#thanks for these fics pals

[johnslittlespoon]

Honey, we need a lil snippet, a mood board, something idk? Pretty please? 🥺👉👈

hiiii, very overdo on sharing TAS updates, especially considering ch12 is done now lol oops. just been too busy life-ing/writing oneshots instead of editing it so i can send it to be beta'd — it's long too, like 20k long, so it'll still be a bit before it's posted! but here's a snippet, and i'll make a moodboard soon :') <3

[crazy-ache]

Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic (Chapters 12 & 13 - FINAL Update)

Title: Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic (Chapter XII & XIII - Now Complete) Rating: M Summary:

“Perhaps you can speak them to me, if you so wish. I apologize if that is too forward, but I yearn to know you beyond simple pleasantries.

Yours truly,

Lucien

P.S. My lady, your secrets are always safe with me.���

Epistolary (adj., of a literary work) in the form of letters. After the winter solstice in ACOSF, Elain and Lucien exchange letters as a means to get to know each other away from prying eyes. This fic is a collection of those letters.

Author’s Note: This is the FINAL installment update for our collab (me + @zenkindoflove )! Please note this is TWO chapter updates, and it is also our last, final update. 😭 We just want to say THANK YOU to everyone who has followed along and supported us! You can also find out who was writing for who....

READ HERE ON AO3

Previously On DLDE....

Another development has occurred. Nesta and Cassian are mates, not that that has come to any surprise to us. They have decided to have an official mating ceremony, and it’s happening quickly. A little over two weeks from now. You should be receiving an invitation if it hasn’t already arrived. Do you think that Spring will be in enough order for you to come even if it’s just for a day? I am in need of a date. 

Tag List: @shardminds , @works-of-heart , @the-darkestminds , @emmers-bens123 , @lmadness , @sweetnslyth , @rarephloxes , @fox-in-flowers , @lectoradefics , @goldenmagnolias , @addicted-to-nothing , @popjunkie42 , @bakananya , @scrawlandspirits , @animezinglife , @fuckyeselucien , @lucienarcheron , @mr-agent-mulder , @teddyhoneybear , @goghwilde , @starsreminisce , @bibliophiliaxvignette , @dreamingthroughthenoise , @olenvasynyt , @acourtofthought , @lplusl , @shadybirdwombat , @wormees , @yaralulu , @my-inner-crisis , @julesofvolterra , @fieldofdaisiies

[idlesuperstar]

My. Sounds like a love story.

[sitp-recs]

Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k)

Drarry, pre-Tedrarry

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?). A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

“It’s deep magic, you know. It doesn’t recognize anything quite so specific as a particular location. It’s more conceptual, I suppose. You remember.” He knew they did, the long night of casting, Teddy carelessly throwing azaleas and yellow roses into the quench pool along with all the others; azaleas for homesickness and the desire to return to a place of safety, yellow roses for family. Not to mention all the runework they spent hours working on. Draco rolled his eyes at them. Othala. Harry had traced it over and over in the water, and then Draco had hammered the essence of it into the metal with his sweat and his fire. Homecoming. It would be enough.

Because one birthday rec wasn’t enough I am back, this time reccing the fic Tacky gifted me on my last birthday so we’re coming full circle with the love show :D it’s hard to put into words all the feelings this fic inspired in me. I could not believe my sneaky friend (who’s pretty monogamic about their Drarry btw) had crafted something so special bringing together my two OTPs! I remember reading this in a haze, too eager to unravel that delicious summary and get to the promised Teddy kissing, but also not ready for it to be over after 10k and dreading the emotional devastation that was sure to follow. I realize that Harry/Teddy is not everyone’s jam (yet 😏) and might discourage some people to check this out, so I thought I’d follow my previous rec format and list a few reasons why I loved this so much:

1. The world: I kid you not, 10k feels like 30k once you get introduced to this magical world Tacky so masterfully crafted - vibrant, intriguing, creative, a main character in itself. I was already losing my mind over buff blacksmith Draco in a leather tunic (🥵) but then his stance against weaponry and the magical theory behind his forgery?? What an unexpected (but very much welcome) turn on. I am fascinated by this verse and wanna learn all about Draco’s backstory, about this society, its power structure, about Harry and Teddy’s job and the gritty dangers that Teddy is about to face, and whether or not he’ll find his way back home - back to Harry - safe and sound. So many questions left unanswered and this thrill, an adventurous feeling about their quest that kept me engaged until the end. What a masterclass in world building!

