#because AO3 is already there

[dear-ao3]

i think the japan update of the f1 silly season post may in fact be the thing that kills me. this is all for you all.

#im quietly loosing my sanity #i think ive been writing this since a very solid 4pm and it is now 9 #the race has not happened yet #it is on sunday #today is thursday #the post is already too long #and i accidentally got stuck down a nico rosberg youtube rabbit hole and had to go on lestappen ao3 #this is what i get for not writing the whole thing in a mad dash at 2am #not a tag #from saph #f1 #im loosing my sanity so much that my brain registered disturbia by rihanna as by brittney spears #tho maybe thats because i got stuck down the nico rosberg rabbit hole #katya said i need to go touch grass and hes probably right

[hardly-an-escape]

Stormy Weather, or: Outside, the Wind (Inside, the Light) | Dream/Hob | 1600 words | Rated T

tags: I recently spent an evening without power therefore I must put the blorbos in a Situation, love confessions, first kiss, getting together, power outages, Hob Gadling throughout history, gratuitious use of mildly accurate Middle English

The wind tears around London like a living thing, a wild animal, a predator, intent on the hunt. It chases birds into their nests and people into their homes, moans around corners and rattles shutters, sending piles of leaves whirling into miniature hurricanes and whipping branches into a frenzy, sharpening its claws on roof tiles and telephone poles.

Except in Hob Gadling’s flat.

The New Inn, and the cozy home above it, is in one of those old buildings that’s actually been loved and maintained – thanks in no small part to Hob’s own care and attention. The walls are thick and strong, the roof is solid. The shutters may rattle, but the windows are double-pane; the curtains and carpets are warm and soft, and no drafts encroach on the sanctity of his living room, where Hob and Lord Morpheus, King of Dreams, are having a movie night.

It’s part of Hob’s concerted effort to introduce the Prince of Stories to the stories he’d missed during his imprisonment. Tonight it’s Blade Runner – the final cut, of course – which isn’t necessarily one of Hob’s personal favorites, but seemed to fit the stormy, rainy vibes of the weather. They’re installed on the couch, with hot chocolate and wine and snacks, which Dream has deigned to pick at. Harrison Ford is eating noodles and wandering through wet, moodily-lit streets. The wind is howling outside, but they’re safe and warm and surrounded by soft things and life is about as good, Hob thinks, as it ever gets these days.

And then his lights flicker. Once, twice; there is the impression of a sort of electrical last gasp, and the room is plunged into darkness.

The wind whips and the shutters rattle. A volley of rain spits itself against the windows.

“Bugger,” says Hob.

Dream says nothing, merely brings his wineglass – which had already been cradled in one elegant hand – to his lips.

“Hang on,” says Hob. “I’ve got some candles around here somewhere.”

He gropes his way to the kitchen. In one drawer he unearths some beeswax tapers and several tea lights, which he arranges on a plate. He rummages in one of the deeper cabinets and makes a triumphant noise as he discovers his prize behind disused mugs and a fondue set from the 1980s: a pair of old-fashioned brass candlesticks equipped with round reflectors, highly polished to catch the light and bounce it back out into the darkness.

“You are remarkably well-prepared for an event such as this,” says Dream, as Hob lights his various prizes and returns to the living room with his hands full of flickering flames.

“Well, you know,” Hob demurs. “When it comes down to it, I’ve lived a lot more of my life without electricity than with it.” He arranges the tea lights on the coffee table and sets the brass candlesticks on a nearby bookshelf. “You never really get out of the habit of preparing for the worst. Although I will say, these beeswax ones beat the hell out of the old tallow jobbies we had when I was young. Got ‘em from a local bloke who keeps bees not half a mile away, isn’t that cool? A beekeeper in the middle of London. There, now,” he says, and having arranged the lights to his satisfaction he plops himself back down on the sofa.

Outside, the wind wails. The lack of lamps on the empty street below and the gentle candlelight within make the night seem even darker, and turn Hob’s living room into something even softer and cozier than it already is.

Dream’s face, in the flickering candles, seems even more otherworldly than usual; and Hob, for his part, truly looks as though he belongs in another century. The very shape of his face has changed, somehow, into something older; taking on a new appearance in the candlelight the way a man’s tongue might curl differently around the syllables of another language.

“I miss it, sometimes,” he says lowly. “This kind of world. Before the wires and the phones and the cars. It was… quieter.”

“You speak often of your delight in change and progress. Do you truly long for your past lives?” asks Dream.

“Yes and no,” answers Hob. “Some things are better now, no question. Antibiotics, wouldn’t want to live without those again. Vaccines and X-rays and chemotherapy and antidepressants – almost all the medical stuff. Mass transportation. Cars and planes have never been safer. Honestly, I’ve never understood the people who moan about the olden days and oh, life was simpler back then. Don’t they know how many people died? How many kids? Because they caught a cold or fell out of a tree or had a case of the runs that lasted a little too long?”

He leans forward to adjust one of the candles, which is dripping unevenly, and when he sags back into the couch there is just the hint of a frown between his strong brows.

“And yet…” he says, staring into the flames, voice quiet. “Nights like this. I do sometimes think…”

Hob trails off for a long moment.

“There was a rhythm to life, back then,” he says finally. “You counted hours by the church bells and days by the tasks that needed done. And there was so much that needed to be done… cows milked and fields planted and clothes knitted or mended. And it was all so important, so… necessary. Regimented. But in the in between time – Christ! your time wast thine.” As he speaks, his voice has slipped into an older register: his Rs grown rounder, his vowels longer, curling from his mouth to mingle with the candlesmoke hovering over his coffee table. “I remember fair hours as a lad, even into my manhood, of which I spent lyende in th’ fields, watching ants in th’ grass. And later, too, we’d hie us to bed with the sonne, the fire banked in the hearth. An’ it happen that if we awakened before dawn, ’twas a simple thing to pass the time in simple ways, be it in prayer or in pleasure…”

The innuendo in his words is clear, but Hob is not looking at Dream; his eyes are unfocused as he stares into the middle distance, revisiting the past via candlelight. Until one of the wicks lets out a small pop, and flares, and he shakes himself, coming back to the present.

“God, sorry,” he says, voice back in the 21st century. “Woolgathering. I’ll go on for an age, me. More wine?”

But Dream’s eyes have also gone unfocused, his lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling with unnecessary breaths as he stares – no, gazes – at Hob. He, too, must shake himself into the present moment at Hob’s offer of more wine. He silently holds out his glass.

