#I LOVE STONY PONY!??!?!?

[butterscotch-brigade]

i actually hope that "scooby doo taught us that the real monsters r humans" wins the iconic post bracket. i may be biased bc its my gfs fav post tho

#vanilla talks #if stony pony was in that battle i would be rooting for it ALL the way but unfortunately its not 😔😔😔😔 #but at least aimees fav post is in there. so i have to side with her on this one #bc i love her uwu

[queers-gambit]

Split in Two

prompt: the Targaryen Curse prevails.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: (another shorty at) 2.8k+

note: this is another STAND ALONE! and NOT part of any series!!

warnings: probably definitely cursing, bloody Targaryen birth, angst, author doesn't have kids so short description, and comfort ending 'cause i said so.

Daemon was taught to restrain his emotion, to hold back. Never to show weakness, or fear - to always wear a mask of indifference, or anger. Daemon Targaryen was the second son, and convinced himself that the only was to warrant respect was to demand it - to take it - and never faltered in his chaotic path through life.

Sure, he was banished by his brother a few times but he always felt like he had earned his place back at his side - and then, he met her. It was just after his first wife, the Lady Rhea Royce, suddenly and tragically passed; leaving him steel-jawed at his niece's wedding. He had caught the Lady Laena Valyeron's eye, and yes, they even shared a dance, but it was during that dance that he first laid eyes on her.

She was a young thing from the North, and her hair looked like it was set ablaze; her eyes a crystal color that cut through him, even at a distance. The young Lady Valyeron had noticed his attention shift and easily turned from him, another handsome knight ready to take the Prince's place.

But the Prince of the City had his eyes set, his heart and mind made-up, despite the former demanding to be locked away. He made the promise to simply seduce the pretty Lady into a marriage, and then drop all act - but this was no simple task.

The Lady was of House Tully, and she eyed the approaching Prince with distain - much to his amusement. When he introduced himself, she rolled her crystal eyes and shifted slightly away from him; glaring at her Lord Father when he introduced the two.

And when he asked for her hand to dance, he swore her snarl could've ripped him in two out of sheer ferocity. Daemon loved a challenge, and the young Lady was everything he craved: mystery, beauty, intelligence, allure.

She was stiff upon their first dance, and slowly loosened up as he refused to step away from her to welcome other suitors; and when she realized she was not being paraded like a show-pony, slowly eased herself in his arms with relief. Daemon spent three straight dances with her, offering a flute of something alcoholic, and speaking lowly in her ear.

Not two feet from them, a sudden fight broke out, and Daemon wasted no time in hoisting the Lady Tully into his arm; the other used to push patrons from his way.

Her father gasped her name when they broke through the crowd and Daemon set her to her feet. "Wait," she breathed when he turned to leave, her eyes glancing nervously to the fray, "surely someone else can handle that?"

"I will be fine, Lady - "

"Perhaps it's them I fear for," she eased, nodding towards the feud. But he noticed then that her hand still held his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze before stepping closer.

"All right," he breathed, never truly understanding why he decided to back off and remain at her side; but the feeling of her arm sliding around his waist to keep him anchored, actually anchored his heart to her. As the fighting turned more violent, Daemon was easing the family back and keeping a sharp eye out - just making out the sight of Ser Harwin Strong carrying the Princess Rhaenyra from the crowd.

Though she hated to admit it, for the following week, she spent every bloody day with the Prince. It wasn't easy for him, but he was slowly chipping away at her stony exterior. Upon the last day of the Royal Wedding festivities, the Lord Tully approached Prince Daemon and requested his private audience.

"Lord?" Daemon wondered, perking a brow.

"My Prince," Lord Tully sighed, "I come on behalf of my daughter."

"Is that right?"

"Well, in truth, she does not know," Tully admitted. "I come on my own vocation, but out of worry for my favorite daughter. My eldest child."

Daemon nodded, "What might that worry be, Lord Tully?"

"That she will be her own demise," Tully admitted. "She is set to inherit my lands when I pass, but refuses to entertain the idea of a husband, let alone courting. Yet, we come here, and you have all but bewitched her. I worry her heart might break when we depart on the morrow."

"And what would you have done, my Lord?" Daemon sighed.

"I would like to offer my daughter's hand," he spoke with conviction. "Though, I would like it to come from you - "

"Have no doubt, my Lord, your daughter intrigues me greatly, and I'd be honored to take her hand... Though she seems adamant on keeping me at arm's length. I do not think a prearranged marriage would sway her."

Your father nodded. "Then might she remain for a time? To be courted?"

"You'd give her leave?"

"I would."

Daemon nodded slowly, "I am on my way to collect her... I can ask if she'd like to remain for a time."

Well, needless to say, you had accepted, and within six months, you were standing in the throne room with your hands clasped in Daemon's as you both recited your vows. His lips had claimed yours hungrily, and within days of your official marriage, he had offered you something that was impossible to pass up -

"Love," Daemon sighed in your ear, "you are not sleeping through the nights."

"You're not either," you mumbled, exhaustion coating your bones. You were trying to aid that misery with a mid-day nap.

"Perhaps some fresh air would be good..."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Pentos," he whispered, kissing your neck after. "Just us, my love. Where you might bring our child into this world," he grinned and pet over your still-flat stomach.

"Hmm," you considered, "tempting, my love. But I cannot - "

"What if your Prince commands it?"

"Then how might I say no?"

Only days after that, you were landing in Pentos - and my Gods, was it an incredible experience for a few years. Until today - where Daemon realized that all of his training as a knight could not prepare him for what he listened to now. His feet paced the empty, dark halls; your screams echoing around the hollow home. His fear was tangible and throat thick with emotion as your pain was clear as day, and he hated himself for condemning you to 'the Targaryen Curse'.

He understood his lineage did not come with easy births, which is why it was considered such a privilege to brith a white-haired babe. Though in that moment, Daemon hated himself more than ever before. Twice you'd done this, and twice before, Daemon had paced this hall - and waited, listening...

Praying that you would not be taken from him.

"My Prince?" The Maester called gently, finding him right outside the door.

"What is it?" Daemon demanded, meeting the man - but one glance into the room, and he was surging inward. "My love," He rushed to his wife's side, taking her sweaty hand in his own; trying to smooth her hair back. "Fuck - what can I do?"

"Get your child out," your teeth grit and tears dripped down your cheeks. "Daemon!" You groaned, his hand nearly cracking from how hard you held it.

"What can be done?" Daemon demanded, looking to the midwives, but none would meet his gaze. "Well!?" He roared.

"My Prince," the Maester called again; eyes portraying more emotion than Daemon wanted to see in that moment.

"A moment, my love," Daemon whispered, kissing your hand, and forcing himself to stand. The Maester crowded him towards the door. "Well?"

"The babe is... The babe is stuck, my Prince, and I fear they are tangled."

"W-What does that mean?"

"That the babe will not come naturally... There is a procedure we can try, but it would only potentially save the babe..."

"And the mother?"

"Would not survive it..."

"Daemon!" His head snapped over to catch sight of you sliding from the bed and shoving the midwives away. "Please! Please! Someone find my husband! Daemon!"

"You're not touching her," Daemon sneered to the Maester before turning to push past everyone. "Hey, hey, I'm here," he told you, taking your hand.

"Daemon," you begged, sobbing through your sweat as you grunted. "Help me, please."

"My love, I don't - "

"Here, hold me like this, please, please," you directed, feet planted flat on the ground to squat; bed against your back, and husband helping keep you stable. You sobbed harder, "I-I am so sorry, my husband, I did not mean for this."

"No," he rushed, readjusting you in his arms. "It's my fault... This is the Curse, my love, I did not know - "

A crushing, strangled cry escaped you, making him wince. "Please," you whimpered, "Daemon, please - I cannot!"

"You can," he spoke with conviction. "Because you must, my love. Please - if you give up, I will lose you, and I will not risk that! Now, fight, my love, please, we need you, we cannot be without you," he encouraged, snatching a cold, bloody rag from the basin to run over your forehead. "I am here with you, I will never be from your side, and you will never endure this again - I swear it, my sweet, strong wife. Hear me? You do this, pet, and you will never know this pain again."

You sobbed into his neck, skirts hiked up to let you feel for the babe. You whimpered and screamed as contractions tore through you, nearly splitting you in two - or so it felt. Daemon was there, speaking with encouragement, hands bloodied from your cunt but feigning that it didn't affect him.

"I feel the head!" A midwife informed, only one left in the room with you two as she dropped to a knee in front of you. "This is it, my Lady. This is it - you need to push, now! Now, Lady, push, push, push!"

The screams were terrible; teeth bared and gnashing at air; lungs straining to keep you conscious as you were coached through the birth. Your feet slipped a few times from the pooling blood, and Daemon held you against his soiled body. "PLEASE!" You begged the Gods, screaming with abandon - until you felt suddenly ill. Empty. Hollow... Something didn't feel right...

"No, no, sh-she's hemorrhaging!" The midwife screamed, Daemon desperately catching your weakening body.

"The babe!"

"I've got it in my hands!" The midwife informed, moving with your failing body. "One more push, my Lady! Please! Please!"

"Sweetheart," Daemon begged as your face paled, and your eyes slowly blinked.

"Daddy?"

Daemon's head snapped up at the sounds of your first two daughters, finding them both in the open doorway. "Mommy!" They sobbed, only a three-year-age difference between them all.

"My Prince!"

"Help her!" Daemon snapped, letting another midwife take his place.

"I've the babe! I need blankets!"

"Daemon," you whispered in delirium, his ears never hearing it as he rushed for your two daughters.

"Hey, hey," he ushered them outside, slamming the door after.

"What's wrong with Mommy!?"

"No, hey," Daemon sighed, "Mommy's okay, s-she's just," he cleared his throat. "She's trying to bring your baby sister into the world, okay? She's okay - "

"Prince Daemon!" He heard from inside the room.

"Just stay out here - stay together, I'll be right back," Daemon promised, pointing the girls towards a bench, and moving back for the room. When the doors shut again, he demanded, "What did you do!?"

"The babe was tangled," The Maester panted, trying to staunch the bleeding. "We had to - "

"I told you not to touch her," Daemon snapped, pushing the man away, and taking the rags to press against your bleeding cunt. "Fuck," he worried, the blood seemingly never ceasing.

"Daemon," your voice wheezed, eyes shut; spread across the bed on soiled sheets.

"I'm here, my love," he assured, heart in his throat. "I-I don't know what to do right now, sweetheart," he whispered, sniffling his emotion.

"Save the babe," you mumbled.

"Babe's out, my love," he informed, your eyes twirling under your lids. "Y-You're bleeding a lot."

"Cauterize it..."

Daemon wasn't allowed to be present for the procedure, and instead, held his newborn daughter in his arms on the same bench his other two daughters sat on. They both leaned into his sides, peering at their new sister, and listening to their mother scream in searing pain.

3 hours after his daughter was born, Daemon was invited back into his wife's birthing chambers. The babe was left securely in his eldest daughter's arms, promising to bring them in to see Mommy if she was okay, then turning for the room.

"Love," you whispered, hand out for him.

"Oh, thank the Gods," he breathed, rushing for your side. His hand clamped yours, bringing it to his lips. "I thought I lost you, my sweet wife," he told you with a broken whimper.

"You cannot be rid of me so easy," you whispered, obviously drained of strength. "Would you stay with me?"

"Of course," he promised. "But the girls... The girls saw..."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know they were there," he rushed, tears springing to both of your eyes. "But they want to see you, my love."