2. The tenderness: as per their trademark, Tacky gives this fic a lot of emotional depth and nuance, showing how easily love can multiply when Harry is the recipient (seeing how wanted he is here makes me feral) while keeping this unmistakably a Drarry romance. 40yo fuck buddies who are so obviously into each other they make me giggle and kick my feet, plus a careful balance between all dynamics in play - Teddy’s crush on Harry and respect for Draco, Draco’s longing for Harry and understanding of Teddy, Harry’s trust in Draco and tenderness for Teddy, the overall affection and sexual tension fueling all those relationships making it impossible not to cheer for them. If you’re a Teddy fan like me you’re in for a treat: I adore his edgy personality, bold, brave, painfully young and so damn lovely, a perfect fit for Harry and Draco’s mellow and steady love.

3. The symbolism: this plays into the exquisite lore created within such elegant and contained writing, I just keep thinking about the possibilities, metaphors, the way recurrent themes like family and homecoming show up in Draco’s forgery work intertwining his, Harry’s and Teddy’s lives in such a definitive way you find yourself thinking “well it must be fate so it can’t be avoided, they gotta bang” 🤷🏻‍♀️ okay so maybe not everyone is horny for this triad as I am, but the implications behind the symbology go beyond lust, diving into something deeper and more meaningful like familial love. And because I’ve read everything else from Tacky’s (“Harry deserves roots” / “I’d be your mate” / “I like my choyse” / “Is tú mo Rogha” / “Queen Anne’s lace, it means sanctuary, home.”) and so on, I can’t help but get emotional here. Harry’s longing for a family is such a quintessential Tacky theme and seeing it expand to include my beloved Teddy in their sacred Drarry kingdom makes my heart sing.

TL;DR: I feel like I could spend days talking about this fic but then nobody would read it and I really, really want more people to fall in love with these clever, competent, brave and lovable characters and with the rich, fascinating world that makes you wish you could live inside it forever and see what happens next. So run don’t walk and go treat yourself today!

[good-beanswrites]

0306 ship fic? 👉👈

So. I usually don't like writing sappy ship things because 1. my aroace ass isn't great at it and I'd rather leave that to the more skilled fanbase, and 2. I like exploring elements of a developing relationship other than physical moments. However. However. I was hit with Fluff Beam while writing this, so first kiss with Mappi fic be upon ye :')

“Won’t you kiss me, Fuuta-kun?”

He tipped his head back with a drawn-out noise of exasperation. This wasn’t a new or surprising question by any means. He always hated when it came up, though. He waved the mixing spoon in the air.

“Don’t you ever get tired of all that sappy romance stuff? You’ve asked me enough times…” And each time, I have to endure the pain of lying to you. “Can’t you see I’m busy? Helping you, for that matter!”

He used the spoon to gesture to the baking supplies cluttering the prison’s tiny kitchen, flinging some strawberry filling in the process. Mahiru had started a batch of cupcakes in celebration that her arm had come out of its sling, only for it to start hurting halfway through from the overuse. If Fuuta had known that yanking the bowl away from her would volunteer him to finish the whole project, he would have thought twice about it. He still would have done it, of course, but he’d at least have thought twice.

Fortunately, Mahiru was a good teacher who hovered over his shoulder to explain each step in great detail without ever sounding patronizing. Unfortunately, it became more difficult to deny her request when she leaned so close, continuing to pry.

“Isn’t that the best reason? You’re being so kind, Mahiru should return the favor.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to 'return' anything! I’m doing this because I…” he swallowed. “Because I think you’re an idiot for going and getting yourself hurt again!”

“Oh, don’t say that, Fuuta-kun!” She giggled, not sounding hurt at all. She never did.

“It’s true!” She was indeed an idiot, the way she kept pestering him for something more. As usual, her mind had flown somewhere far outside of reality. Whatever she was picturing between her and Fuuta was nothing but one-sided romance. She was the one that warmed the room when she came in. She was the one who created butterflies in stomachs and blushes in cheeks. She was the one that made any of this feel like anything.

Fuuta, on the other hand, knew he brought nothing to the table. If she thought he was kind, it was all in her head. If she viewed him as attractive, it was definitely nothing but her fantasy. And now, if she anticipated him being a good kisser, it was just another delusion she’d lost herself in. As usual, she needed someone to save her from such delusions. That, at least, was the one good thing he could do for her.

“Just forget it, will ya? It’s not gonna happen.”

Behind him, Mahiru said nothing. He finished stirring in the final ingredient. He turned to ask her what came next, only to discover the most heartbroken expression he’d ever seen on her. She sniffled.

“Mappi!”

“I-I’m sorry. I was too much again, wasn’t I? I understand. I know… I know anyone would be afraid to kiss me.”

“Afraid? I’m not afraid!”

“Well, I mean,” she lowered her head, strands of hair falling over her eyes. “Given my record with boyfriends, it really wouldn’t be smart to fall in love with me, hm?”

“You callin’ me stupid?” The question came tumbling out before Fuuta realized the confession embedded within them. Mahiru’s head snapped up, the prior mist in her eyes made them shine with excitement, now.

She opened her mouth to point out the obvious. Fuuta shoved a spoonful of strawberry filling between her lips, panicking.