“May I ask you a personal question?” Dream says.

“Anything. You know that.”

Dream pauses. Sips. Outside, the sound of the wind has not abated; has grown, if anything, even more dramatic. There is the muffled sound of branches scraping against the side of the building.

“Why,” asks Dream finally, “do you pretend to yourself that you do not want me?”

Hob chokes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Why do you pretend thus to me?” Dream pursues. “Who has known you longer than any being on this planet or any other; who can know your innermost dreams?”

“What do you mean, other planets?” Hob demands. And then: “Have you been peeking at my dreams?”

“I need not peek, as you put it, to see the truth of the matter. It is writ plain on your face and in your every word and deed. I merely wonder why this truth has hovered before us for over six hundred years and you have yet to press your suit. Do you doubt, after all this time, my affection for you? Do you find me – unworthy?”

Dream sounds, impossibly, almost uncertain. Even vulnerable. Hob sighs heavily and leans forward, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

“I – God. Dream,” he stammers. “Yes, Christ, I am full of doubts. You stormed away from me when I implied you might be lonely, I… I have never, once, thought I had a suit to press at all. What on earth has brought this on? Now, of all times?”

“I do not know,” Dream murmurs. “Perhaps… this darkness is working on me, as well. Perhaps I am as susceptible to candlelight and nostalgia as the next anthropomorphic personification.”

He smiles, a little quirk of the mouth that contains worlds, and Hob leans over, listing helplessly into Dream’s space as the tapers flicker.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pressing their foreheads together, turning his head to butt his cheekbone against the sharp line of Dream’s nose. “Art thou rēal? Speak you treue?”

“Aye, my Hob,” answers Dream. “Min herte is treue and bilongeth to you.”

A sob catches in the back of Hob’s throat at the words. “Fuck,” he whispers again, “Dream, I’m yours. I am. I always have been. My Dream, min sweven, my leof. Alwei, allesweis…”

Their mouths find each other, then, finally, lip against lip and breath against breath. They kiss for a long, long moment, desperate and hungry and soft all at once, as outside the wind howls coldly around the corners of the New Inn, and inside the light cast by Hob’s candles bathes their whole little world in a cozy glow.

“Take me to bed,” murmurs Dream against Hob’s mouth. “Make me your lover. Show me how you pass the time by candlelight, and in darkness.”

“Oh, darling. Dearheart,” Hob answers. “Nothing in this world or any world past could make me happier.”

And he suits his actions to his words.

#my writing #the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #a needlessly complicated title for a truly simple little fic #I've already written this basic premise so many times AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN #the archaic English Hob uses in this fic is based on the most cursory googling #just tell yourself it's all over the place because historically English is.... all over the place #my unpopular opinion is that I think Blade Runner is overrated and yes I will project my opinions onto fictional characters #as usual this started in one place and went in another direction entirely #may post on AO3 tomorrow if the spirit so moves me

[theorderofthetriad]

sucks that we're having regressive arguments about the direction of ao3 like "should we ban some content" and not forward thinking discussions like "we should get the ability to search or exclude all ship tags with a certain character name in it"

EDIT: 0kay, new discussion!

"there are a lot of elements of ao3 that people do not know about as they are not immediately obvious, or in fact require information that is not readily available. so it's kinda douchey when someone says 'i wish ao3 had this' to then respond 'well ao3 DOES have this!' without actually bothering to tell the person how to do it."

No thanks to literally anyone who made this sort of comment. Actual thanks go to @batcavescolony for explaining it in the replies like a decent person.

#maybe im biased in wanting this because im sick of having to scroll past x/reader fics when i already excluded the character tag 'reader' #ao3 should be surfing the chromium lined path to the future! instead we are being pulled off the road into a ditch by shadows of the past #i've already given good reasons not to ban content but also another one is because ao3 will waste resources FAILING to enforce such a ban #the ao3 people should be focusing on making the site better and content bans distract from that #ao3

[scificrows]

The feed ID doesn’t need to say anything other than what everyone else’s says, just name, gender, and…” She trailed off. She was looking at me and I was looking at her. - Martha Wells, Fugitive Telemetry (The Murderbot art I used is the official cover art from the French edition of ASR)

#murderbot #the murderbot diaries #yeah i'm playing around with the murderbot cover art again :) #this murderbot is from the french edition of ASR! i think it's one of my favorite cover armor designs! i love that spine #i only wanted to make a cute pink aesthetically pleasing edit with murderbot's feed id but then i was thinking #about how murderbot's feed ID is super minimalistic and doesn't tell people anything about it really #(and how it actually would have preferred a null feed ID??? #remember?? 'here on preservation it meant 'please don’t interact with me.' it was perfect' sgdhhjsgdjhsd ily murderbot) #vs. what i can only imagine is going in murderbot's private feed gsdhjgsdhfg #idk. i might be projecting but mb seems like a 254 tabs open at all times kinda person to me #also idk this seems kinda analogous to #mb opaquing its helmet in ASR vs. all the emotions and expressions that are happening underneath the helmet :) #(oh and this is not really how i envision the feed it's more of a visualization of how i imagine the feed works) #(and stylized in a way that was easiest for me to edit together sdhfgjhfg) #(also i KNOW that they don't have ao3 and youtube and spotify and wikihow etc etc but. i was having fun with this okay) #(and this already took an embarrassingly long time to put together as it is without me trying to design new forms of media welp) #ANYWAYS #more pink murderbot aesthetics from me because i'm a simple creature and pink is fun #𓄿

[diurnalvl]

go read the "issues of control" series by erin_kate on ao3, in which vox models for velvette (along with everything else)

#hazbin hotel vox #hh #vox #hazbin hotel #diurna draws #pleaseee someone yap to me about hazbin hotel i need a buddy #IM ETERNALMAWISH RN ON AO3 YOULL SEE ME COMMENTING ON EVERY VOX FIC </3 #i didn't have to bastardize vogue's name because it already starts with v

[ywpd-translations]

We need more engagement in this fandom!

So, as the title says, because I was thinking about this - I love this manga with all my heart as you very well know, and the main reason I started translating is because I wanted more engagement in the fandom, which was pretty much dead. Well, it still kind of is, which brings me here lol

I tried to keep this blog translations only to keep everything more in order and make it easy to find the various chapters and all, and I kept all my theories and ramblings either in the tags or on my main blog, except for the times I got asks.