"Oh, please," you nodded, a tear trickling down your cheek.

"A moment," he sighed and rushed around the room to find a few new blankets. He tossed one to a midwife and scooped you into his arms; letting the blanket be laid and tucked over the bloodied sheets, then, he laid you down again. "Did I hurt you?" he worried, tucking another blanket around you.

"No," you assured, petting over his wrist. "Thank you... F-For not making that decision."

Daemon paused his tucking to turn and slowly lower to sit on the side of your bed. "I meant what I said," he told you sincerely, "that we need you, and I cannot be without you. I would not make that decision, my love, because I am not willing to be without you. But..."

"But what, husband?"

Daemon sighed and leaned in some, "The Maester had to cauterize the wound, and... It means you will not bare more children."

You nodded slowly, "A small price to pay."

"Considering the alternate is losing you, I'd say it's fair," he frowned, kissing your hand again. "This is my doing..."

"No - "

"The Targaryen Curse is real, pet," he shook his head. "'S claimed more women in our family than war has men. And I did this - "

"I would bare your children again, even when I know the outcome," you refused his words. "Being your wife is the greatest pleasure of my life, Daemon, but being mother to your children is indescribable."

He nodded with a soft smile, "What gorgeous girls they are."

"All girls?"

Daemon beamed, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "All beautiful, healthy girls, my sweet wife. You have blessed me beyond words."

"Good," you whispered, nodding stiffly. "It will be a time before I am on my feet."

"Worry not," he assured, "and only focus on healing. Now," he smirked lightly, "would you like to meet our daughter?"

"Yes please," you whispered. "What did you name her?"

"She has no name yet," he nodded. "We will name her together."

You nodded and watched Daemon stand, his hand squeezing yours, and then as he turned to the door. He called for the girls, and within moments, the two white-haired beauties were entering, with one carrying a wriggling bundle.

"Mommy!" Your youngest shouted, darting forward to your side.

"Oh, my sweet girl," you smiled, reaching for her, but pausing as Daemon caught her and placed her to the bed with you. "Hi, hi, hi," you kissed her cheek rapidly.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" She worried.

"I am now, poppet," you breathed, kissing her forehead. "And you, my pretty girl," you smiled, reaching for your eldest.

"Here," Daemon sighed lightly, pulling up a chair to your bedside and dropping into it; pulling your daughter to his lap, as she kept hold of your newborn. "Hey? What do we think, girls?"

"She doesn't cry," your eldest mentioned, staring lovingly at your bundle of joy. "Is that normal?"

"Can be," Daemon spoke softly. "Do you want to let Mommy hold her?"

"In a moment," you spoke, "I'd like to hold all my girls first. C'mere," you waved your daughter to you, watching Daemon take your newborn, and let her slip from his lap.

You sighed in relief and held your two daughters tightly, kissing their foreheads. Exhaustion tugged on your eyes, but you were content to hold your girls safely as Daemon rocked your wriggling babe. In fact, by morning, a maid entered your room to check on the new mother, but paused and backed out of the room with a grin.

The sight before her?

You and Daemon laid together, newborn baby laid between both your chests as your eldest daughter was curled against Daemon, and your middle girl, snug in your embrace. She didn't want to disturb you all, and seeing how peaceful you all were, figured she would check back in soon - and left you all to rest.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon hotd #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader

[shadows-of-almsivi]

For the writing prompt list: 18 & 15

18: Autumnal

The old ostler put out a notice for a horse trainer, when the Rorikstead crops were coming into their height. A small room for my boarding built into the stable, a meal and ten septims a day were, apparently, enough to buy me, to my own surprise. Still, it is only until the ostler’s son returns from some wedding or other, and I’d grown tired of sleeping on stony ground.

It’s been rather a delight for me here, truth be told, though the pay is poor and the work leaves my body numb with exhaustion. Horses are a fondness of mine, and even the meanest and foulest-tempered of the beasts passing through the ostler’s yards can kindle a little tenderness from me. I’m tasked to breathe a little spirit back into these worn-out old carriage drafts, to take wild-eyed Reach ponies and make them fit for the smallest child’s first saddle, and by and large I do succeed by some measure. Having no friends here to speak to nor inclination to find any, I spend all of my time with the horses, and the training goes all the swifter for the closer attention. The ostler seems pleased with my progress, as am I.

Is this what it would have been like, to have held more conventional employment?

The mare I’m working today is a lively young Chorrol Red, near leaping out of her skin with excitement to be out of her stall. I can feel, in the shiver of her flank against my calves, how badly she wants to canter headlong into the open field, kicking free the stiffness of those long and boring days in the stable. Her previous master ought to be ashamed, to have let such a high-natured beast molder away indoors before trading her to us.

Her hooves churn the dirt as she dances anxiously in place. The brass bells about her bridle and breastplate, the training-tack for horses prone to flight or nerves, chime at every restless step. I hold her reins just firm enough to let her feel me; I prefer the more subtle touch of directing from the knee, but she’s liable to bolt without the extra guidance. Her breed is known more for racing and courier work than for level-headedness, more spirit than sense perhaps. She sees open grass before her and nothing else, and I’d best not let her have her head or else she’s likely to throw me at once, or snap a slender leg on some hidden stone outcrop.

But still, how beautiful she is, how uncommonly fine for this place. That rich chestnut coat shines so lovely in the pale sun, bright as a new-minted copper flashing between a street-magician’s knuckles. Her restlessness is infectious; I find myself, too, looking over those rolling plains with sudden, aching longing. There’s a crispness to the morning air that would feel wonderful raking through my hair, a sluggishness to my blood from my days here that I can’t wait to shake loose. Honest labor has its sweetness, but precious little thrill has stirred me since taking up the old ostler’s offer.

Perhaps a sprint down the road to the bridge would let us both focus a little better…

15: Soup.

I’d had such hope for a good fish soup for tonight. I should know better than to think of cooking before the catch, it’s bad luck to fish with a certain recipe in mind. My nets came up in empty tatters, gnawed through and picked clean. I’d thought slaughterfish, of course, until I heard those bellowing, ugly barks from a ways past the shoreline. I was surprised to see one in a lake; Skyrim’s fauna continues to astound me the longer I stay here.

But, regardless, curiosity does not fill the stewpot. No fish soup tonight, but my recipes adapt.

Tonight, then, it is seal.

I have heard horker is best treated like pork, and a seal shouldn’t be much different, I imagine. With this in mind, I selected a shoulder, diced middling-sized, and one fin to enrich the broth. The skin I set aside; its fur carries lovely marbled markings, and should be a fair trade for a new net at the tradehouse.

The raw meat was a deep red, less like an apple and more like wine, almost the same as the wine I poured into the hissing iron pot to steam and spit. Some cabbage I added next, some garlic, a little mora tapinella from the morning’s walk. Finally, a couple of bees, finely ground, just for alchemical safety-- I don’t believe the mushrooms’ poison to survive a long cooking, but you can never be too careful.

Now, the house smells quite delightful, and I can put my feet up for a while. The soup will want a few hours over a gentle fire, and I have some reading to catch up on.

#anonymous #asks #askmemes #Moraelyn “Horse Girl but Transmasc Edition” Ithren #Moraelyn has been forcibly thrust into Cozy Pleasant Times whether he likes it or not #I can't help imagining Morry writing one of those unbearable 'please get to the point already' cooking blogs #where every recipe is preceded by like 3k words of rambling #but I've butchered carcasses before I know how exhausted he is rn #let him read his trashy romance novels by the fire #I'm hungry now

[matchheadz]

HOS/ HOST OF SERAPHIM UPDATE!!

SURPRISE!! I'M NOT DEAD!! JUST WORKING!!

Thank you all so much for over 500 Kudos now. I never thought we'd get this far but, here we fuckin' are! My original intent was to double the word count on this chapter and then also upload some art for fun and as a thank you, but then real-life stuff happened and I figured I needed to get this chapter out at SOME point.

regardless! It is still about 1.5x as long as a regular chapter, and it should NOT take two months to upload another one. I've adjusted my work schedule and while I'm still working a shit ton, I at least have one day off a week now...

:') I'm a clown.

Anywho! This chapter is titled "Love" and you should not be fooled by that. It has some very heavy trigger warnings so please take a look at the chapter notes. Remember that Vergil is having an onslaught of memories just piling into his head, so he's very uncomfortable for the majority of this chapter.

Here's a spoiler-free snippet:

"Please don’t walk away, there’s more! Theres more!" A little Vergil, his lips stained blue with raspberry ice pop, would bleat as his partner-in-crime pushed the book away from him. “Vergil, this book is too sad for me.” Dante would sigh, leaning back against the clay roof and kicking his feet in frustration. “The main character threw away his family because he was too stupid to realize he wasn’t the only one hurt by a family tragedy. He was selfish and let that hurt become his whole personality until he became so power hungry and scared that he ruined the saving grace that offered itself up on a silver platter and got himself killed in the process.” And a little Vergil would frown at him and say, “What do you mean? The main character’s love interest was a girl. Someone he left not to abandon her, but to protect her from the danger that followed him. So he could grow strong and protect the both of them, so nothing in the world could ever hurt either of them ever again. I think that’s a noble cause, don’t you?” And The Raven would simply nod, his red ice-pop melting in the heat of the summer sun and sucking idly at the flavor between his fingers. “That’s what I said.” He would reply lazily. He would squint up at him, his dark pony-tailed hair spread around him like a smoke-stain. He would raise his hand above his head to block the sun, grimacing anyway to reply in a bored tone.  “And of course I think its noble, lucertolino, I think that was our problem.” And little Vergil would gape at the image of the boy who was once his brother and realize he never knew his twin at this age. And he would stare and stare and stare at his blue raspberry ice pop, willing that to make sense until the blue splashed over the page and ruined the rest of the story. He wouldn’t cry over it though, even if it was a really good book. He’d get mad and growl somewhere a little deeper than his chest and throw the book over the edge of the roof, even if it was a really good book. "Why’d you do that, idiota? You loved that book."  The Raven would sit up from his sunbathing spot and frown into the bright distance. "No I didn't. I hated it." Vergil would spit and lie, that stony expression would come over his face even as his weakest instrument broke in two. "We should write a new one. Just us. Just me and you, nobody else." Vergil would turn, the baby-blue of his coat flashing golden light onto his heart’s face. She would laugh at his anger, her brunette bun bouncing with the energy of it and her bright red dress bunched up between clay-stained hands as they walked. She’d stop him right underneath the statue of his father, her hands pressing into his chest and tongue between her teeth—seeing too much of him. "Art like that is made once and a lifetime, Angelo. A shame you did not cherish it while you had it." “I hate you.” Adult Vergil mumbled in reply. Between blinks, Eleonora came and went. And between inhales, his brother had returned. Dante laid underneath Vergil, his chest against his back, gripping tightly to his brother’s torso as if somehow, he would disappear on exhalation.

