home; no, because she was Satella Grace, news of her homecoming would reach her mother ere long.

The graveyard lies past the city proper, along the cliffs overlooking the ocean. She makes the walk there alone in under a bell’s time. It’s a vast improvement over the last time she had come with shorter legs and a need for a Chocobo carriage, her mother’s hand in hers.

She hasn’t been here in gods know how many years, but the path to her family’s mausoleum is familiar enough that she does not lose her way. There are few visitors at this time of day and those who notice her don’t hide their surprise, for she is dressed not like a citizen and not like a Gleaner, clad instead in gear which speaks of a readiness for violence and Otherness. Amelia - and she is Amelia at this moment, for who else could she be as she walks to her father’s grave? - cares not for their blatant stares of shock and distaste as she weaves through the curated paths, flora and benches.

Her family’s modest mausoleum rises up before her. The white marble gleams despite the years of exposure to the temperamental weather of The Northern Empty, and the doors barely creak when she pushes them open. Inside, a cool breeze caresses her face from the small, manmade windows facing the coast. When Amelia inhales, she smells brine and old earth.

Funny, how a smell can bring back memories you never realized you forgot.

It is as easy to find her father’s final resting place as it was to find her way here at all. There is a single vase placed before him and a withered bouquet within, the state of the flowers suggesting that someone may have forgotten to replace them in a timely manner rather than abandon the practice in full. Whoever is responsible for this task - and she does wonder if her mother is the one who does it with her own hands still, as she had in Amelia’s childhood, or if the task has fallen to some servant with the passage of time - cannot be blamed: the world is ending, after all. The living have more to worry about than honouring the dead.

Amelia did not bring flowers. Her offering is a small handful of dried apricots, murky orange in the low light.

She does not remember her father, truth to be told. She remembers flashes instead: a large, tall silhouette and a gentle hand in her hair. The knowing that you had been told bedtime stories but not being able to recall the storyteller or the tales. The rare treat of sweet apricots on her tongue, dried and chewy after having been cultivated and brought over from lands far away.

She thinks she loved him once, back when loving someone was simple. She prefers to leave it at that.

Words die in her throat before she can give voice to them. Does she say, I’m home when this has not been home ever since she bade farewell to the statue of Thaliak disappearing on the horizon? Does she say, I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long when she is sorry to be back, and some remnant of guilt will crawl up her insides if she thinks about it too long? Does she say, hello, it’s been a long time?

In the end she simply leaves her father with a promise:

I’ll see you when I get back.