But I would love for this fandom to be more active! I wanna talk about theories and headcanons and ships and all that! I want this fandom to start living again :')

So I was wondering - would you people like it if I started also posting about that kind of stuff? Reblogging fanarts, posts, fanfics or whatever I see around? Would you like to engage more in the fandom? I'm asking because: 1) maybe you'd prefer it if this blog stays translations only, kinda like an archive; 2) maybe there aren't many people who actually wants to engage in fandom activities anyway lmao

I'm asking honestly! I just really would love for this fandom to be active again :')

#dunno how to tag it #i know this is my blog and i can do whatever i want with it #but also i already do that on my main blog #so if i were to doit here it would be because i want to engage with people #and i would love to see people talking about stuff and making theories and talking ships and headcanons and whatever #since i think here on tumblr this blog is kind of the centre of the fandom #i could also use it to promote fanarts and stuff i see around #and i think people tend to not create fandom content when they know not many people will engage with it #i'll be honest this came to me bc i was thinking about my own fanfictions ahgdkhsgd sorry #more precisely i started thinking about it bc im writing a fic about a ship i know no one will engage with on ao3! #but yeah anyway lmao #if you ppl prefers this to be just a translations archive then thats okay!

[regulusrules]

Ranking the best 10 Merlin episodes + a fic rec based on each one:

(absolutely not based on how gay they were) ((no order for the eps; they're all chef's kiss)) (((last two fics have a hold on me that levels the show itself; worth scrolling for)))

1. The Poisoned Chalice

Look. There is something just absolutely entrancing about introducing this episode in the first five of the entire show. Like, this hands-on was the sole reason everyone fell for those two idiots. It beautifully captured how the saving each other thing is reciprocal, because the first three episodes you just have to watch Merlin run around saving Arthur, never the reverse. Producing it early on in the show was the decision that, in my opinion, held everyone in their chokehold for eternity.

Fic rec: you are my favorite mistake (it can only be fate) by @multifandom-jess.

2. The Death Song of Uther Pendragon

I could go on and on for how this episode singlehandedly carried s5 on its shoulder. Like, okay I unfortunately love s5 with all my fucking heart, but this episode was perfect. Ghosts? Check. Banter? Check. POETRY?? Check check. A slap to Uther's face? Oh how beautifully checked.

It's so easy to recall how Arthur truly loved his father, but in this episode, the turmoil you see in his eyes from the actions of his father and how he resorts to saving the ones he loves (Merlin) over his father, is just too beautiful to be overlooked. Ever since Arthur became king, we see him struggle from his father's legacy. But in this episode, he begins to detach both consciously and subconsciously from him. Whether it's in his decision to save the old sorceress in the beginning, or to shun Uther's ghost, both the literal and the figurative, from his life any longer. This was one of the episodes that captured the true essence of King Arthur.

+1: the innuendos of this episode were 🤌. They knew what they were doing, you can't convince me otherwise. (are you threatening me with a spoon? / I'm teaching him some poetry.. he can't get enough of it! / what was that? h-horseplay. why don't I show you?)

Fic rec: My heart is readily yours by @regulusrules. (absolutely love how after all this introspection, i decided to throw it all away and made uther stab merlin in the fucking heart instead. but still it was my honourable attempt to shit on the finale and give them the happy ending everyone deserved).

3. The Sword in the Stone pt. 2

OKAY. This episode! Aside from how badass Merlin was in both pt.1&2, but here, especially in the part where us audience were impatiently waiting for the revival of the sword in the stone, there could've been nothing more perfect. Just like their adaptation of the round table scene, this was perfect in its own way for how different it was. They didn't make it so that people will finally find a king; they made it so that the people believe in their king. And more than that, for Arthur to believe in himself. With the estrangement and losing his crown, the writers gave him the best way to re-establish his inner glory. And Merlin being this guide; what more perfect culmination to their relationship?

You have to believe, Arthur.

Iconic.

Fic rec: Couldn't choose between Only Friend by @captain-ozone, and Fathom Me Out by @supercalvin. Brilliance ahead in both of them, I tell you.

4. The Eye of the Phoenix

Magic. Gwaine. Quests. Need I say more to explain that this was the show's holy trinity?

Fic rec: From Past to Present by flowersheep. (Prince Merlin. Archer Merlin. Perfection my friends).

5. A Servant of Two Masters

Look look; if there's an honourary wall of opinions for all the people who've watched Merlin, I DARE you to find just one who disliked this episode. Like, the series was so full of BS sometimes, but this episode was above all. The level of brilliance in this episode; showing Dark!Merlin, who's at the same time hilariously funny, and seeing him BAMF his way with Morgana, even when he's chained and tortured.. oh dear holy Lord. His "do me a favour, could you? let Arthur know." was able to steal all breath from my lungs the first time I saw it (and until now).

And don't get me started on the Protective!Arthur we got. Caring for Merlin, screaming for him when the rocks fell between them, silencing Agravaine immediately when he told him he's sorry for losing such a loyal servant because bullshit if he doesn't reign down hell before he loses Merlin. And ofc, Courage and Strength on their way to find Magic, which just filled my heart with an 'aaahhh!' moment, because we didn't get enough Gwaine-Arthur-Merlin shenanigans. And at last, the Hug™. Fucking screamed let me tell you.

It is an episode that truly showed everything; from comic elements to fluff and angst and everything. The only thing it lacked was, as always, giving Arthur the space to know. Because ffs what would they have lost if they made Arthur understand that Merlin's under Morgana's control? It wouldn't have exposed shit. It would've just been a plus to us to see Arthur caring for Merlin even more. They tried so hard that it completely backfired sometimes.

Fic rec: Still I Surface in Morning Light by @queerofthedagger. (I swear to you, anything written by this author, I readily throw whatever in hand to read it).

6. The Dragon's Call

Let thy gif caption speak.

No but really, that first episode was the stuff of legends. I could list down tens of tropes they did in just that episode alone. Honestly, no "family" show I've ever seen had started this powerfully. Just the music alone, the beauty of beginnings, not the CGI, was truly so gripping. Also bonus points for just Colin Morgan's sass abilities. None can compare.

Fic rec: This Time Around... series (incomplete) by Oneiric (lkdaswani). (this is a time travel AU, but the way the writer rewrote this episode was one of the best deviations I've read for an episode I already find near faultless).

7. The Sins of the Father

I might be subjecting myself to true wrath with my upcoming statement, but here we go:

S2 sucked.