#dmc #dmc5 #dadgil #my writing #text #hos #vergil sparda #dante sparda #Host of Seraphim #dmc fanfiction #nerokiri

[fandoms-for-days2022]

Ships of mine in all my Fandoms

(Fandoms, that I have no ships in, will be excluded)

Ben 10

Bevin

Gwevin

Bnha

Bakudeku

Tododeku

Todobaku

Kiribaku

(Since I have too many bnha ships, I will make a separate post for that if anybody wants it <3)

Brooklyn 99

Peraltiago

Kevin/Holt

Dc (DCAMU + Young Justice + Comics)

SuperBat

BatJokes (Telltale games + Lego Batman versions only)

JayRoy

Timber

Damirae

Damijon

BluePulse

BirdFlash

Enola Holmes

HolmesBury

FNAF (security breach)

Freddy/Bonnie

Chica/Roxy

Foxy/Monty

Good Omens

Ineffable Husbands

Anathema/Newt

Haikyuu

Kagahina

Asanoya

Ukatake

Crowparents (Suga/Daichi)

Tall blonde/green bean (I forgot their names T^T)

Harry Potter

Drarry

Wolf star

Marvel

Time husbands

Winterfalcon

Stony

Stucky

Philinda

Fitzsimmons

Ironstrange

Peter/Mj (Tom Holland + Zendaya version)

Merlin

Merthur

Gwen/Morgana (nice Morgana)

Uther/superhell

Percival/Gwaine

Leon/a good immortal live because he deserves it

Lancelot/being able to be a knight for longer then a few episodes without dying

Miraculous

Marichat

Adrienette

Ladynoir

Lukadrien

Lukadrien Etta

Alyno

Multichat

Leila/fuel/fire/trash/anything flammable 🙃

Mlp

AppleDash (pony world)

FlutterDash (human world)

FlutterCord (pony)

Sunset/Flash (human)

Sherlock (bbc)

JohnLock

Mycroft/Lestrade

Supernatural

Destiel

Sabriel

Crobby

Tmnt (2012)

Casey/Donnie (because imagine + they deserve love)

Other canon ships not including the two above

Torchwood

Janto

Owen/Tosh

Gwen/Rys (although rys deserved better tbh)

Voltron

Klance

Shiro/Adam

Yandere Simulator

Ayano/Budo

Umeji Kizuguchi/Horuda Puresu

Yuri on ice

Victuuri

Yurio/Otabek

These are all my current ships that I will do headcanons of.

If there are any specific ships or fandoms that anyone would like me to do, please put them in the ask box. Thank you <3

#Ben 10 #bnha #brooklyn 99 #dcamu #enola holmes #good omens #haikyuu!! #harry potter #marvel #merlin bbc #miraculous #mlp #Sherlock #supernatural #tmnt 2012 #torchwood #voltron #yandere simulator #yuri on ice

[lys-9-10]

KageHina Fanfic: Ch 16 & 17 sneakpeek

b/c i love the idea of Kageyama being secretly good with kids :D <3 (and it kind of turning hinata on ;P)

Read on AO3

Kageyama

I walk over to Natsu and settle onto the floor beside her.   

“What have you set up here?” I ask, looking at the elaborate playmobil display she’s arranged. “Is this a farm?” 

She rolls her eyes at me. “It’s a pony ranch.” 

“Pony ranch! Got it.” 

“And over there’s my modern house.” She gestures behind her.

“Ooh. Do the people in the modern house ever come for pony rides?” 

“Aki does. She likes riding Pebbles.” Natsu holds up a plastic pony that’s covered in grey spots. “This is Pebbles. He won’t let anyone ride him except Aki. He bucks everybody else off.”

I appraise the playmobil figurine perched on Pebbles’ back. “I like Aki’s braids.” 

Natsu’s face falls. “That’s not Aki...” 

“Oh? Who is it?

“It’s her mean older sister, Yoshiko.” 

“Hmm. Why hasn’t Pebbles bucked Yoshiko off?” 

Natsu’s bottom lip protrudes in a pout. “She’s stuck. I can’t get her off.” 

“Oh no!” I adopt a horrified expression. “Let me see what I can do about that. May I?” 

I hold out an open palm to Natsu. She regards me suspiciously for a moment, but then compliantly drops the horse and rider into my hand.

After a bit of twisting and jostling, I feel the two pieces click apart. I don’t pull the rider off yet, but turn behind me towards Hinata. I attempt to give him a meaningful look, akin to one I might give in a match when I want him to be ready for an unusual play. Hinata cocks his head curiously. 

Turning back to Natsu, I flash a mischievous grin. 

“I think Pebbles has finally had enough of mean older sisters.”

Natsu’s eyes widen.

Kicking the back end of the pony upward, I yank the rider off and toss it over my head. It goes soaring through the air towards Hinata, who catches it with an exclamation of surprise. 

Natsu erupts into delighted laughter. Soon she’s clapping her hands and urging me to do it again. I smile first at her, then at Hinata. 

Hinata gapes at me for a moment, seemingly bewildered. Then, his face cracks into a wide grin.

Hinata

We exit Natsu’s room after putting her to bed. I observe how Kageyama is careful to close the door as soundlessly as possible. 

My heart is stretching forward in my chest, craning towards him. 

“You were amazing with Natsu, Kageyama. I didn’t know you could be that way.”

Kageyama turns to me, his eyes curious. “What way?”

I open my mouth to answer, then hesitate, pondering.

It’s hard to describe exactly what I saw. Over the past little while, I’d become more used to witnessing Kageyama’s stony demeanour slip away, revealing something more tender underneath. But that tenderness was often wrapped up in some kind of angst or internal struggle... I’d see a hundred-and-one emotions pouring out of his dark blue eyes, and I’d see the way he reeled under the weight of them all. I’d see him wrestle with which emotions to show me and which ones to hold back.

But as I watched Kageyama with Natsu, I saw something entirely different. I saw a carefree Kageyama. A playful Kageyama. 

The deep vertical line that so often resides between his eyebrows had been absent all evening. 

Without fully realizing what I’m doing, I reach out with one hand and lightly touch my fingers to the space where that line used to be. 

Something flickers in Kageyama’s eyes. He stiffens slightly at first, prompting me to freeze. I’m about to pull my hand away and apologize. But then, his eyelids drift shut, and his body relaxes.

A joyful warmth spreads all through my insides. I smile. Thank you, Kageyama...

I allow myself to start stroking Kageyama's face. I trail all the way down his thin, straight nose. When my fingers fall onto his lips, I stop, and settle there.

They part ever so slightly. 

Kageyama is breathing through his mouth now and I can feel the warm air on the tips of my fingers.

I haven’t kissed Kageyama since that first day, over two weeks ago. He hadn’t made a move, so neither did I. I was happy to hold his hand under the table at lunchtime, and relish other simple touches like that. 

But now, as I gaze at his softly parted lips, I ache with the desire to taste them again. 

“Can I kiss you, Kageyama?” I whisper.

His body stays relaxed. He doesn’t stiffen or open his eyes. No angst sneaks into his expression. 

He simply nods.

I crane upwards and gently press my lips to his. He seems to melt against me. He’s soft, receptive.... Nothing like the Kageyama on the court. On the court, Kageyama is hard and fierce. On the court, he abrasively steals points and victories. The Kageyama in my arms doesn’t steal. He doesn’t take. He only receives and gives, with an air of humble gratitude. I love the Kageyama on the court. I wouldn’t have ended up here if I didn’t love the Kageyama on the court.

But I love this Kageyama too. This softer Kageyama whose lips are delicately responding to mine. 

‘Please keep showing me more sides of you,’ I urge him silently as I nestle my fingers in his hair. ‘Please keep letting me in.’ 

Read more on AO3

#multichapter kagehina #second kiss #kageyama is secretly good with kids #natsu hinata #haikyuu fanfic #kagehina #kageyama x hinata #haikyuu!!

[libidomechanica]

It makes you came

’ Johnny is justified,— take it.     May oft be unreturn’d. Then, dropped to make her gentleman     processional and for

the days of sunshine on, and thinner,     clearer, farther! How wildly fancy cannot hear the     pony’s tail, and scent of

a kind of the rainspout young son     in her mind that all this time into the ecstasy. And     Betty he will hold me

striking the hole, ’ would under the     beauty cannot cheat so well, ladies, in entering voice,     your substance when we dipt

in all the halloo will topple     to thee, the moonlight lane she goes, and truth and set my Seal:     the Little Mermaiden

and there. Or say they bring stony     names of shales and fast, with beaded bubble, approaches, that     thee of you, as he takes

her state I bemoan but what’s the     snow with good for me? Can’t I take breathing i know. I believes     itself to pardon

ye your wonted smiles like a fiend     from places of you! Open the copses, out at grass after     here? Which never mark’d

the snake, my old serge gown and far     into two hearts, whence followed. Mighty Pan. Soul struggles to     blaw! No feat which makes twice

that flickered like a youngster her,     an open-hearted—ah, you shall for very like a spreadings     for so they list: ygyrt

with infinity, your margins,     your ioy: but let the measure speak as I work, the last     few lire ticking shoes

worn down swung them down, used! And followed.     Of shallowest help will they burr at your courtesy     fine she turns nor came with

the valley road. At last year, they     name is Love? No snow I dreamed the grey-headed faithful love,     my ain love with thee are

unmating thing, the touch had been     added; she with wondrous bright and a taste like a pallace     fayre, ascending on black

save in the poor instead, taking     you: and your eccho ring. It makes you came to ask them if     they die in you on the

alleys shine in parting fronts, their     merry peal from you, I liked them wide than a girland my     fayre loue why doe ye

awaken. Dry as this time, oh could     understand I had to see if I can shew thee shadow?     Did he fling him thanks to

her, ’ I said, but to deare, and after     all, and teach the way appears. Till checked and heard them over     her olive, and inly

prayer, and riches of delights     forepast; enough for long. From out the old church     To new-found my jewel out?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #137 texts #ballad

[smallragdoll]

I fucking love the stony pony post

[goatpaste]

before you sell the stoney pony print it might be worth looking into whether or not the original creator is still active online. i tried to look it up for you with the two URLs they’ve seemed to use at one point or another (paravoid, gravityfxxk) but both seem to be deactivated. i think it’d put people at ease to know you have 100% approval to use weed horse’s likeness for profit

while i understand this, im like

yeah they seem to be deactivated everywhere? id love to get in contact with them about it but i literally cannot find any way to contact them about their green weed pony thats best known for being stony pony from the tumblr post

if anYone knows the creator of stony pony feel free to let me know

but I cant do much more than that, the creator just left the planet, raptured and only leaving behind stony pony for tumblr to fawn over lol

[bowieandqueen11]

Courtship / Bilbo Baggins Headcanons

Request: I’m back again! I really enjoyed your bilbo headcanons, my heart literally went boom. I’m sorry to request him again it’s just there isn’t enough written about him and I love the way you write! So if it’s not too much trouble may I ask for headcanons about bilbo trying to court you and some about after you accept? <3 

Ahh I’m so glad you liked them! I hope these are okay! <3 Also thank you to one of my best friends/ my flatmate for helping me out with these!

Comments are much appreciated!

Bilbo, our poor hobbit, is in all honesty very very nervous to start courting you.

He’s never really felt this way about anybody, ever before, and he certainly wasn’t expecting to one day just go out his front door and fall head over heels love with someone outside of the Shire, it just wasn’t proper. 

For a while, he would just sort of grumble to himself and hide behind his pony, frowning to himself and fixing his handkerchief to keep himself busy when he sees you laughing and packing up your provisions with Fili and Kili. 

Or other times it will be nightfall, and the whole Company would have set up camp in some damp, rugged mountain ledge somewhere. Although he should be focusing on how shivering cold he is in only his thin jacket, or how the wind is howling with the rage of a thousand orcs in the gloomy dusk outside the small encampment, he just settles onto his hands and lies on the mossy log by the glowing fire. He’s watching you, of course, but he always pretends to close his eyes and be asleep when you turn from your watch and catch him looking at you.

Finally, Bofur has enough, and keeps on elbowing Bilbo in the back, making him stumble over the stony ground and nearly trip over his bare feet until he finally decides to try and court you.