“Tell me if that needs anything else!” He turned on his heel, slamming the bowl down on the counter.

He took a measured inhale. Then an exhale. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not scared, you know? I… I would really want to. T-to kiss you, I mean. But if I did, it’ll only prove to you that you don’t really want this.” He turned. “It’ll only make you more upset, and I’m not the – agk!”

Mahiru cupped his cheeks and brought him down to her lips. He made a little strangled sound as he was pressed back into the counter. At that moment, Fuuta had a total of three trains of thought before his brain fried like an overheating computer and went blank.

The first: Holy shit!

Second: I’ve never done this before. God, am I doing this right? What am I supposed to do with my hands? Or my mouth? Should I keep holding my breath? I’m definitely not doing this right.

And third: Holy shiiiiiiiit!

When she pulled away, rosy-cheeked and smiling wide, Fuuta’s arm instinctively reached up to hide his face. He was painfully aware of the burning across his skin, surely turning him a mortifying shade of red.

“Well?” She asked, seemingly oblivious to the state she’d reduced him to. “That was proof enough for Mahiru! What about Fuuta-kun?”

“I-I, well. You –" You tasted like strawberries. “You’re damned lucky no one was around, pulling a stunt like that!”

Mahiru waved the comment away with a fluttery hand gesture. “I meant, what did you think? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He scowled at her. “I… I don’t know!”

Mahiru considered the statement. Rather than realize that, for the first time in his life, Fuuta was rendered entirely speechless, she took it at face value. “Well, then, I suppose we’ll just have to try again~”

“Wait, wha–?”

[foulmouthheart]

They call me 007

Meme fanart of @noir-renardenard's fanfic "If you give a bat a burger" Based on this post!

here without the domino mask and the original image!

[godsfavoritescientist]

what if you put bill cipher in an 'a christmas carol' situation. obviously he couldn't be changed in one night. would the ghosts try to haunt him yearly. would bill double-kill the ghosts to get them to leave him alone. this concept feels just stupid enough to be entertaining

[spacesapphi]

Little Post to Introduce Some of my Stardew OCs!

Chances are if you've read my fic or have kept up with my work, you'll know quite a few of them! But I'd love to talk about them more too :)

Also would like to note that I used bases from the game and from Diverse Stardew Valley for *most* of these. I like to give credit where it's due, especially since I'm still quite a beginner with pixel art and needed help

I also have a video of voice claims for all but one of them here!

More info about all of them beneath the cut!

Order goes from left to right, top to bottom

Amelia- Jas' mother and a good friend of Shane's! She went to college with him and Jas' father, and she fostered a wonderful friendship with them. She could be a very serious person, but she was kind and sweet all the same. Amelia was also an elementary school teacher and an *incredibly* studious person, which Jas got from her! She also has a love for fantasy and fairy tales, just like her daughter

Jason- Jas' father and another good friend of Shane's! Jason was the captain on their varsity team in college and he was an amazing gridball player. His true passion was in film, however, and he pursued it for a career! He was mostly known for just being an incredibly positive and fun influence in people's lives. He's been through quite a lot in life, but he never let it destroy his spirit and joy

Mona- Shane's mother who unfortunately is deceased. She's the same Mona that you can find in game at the cemetery. She passed when Shane was a toddler, but he has all good memories of her. She was kind and loving, and incredibly similar to him in many ways. She had big dreams and so many ideas that she never got to make into a reality, something she regretted towards the end. She's dearly missed by her family, especially by Marnie

Möhle -My farmer oc! Möhle has a proper intro post on my account already, but in basics, they're a top-notch forager and lover of all things to do with nature and animals! They've grown to be quiet and reserved in adulthood, but those close to them can easily see their joyful personality shine through

Gerard- Shane's father, an absolutely horrible man. Gerard can be characterized by his abhorrent selfishness. He skipped out on Shane's s life, never even meeting him until he was in his 30's (a meeting in which Shane decided he wanted nothing to do with him). Gerard lives a life where he expects to do whatever he wants with no consequence, and as a result finds himself alone and miserable. He has his own fair share of awful secrets as well, and a generally grim and gruff disposition.

Beth- Möhle's mother! Beth has had many struggles over the years, but she tries her absolute best to persist anyways. And though the two have grown apart, she still truly loves her child. Beth always put an emphasis on freedom and self expression when raising Möhle, and it's led to them being quite the interesting person in the end. Beth doesn't live in town anymore, residing instead in Grampleton and running a little antique shop. She finds joy in all the neat little trinkets there, and has become quite the collector in the years she's run it

[rierice8]

HEY!

So friendly reminder that when a male reader blog, is ya know, a male reader blog, that usually means they don’t write fem reader. Thats pretty simple to understand right?

So please don’t complain??