From the beginning of the season, Arthur's shift in characterization from the honourable lovable prat of s1 to a letting Merlin act as a horse stool got me going wtf? It was like they deliberately ruined everything in their relationship and started out fresh just to force the Arthurian narrative of Arwen. And it's fine by me, truly, even if I'll never ship them, but they could've developed Arthur's character SO MUCH in that season beyond comic relief and romantic rendezvous.

Anyway so that I don't stray so much from the topic; this episode was, by fair comparison, the best in the entire season. By now it's pretty obvious that I gravitate towards all the episodes that give Arthur a semblance of agency. Him going against Uther and his maniac murderous agenda was the start of actually seeing King Arthur in front of us. Also, him listening to Merlin when he was on the verge of committing patricide was one of the things that gave me hope in how there's still hope in them. Even if they ruined it with making Merlin lie to Arthur, but the writers practically ruined every good episode with this.

+1: Morgause's intro was badass.

Fic rec: The Sins of the Father (and how to right them) by @cupcakezys. (what we deserved. to see arthur with agency, with an ability to decide for his future without being lied and deceived to).

8. Diamond of the Fucking Day

No matter how much I hate this episode, I can't, in good conscience, deny its hold on my heart. As I wrote before, there could've been no better magic reveal than this. And for all of my bitterness over their decision to kill Arthur, I sanely admit how it was a decision that insured the immortality of this fandom. It's been ten years since that episode aired, and I bet my ass off that it will still feel the same even after countless more decades.

Fic rec: literally the entirety of the fandom's fix-it fics. We all started from there, didn't we? Choosing only one would be so undervaluing to all the brilliance I've seen. However, my tags filter for it usually include: fix-it, angst with a happy ending, court sorcerer merlin, shitting on bbc writers 101, canon era, not canon compliant, everybody lives especially king arthur you mfs.

9. The Wicked Day

Throw me from the highest tower there is because every time I remember this scene, I just want to fade into the light. The sheer level of love and understanding shimmering between those two. Sometimes I marvel at the choice of bringing Colin and Bradley together, because no two could have achieved such chemistry, platonic or not, as those two did. This whole episode of showing Arthur's grief, and Merlin's desperation to heal it, was truly unforgettable. I try not to linger on its ending, Arthur denouncing magic for the millionth of time, but other than that it was a gem served to us on a silver platter.

Also seeing Uther finally die was a plus.

Fic rec: As much as I'd love to recommend my own fic for this, but honestly, whenever I get the chance, I will always take it to scream and wail about one of my absolute favourite fics of all time, which really isn't given ANY of the goddamn credit or attention or kudos it deserves. Beauty in the Ashes of Our Lives by Fulgance. I swear to you, you will never read something as beautifully heartbreaking as this. This fic resides in my mind rent-free. Basically any work by Fulgance is amazing, but this fic— oh God, my heart cannot take it sometimes.

10. Arthur's Bane pt. 1

Fuck, that episode was a masterpiece. You know, if it was all in my hands, I would've magic revealed at this particular episode. It was just.. the perfect opportunity. King Arthur in his glory, beginning of the season, enough time for Arthur to fully understand the depth of what Merlin did for him. Also, the range Arthur was given starting from here; God it's what we deserved. I always blame the writers for being inconsistent with his characterization (s2 and all), but they beautifully crafted it in the end, and it was their perfect chance to even explore the whole extent if only they made the magic reveal earlier.

Fic rec: Our broken pieces by @aramblingjay. Okay so this fic rec isn't necessarily linked at all to the episode, but I can't, in good conscience, recommend fics and not include it. Technically context wise it fits s5, for in it you see Arthur in his grandeur as king. This shall be my only exception because it's the only fic that was able to make me cry. Truly, I never shed tears, but in this, my heart stuttered. The fact that it is so unnoticed makes my blood boil because of how much praise it deserves. I can never recommend it enough.

To conclude, BBC Merlin has a powerful hold on everyone because of the fact that they knew how to eternalise it. It is significantly unique in its interpretation of legendary figures. I think I watched nearly all adaptations of King Arthur throughout the years, but even with how great some really are, to me none compare with this sword-swishing, banter-driven, CGI-messing, emotionally-killing 2008 show.

Honorary mentions:

| The Labyrinth of Gedref | Gwaine | Le Morte D'Arthur | Lancelot | The Coming of Arthur | The Moment of Truth | The Hunter's Heart | His Father's Son | The Darkest Hour |

[Short fic recs]

[Long fic recs]

#merlin #welcome to a long ass critical appreciation for my favourite show in the world #with fic recs because writers deserve longlasting fame too #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #ao3 #merthur #merlin x arthur #king arthur #merlin fic #did I say that I love these fics so much already? #merlin fic writers are a godsend #regulusrules metas #regulusrules recs

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

and this is why you don´t befriend lonely Dragons

Magic shenanigans and weird Fae things and suddenly the Magicless prefect of Ramshackle is the parent to a (maybe) Half Human Half Dragon Fae

this got 1157 words

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

what do you think is the worst thing that could ever happen when you have a sleepover with one of your buddies? they puke in your bed? they literally kick you out of your bed? the worst of all they steal your blankets? well how about this a surprise parenthood where your Dragon Fae friend, who might have some feelings that go way past just friendly for you, without even knowing it himself magicked an egg into existence where a Dragon Fae will hatch from

yeah this will be one awkward wake up call especially when it was actually Grim who woke you both up

“YUUU! why are you and Hornton sleeping with food!? come on throw it in the pan we can eat from this for months!” the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Grim standing on your chest, which is odd because usually you wake up to him constantly kicking you in the face because he´s dreaming of food... wait did he just say both of you are sleeping with food?