He constantly pushes all the other dwarves out of the way at dawn so he can squat down and light a fire by himself, without any hassle or disturbance, because he wants to cook you a scrumptious meal passed down from his great great grandparents, using the mushrooms and berries and such he managed to scavenge up during the day.

He always sits nearby while everyone eats it up, his knees knocking together and hands fiddling with each other until you finish up. You walk up to him with a bright grin on your face, telling him it was delicious, and when you ask for seconds he brightens up like the Star of Earendil.

He managed to sneak a few ripe, glowing red, delicious apples from his orchard back at Bag End with him before he left on this adventure, and so he sneaks one or two into your pack when you’re not looking.

You see him every time though, and when you take him aside from the others to thank him for it later, he always watches you speak with a shy smile on his face. 

He always looks up at you with this sort of wide eyed, frightened, but totally awe filled look on his face whenever he sees you.

When the company arrives at Rivendell, he somehow manages to scramble up and brew some ethereal smelling tea. Before midsummer eve, he takes you out onto one of the balconies, the two of you sitting at the edge of the deep valley, knee to knee and in complete peace underneath the shimmering stars. 

Although he’s not great at it, Bilbo takes Thorin’s advice, and tries one day to braid some flowers into your hair. When you agree, he swallows thickly and sits down behind you, feeling the blush reach the tip of his ears when you settle against his back. He’s completely nervous, and keeps coughing, and his fingers fumble with each twist and turn that it ends up looking horrible. You still keep it, however, showing it off to every dwarf who would pay attention, and it makes him the happiest hobbit in Middle Earth.

He tells you stories during dark and rainy nights, when the two of you are so disturbed by the rolling thunder. He sits by your makeshift heap, his hand by your head as he wonders down at you, telling you stories about his home, and promising that he’ll take you back there one day to snuggle down in his finest armchair by his flickering fire, while he makes you a warm mug of spiced cider.

When you finally catch on that he’s trying to court you (with a little nudging on from Oin and Fili, Kili hadn’t even noticed), you walk up to him the next morning and just lean down and press your lips quickly, and sweetly against his, before smiling and getting back on your horse.

The whole day is the quietest he’s ever been - he doesn’t complain, not even once, which worries Thorin. He’s just sitting there, staring off into the distance and constantly pressing his fingers to his lips.

After that, he’s pretty much inseparable from you.

He can now only sleep covered with a mountain of blankets and clinging onto you, no matter how boiling or freezing the night is.

He always blushes when you wake him up with a light kiss to his twitching nose.

Sometimes, when he's getting a bit worked up over things, you'll stick a bright flower in the corner of his hair and for some reason it always calms him down.

You move in with him at Bag End when everything at the Misty Mountain is over, and the two of you grow old raising Frodo together like a perfect little family.

#bilbo baggins #bilbo baggins imagine #bilbo baggins x reader #bilbo baggins fluff #bilbo baggins headcanons #lotr #the hobbit #lord of the rings #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #martin freeman #martin freeman imagine

[sherrybaby14]

Bad Girl

Pairing:  Stony x reader

Words:  800 (Just a drabble)

Warnings:  Breeding, dubcon, spanking, punishment

Summary:  I got a request for Tony breeding from the wonderful @xanotherdimensionx-main and a request for Steve punishing you for screwing up a mission by the spectacular @nekoannie-chan​.  I decided to combine!  

   “How could you be so stupid?”  Steve let go of your hair and tossed you to the bed.  “You almost got yourself KILLED!”  

   “I wanted to help!”  The tears were streaming down your face.  “You...you were in danger!”  

   Your hands went to your head.  There was an ache from where Steve tossed you.  

   “Not gonna fly Lady.”  Tony shook his head as he walked into the room.  “Steve and I can protect ourselves, we can protect you, you thinking you’re a Care Bear isn’t cute.  You can’t protect us.”

   “I’m sorry.”  You were too.  They were right.  They didn’t need your protection.  It happened so fast and you just reacted.  Your men in danger.  “It won’t happen again.”  

   “No.”  Steve sat on the bed and pulled your so your head was in his lap, massaging your head.  “It will never happen again.”  

   You wrapped your hand around his thigh,  the tears still falling as you curled yourself into a ball.  

   “We need you.”  Tony was pacing.  “You’re stronger than Elmers, but what you did tonight,  you were about as tough as play dough.”  

   You smiled and chuckled, even though the tears were still falling.   All three of you were still alive, Tony was cracking jokes, Steve was comforting you.  It would be okay.  

   “Even with tonight’s display, we know how smart you are.”  Steve’s hand vanished.  “Get into position.”  

   The sob that wanted to come forward was battled down.  You pushed yourself up from the bed and undressed, trying to read both of their faces.   Steve still had his suit on, but Tony was stripping with you.  Steve smacked his thigh and your attention was redirected.  You got naked as fast as possible and laid across his lap.  

   “No counting tonight Doll.”  Steve squeezed your ass, scooting to the end of the bed so your feet rested on the floor.  “I’m going to spank you until your lesson has been hammered home.”  

   You hung your head down, not trying to brace yourself at all.  SMACK!   The first one made you shudder.  

   “Wrong.”  SPANK! The second hurt more.  “No excuses.”  

   SLAP! WHAM!  BOOM!  The tears from emotion turned to physical pain fast.  You deserved every whack.  

   “We.” SMACK. “Love.”  SPANK. “You.”  WHAM!

   You grabbed on to Steve’s calf as you took your punishment.  His hand stroked your abused behind, giving comfort to the pain he caused.  The lesson needed from a kind teacher.  

   “You have a place for us.”  Steve’s hand left.  SLAP!  You cried out.  “But this is our fault too.  You need to know your place, we haven’t guided you enough.”  

   “Securing the future of the Avenger.”  Tony’s voice boomed as her parted your legs.  “That’s what we need from you.  That’s the protection you give.”  

   Your muscles tightened and you lifted your chest.  SPANK! WHACK!  You dropped your head back down.  

   “Good girl.”  Steve rubbed your abused rear.  

   “Ahh!” You moaned as Tony slid inside you.  

   “See how you enjoy this?”  Tony bottomed out, filling you.  “So wet from Steve’s spanking? This is how you comfort us.”

   WHACK! SMACK! SPANK!  Steve’s hand went in unison with Tony’s cock railing into you.  

   “This is who you are, we can see that, why can’t you?”  Steve’s voice carried a pinch of sadness.  

   “I’m sorry.”  You clutched his ankle while you went on your tip toes, unsure if you wanted more spankings or to give Tony better access.  “I’m so sorry.”  

   “No need to apologize.”  Tony grunted.  “After tonight you will have reached your full potential.   You’ll stay home.  You’ll protect our future. I’ll make sure of it.”  

   SLAM!  SLAP!  Steve wailed on your ass while Tony fucked you harder.

   “Yes.. Yes..I promise!”  You couldn’t keep up with the pain of Steve’s spanking and the pleasure of Tony’s cock.  “I’ll listen. To You.”

   “You’re not a Care Bear.”  Tony picked up his pace, making you rock into Steve.  WHACK! SPANK!  “You’re a My Little Pony.  Your purpose is to be pretty and give a good ride.  You understand?”

   “YES!  YES!”  Your teeth bit into Steve’s leg.  “I UNDERSTAND!”

Steve’s spankings came down harder and faster, Tony railed you with a vengeance.  The orgasm started in your heart,  spewing forward.  You screamed and cried, unsure which man pushed you over the edge.  

“That’s our girl.”  WHAM! BOOM!

“No.”  Tony grunted.  “That’s our good girl.”  

#Stony x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader

[regrettablewritings]

Preferences: Guilty Pleasures

Characters: Okoye, Lucifer Morningstar, Dewey Finn, Peter B. Parker, Ahkmenrah

Okoye

Okoye is straightforward and stony upon first impressions. And, admittedly, even afterward. The only real difference is that, if one gets to know her better, they might find shock in the fact that in spite of her appearance, she Dora leader actually likes sweets. However, it’s not sweet things in general that Okoye feels guilty for enjoying: It’s Starbucks.

Starbucks is the antithesis of everything Okoye is associated with: Supremely un-Wakandan, a chain establishment, and overall just not worth the absurd cost. Not to mention superbly unhealthy when compared to the rest of a fighter’s typical diet. But yet you can bet that every time she needs to go out of the country or off-continent, there’s an invasive shout for joy at the possibility that she might be able to get her hands on a Frappucino (followed by an internal scolding).

She can’t even explain exactly why she likes it; there are plenty of good, even healthier sweet things back in Wakanda -- heck, back anywhere else!

But it’s a bit like when someone craves the cheap taste of school pizza over a legit pie cooked in a stone hearth: She just loves the sugary sweetness, the application of whipped cream to an already tooth-rottingly saccharine icy drink, the addition of chocolate. But Bast, she also hates it. But ever since T’Challa practically shoved a grande cup of caramel frappucino into her hands, she hasn’t felt entirely the same.

Against her better judgement, she’s more or less unintentionally tried 45% of the menu drink-wise. She doesn’t particularly care much for the food part of the establishment, though if she should ever find herself in one during the fall, she might indulge in a chunky slice of pumpkin bread under the conviction that it’s healthy enough for being gourd-related. Never mind that it’s just a cinnamon mixture with more sugar than actual pumpkin-derived anything.

Really, of all those mentioned on this list, Okoye is the one who probably feels the most disappointed in herself whenever she indulges in her guilty pleasure: It’s a betrayal to her patriotism, to her dignity, and to her attempts to eat healthy. But damn, if this type of betrayal doesn’t taste so addicting . . .

Lucifer Morningstar

The thing about Lucifer is that it’s actually a bit hard for him to feel any regrets over liking anything; he’s the Devil, after all, so his whole thing is about embracing the things that make you feel good. And even besides that, he’s mostly managed to skate by in his time on Earth by categorizing things as Stuff He Likes, Stuff He Tolerates, Stuff He Doesn’t Bother With, and Stuff Humans Seem to Enjoy But He Doesn’t Quite Get. It’s a tad restricted of a system but you can’t argue with results.

However, just because something is difficult doesn’t mean that it’s impossible. The Devil can, in fact, recognize absurdity in liking certain things. Hence why, to a point, he’s fallen prey to his own bizarre pleasures: The Devil has guilty pleasures, and it’s in stupid YouTube videos, Vine, and TikTok.

After he finally drank the Kool-Aid and got himself a smart phone, it was only a matter of time before Lucifer fell down the rabbit hole that is YouTube prank videos and strange uploads about nonsense and animal humor. It was also only a matter of time before he found himself stumbling into Vine compilations. The Celestial is terrifically mystified by the creative power of humans, managing to tell entire stories and peak comedy in only a span of seven seconds. But he’s also quite loathe to have realized it’s been long defunct by the time he’s discovered it.

He’s even more loathe to find himself making references in his daily life: He has actually quietly blurted out, “I sure hope it does” in response to seeing a Road Work Ahead sign, causing Chloe some confusion (and Lucifer lots of embarrassment). He has referred to a culprit as “Jared, Age 19″. Since discovering Vine, there has been at least one night wherein he and a bed mate were sitting there with barbecue sauce on his tiddies, but that was by sheer coincidence.

But eventually the Vine compilation well dried up, and the inevitable transfer over to TikTok happened. And Luci honestly doesn’t know what to make of TikTok. He would describe it as Vine’s Molly-addicted cousin based on its obsession with dancing, but the dances are so stationary that even that doesn’t seem quite right. The videos on the platform are also much more . . . bizarre. And some of them admittedly trigger a fight-or-flight response in him, to which he always chooses the third option of freezing if only so he can keep watching the train wreck unfold before his eyes.