Theres so much fem reader content, and I’ve gotten comments like “I imagined reader was a girl” or “ugh mlm really?” On posts before and its discouraging and honestly just weird, like theres so so so much fem reader, go read some of that and don’t get bothered and complain on my work when I TAGGED IT male reader and plastered on all the warnings and titles and everything that it was MALE READER! if you don’t use those pronouns? Scroll past it. And you cant even blame me since I never tag my work with gn or fem reader, only male.

Moral of the story is just dont read or interact with content you dont like or dont identify with, because seeing stuff like those comments and upwards of three female reader requests in my inbox is just disheartening.

[bharv]

If you were to continue Jhasin, would it have more to do with Musahn specifically, or someone else? He was really enjoyable and interesting to read, would love to know more about him if you feel like rambling 👀

hello friend! And yes, it would DEFINITELY be all about the relationship with Musahn.

Musahn is probably the most influential person on my Gort's life, and is, if such things exist, the closest thing I think he has in my little universe to a real love, a soulmate. Whilst neither of them would ever see or acknowledge their relationship as romantic (both would see it as strictly business) they are a part of each other's lives for a good 25 years, they grow old together, they grow empires together, and whatever softness either feels is reserved for each other. He docks in Baldur's Gate and Gortash clears his diary for at least a day, no matter what is on, to ensure he can spend good time with his Rafayam. I'd like to dip in and out of that period over a fic.

Of course, for all that softness, Musahn is not a great guy. The influence he has on Gortash is tangible in that he takes him from the petty criminal, the shadow of Raphael and frustrated genius, into a rounded, robust leader. Musahn is a trader of lives, a legend, and a violent monster. He is also a charming, funny, beloved man who people would follow until their deaths. Gortash grows from him, and is also one of those men who love him unconditionally, though he would be loath to admit it. I also absolutely built him to my own beauty standards for men lmao. A fat, hairy, masculine presence with a barking laugh and strong appetite for all the finest things in life. He's a deadly charmer, and I think carves some of that human-esque charm into Gortash, who underneath it all is much more a devil than a man.

[reflection-s-of-stars]

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind

So this post by @thing-with-wings gave me fic inspo and I banged this out in one (1) hour! I might post this on ao3 tomorrow but I have to got to bed now :) Title is from A Midsummer Night’s Dream :)

When Palamedes talks about his old body, it takes everything Pyrrha has to keep herself from asking what he used to look like.

She’s always judged by appearances. It’s a particularly ironic fault of hers, now that she looks like someone she so pointedly isn’t. It’s even more ironic, now that she thinks about it, how Gideon was always the one to remind her of it. He was good at it, too. He knew that his faith, once placed, was blind and unwavering, so he made sure to place it in the right people.

And Gideon’s faith never came back to bite him in the ass, of course.

Palamedes is like that. He has so much faith. He says he’s a realist, but that boy’s optimism is incurable. Maybe it comes from growing up on the Nine Houses, but it’s incredible to Pyrrha how he believes, after everything, that it’ll all turn out. His faith isn’t in a person, like Gideon’s was. It’s in fate.

Why shouldn’t it be? He blew himself into pieces, most of which are apparently in a coffin on the First House, and he’s walking around on New Rho a year later. As far as Palamedes should be concerned, he’s invincible.

It’s all Camilla’s doing. The only reason he’s walking around on New Rho is because she allows him. She’s letting him live rent-free in her soul.

Does Palamedes know? Can he know the full extent of what that girl has done for him? Does he give her credit for carrying him through a universe of death and pain and uncertainty, or for the prerequisite of devotion that that comes with? Or does he thank fate, like he does for everything else?

Or maybe he thanks fate for giving him Cam. He loves her so much, there’s no way for him to ignore her entirely.

Lucky boy. Lucky girl. It’s nice to wholeheartedly believe in someone that wholeheartedly believes in you.

She knows he used to wear glasses. Nobody who didn’t wear glasses would incessantly push nothing up their nose, or reach for nothing to cover when it rained. She knows he was taller than Cam, because he instinctively ducks when going through doorways that Camilla’s body fits through. And he was a necromancer. He’s a necromancer, but he used to have the body of one.

Tall and skinny, gaunt and bespectacled, and maybe twenty. College-age.

God, Pyrrha thinks, he must’ve been such a dork in school.

It might be bad, but she can’t help but picture Palamedes as Camilla, only with those modifications. Her face is boyish, and it’s so easy to imagine her with glasses. In her mind, they’re teenagers, running in the halls of the Sixth, books in hand. Late to class.

Camilla’s beautiful. She’s got a face like Nigella had, only not quite as dark. John would say she looks Middle Eastern, and he’d laugh when someone asked the middle of the East of what House, Lord?

Palamedes can’t have had that same face, that face that looks as if it were cut from paper. But Pyrrha doesn’t trust herself to come up with something right, so she relies on Camilla’s face to be his face as well.