“Grim?” you rubbed your eyes “what the fuck are you talking about? I made sure there weren´t any chips bag on my bed, do you remember last time Ace and Deuce were staying here and we forgot one?” Grim just grinned “yeah you had some serious cleaning to do” he smiled and opened his arms “didn´t you notice the giant egg Hornton is cradling? we can eat for who knows how long from it!” you still weren´t awake enough to completely understand what Grim was saying “Grim why would Malleus hold an egg? We don-” when you were at least awake enough to fully comprehend what is around you, you nearly jumped out of the bed not only is Malleus still disregarding any personal space you could ever have he was holding a black egg with protrusions that resemble scales and a pattern at the top that almost looks like it could be a bow, it actually looks a lot like the one you use for your school uniform, but now is not them time to admire pretty and suspiciously familiar patterns on an egg! you carefully moved Grim of off your chest and shook Malleus awake

“Malleus! hey Malleus!! wake up we have a serious panic moment on our hands!!!” but he didn´t budge even a little bit, he is once again so deep in dream land that he doesn´t even know what is happening around him, even Grim is trying to wake him up but for completely different reasons “Hornton! wake up I´m hungry! let go of that egg, me getting breakfast is a lot more important than your dreams!” of course Grim is only thinking about food but if neither of you can wake him than you have to use your ultimate weapon, the only sentence that could even make him come back from the dead “Malleus wake up Ramshackle is burning and the Gargoyles are falling!” this made him jump up as if he just got hit by lightning

“not the Gargoyles, take Grim but not them!” this caused Grim to cross his little arms “wow Hornton glad to see were I stand” if this wasn´t a highly serious moment you would have gladly died from laughter but no time for fun only for him hopefully telling you what you think is happening is wrong

“Malleus how are the Dragon Fae reproducing and can it just happen completely asexually” Malleus blinked, it seems like he will also need some time to fully comprehend how serious this situation is and what just happened while both of them were sleeping “I think so? I mean on very rare occasion a Dragon Fae can be born if only one parent has strong feelings for the other, but why are you asking this now?” you don´t know how he doesn´t notice that he has been cradling an egg the entire time but there seems to be still some wonders left in Twisted Wonderland though some are betters than others, mainly those that don´t involve random parenthood because one of your friends has a crush on you

“Malleus… would you do me a favor and look down” he was confused but did what you told him and… “why do you want me t- where did this come from?” he was… eerily calm actually, you expected some more surprise and maybe even some fire but not just him being as cool as cool can be and even having the gal to ask you that, as if you aren´t as if not more confused than him

“you tell me because there is only one of use who could do this” it seemed he had to think about it for a moment “it seems we are now parents Yuu” yeah actually he might be more freaked out than you thought because he´s been far to calm this entire time, maybe you should get Lilia involved in this “alright Malleus do me a favor and one take a deep breath” you saw him do this one immediately “and two keep Grim away form the maybe Dragon egg because he already said he wants to eat it” and now he was glaring at the poor monster, you almost felt bad about leaving Grim alone with Malleus but if he needs help he can always call the for the Ghosts or see if he can out run Malleus

you didn´t ponder on it longer than you had to and hurried to the downstairs phone and quickly punched in one of your emergency contacts, which included Lilia and it didn´t took long before he picked up

“Lilia Vanrouge speaking if you are here to accuse me of war crimes it´s not Lilia Vanrouge speaking”

“very funny Lilia quick question is Malleus an old enough Dragon to be able to reproduce?” you couldn´t hear anything on the other side, even Lilia stopped breathing but then he got loud, really loud but at least he dropped the speaker but at least you could hear some of what he was screaming about and he sounded giddy at least “SILVER! SEBEK! I`M GOING OUT AND DON`T WAIT FOR ME SOMETHING REALLY IMPORTANT HAPPENED!!!” yeah really giddy but you know both of you will be in for one Hell of a scolding when Lilia get´s over here, so maybe you should make sure Malleus didn´t kill Grim for getting to close to his (both of yours?) egg

as it turns out you didn´t need to because, yes he does want to murder Grim for it and Grim just jumped directly in your face

“YUU! wants to kill me!”

“he still wants to eat our child!”

“not true!”

“you said it multiple times”

well… at least nobody can say you don´t have experience with looking after literal infants, still calmer now than it will be when Lilia get´s a hold of both of you

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malleus during the entirety of the fic on the inside: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Malleus during the entirety of the fic on the outside: oh bother...

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst yuu #twst grim #welp have fun Tumblr because Ao3 already got to enjoy this and seems to love it

[daily-hanamura]

#p4 #persona 4 #hanamura yosuke #yosuke hanamura #persona 4 manga #guys i dont know how to say this but i think hanamura yosuke from hit video game persona 4 might be a shoujo lead #ok but seriously THIS SCENE IN THE MANGA??? #is such a shoujo manga character intro #the clutzy opening. the running to school with a slice of toast in mouth kind of vibe. #substitute that uwaaaah for kyaaaah #and the trashcan for idk slipping on the side of the road or whatever shoujo leads dont normally fall into trashcans #unless youre yosuke #drives me insane because this is the official p4 manga so even though souji is the protagonist. yosuke suddenly has a pov intro #AFTER HES ALREADY INTRODUCED HIMSELF #anyway idk man im just saying. have you guys read the ao3 piece about how yosuke is actually a classic love interest because you should #he's good with his queue

[ender1821]

Wrote a little thing following Pearl’s episode 2 of Secret Life :)

— — —

Being a morning person isn’t all sunshine and rainbows every day. Nope, it’s not great when you’re in a sleepover and are now awake while sandwiched between your friends.

That’s where Gem finds herself after a night at Pearl’s…mound…hut…thing? She woke up at her usual time, only to be trapped under someone’s arm. She shifts carefully to wriggle out without waking up anyone else, but during the endeavour, she catches a glimpse of another figure sat upright.

“Having some trouble, Gem?” She hears Pearl ask teasingly, a smirk undoubtedly on her face.

Gem is finally freed of Cleo’s arm on top of her, and she pouts. “Go back to sleep.”

“Bold of you to assume I was asleep to begin with.”

“Pearlescentmoon.”

“I’m kidding! I did sleep, I’ll have you know. I did sleep.” Pearl sniffles.

Gem’s gaze turns fully towards Pearl, her vision adjusting to the dim room. As it clears, she sees Pearl’s eyes glimmer in the dark. Her face is slightly damp, Gem notices.

“Pearl?” Gem sits up and scoots closer. “Are you okay?”

“Never been better.” Pearl wipes away the tears formed. “I just— Um, I dunno…”

Pearl swallows what’s been building up in her throat, running her hand through the fur of Mailbox. “I didn’t think this would happen— It’s different.”

Gem glances at Pearl’s fidgeting with the yellow dog collar. It stops, leading Gem to observe Pearl’s distant stare at the pile of resting players in her home.

There’s only been a few times where Pearl’s eyes were that unfocused, swallowed up in a whirlwind of thoughts. One of those instances, there was a similar yellow collar in her frostbitten hand.

Something in Gem pushes her to reach for her friend. She won’t notice it at the moment, but the same reassurance she murmured that night leaves her mouth now,

“You’re not there anymore.”

Pearl looks up, then blinks. “Y’know, I might actually start believing that now.”