The trouble with TikTok, he’ll admit to himself, is that it’s not as easy to find iconic content the same way he could with Vine. However, this isn’t to say that he hasn’t found anything worth watching over and over and over again . . .

(Let’s just say the “Wolf Pack Compilation” lives in his head rent-free, and he’s both too amused by it and too overwhelmed by its vibe to try and evict it.)

Dewey Finn

Dewey is . . . a special case. Given that he associates messy living and indulging in one’s pleasure a part of the rocker lifestyle, he’s generally quick to embrace whatever makes him happy. He’s very upfront about his interests and is arguably almost incapable of feeling shame. But it’s in there: Deep down. No, not in himself -- in his Spotify. Specifically, a Spotify account made on an email he never uses because it was made specifically to create this separate, uber secret playlist.

One marked “Actual Musical Bops.”

Dewey hates musicals: They’re cheesy, uninspired, gaudy, ridiculous, totally aimed at chicks with weird fantasies that he could never aspire to, and the music is just overall unimpressive. And yet, somehow, against his music elitist nature, a handful have managed to slip through the cracks. At the very least, a handful of numbers have clawed their way past his defenses and into his ear, where they now live rent-free.

In spite of his best efforts, the problems are that he’s a New Yorker, so it’s inevitable that he hears a song or two; and also that, as an instructor (to wealthy New York tweens whose families can afford frequent tripes to the Great White Way, no less), he’s definitely going to wind up hearing about some shows and their stand-out numbers: Against his will, he knows the lyrics to “My Shot”; he has cried in the secrecy of his apartment to “When I Grow Up”; in the never-necessary reason he needs to remember how many minutes there are in a year, he sings it inside his head; hell, he’s even found himself trying to figure out the electric guitar riff from “The Phantom of the Opera” during his down time.

What’s all the more embarrassing is that, given how he presents himself as a music elitist, there’s just no way he can come back from this if anyone were to know. He has to catch himself when he finds himself humming “Johanna” in the teacher’s lounge. He scowls at himself when he can’t sleep and gives in and starts playing “No One is Alone.” He wants to kick his thick ass every time he realizes he’s excited to have stumbled across a “slime tutorial” on YouTube, this one with better quality than the last. The reason he actually put a password on his phone wasn’t out of privacy like a sensible person would, but out of a need to make sure that no one ever found out that he had downloaded the entire Beetlejuice soundtrack, including jankily-recorded songs that never made it to the official cast recording for whatever reason!

And should anyone ever find out about any of this, Dewey has a plan: “Oh, I’m doing research. I’m studying these songs so I can give the kids a lesson on what not to do as actually competent musicians.”

But the lesson would never actually come. Mainly because he keeps prolonging his “research” . . .

He’s also developed a bit of a soft spot for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic due to some students gushing about it, but he would rather sooner die than ever be associated with the term “brony.”

Peter B. Parker

Peter is at a point where he’s too tired to really care about the idea of guilty pleasures. The way he sees it, there are bigger priorities at stake than worrying about someone finding out about your love of some hokey activity or food or form of entertainment.

Besides, he’s a New Yorker: There’s way weirder stuff for people to just not pay any real attention to. Hence why he thinks nothing of his bizarre eating habits. And no, this isn’t referring to his disastrous appetite: This is about his tendency to eat food with his hands. Foods that, well, he really should probably utilize eating utensils for.

To be fair, this habit has always existed in him in some form or another, especially since, as Spider-Man, he often needs to eat food on the go. But during the time he spent living the life of a depressed bachelor, it came out in full force. On the rare occasion he wasn’t eating a food that deserved to be eaten by hand, he often found himself loathing the idea of doing the dishes afterward. There would be days he’d feel only slightly less depressed; enough to make a box of Kraft Mac n Cheese in the pot, but not enough to avoid cutting out the middle man.

He’s thankful the craptastic apartment wasn’t also see-through because if it were, he’s positive his neighbors would’ve thought they were bearing witness to a man’s breakdown as he wept into a pot of macaroni and cheese, his hand full of the stuff, while wearing a Spider-Man costume. (And, to be fair, they actually would be.)

In addition to this, there were also those nights where he would be prepared to actually tuck in to a plate of spaghetti, only for some crime going on elsewhere in the city to drag him away. By the time he’d return, the plate would’ve been cold and his energy too depleted to want to even dream about cleaning more than he already had to.

The great news is that he’s thankfully done a 180, now able and willing (if begrudgingly) to clean up after himself. But bad news is that this feral man will still eat a fully-loaded baked potato like an apple. In a park. In front of women and children. He’s just too tired to care anymore. He’s aware of the guilt in this as a concept, but he’s also aware that he needs to take whatever happiness he can get out of whatever he does. And if that means eating everything by hand, then so be it!

Ahkmenrah

Funnily enough, Ahkmenrah doesn’t seem to experience much of any shame for enjoying the things most might feel the need to hide: He’s constantly curious and has missed out on a lot over the centuries, so why should he feel bad for wanting to indulge in them? Celebrity gossip is just a more fun version of the palace gossip he’d grown up hearing as a boy; reality TV is like watching a play, but with much more fights, less deaths, and more faulty romances; and sloppy meatball subs are like a feast for a man of his time!

Besides, he’s a king: Kings shouldn’t have to feel embarrassment over what the common folk might think.

And yet . . . It took some time, but eventually Ahkmenrah did experience it: Guilt in his pleasures.

He couldn’t even recall where it had all started. Maybe he was searching for more content to swallow after the most recent season of his new favorite show had ended? Whatever the case, he wound up biting off more than he could chew when he stumbled upon . . . fanfiction.

The adorable yet sad thing is that he didn’t even think anything of it at first. It wasn’t until he brought up a ship he’d invested his last few nights awake exploring on the computer: Nobody knew what the crap he was talking about, so of course he felt the need to explain it. But the more he talked, the more perplexed his friends looked. And the more he could feel his cheeks and ears burn.

Oh, he thought. Is this . . . embarrassment? Is that what this feels like? Oh, this is just foul.

Thankfully, nobody pressured him to keep talking about it, but the poor king sure as heck didn’t feel much of a desire to talk any further about it. But he needed to talk to somebody about his newly acquired “feels” as those online were calling them.

Joining fanfiction-oriented sites was the next obvious step, of course, but he’s experienced mixed feelings about it: On one hand, it’s nice to talk with people who share similar views and excitement about a fictional couple. But on the other, the digital wars that have broken out both disturb him and bring out the worst in him.

Like, of course there are bigger things to deal with than whether or not So-So is better off with Him-Ham, but if you truly think that Blah-Blah and Himhaw are a healthy relationship, then you can go do a service and bury yourself in the desert sands to provide substance to the hungry beetles with your flesh --

Suffice to say, a lot of the guilt in this pleasure seems to come from the fact that Ahk can get a little too emotionally invested if the work is really good. He tries to limit his interactions to commenting and praising certain works, and encouraging content creators. However, he’s also contemplated contributing his own pieces of fiction to the fandom . . .

#okoye #lucifer morningstar imagines #dewey finn #peter b parker imagines #ahkmenrah #okoye imagines #lucifer imagines #dewey finn imagines #ahkmenrah imagines #regrettablewritings #spiderman into the spiderverse imagines #spiderman itsv imagines #spiderman imagines #i tried posting this on my phone and it literally fucking deleted EVERYTHING #anyway @staff: the fuck is up? fix that shit because now i literally cannot post SHIT on my phone from my laptop #preference #preferences

[luna-redamancy]

( Thorin x GN!Reader ) Braid

Word Count: 1666

Summary: Thorin lets his feelings be known as he asks to help you take care of your hair. 

Gender-neutral reader, long-haired reader

Sliding off your pony you sighed, your neck stiff from traveling all day long with the Company. Reaching up to rub your neck, you felt the greasiness of your hair despite it being pulled into a braid. Grimacing you dropped your hand. 

As Thorin gave out his tasks for the Company members for the night, you found yourself with some slight free time. “I’m going to go bathe,” You announced, getting nods and small ‘aye’ as a response while grabbing out your necessities before disappearing into the trees, the river not too far off from the campsite. All the while, unaware of Thorin watching you as you disappeared. 

Spotting the water you began to slide off your boots and socks before dipping your toes into the water to find it still warm from the sun earlier in the day, a grin forming on your face. Quickly undressing you waded deeper into the water, feeling the tension leave your shoulders as you dipped your hair back into the current. Grabbing your mixture of rosemary water and lye soap along with your comb, you settled your hair back into the water wash. 

The smell of rosemary filled your senses as you scrubbed your scalp before taking your comb to carefully comb out your hair.

Since the beginning of this journey, your hair had grown quite a bit, now down to your waist. Combing it with the assistance of the warm water helped to make your knots come out easier before applying an almond conditioning oil.

Carefully ringing your hair out you sighed as you watched the sky shift to darker colors, ‘They’ll be looking for me soon,’ you thought as you finished washing before pulling on a fresh tunic and leggings. 

You left your hair down for the night, not wanting to restrain it in a braid or ponytail until it could completely dry.  

Your return wasn’t particularly announced, however when you began to brush your hair out with your fingers, a certain set of eyes settled on you. 

“Having trouble?” Thorin’s low baritone voice startled you, almost making you drop your brush as you turned to face him. 

“Oh! Um... Yes,” you nervously laughed, “My hair hasn’t grown this much in a long while,” you explained as you brought a strand up to look at it. 

“Would you like help?” Thorin couldn’t hide his nervousness despite all his efforts to do so. The act of touching another’s hair was an act only lovers or family do for each other in Dwarven culture, leaving Thorin waiting on your response with bated breath. 

His worries melted as you gave a soft smile, you too realizing the ramifications of this act. “If you would enjoy doing so,” You responded cryptically, watching his body language. There was tension between the two of you since the beginning of this journey, and only now did you truly realize why. He had feelings for you. 

Carefully he pulled a comb from the inside of his pocket, showing how prepared he was for this. Turning to face away from him, you felt a smile pull on the corners of your lips as you felt his rough yet warm hands begin to comb your hair, gentle and slow as if one wrong tug of the comb would make you never speak to him again. 

Soon your hair was free of all knots, his fingers now running through your locks, his nails carefully scratching against your scalp causing your eyes to slip shut. 

“May I braid your hair?” Thorin whispered, leaning his mouth close to your ear causing a shiver to run down your spine. Wordlessly you nodded, turning to give him a reassuring smile only for your lips to brush together. Jumping slightly your eyes widened, watching his expression mirror yours. 

Dropping his gaze from yours, Thorin cleared his throat, leaning back slightly to begin braiding your hair. A blush seemed to be permanently formed on your face as you twiddled your thumbs, a thick silence brewing between the two of you. 

Thorin chose to focus on how soft your hair was rather than the soft feeling of your lips against his, narrowing his eyes in focus. As you felt the braid nearing its end, you held out the leather cord you used for holding your hair. 

Grabbing it from your grasp, Thorin sucked in a breath as your fingertips brushed against his. The months of not being able to hold you despite knowing what you were to him left an ache in his heart, his soul yearning for your touch and affection. Shaking his head, Thorin tied off your braid. 

“All done,” Thorin nearly growled out, the smell of you filling his nose as the thoughts of your soft skin against his was spurring him to push forward with your relationship, however, he knew if he did so, things could change for better. Or severely worsen. 