Camilla’s easy to rely on. She never goes halfway, and if she loves you she’ll always be in your corner. Her faith is more like Gideon’s. She’d do anything in the name of devotion, but she covers her bases while doing it. She makes sure that everything will work out.

Maybe that’s why she and Palamedes fit so well. He trusts her with everything he has, and she loves him the same way. She’s his lifeline, and he’s her touchstone. A planet and its moon.

Pyrrha’s so fucking jealous. She’d kill to have something like that, but it’s out of the question. She’s no good at loving, and she’s worse at trusting. She was the cavalier, so those should’ve been her specialty, but Gideon took care of both.

She can manage just fine on her own. It’s another fault of hers.

[samwpmarleau]

fic: touch my soul (you know how)

whumptober day 12: starvation masterlist: tumblr, ao3 If she only has a few more fleeting moments to see him, ever, she’s going to spend it doing what she’s more than once thought about ever since he flashed her that smug little smirk as she quaked him against the junkyard shelves. WARNING: Very NSFW

“God, I’m a mess,” Daisy sniffles, once Mack and Yo-Yo set off to have what she’s sure will be a complicated conversation.

Unthinkingly, she swipes at the tears on her cheeks; the black mascara residue on her fingers tells her now she must look like even more of a mess. Then again, it’s been an harrowingly long day, and frankly, Robbie’s seen her in far worse states than this.

“Still less eyeliner than last time I saw you.”

“I was depressed, you jerk.”

Robbie smiles, making her wish not for the first time that she could’ve known him before the whole flaming head thing. His glimpses of lightness are few and far between, but she’s glimpsed enough to know that once upon a time, that light came out a lot more often. Brooding suits him, sure, but she likes the alternative better. Maybe spending some time on Earth will do him good.

“Anyway,” she says, “once everything blows over, I’m inviting myself over for dinner, so let me know what —”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, with Gabe. Aren’t you going back to L.A.?”

Robbie’s smile fades. “Oh. No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean, I have to take care of the book. That’s the entire reason I’m here.”

“But — you’ve only been here for a few hours.”

“I don’t get a vote.”

“You can’t ask for a few vacation days?”

“No. Soon as the Rider’s done with Coulson, he’ll come back to me and we’ll be gone. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I’ve never felt hate like that from him before. He’ll take over completely if I try to fight him on this.”

Daisy stares at him, incredulous. “How could you make that deal?”

“Daisy —”

“No, don’t ‘Daisy’ me. Mack told me what the terms were, and they’re terrible.”

“It doesn’t matter. The alternative was letting a good man suffer for things I did. The Rider wasn’t going to let go of Mack for anything less than what I offered.”

“Gabe was right,” Daisy snaps, “you do blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault. Yes, Mack’s a good man. But so are you. You really have that low of an opinion about yourself?”

“So, what’s your solution, girl?” Robbie laughs. There is very little humor in it. “You think you can hack a deal with the devil or something? Come on. There’s no way out of this.”

She doesn’t have a good answer to that, but she’s not about to accept that he’s right either, that there’s no escape. It’s too depressing to think about. Hesitantly, Robbie reaches out to grasp her wrist. It surprises her a little, though perhaps it shouldn’t; for someone whose inner demons are literal, he can be impossibly gentle.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve dealt with the Rider for six years, what’s a little longer?”

“Eternity is not a little longer, Reyes.”

Robbie sighs. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know! Anything other than this zen bullshit. It’s like you don’t even care about the people you’re leaving behind.”

“Of course I care.”

“Really? Because you seem real eager to skip off back to hell. Were you even planning on saying goodbye?”

“I already called Gabe.”

“I wasn’t talking about Gabe. I mean, not only about Gabe.” Daisy pokes a finger into his chest. “Actually, I should get two goodbyes.”

Robbie gives a slight frown, like she’s speaking gibberish. “Didn’t exactly have a chance last time. And I didn’t know you’d want one.”

“I told you, I vet my vengeance demons before I hop in a car with them. We were a team. Ish.”

“Yeah, ish. You took off pretty quick.” There’s a slight edge to his words that takes Daisy aback. He elaborates, “The night of the blackout. I went to deal with Canelo’s and get you some supplies, and you were gone. Not even a note.”

She considers telling him what precipitated her leaving. But she can’t throw Gabe under the bus like that any more than she could when he first had warned her away from his brother. There’s genuine hurt on Robbie’s face, though, which is something she admittedly had never stopped to think about. She’d assumed it wouldn’t make a difference to him whether she was there or not.

“Sorry. Look, it wasn’t anything to do with you. You know how I was. I sabotaged myself, and sometimes other people got caught in the crossfire.”