The corners of Pearl’s lips twitch upwards, the infectious smile finding its way to Gem as well.

“Fancy a walk outside?” Pearl eventually suggests. “Wouldn’t want to wake the others up.”

The fresh air on the other side of the walls do sound appealing, especially after a night inside a pretty cramped and stuffy room.

“Yeah.” Gem stretches her arms. “Yeah, that’s for the best.”

Sneaking past the others, the two step outside to be greeted by a warm sunrise.

(Pearl’s fingers brushes past Gem’s palm. The heat lingers.)

#ender writes #mcyt fanfiction #trafficblr #pearlescentmoon #geminitay #secret life smp #shiny duo #(did this have to be with shiny duo? no but I NEEDED it emotionally) #(this is me manifesting more shiny duo interactions…I already do that daily but yknow) #this was written in like 30 minutes just because of a small burst of motivation #I do have small fic ideas for secret life but not long ones #if I do continue writing these little ones I might compile them on ao3 #even if I don’t ramble about it assume I’m still not over Pearl leaving her tower :)/j #shinyduo #mcyt

[shhh-secret-time]

Yeah so this is in fact going to be a two part fic! This request came from AO3 and we were able to hash out more on this fic! I pitched the idea of making it a cowboy AU and they seemed to really like that idea! So here we are! Please enjoy and look forward to part 2!

Warning: Strong-Language, Gun Violence, Blood (Minor), Writer doesn't know how guns work!

Pairing: Gunslinger!Kyle x Fem!Reader

Colorado was an untamed lawless wasteland, at least that's what most people out East would tell you. Between talks of untapped land and the rumors of gold mines out that way, people were scrambling to find out there. But not all men had fortune and discovery in their hearts. Some had things to hide, pasts they intend to bury deep in the desert sands.

You were one of those people. As an heir to your family's printing press, it was only natural that from the time you were born a target would be painted on your back. Distant family members, friends of the family, hell even the butler once thought if they got their hands on you, they could use you as leverage. Kidnapping, attempted murder, blackmail, and threats all before the age of sixteen. You'd seen and heard it all. And every time it got harder and harder to want to stick around.

Now here you were twenty something and unwed. Parents long buried having left you everything as they always said they would. You were alone with all the money one person could ever need, and it was so incredibly lonely.

After a while you just kind of became desensitized to the attempt at your life. But no one really gets used to being so alone. How were you supposed to make a connection with people, when all that ever came up was the talk of marriage or your money.

Truly you were grateful for your parents, and you did love them! After all they were good to you, they protected and loved you. That protection morphed and twisted into an overbearing relationship. Up until now you weren't allowed to go out on your own, they decided who you interacted with. Your tutor you had known for years had to go through a background check by the Pinkertons every few months just to remain employed.

So, again, when they passed it was like being thrown out into the ocean and told to swim. If the business was to stay afloat you would have to learn to be sociable and professional. Learn to swim in the shark infested waters of a male dominated field.

Or you could sell the company to the highest bidder and bounce. Which is what you decided to do. Auction out your family’s printing company and try to retire in the lap of luxury. Maybe start your own book using all that tutoring your parents got you.

But it could never be that easy, could it? Once word got out about your plans to sell it all, certain people started plotting against you. It all came ahead one night when you were getting ready for bed. You blew out the candles that kept your bedroom lit, closed your windows, and locked your doors. Double checked them a few times before finally deciding to lay your head down for the night.

A lot of good that did. As soon as you close your eyes, a gloved hand cups your mouth. Another pair goes for your arms and legs, you feel the coarse hemp rope across your skin. Another night, another attempt at your life.

Your attackers must've not heard that the heir to the printing press was no damsel in distress. Quick as they came, your hands shot under the pillow next to you, the side of your bed that lay bare. Except for the .38 derringer that you slept with; two shots loaded in the chamber. Two intruders and still two shots were all you needed.

Click. Bang.

You stand there watching the sheriff and his posse drag the intruders off in their wagon, a blanket thrown over your shoulders by said sheriff. He sits next to you with his badge gleaning off the dull light from the city’s lampposts, a cigar tucked in between his teeth.

"You know this is the third attempted break in this month." He says puffing on the brown tobacco.

"I know." You mumble, bringing the blanket closer to your form.

"And the third time my men had to take in men with bullets in their chests. You're lucky you're a fine shot or I'd have to take you in for murder." He doesn't look at you, but you can hear the danger in his voice. See the way he inspects the cigar, holding it between his fingers.

"Sheriff?" You look up at him with furrowed brows.

A chill runs down your spine when he finally meets your eyes. The smirk that slowly creeps up his lips says it all.

"Now that's not to say I don't believe you. From what I've heard you got quite the record when it comes to things like this." He gestures vaguely with the tip of the cigar before continuing, "just find it kinda odd it keeps happening to you."

"You think I ask for this?" You ask back with a little more frustration in your voice than you should. Could you really be blamed for it though? The sheriff who was supposed to protect you, keep you safe from things like this, was sitting here blaming for the actions of stupid men.

"I don't think you do anything to prevent it. Just strange that a lady in her prime lives alone and isn't going about means of protection besides what...a gun under her pillow?" He blows out smoke that illuminates under the same light that touches his badge, the heavy white smoke lifts from his lips towards the night sky.

You honestly couldn't believe what you were hearing. That shiver that went down your spine spread throughout your body, making your blood run cold. Men breaking into your home you could handle, but a person with actual power? This was a battle you couldn't fight, not alone anyway.

"I'm sorry sheriff." You bite your tongue until you taste blood. "You're right. I should do something about this."

That was the best advice that asshole could have given you. To find someone in your corner. To find someone who can smuggle you out of the state and across the country. Finding someone who you could trust to not immediately shoot you in the back or run off with your money.

After searching around and pushing the word out there as subtly as you could, you finally catch wind of someone who fits the bill. You'd have to push a few dollar bills into the right hands, greasy palms, and all that, but you eventually get a name.

Kyle Broflovski.

That name carried weight, made your tongue feel heavy when you said it. The kind of reputation that he had wasn't one to take lightly. Over thirty bounties turned in alive and done by hand. While the number of bounties he brought in may not have been the largest out there, it was the fact he took down only the worst of the worst. The number on the bounty poster meant nothing to him, it was all about what the target had done. He was exactly what you were looking for, a man who could see past the money.