“Thank you,” You replied softly, reaching your hand back to feel the braid, another smile forming on your face. Keeping the smile on your face, you turned to face Thorin, “I genuinely appreciate this, Thorin,” You carefully laid your hand on his. 

Gulping, Thorin nodded mentally cursing in his head. A stony king with a permanent poker face turned into a young love-crazed Dwarrow by a simple gesture such as this. 

Deflating slightly at his lack of response, you nodded, flashing an awkward smile as you pulled your hand off his. 

“W-well… Thank you again, goodnight Thorin,” You nodded your head slightly at him before leaving to your bed-roll. 

Thorin held in a groan at his stupidity, “You… too,” Thorin sighed, realizing he replied far too late for you were already on the other side of camp. 

The next day you avoided Thorin’s eye, coming to the decision that Thorin just wanted to help you with your hair, no hidden meaning behind his actions like you had assumed before. Strapping your supplies back on your pony, you patted their snout affectionately before grabbing your plate of breakfast from Bombur. 

“(Y/n)?” Thorin called out to you as you moved to sit by your pony and eat. “Yes?” You carefully turned, your heartbeat beginning to pound in your ears, anxious for what he wanted to tell you this morning that he didn’t want to say last night. 

“May we talk?” Thorin moved toward you, side glancing at the Company members watching you, “Alone.” He added, seeing your nervousness. 

“Of course…” You trailed off, making a quick mental decision to not leave your food for the Company members to steal. 

Thorin flashed you a small, reassuring smile as he led you to a small clearing. Just enough for privacy’s sake, but not so far to where you’d get lost. 

“Last night…” He began, seeming to struggle with the words that he thought about since last night. “Last night, I did something that a dwarf never does---”

“It’s okay, Thorin, I understand that you didn’t have any intentions with your actions, we can forget all about it.” You interrupted, wanting to nip the problem in the bud. Cut the flower bulb out of your heart before it fully bloomed. 

“What are you saying?” Thorin questioned you, a look of shock on his face. He didn’t think you would understand, but he at least thought you would realize he had some intention with his actions. 

“I know how important braiding is to Dwarves, Thorin, and I understand you were just trying to be helpful, nothing more.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?” Your eyes widened as Thorin shook his head. 

“You don’t understand… I braided your hair because I wanted to show the care I have for you, I love you,” Thorin confessed, a look of agony on his face as he examined your shocked, nervous expression. 

“I was trying to explain that a dwarf usually explains their feelings before doing such a thing...I now see it was a mistake…�� Thorin shook his head again, “I’m sorry.”

The sound of pain and shame in his voice nearly made your eyes glassy with tears. “Thorin, no, no, no,” you dropped your plate as you reached out to grab his sleeve as he moved to go back to the Company, not wanting to humiliate himself further. 

“I feel the same,” Your words caused him to halt in his escape, his shoulders stiff. 

“You do not have to make such a claim to try and soothe me, (y/n),” Thorin huffed out, his walls that were crumbled the night before now stacked up high in front of you. 

“I would never do such a thing,” Your tone was soft as you slid your grip down to hold onto his hand. “You’re a King, Thorin, I am but a simple warrior... “ You began as you loosened your grip, only for Thorin to hold it tighter. 

“When you braided my hair, I was the happiest I’ve ever felt in my entire life,” You finished, not knowing what else to say. You let your own self-doubt get in the way of your happiness, crushing Thorin’s hope in the process.

“I’m sorry,” you continued as Thorin still remained silent. Pulling your hand from his, you moved to grab your (surprisingly) unbroken plate from the ground. Your heart felt heavy as if it was suddenly a stone sinking into your gut. 

Hearing Thorin’s footsteps, you resigned yourself to the thought he chose to move on from you. Standing up straight you turned around only to be pulled flush to Thorin’s chest, his eyes searching yours for permission for a brief second before pressing his lips to yours. “I am sorry I let you doubt my affection, amrâlimê,” Thorin cooed, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“I won’t ever let you doubt yourself again,” Thorin gave a soft smile, “May I braid your hair once more? In a proper, courting fashion?” 

A laugh bubbled out of your throat as you nodded, the sound making Thorin’s smile widen. “I would enjoy that very much.”

Tags-

Forever Tag:

@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck  @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18@raindancer2004 @love-colorfulglittercollection @underthemoon-imagines​ @ladylouoflothlorien @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @bad268​ @legolaslovely @bthtallmadge2

Thorin Tag: 

@greennightspider @ashleygrrrl @skylarkvip @makeshift-prime  @jumpingmanatee @meraki--mei

#thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #x reader #the hobbit reader-insert #reader-insert #braiding #courting #dwarvish courting #thorin #the hobbit #fanfics #fanfiction #fluff

[appelssiini]

I got tagged by @violasmirabiles thank youu! This was fun

1. what do you prefer to be called name-wise? just plain old Noora is just fine

2. when is your birthday? January 16th! I’m one of the lucky people born very early in the year

3. where do you live? Tampere, Finland

4. three things you are doing right now? avoiding doing Adult Things, stressing about uni applications, listening to birds sing outside

5. four fandoms that have piqued your interest? Ehhh I really don’t have any interesting fandoms that I’m not already in lol sooo here’s four I am or have been in: Hanoi Rocks obvs, Marvel (I know I know it’s trash), Pirates of the Caribbean (when I was a kid. still love them an absurd amount), 24..... couple friends of mine try to get me into Hannibal, let’s see how that goes :D

6. how has the pandemic been treating you? hooo boi. Lost my job. Lost all my hobbies (except knitting and all that shit. I’ve never knit this much in my life lol). Pretty much drank all the money I had saved for moving out. So, uh, not well. It’s been nice doing nothing tho

7. a song you can’t stop listening to right now? Silver - Wham Bam Shang-a-Lang!

8. recommend a movie. Hmmm I will not say any of the marvel movies. I finally watched The Greatest Showman and liked it! Perfect if you wanna feel good and watch something pretty, nothing too serious. I have a lil soft spot for cheesy musicals just like that

9. how old are you? 23

10. school, university, occupation, other? Loser blob. As I said I lost my job thanks to covid and now I really need to get into uni but I have no idea how, the whole thing just scares me a lot

11. do you prefer heat or cold? fuck both. It gets too hot I suffer, it gets too cold I suffer. Give me permanent 10-15c and i’d be happy

12. name one fact others may not know about you. uhhhh I already did multi-camera live streams at the youth center when I was 14, both behind and in front of the camera. We did some interviews with politicians and musicians for a winter-holiday-youth-festival thingy

13. are you shy? depends. Shy not so much, anxious a lot. I like my own space

14. pronouns? She/her but I’m not too picky so maybe leaning a tiny bit towards she/they. I dont really care

15. biggest pet peeves? When some people try to ”compete” in trauma / bad experiences. Humble-bragging about trauma (i’ve heard it more than you’d think and i hate it with passion). Also, caps 🧢 for some reason

16. what is your favorite “-dere” type? I have no idea what this means :D

17. rate your life from 1 to 10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be. I dont know, 6?

18. what’s your main blog? This one :)

19. list your side blogs and what they’re used for. I only have the brilliantly stupidly named @stony-pony for all the marvel stuff that I dont want to make you all see

20. is there something people need to know about you before becoming friend? I’m shitty at holding conversation most of the time. I need a lot of alone time but i’m clingy too. At first it can seem like i dont want to be friends but it’s only really that i warm up reeaally slowly lol

So if i’d for once actually tag some people. No pressure to do this thoo but @teenangeloutsider @imwaitingforthatfeeling @ollaanhiljaa @all-razzle-no-dazzle @thespacecowboyyy and everyone else bored and procrastinating

#tag thingy #no need to do this if you dont feel like it!

[bestillmyslashyheart]

a fight for the heart

Maria tried. She really did. But she couldn’t destroy herself on the altar of someone who didn’t want her help. Michael Guerin was a hurricane of self destruction in the midst of the desert and the only thing Maria could do was try and stay of his path.

Maria gave their fledgeling attempt at a relationship six weeks before she couldn’t take it anymore. Clearly something had happened in Michael’s life just before they got together but he refused to talk about it, preferring to drown his sorrows in shameless flirting right in front of her, too much alcohol, and an endless stream of bar fights. And since she cared about it, could maybe love him, but there was only so much of herself she could give, only so much she could do.

The first two days were great, they sat and talked and laughed, Michael revealed his hidden talent for the guitar and played her her favorite songs. It was nice. Really nice. 

After that, though, he swan dived off of the deep end. Over the course of a week he went from being the relatively social drunk, the friendly flirty guy who charms his way out of trouble, the man with a shoulder for her to lean on, to a man itching for a fight with every breath. If he couldn’t get it from the assholes at the bar, he picked at Maria until she walked away. His friendly flirts turned serious right in front of her, his eyes flicking to her to see if she was watching as he crowded up behind a woman shooting pool under the guise of helping her with her form. Maria spent a few weeks making sure every night he wasn’t in the drunk tank he got to a bed, either his or her own. She tried to make sure he ate actual food, drank water, showed up at work.

He resisted her at every turn until she finally called up Isobel Evans. Isobel showed up for two days before giving up. Maria couldn’t blame her, if she was being honest. Isobel’s brother and husband had just both disappeared into thin air and she looked almost fragile when Maria saw her around town, like she was one blow from shattering. When Maria saw her with Michael, she was afraid that Michael would be that final blow and she could understand Isobel trying to protect herself from that, even if it meant leaving Michael to his own mess. 

The final straw came the night Michael flirted with a woman, even getting into a fight with the woman’s boyfriend, and then stared her down as he walked out the front door with his arm around her. He had his mouth close to the woman’s ear, his lips and tongue brushing it as he whispered to her and Maria decided then and there that she was done. 

She had enough going on in her life between her mom’s health, helping Liz deal with Max’s disappearance, her shattered relationship with Alex, and seeing Rosa’s ghost around town, that she just could not break herself any more to help Michael. There was only so much of her left. 

So she waved goodbye to Michael. Literally. 

His eyes darkened when he caught the motion and she knew he’d gotten the message when he turned away and left without a backwards glance. 

Didn’t stop him from coming back the next night though. Or the one after that.

Maria was a little amazed to realize he had actually been holding back before. Now, if there was one single night where he didn’t escape out to the back alley for a hook up or end up in the drunk tank, Maria silently called it a win. 

She didn’t have many wins.

About two weeks after she called it quits, Alex started making an appearance. Maria hadn’t really seen him since she took up with Michael and he definitely hadn’t been to the Wild Pony but there he was, perched on a stool at her bar, his eyes fixed on the mirror behind her as he watched Michael suck on some woman’s neck by the pool tables. 

“Hey,” she greeted softly as she wandered over to hand him a new beer.

“Hey,” he glanced at her quickly, his lips turning up in an attempt at a smile, before looking back at the mirror.

Maria looked out at the scene behind him. “He does this every night.”

“So I’ve heard.” He took the new bottle from her and handed over his empty.

“You meeting someone?” She asked as the silence stretched to awkwardness.

“No.”

Maria’s eyebrows furrowed. “Then what’s the occasion?”

Alex shrugged. “Wanted a drink.”

So Maria left him to it. Alex didn’t move for the next hour, his eyes only ever briefly straying from the mirror. She passed by twice to refresh his drinks but she didn’t try for small talk again.

Almost two hours after Alex showed up, Michael finally managed to get that fight he was itching for. There was a crash by the pool tables as cue stick hit the table and then a hush fell over the crowd. Maria didn’t even need to look up to see it. Next to her, her bartender held up the phone, silently asking if he should just go ahead and call the Sheriff. Maria nodded with a heavy sigh. She’d tried letting Michael handle it but it had gotten to the point that she needed the cops to step in if she had any hope of discouraging other people from thinking it was okay to fight in her bar.