That’s the truth, too. Gabe was just an excuse. She’d seen the writing on the wall, that she could easily get attached to Robbie’s intriguing contrast of light and dark, so she was more than happy to walk right out the door.

“You can’t have thought I was that good of company. As I recall, you tied me up and tried to find evidence that I deserved to die.”

“That was before, and not the point.”

“Okay, well, I can’t change any of that now. You weren’t the reason I left your house that night.”

Robbie looks somewhat mollified.

Given the current circumstances, however, she thinks she still comes out on top of this particular argument. “At least I was in this dimension. Which is more than can be said for you.”

She takes a minute to commit his face to memory. There’s only one way all this can go from here.

“I’m never gonna see you again, am I?”

“I don’t know.”

Frustration, anger, sadness, and panic combine to form a knot in her throat, preventing her from speaking. Not that she knows what she’d say even if she could speak. She’s too drained to know what to do. To accept that no sooner has Robbie come back to Earth than he has to leave again. No time to breathe or have a real conversation. Barely even any time for him to enjoy the Rider taking a sabbatical.

She’s never known him as this, she realizes. As himself. He’s always had another half to him. But, temporarily, that other half has attached itself elsewhere. There is no one listening in or raring to take control. He’s who she thought he was the night they met, flashing her that smug little smirk as she quaked him against the junkyard shelves.

“Daisy?” Robbie prompts.

I’m here now, he’d said, soft and hopeful in a way he wasn’t back then, and that’s good.

Wasting no more time they don’t have, she fists her hands in his jacket and kisses him.

It’s hard and artless, but right now, she doesn’t care. If she only has a few more fleeting moments to see him, ever, she’s not going to spend them being mournful.

Before she can do anything further, however, Robbie pulls away. “Daisy, wait —”

“Ghost Rider can give you fifteen minutes.”

“It’s not that.”

She registers his hesitation and lets go of him. “Oh, you don’t … sorry, I thought …”

“It’s not that either.”

“Okay, then what’s the problem?”

“You deserve better than fifteen minutes. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I won’t. Save your chivalry for someone else.”

He delays a moment more, as if wondering whether this is a test, then abruptly pulls her to him and kisses her like any second now she’s going to change her mind. She almost laughs at the unexpected fervor. She’s only ever known him as reserved, someone who’s painstakingly aware of every movement he makes. The danger he poses.

A danger which now, he doesn’t have. Now, he’s just a man.

She gladly lets him tug off her shirt, but stills his hands as he goes to remove his jacket. “Don’t. I’m kinda into it.”

“You’re — you do know I’ve killed people in this jacket?”

“You’ve also saved people in it. Try not to pop a boner next time you take someone out.”

Baffled, he nonetheless leaves the jacket where it is and complies, “Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Not if I mean them.”

“All right, then,” Daisy says as she tosses aside her pants and underwear. “Make me remember you, Robbie Reyes.”

Robbie’s smile is as bittersweet as the reality she knows soon will crash down upon them. “Yes, ma’am.”

She expects him to lift her when he guides her to the wall, but instead he drops to his knees and nudges her feet apart. He nuzzles the inside of her thigh, then lifts her leg over his shoulder for better access. Kisses are pressed to her soft skin, closer and closer to where she really wants him. His hands slide down the swell of her rear to grip her hips and keep her in place.

Which is probably a good thing, as she tries to buck into him when finally he puts his mouth on her. He licks a stripe along her slit, lapping at her like he’s been craving it. Maybe he has, desiring her all this time yet worlds away from being able to have her. And now he’s inflicting that upon her, infuriatingly avoiding her clit even as he presses two fingers inside her.

She lets out a low huff of annoyance at his measured pace, half of her wanting him to hurry the hell up, and the other wanting to drag this out. He begins shallowly pumping his fingers in and out of her and curls them at the knuckle to brush against her walls.

She inhales sharply as he finally closes his mouth around her clit. Her breathing falters as her pleasure builds, and she tangles her fingers in his hair. She wishes it were longer, so she get a proper grip. Remind him who exactly is in charge here.

Unsubtle hint received, he urges her closer, quickening his pace. Wetness begins to drip down her thighs; his fingers must be slicked in it. The thought has her tightening her leg around him, and he moans against her. The vibration does it, pulling a cry from her as her orgasm hits.

Not waiting for her to ride it out, he abruptly sets her onto the table, unbuckles his jeans, and pushes inside her in one firm stroke. She gasps at the intrusion; he’s not small, and it’s been eight months since she’s been with anyone. But it’s a quick adjustment, for she’s more than wet enough.

She wraps her legs around his waist as he shoves into her again, and again. His hands will leave bruises, she thinks, with the pressure at which he holds her. She doesn’t care. He understood the assignment — bruises mean she couldn’t forget him even if she tried.

“Mark me,” she commands. He slows in question, and she nods. “Do it.”