Now it all came down to arranging a meeting with him. Even a shut in like yourself knew the best place to find what you were looking for was the local saloon. The only thing left to do was dress down and try to convince the famous gunslinger that you desperately needed his help.

The smell of cigarettes and cheap booze was the first to greet you and you hadn't even opened the door yet. You could see boot prints made in the sawdust scattering across the floor. The cheery show tunes being played behind the door almost drowned out the sound of laughter. Before you could push open the door, a man came flying out being thrown by another gentleman. He hits the stairs and slumps down next to your foot. The poor man hit his head pretty hard, enough for it to put him to sleep.

With a little gulp you ignore the shaky feeling in your legs and push the dark wooden doors open. Maybe the thick brown cloak thrown over your form wasn't doing the best job at helping you blend it, but on the other hand most of the people here seemed to be enthralled by the women playing upstage to even care that you walked in. The girls dressed in flashy clothing were dolled up in the brightest makeup you've ever seen. They were gorgeous and the performance they put on brought life to this place, it was no wonder why people could lose themselves.

Your eyes scan the room as you scurry away from the door. People coming in and out, pushing past you like you weren't even there. The entire situation made your anxiety spike, being in such an unfamiliar place.

Somehow your legs carry you over to the bar. Taking a seat at the scuffed wooden counter, you note just how many empty shot glasses are covering the surface. Empty plates that looked like they were dipped in grease. Stained glasses that had thick amber liquid, the kind that burned your throat just looking at it. You tried not to look at the bar too much when you caught sight of faded red stains.

You take a deep breath and steady yourself before trying to flag down the bartender’s attention. A woman with tan skin and dark red hair. The bags under her eyes are so dark you don't think she understands the concept of sleep. Two cross tattoos just under her amber looking eyes lead your own down to her outfit. The light blue vest she's wearing makes her skin pop, somehow her nail polish isn't chipped or scratched in anyway. You watch as she takes a bottle of liquor by slotting it between her index finger and her middle finger.

She must have sensed your eyes on her because she side eyes you for a moment. The woman flips the bottle over and pours a clear liquid into a small shot glass. Once the drink is poured, she slides it down the bar and it lands in the hand of another patron. It takes her but a second to put the bottle down, wipe her hands off, and then approach you with a cigarette dangling from her lips.

"You're new here, aren't you?" She asks like she already knows the answer to that question.

"I... I am. I was just...looking for a drink." Not a complete lie, at this point a drink would help calm your nerves.

"Is that so?" Her brow shoots up. The bartender takes the cigarette from her lips and blows out a thin wisp of smoke. She crosses her arm under her chest and gestures for you to continue.

You look up towards the various brown and orange glass bottles behind her. Brands and names you've never heard of before lined the shelf. It isn't until you get to the higher up shelves that you find something you recognize. A bourbon, darker than most. Something your father used to have from time to time.

You lift your finger and gesture to the bottle. She follows it and lets out a little hum.

"The bourbon? Hm. Color me shocked. Alright."

"Two shots...please."

She stops and looks back at you with the bottle in her hand. A small smirk plays on her lips. "See that's how I know you're not from around here. Most people don't say please. Much less recognize a good brand. Most of these assholes just drink rotgut like it's the end of the world."

"I am a bit out of my element." You run your fingers over the wood, brushing your fingertips over the carvings. Wondering what the story was behind each little chip and groove.

Like before she takes two shot glasses between her fingers and places them down on the bar. The bottle is uncorked with a satisfying thoonk. You watch as the liquid catches the bright lights of the bar, making the amber shimmer with the candlelight.

"No kidding. What brings you here?" Once she's finished pouring your drinks she puts the bottle back under the counter. Her hands make themselves busy by collecting the dirty glasses, putting them off to the side.

"I'm looking for someone. Someone said I could find him here."

Like something straight out of one of your penny and dime novels, she begins cleaning the inside of the glass with a rag. When she doesn't say anything, it makes you shift nervously in your seat, but she eventually nods expecting you to continue.

"He's a gunslinger. Tall from what I've heard. Bright red hair?" You do your best to describe a man you've never met. You make a gesture with your hands by your head of his rumored fluffy red hair.

Before you could continue the woman stops cleaning the crystal-clear glass. She puts it down with a loud thud making the men next to you jump and look away. You hadn't even noticed your conversation was garnering attention. She lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah, you really aren't from around here. Let me give you a little advice. The man you're describing has a bit of a reputation around here. Only comes around when he's intending to collect."

You blink up at her.

"Bounties sweetheart." She snuffs out the cigarette with a little chuckle. You must have looked like a newborn dear the way you looked at her. Blushing a bit at the thought, you try to push it down. Suddenly the little glass of alcohol in front of you looks far more interesting.

"But my contact said he'd he here."

"Your contact isn't wrong." She pauses for a moment. "Man at your six- don't look." She hisses as you go to turn your head.

"Sorry." You squeak out, snapping your head back towards her.

"Man at your six is wanted in four different states. Highway robbing, harassment, nasty attitude...a perfect blend of asshole."

"Oh..."

"Men like that bring the gunslinger. Now I don't know what you want with someone like him, and I don't want to know. But if you want his attention, when he gets here you had better work fast." She looks down at you as she rubs her neck.

"Wh... why?"

"Because he'll drag that idiot out to the streets and probably duel him. Win. Tie him up and take him into the sheriff's office. Collect his bounty and move on."

"You talk like you know him." It was time for that liquid courage. You knock back the drink and grimace at the taste. It burns and claws its way down your throat.

The bartender lets out a little laugh at your reaction, or maybe it's your question. "I've been around for a while."

"She's also full of shit. She talks like I'm a gun lovin' nut." The low whispering voice next to you makes you turn in your seat.

He's a bit shorter than described but still pretty tall. His hair is exactly as you imagined it to be, curls sticking out from under his usual green cowboy hat. The way his emerald, green eyes peer down at you makes you shrink in your seat. They widen a bit as you squirm away, so he decides to move his head up towards the bartender who's got a smirk on her face.

"You gonna tell me I'm wrong?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.

"No, no just that you make me sound much more dangerous than I am. Just a simple man tryin' to earn enough to eat." He says with a chuckle.

And when he smiles at her, lips curled up so softly. Every part of this man looks so gentle. Even the green tattered sarape around his body looks warm and inviting. It was hard to believe someone so soft looking had a reputation. On the other hand, it made it easier to approach him, maybe this wouldn't be so hard.