She looked up at the first thud of a fist hitting flesh. Unsurprisingly, it was Michael’s mouth that came away bloody. For some reason, he never threw the first punch. 

Michael got one hit in before Alex stepped in between them. Maria hadn’t even seen him leave his stool. As the other guy tried to retaliate, Alex smoothly grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him as he pressed him against the table. He said something into the guy’s ear and waited until he nodded before releasing him. The guy stepped back, grabbed his girlfriend’s hand, and walked away with only one backwards glance. They hadn’t paid, but Maria decided to let it sly. She would put it on Michael’s tab, anyway.

With the man gone and the fight clearly over, most of her customers turned back to their drinks and ignored Michael. Maria couldn’t do that. When she looked over at him, she almost took a step back from the vehemence radiating off of him, even from across the room. Alex, stood right in front of him, didn’t even flinch. Maria was too far away to hear what they said to each other until, “Fuck off, Alex!” Michael suddenly yelled. A hush fell over the bar as everyone turned to stare at the two men. 

Alex stared at Michael, his body tense and his face stony, before he gave a sharp nod. Michael turned away in a huff when Alex relented. He downed his whiskey and punched the wall with his back to the rest of the bar as muffled chatter spread. Alex hadn’t moved right away, his eyes fixed on Michael’s back, before he glanced around. Maria wasn’t sure what he was looking for until suddenly he moved and scooped up Michael’s jacket. She watched as he checked the pockets and pulled out Michael’s keys and a flask. Seemingly satisfied with what he found, he gripped it tight and walked back over to the bar.

“Cover mine and Michael’s tab,” he handed her his credit card.

Maria took it slowly. “He hasn’t paid in a while, Alex.”

“I figured as much,” Alex replied easily. “I’ll cover it.” He nodded at the card.

She hesitated a moment longer before paying off both tabs and handing Alex the receipt and his card back. Alex glanced at the total and shook his head. “You should stop serving him.”

“Then he’ll just go somewhere else. At least here, I can keep an eye on him.”

“He’s barred from everywhere else,” Alex signed the receipt and handed it back as he tucked his card away. There was a crash and a curse from across the room. Maria looked up to see Michael’s glass in pieces on the ground as he shoved chairs around, clearly looking for something. “That’s my cue. Have a good night, Maria.” Alex gave her a small wave as he made his way to the door, Michael’s jacket still in his hand.

“Where the fu-,” Michael cursed as he looked up, his eyes catching immediately on Alex’s back as he disappeared outside. “Alex!” He stumbled his way after him, crashing into every table on the way out. 

Maria tried not to dwell on it as the door swung shut behind Michael. She had come to accept that she didn’t know a damn thing about their relationship and she definitely wasn’t going to get involved. 

---

She was starting to feel like she was involved. Despite knowing better, she kept letting Michael into the Pony. He only paid maybe a third of the time (Alex kept covering his tab the other two-thirds so she didn’t worry too much about getting paid) and he kept getting into fights; he seemed to have a thing for picking up other guys’ girlfriends. The difference now is that Alex was there more nights than not. They never seemed to talk much but Alex kept getting in the way of Michael’s fights. Maria was afraid that Michael would just throw a punch at Alex one night when he stepped in between Michael and his latest foe but Michael never did. Even when he was midswing when Alex appeared, he always pulled the hit. 

“You can’t destroy yourself to keep him afloat,” Maria cautioned one night. It was late and Michael had been content to amuse himself with pretty strangers all night long. No one had risen to his bait for a fight and it seemed like Alex’s services weren’t going to be needed. But still he sat there. 

Alex raised his beer to his lips without a word.

“I’m serious, Alex,” she lowered her voice. “I know how much it’s hurting you to sit here and watch him like this but you keep doing it anyway. You don’t have to do this. He doesn’t want to be helped and putting yourself through hell trying to help him isn’t doing anyone any favors.”

Alex’s lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. “If anyone’s gonna destroy me, it might as well be him.” The words sounded wrong, like they were someone else’s first. 

Maria opened her mouth to reply when someone came up to Alex.

“If he doesn’t stop this bullshit soon, I don’t care if you get involved, I’m gonna deck him,” the man warned him with a glance back at Michael. Maria followed his gaze to see Michael bending a woman almost backwards over a table, his lips on her chest and wandering south via the low cut shirt she was wearing. 

Alex glanced at the mirror with a sigh before throwing back the rest of his beer. “Yeah, okay.” He left a bill on the counter for Maria and stood up, brushing past the other man and making his way over to Michael.

Before he even got there, Michael was straightening up, his attention now in safer territory as the woman was able to stand up. His shoulders were tense and he almost looked distracted, as if the woman wasn’t quite enough to hold his attention anymore. Maria thought it was odd; nothing had changed over in his little corner of the bar, nothing to take his attention away from-

Oh.

Michael’s shoulders were already turning towards Alex as he walked up, even though his face stayed buried in the woman’s neck. Realistically, there should be no way for Michael to know Alex was walking over but that didn’t seem to matter. He knew it anyway.

Alex walked up and grabbed Michael’s arm just under his shoulder and pulled him away from the woman with an apologetic smile to her. The man who had come up to Alex was right behind him and pulled the woman away, whisking her back to the group she had come in with. Michael’s lips turned up in a smirk as he spat at Alex, his words no doubt intended to cut. Alex’s shoulders tensed but otherwise he showed no reaction. When he didn’t get the fight he wanted from Alex, Michael yanked his arm away with enough force that he had to take several stumbling steps to try and get his balance back. Alex reached out and steadied him before stepping away, Michael’s keys suddenly in his hand. In what was becoming a usual sight, Michael stormed after Alex into the parking lot, the door crashing shut behind them. 

---

“Call the Sheriff,” Maria ordered as she stepped out from behind the bar, her shotgun in her hands. In the six years she’d been running the place, she’d never had to use it, had only pulled it out twice, but tonight she was thankful for it. “And call Alex.”

Michael had finally found someone itching for a fight as bad as he was and he managed it on the one night Alex hadn’t showed up. It started as a few friendly bets over a game of pool and then darts. It escalated into shoves and a few punches when the tourists decided that Michael had cheated. It escalated further into guns being pulled out when Michael only grinned and winked at the accusation. 

“Hey!” She yelled as she got close, the shotgun hanging loose at her side. “Take it outside.”

One guy sneered at her as the other two stepped up around Michael, their guns in their hands and pointed at Michael. Irritatingly, Michael didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. “It’s okay, Maria,” he held a hand out towards her. “It’s all under control.”

“Give us our damn money back, you fucking cheat.”

Michael pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve got a tab I gotta pay off.”

The man with the guy pointed at Michael’s knee pulled the trigger. Maria flinched back a step, pulling the gun up only as an afterthought. Her attention was fixed on Michael, expecting to see blood. But Michael stood exactly where he was and grinned brightly. 

“What the fuck?” The man who’d shot swore. Maria understood his confusion. He was barely a foot away from Michael and he looked like he knew his way around a gun. There was no way he’d missed. And yet-

The man next to him tried again. And again, Michael was fine. Maria looked around him and saw the new holes in the floor at his feet. 

“Put down your weapons!” Maria had never been so happy to see Kyle’s mom in her life. She lowered the shotgun without a word and stepped back as the Sheriff and a new deputy leveled their weapons at the two shooters. The two men dropped the guns immediately, both still captivated by Michael’s apparent luck. 

As the two cops put away their weapons and moved to cuff the two shooters, Michael lunged forward. He had an arm cocked back to throw a punch and neither Sheriff Valenti or the new guy reacted in time to stop him.

His punch didn’t land. It didn’t even really get started. Alex came up behind him and wrapped an arm around his cocked back arm and grabbed Michael tight but the waist as he pulled him back. Michael struggled for a moment but Alex didn’t look too bothered as he dragged him away and shoved him out the back door. 

Maria didn’t even know Alex was in the building. She glanced at the Sheriff before following after them.

“-ck you, Alex!” Michael was yelling when she pushed the back door open. “Can you not mind your own fucking business?!”

“What the fuck do you think you were doing? Do you not get how monumentally stupid that was? How much danger you could be? How much danger Isobel could be in right now?” Alex looked properly angry for the first time that Maria could remember in years. “What- what are you doing, Michael? What do you want from all of this?”

Michael let out a sound that could almost be called a laugh if laughter was cruel. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

Alex shoved Michael back a step with two hands. “Get your shit together, Guerin.”

Michael shoved Alex in return only he pushed him all the way back against the wall. Maria took a step outside the door, ready to get involved if today was the day Michael finally took his anger out on Alex. But she seemed to worry for nothing as Michael crashed into Alex, his body flush against Alex’s, their lips meeting in a fierce battle as Alex tugged hard on Michael’s hair. Michael let out a sound Maria had never heard and pressed even closer to Alex as he grabbed his hips in a tight grip that almost gave Maria sympathy bruises. 

She let the door slam shut behind her when she went back inside. 

---

The sign for Sanders’ Auto loomed large overhead and Maria almost turned around. Her truck was making noises it shouldn’t and Michael was the best mechanic in town but it was early and she wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with him, if he was even awake. When they’d dated, if you could even call it that, Michael hadn’t really shown his face before noon and when he did, he was grumpy and irritable from the hangover. It was only ten o’clock now. 

Maria bit the bullet and pulled around to Michael’s Airstream. She didn’t have time to come back later and she needed the car fixed. Michael could suck it up.

“Hey,” Michael called from the shaded workstation on her right as she got out of the car. Maria stared at him in shock. He looked...good. He looked like he’d actually slept the night before and had maybe even had a shower in the last couple of days. Also, he was up and working. That was good. Miles better than he’d been weeks before. “What brings you here?”

Maria waved a hand at the truck. “It’s making noises.”

Michael glanced at whatever he’d been working on. “You in a rush or can it wait until I’m done with this?”

She was in a little bit of a rush. “It can wait.”

Michael nodded and gestured to his trailer and the seats arranged in front of it. “Make yourself comfortable.”

So she did. Maria sat down gingerly in one of the lawn chairs, cautious as always that it might fall apart beneath her before realizing that the chairs had been replaced. They weren’t new but they were sturdy. Maria took them in, surprised that Michael would notice or take the time to replace them with everything going on with him right now. 

She sat there for a little over half an hour before another car pulled up. It was Alex.

He got out of his car with a bag of groceries in his hand. “Hey,” he greeted somewhat cautiously.

“Hey,” Maria returned. They’d gotten better with each other but they weren’t anywhere close to what they’d been before. She was sure seeing her sitting outside of Michael’s home relatively early in the day was not something he expected, or wanted, to see. “My truck’s making noises and I’m waiting for him to take a look at it.”

Alex glanced at the truck in question and then beyond it to where Michael was working on his other project. “You been waiting long?”

Maria shrugged. “I’m sure it won’t be much longer.”

Alex nodded and walked past her to the Airstream. He pulled the door open without pause and disappeared inside. Maria waited a moment before giving into the curiosity and following him in.

“Wow,” Maria gaped. “It looks nice in here.” And it did. Everything was put away, the bed was made, and it looked like someone had given it a much needed, thorough deep clean. 

“Thanks,” Alex muttered as he shook his head at the empty refrigerator. He quickly put away the groceries he’d brought before he started rooting through the cabinets.

“You cleaned up?”