Looming over her, he kisses her once, then sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of her shoulder. She winces at the sting but leans into him as he nips up her neck and leaves behind distinguishable red marks that she prays no one asks about. He adjusts his hold on her, then pulls her fast and hard onto him. It’s just this side of painful, not that she’s complaining.

She hopes wherever Coulson and the others are is nowhere near here. Robbie’s thrusts are anything but quiet, the sounds of her ecstasy carry into the hallway, and she can hear the rustling of his leather jacket and muffled squeak of the table every time it shifts beneath her. She feels herself again begin to lose control — and so does he.

“Vente para mí,” he murmurs in her ear.

“What?”

He chuckles and translates, “Come for me.”

Robbie reaches between them to rub her clit and, apparently buoyed by her reaction to his words, caresses her with more Spanish she doesn’t understand. He could be reciting a recipe for all she knows, but whatever it is, she drowns herself in it.

Robbie falls first. His movements stutter then stop, and with a grunt he releases inside her. The sensation snaps every shred of her self-control, sending her over the edge. The room trembles as she comes with his name on her lips.

It takes several moments for her to regain her wits, consumed as she is. Robbie’s no different, if the way he delays pulling out is any indication.

God, if she’d known he was this good of a lay, she’d have fucked him a long time ago.

Well, no, probably not. She hadn’t been in any kind of headspace to do that the last time they were around each other. She’s not sure he had been either.

But she’d have thought about it.

She hears Robbie let out a quiet snort, and doesn’t have to ask why once she follows his line of sight. The screens of three different monitors have been cracked or blown out entirely, and everything that wasn’t bolted down has shifted. She covers her face with her hands. How is she supposed to explain that to Fitz and Simmons?

“Never caused an earthquake before,” Robbie muses.

She groans in humiliation, but lets him pull her up. He looks wrecked, chest heaving and face sheened in sweat, which makes her feel marginally better.

She drops her head against his shoulder, savoring what she can. As both arousal and afterglow fade, reality begins to set in.

It can’t have taken that long for the Rider to dispatch Aida, not with how full of rage he was, and no doubt he’d want to return to his true host as soon as possible. Take Robbie away again, indefinitely, forever.

Daisy clings tighter to him. Maybe if she refuses to give up, he won’t leave.

He has to, though. She knows that. What either of them wants doesn’t matter anyway; Robbie’d made his deal, and the Rider is without compassion. There’s no do-over, no second chance.

Reluctantly, she lets go of him. “Promise me you’ll be careful? Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I can’t. The Rider —”

“Fuck the Rider.” Daisy cups his face in her hands and demands, “Tell me this isn’t goodbye.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

“I don’t care if it’s a lie, just —”

“Daisy, no.”

“Please.”

He gently brushes her hair out of her face in place of an answer. Which, really, is an answer all the same.

“Daisy? Robbie?”

Daisy jumps at hearing Coulson’s voice down the hallway. His footsteps draw closer, too close. Robbie squeezes his eyes shut, like he can feel the Rider approaching. Maybe he can.

Lacking choice, Daisy relents, “Try. You owe me that much.”

“Promise,” he says with a half-smile. He kisses away her scowl.

They dress quickly, silently. What else is there to say?

Coulson arrives just as she’s zipping up her top. With no preamble, she watches vengeance leave him to return home to roost.

She turns away as Robbie’s eyes begin to glow. She’s lost him, again.

[ollylotl]

I WANT TO HEAR YOUR DAKOTA N VYNCENT THOUGHTS SO BAD please tell me about them.....

oooh dakota and vyncent…, where do i start. i warn you i don't normally do like. character analysis writing type posts? so please excuse if it's bad.

they have perhaps the most strained relationship out of the prime defenders. but that's not necessarily a bad thing. it's really compelling. they're very similar but also very different at the same time. and maybe this is why they can sort of grate against each other sometimes, but is also why they are such good friends who can rely on each other.

vyncent grew up living a life that, while not necessarily comfortable, he was familiar with. he was happy and he had a support system in the greats and his parents. that got ripped away from him very suddenly and he got dropped in the deep end of a world entirely unfamiliar. meanwhile dakota (from after his parents death onwards) had a very difficult childhood. he spent many years without a support system - his parents gone, his aunt struggling herself and not able to care for him as he needs. but he's had time to learn to deal with that. rockfall/new haven is where he's grown up, and he knows it like the back of his hand. so they're both struggling but like in opposite ways? where vyncent has been okay for most of his life but now he hasn't had a chance to adjust, while dakota's been going through it for longer but that means he's been able to adjust and is familiar with the rules of this world.

they also have opposite ways of coping with bad things / tackling their problems. dakota shuts down. vyncent lashes out. dakota is determined to never take a life. vyncent comes from a world where fighting to the death is normal. dakota not only trusts, but idolises heroes. vyncent has been nothing but let down by them and doesn't trust them at all.

i think about that scene in season 1 so much where they're at mark's house, and tide has been taken, and dakota's just shut down. vyncent starts yelling at him because he's lost everything he had in this world and can't afford to just stop like that. it's just the perfect example of how their opposite experiences and coping mechanisms cause them to clash.

more extremely, when william gets killed. dakota completely breaks down, while vyncent starts attacking even more furiously. then vyncent is like. almost pleading (? you could say? not sure if thats the word) with dakota to just get up and fight because he can't do this alone. he can't do this without dakota. he couldn't have done any of this without dakota.

but in perhaps the more simple ways, they're quite alike. they're the epitome of dumb teenage boys. i mean, they'll just break into a duet on the train. they goof off together - the shopping cart race, that one scene in the gym in season one.

so. like. they lean on each other. they both don't have much to rely on. but they have each other. i think vyncent was probably, even if its a large part subconsicous, feeling betrayed when dakota left over the s1-2 timeskip. likewise how dakota felt betrayed over the bino and mark thing / mal amulet / belltech, etc. etc. but they stick together. no matter what they go through they get out of it, and they get out of it together.

so. okay apologies for taking so long to say so little. essentially what i like most about dakota and vyncent's friendship is that duality of relying on each other both out of necessity and because they're the only ones who really get each other, and also having the energy of like. "hey bro how many slices of pizza can i fit in my mouth at once. hey bro bet you cant backflip off of this building. hey bro let's do a karaoke duet of breaking free from high school musical"

as vyncent himself said in late season 2. they're brothers. (falls over and sobs)

[mikaikaika]

I did it. This fic is 136% just a crack fic, but I like it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50548600

Thanks for your service king. The Pen pal nation will forever be thankful for your efforts o7 o7 o7

[ Link ]

[boltlightning]

gov swann & james starring in #94 pls

94. last hope

Weatherby Swann had been governor of Port Royal for four years now, well-versed in the mood and timbre of his province, and as such there is simply no reason why this soiree should be as miserable as it is; Great Aunt Dorcas visiting from England is stern and rejective, he could admit, and far from his favorite of his relations, but an event in her honor need not reflect her manner. After exchanging a brief, despairing look with Elizabeth, Swann entertains the idea of calling the night early when the footman announces one Captain James Norrington, hastening in after his patrol. Norrington takes one look around the room, blanches, and promptly turns the whole night around: Swann watches in amazement as he introduces himself to Dorcas — pays homage to all the appropriate guests — picks up the flagging violinist’s instrument and plays a few bars of a rondo in suggestion, setting the quartet to the proper sort of music this time of the evening — handsomely bows to Elizabeth, gallantly invites her to dance — and shortly, all who are able have joined the next set. Bless his heart! After dinner, Swann finds Norrington nursing a glass of wine in a quiet solitary corner, flushed in the way all young people are after so much excitement, and silently raises a glass to him.

send me a prompt, get a drabble ✨

[oxfordslutphase]

Tagged by the always lovely @eusuntgratie 😘 I've been plodding away for the past few weeks on my fic for @aroyallybigbangrwrb and now that we've officially been matched I can finally share a bit of it.

In this universe, Alex and Henry are ⭐️ Porn Stars ⭐️ because I've always wanted to write a silly porn AU. Please pray for me and my search history. Completed story coming in May or June!

If she said anything else, Alex didn’t hear it. All he could hear was one name, over and over again in Mina’s smokey voice: James Austen—otherwise known as Henry Fox. The sharp thorn in the tender crack of Alex’s freshly waxed ass. Henry was a porn industry darling. With his tall, athletic body and his meticulously kept blonde hair and his sinfully pink mouth. The crown prince of gay porn, some podcast host had called him once. Or he had been, that is, until he’d announced a dramatic retirement from the industry and fucked off to god knows where. Probably some remote village in England filled entirely with self-righteous, wealthy snobs. Alex had almost succeeded in forgetting about him over the past few years. So much for that. “Fuck yeah,” Diego groaned, his head thunking back against the wall of mirrors. “When I say I’ve never been blown so spectacularly—” Nora reached across Alex’s frozen body and smacked Diego’s cheek, laughing. “Shut the fuck up, you pig.” “C’mon!” Diego protested. “I’m serious! Alex can back me up on this, can’t you buddy?” Alex would love to be able to say that he didn’t know just how good Henry was in bed. That he’d never thumbed across the man’s spit-slicked cupid's bow and then come (embarrassingly quickly) all over his waiting tongue under the harsh glare of studio lights. “Sure,” he hedged. “Pity he’s such an entitled asshole, I guess.”

Open tag for anyone who wants to share, but also no pressure tagging @firenati0n, @sparklepocalypse, @hypnostheory, @anincompletelist, @orchidscript, @nocoastposts