Alex hummed in response. “I left him laying out on the ground by the lawn chairs one night and didn’t want to leave in case something happened so I cleaned instead.” He cursed as he pulled down an unopened bottle of whiskey. It made a loud thunk as he set it on the counter.

“Well it looks like he’s kept it clean.”

Alex scoffed. “He made it a mess the next day so I sicced Isobel on him. Since then it hasn’t been too bad.” He pulled another bottle of whiskey from the little cabinet behind the bed and a large flask from inside the shower. She watched as he took another look through the small space before he slipped past her to leave, the flask and both bottles in his hands.

Outside, Alex twisted open the two new bottles and started pouring them out onto the dirt. He got halfway before Michael noticed.

“Goddammit Alex!” He yelled as he ran over. His steps stuttered when he saw Maria but he didn’t falter. Michael grabbed Alex’s hands to try and save some of his whiskey but Alex didn’t budge. He met Michael’s glare with a hard look and kicked over the opened flask sitting on the ground, a clear liquid that smelled almost like nail polish remover spilling out. “I’m going to the store after work! Stop!”

Alex shook the bottles to get the last dregs out. “You had time to go buy more booze. Should’ve gone to the store then.” He capped the bottles and tossed them in the trash bin by the fire. “Food’s in your fridge, Liz is expecting you for lunch, and Isobel needs your help with something at Max’s house.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and pressed it into Michael’s forehead. “Stop losing your fucking phone.”

Michael took his phone with a glare. “Aren’t you sick of this shit, yet?”

“I was sick of this shit the first fucking day.”

“Then leave! No one’s asking you to stay.” The words hung heavy in the air.

“I could do that,” Alex acknowledged. “But this has been so much fun I’ll just have to come back.” He glared at Michael. “Pony tonight?”

“Fuck you.”

“See you there then.” He nodded at Maria. “Maria.”

“Alex.”

Michael kicked the empty flask as Alex drove away.

“I don’t understand you two,” Maria admitted.

Michael laughed. “Join the club.”

---

It was three more months of Michael’s cycle of self destruction and he seemed to be getting better. Or at least, he was doing better at the Pony. Alex had broken up enough fights by now that most people didn’t bother rising to Michael’s bait and Michael had to be content with filling his time with flirting and anonymous sex. Of which he had a lot.

Maria had legitimately lost track of the number of times Michael had disappeared out the back door with someone only to reappear with his clothes and hair askew and a self assured smirk on his face. Alex was still there every night. And every single time Michael came back in he’d look straight at Alex.

“Alex,” Maria tried for the umpteenth time. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Alex sighed. He’d stopped getting angry around the twentieth time she’d brought it up. “But I can’t walk away again.”

“It’s not walking away and it’s not abandoning him if he’s pushing you away with two hands as hard as he can.” Maria itched to grab his hand but Alex was still reserved with her. “At some point, you’ve gotta let him go. He needs to be able to deal with his shit on his own, you can’t hold his hand the whole time.” Alex didn’t bother answering. “What about that guy you were seeing? With the hair?” 

Alex rolled his eyes. “What about him?”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“That depends on your definition of seeing him, I guess.” 

“You deserve to be happy, Alex.” Maria looked over at Michael. “And this? Whatever is going on with Guerin? It’s making you miserable.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matt-”

“I’m leaving Roswell,” Alex cut her off.

Maria stared at him. “What? Why?”

“New posting.”

“I thought you were getting out?”

“I re-upped,” Alex shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “I thought I’d get to stay in Roswell a while longer but I have to report to my new posting in three days.”

“Three days?!” Maria gasped. “How long have you been sitting on this?”

“Found out two days ago,” Alex shrugged. “They have an immediate need for a codebreaker and I’m the best one up for relocation so…”

Maria couldn’t help but look over at Michael. “Does he know?”

“No.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Yes. But let’s just say I’m not looking forward to that conversation.” Alex drained his beer.

“Alex, why would you re-up? I thought you were done with the Air Force?”

He shrugged again as he stood up. “What else would I do?”

“Alex-”

He reached across the bar and pulled her into a hug. “I’ve gotta leave early on Thursday and I have a lot of things to do tomorrow so I won’t get to see you before I go.” He tried to release her but Maria clung tighter. “I’ve got your number, Maria.”

“Use it,” she urged. “And don’t be a stranger. You’ve always got a home here, Alex. Don’t forget that.”

He gave her a sad smile as he pulled away. “Thank you.”

For the first time in months, Alex left the bar before Michael without ever talking to him. It took Michael ten minutes to notice and another five to follow, his latest catch abandoned without a thought. 

Alex left on Thursday. Maria didn’t get to see him go.

Michael left on Monday. Maria only realized he’d left when he posted a picture on his rarely used Instagram of the sign to Alex’s new base.

#malex fic #roswell fic #my fic #rnm #maria pov #i'm still generally meh about rnm right now #but i got the urge to write and i can't not write malex apparently

[blankdblank]

Logical Pt 2

She looked so beautiful with her hair splayed across the pillow her eyes closed, a happy sigh from her dream escaping her slightly opened lips...as well as some drool. The image was locked in the mind of the Elf King who had been among the group bidding you farewell that had caught sight of you asleep passing your room on the garden path this morning through the open window allowing the breeze in.

Three days of searching and getting to know you a bit and there was no pony to send you with as they had assumed your pony had been eaten by the spiders with only location of your lost pack near to where you were located. In a lightly armored Elven robe in deep grey with matching pants and long boots you adored on one of the guards in Rivendell, that Elrond so graciously gifted a set of, you were watched skipping down the path they set you upon to finish your task with your long braid swaying and bouncing behind you.

Off to serve an eviction notice was what your mission was, and alone for the stretch of the forest you followed the path hearing echoes of Elven guards from high branches above growing fainter and fainter the nearer the edge of the forest grew to you. Out into the open rocky plains you trekked hearing no one or nothing around in the moonlit night. Not resting for the night you eyed the mountain in the distance and kept sliding and climbing your way over the maze of harsh terrain to your goal.

Right at sunrise you stopped on the other side of the small bridge crossing the river rushing from underneath Erebor closer to Dale. Specks of embers from a recently put out fire and hushed echoes of commands given were the clues that the Company camping out in the ruined city had spotted you. Hunched over however into your bag you reached unaware of the fiery haired Elleth behind you inching nearer hoping to keep you from a fiery death after having followed you to ensure your safe arrival to your assumed destination of Laketown.

Rising up with trumpet in hand you straightened up wetting your lips. Though before she or the distant Dwarves or Elf Prince coming to find his friend on the edge of the forest could do a thing you let out the start of a wake up call that repeated three times over until a guttural purr was heard through the thick stony gates. Again you played the call then lowered your trumpet you set down on your bag pulling a bundle of folded parchment and a notepad and pen for beside the horn. Growling menacingly the Dragon stared you down baring his teeth only to pause at your foot tucking back for a curtsy to the creature with his head cocking slightly while the Dwarves huddled together in the shadow of a large ring of stones from the collapsed outer walls.

“Good Morning Smaug the Magnanimous, I do apologize for the hour of my call but my business is a matter of urgency and it is best for you to have time to prepare your legal defense.”

“Legal defense?” He asked joining his feet to sit down with his tail flicking around his body like a giant coiled cat in his glance from Tauriel a few yards behind you who bowed her head and tried to straighten up feigning a sense of calm as you had. “And just what court could hold authority over myself?”

A rapid set of giggles from you had his eyes back on you and his pupils focusing on your point at him, “Exactly what I said, Dragon, but, all the same the complaint was filed and the legal I’s must be dotted and every T crossed. So here I am to personally deliver your summons to court on the matter of your illegal eviction of the Longbeard clan and associated relatives and visiting guests and such some 170 years back. In the name of Thorin Oakenshield and the Durin clan you are being sued for the dominion of all properties associated to the rule of Erebor and for damages for said attack used in the fore mentioned illegal eviction to the value of your entire hoard.”

Lifting a foot he eyed the folded bit of parchment that you held out then rested on the ridge of his knuckles without a hint of hesitation. Again you giggled making his eyes snap back to you. “As I said, Dragon, however the papers have been served and you are aware of the charges filed against you now and arrival on the court date mentioned in the claim is entirely upon your decision to show or not, though I will ask one teeny favor, I was wondering if you would take part in a survey we have offered with our services?” His brow arched up and you giggled out excitedly, “The server who gets the most surveys submitted wins a fully paid trip anywhere they want.”

“I suppose,”

“Lovely, it’s just four questions.”

Tauriel behind you looked from you to the curious Dragon whose head tilted wondering what was going on and puzzling how to react. “If you were to smell something every time you or someone around you said the word turbulent what would it be?”

For a moment his scaly lips pursed and his eyes shifted distantly in thought then eased back to you in his response of, “A thunderstorm.”

“Lovely,” you muttered writing down the response making his head tilt again and Tauriel’s brow twitch at the odd question.

“If you had to hear ducks quacking once a day everyday when would you want that to be?” You asked grinning up at him.

“Two hours past noon, right in time for lunch.” He said with a proud smirk flashing his teeth in a spreading grin at his own joke as you giggled when you wrote it.

“If you could only taste one thing no matter what you ate, what would it be?”

“Hmm, I have heard cherries are quite rare in these lands of late. I would choose cherries none other can taste.”

“Fitting.” You said noting down his answer.

“If you could be turned into a group of any animal which would it be?”

“Crane.”

“Very bold voice sir, and might I say thank you for being so amenable to the process, you have no idea what sort of unruly-ness I run into with this task.” Clasping the book shut his eyes followed that hand dropping to your side missing your reach back to the belt around your waist you drew your wand from its hidden sheath inside the fan you tucked there you swished his way turning him into a sea of brilliantly white cranes that took off in a confused frenzy.

You bend to add the book, pen and trumpet in your pack that you lifted then turned to the Company waving your hand keeping your wand in hand to light up the mountain

“You are a Wizard! You told us you were no Wizard!” Thorin barked at you.

“No, you asked me if my stories were Witchcraft. Which they aren’t. You never asked if I was a Wizard.”

He blinked at you reigning in his urge to argue against the true fact that none of them had outright asked you that.

“What did you say to him to keep him from eating you?” Ori asked with pad and pencil in had making you smirk.

Flicking your wand to the dropped bundle of parchment you floated over to Thorin you said, “I informed him that he was being served with an eviction notice and that his dominion over Erebor and its associated lands and hoard were to be confiscated for his illegal means of evicting you and your kin.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed, “Eviction?! You actually gave a Dragon eviction papers?”

You nodded, “I asked you if you wished for me to serve him eviction papers if you remember, back a month before we found that Troll hoard.”

“I never imagined you actually would go through with it! What is a bit of paper to a Dragon?!”

“No one is above the law.” You replied then turned in the dropping of his jaw to grin at Tauriel asking, “Are you alright? I suppose that was a bit frightening for you, I had no idea you were behind me or I would have warned you.”

She shook her head then glanced to the Dwarves stating, “No. Our King was curious to know if you would be able to safely find your destination.” Your grin eased out and she bowed her head, “Seeing as you have I shall return and inform the King.”

“Alright, safe travels.” She bowed her head again and turning to glance at the men you flashed them a grin on their continued frozen stance for a few moments until Fili led the group into a crashing hug around you thanking you for your aid with the dragon.

@sdavid09​

x Thorin – @evyiione​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor

#Tale Teller’s 52 Week Writing Challenge #Thorin #Thranduil #Tauriel #Legolas #Hobbit #lotr