The drink you bought for him would probably help too. You recall all the times your father would pour his business partners a drink before pitching a new idea. So, you take the shot glass and scoot it towards him. He blinks down at it before letting out a little chuckle.

"You've got this backwards ma'am. S'pose to be the other way 'round. Man's supposed to buy a pretty woman a drink." Despite it all he takes the shot, and in his hands, it looks too small. He holds it up to you and downs it without blinking. The corners of his lips twitch and his hooked nose wrinkles a bit, looks like he wasn't expecting the stronger stuff.

His compliment makes your cheeks burn; you twist the material of your cloak in your hands. "Well...nothing says a lady can't buy a gentleman a drink, does it?"

"I reckon not. Just ain't used to it s'all." He puts the glass down with a gentle tap. "But you're sittin' in this here bar all by your lonesome askin' for me. So... here I am. Somethin' I can help ya with?"

How much of your conversation with the bartender had he heard? Enough to make you nervous that other people were listening in. Your hands lowered to the derringer strapped to your thigh, under the long skirt no one knew it was there. You palmed the handle and took a deep breath. There was no real plan to use it, but it brought you a little comfort. Just a reminder that it was there.

"Yes I-"

You're cut off by the sound of screams. From a few of the waitresses and working ladies to be exact. You look over your shoulder, it's coming from your six. Where the bartender told you not to look.

 A burly man stands up and when he does, he looms over most of the men in this establishment. Slicked back short black hair tucked inside a crumpled up old bowler. For all the grime and dirt on the man the one thing you could give was that his handlebar mustache looked nice. The rest of him, not so much.

His voice bellows out, bringing an end to upbeat show tunes. "Broflovski! Yous here fer my head ain't ya!"

The man grins like he's proud of the fact that he's garnered such attention. The way he carries himself almost has you fooled if it wasn't for the bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face.

"Not at the moment, no. I was in the middle of havin' a conversation. Rather rude to interrupt a lady Knucklehead." You don't know if Kyle is calling the man a knucklehead or that's just some stupid bandit name.

Either way he sneers and with a flick of his wrist he tosses the gamblers table to the side. Chips and cards go flying up in the air, the poor dealer scrambles to get out of the way.

"I don't care if you was havin' breakfast with the fuckin' Queen of England! You shoulda know better than ta come in 'ere without a lil' backup. See I ain't one fer duelin' so we're gonna have ta do this the ol' fashion way. With yous layin' face down in the dirt bleedin' out ta death!" He whistles and a few more men sitting at other tables stand up.

Couldn't have been more than five or six, every single one of them equipped with some kind of weapon. Rusty nails pushed into wooden boards. Chains being spun around so fast it creates a little breeze. The sounds of their spurs jangling as they start to step closer.

Kyle puts his hands up defensively, the laid-back smile he had on his face falls when they get closer. "Now come on, can't we talk this out. Like I said, I ain't finished my conversation. It'd do you well to learn some manners. Call your men off."

He's not asking. The way he narrows that dark greens at the man makes the room feel cold. For a minute you think you see a spark in those eyes, a glint of something dangerous.

"God damn it..." You almost don't catch the bartender behind you mumbling, but you do hear the rack of a gun clear as day.

It's quiet all except for the way Knucklehead growls, deep and low in his chest. Despite having all these men, he still somehow looks like an animal backed into a corner. The bead of sweat trailing down his face travels lower. Down his cheek, towards his jawline where it hangs. Then...it falls. Drips onto the sawdust covered floor.

Plip

Click. Bang.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling someone's hands on your shoulder. You're hoisted in the air and thrown over the bar, you can hear the way glass shatters. Another collection of screams, and then nothing but groaning. When you open your eyes, you're in the arms of the bartender, the woman has the both of you pulled down and tucked behind the bar. Safe certainly isn't the word you'd use here, but it was better than being in the crossfire.

She's got another cigarette lit in her mouth; a shot gun pointed up towards the ceiling. You strain your ears, but you think you can hear her counting in Spanish. You can smell the gunpowder in the air, it's almost as thick as the tension. Then there's a different sound. A grunt of pain and the sound of a chair being broken.

"Thought you could really take us all on?! You're fucking daft!"

The gunslinger lets out a strained laugh, wiping the blood off the corner of his mouth. Splinters of the wooden chair catch in his curls. The man took a hit from the gorilla and is still standing. Well, more like leaning over the side of the bar for support, but nevertheless his eyes are still open.

"Daft is a big word for you Knucklehead. Gotta give it to you!" His voice sounds strained and broken. You catch the way he's struggling to breathe yet still has it in him to snap back.

Without thinking you take the shotgun from the bartender and before she can protest you lower the barrel towards the man. He seems surprised to see you jump up from behind the bar, he must have really not cared that you were there. But a loaded gun that can shoot slugs the size of an acorn sings a different tune.

"Now missy...this ain't got nothin' ta do with you. Yous don't wanna get yourself wrapped up in somethin' I don't think you can handle." Knucklehead's eyes lower to the gun in your hand, the gravity of the situation sinks in. Not enough for him to let the gunslinger’s throat go, but enough to where he's contemplating backing away.

"Let him go. Let him go and back away." You keep your voice steady, that nervous air about you slips away and a different mask comes on.

That mask you've had to wear every time you look danger in the eyes. You don't see a man choking a bounty hunter to death, you see a large target. A light you could snuff out with a twitch of your index finger. You can see it in his eyes, the way he looks down at Kyle, whose smirk has returned. Then back up at you, staring down the barrel of the shot gun. It's cold double barrel unblinking eyes.

"Whattya say Knucklehead... feelin' lucky?" Kyle is able to put a little distance between Knucklehead's hands and his throat. Enough to take another gasp of air and spout some cocky one-liner.

It must have pushed the brute over the edge because he went to move again. If you had to guess it would be to lift Kyle up and use him as a shield. But he doesn't get that far. Doesn't even make it past a muscle twitch because your trigger finger is faster. For the second time that night shots ring out, but this time it's only the bandits scream that fill the air. He goes flying back letting the red head go.

If it wasn't for the bartender, you would have gone flying back as well. The force of a shotgun wasn't something you were used to. Compared to your derringer’s little kicks, the shot gun was in a league all on its own. Her hands keep your body steady, holding you by the waist. She lets out a puff of smoke and sighs.

"Nice shot." Once she realizes you're okay to stand on your own, she breaks the silence with praise and lets you go.

"O-oh...um thanks." It makes your face flare up; the fact the entire bar’s attention is now on you. The wondering eyes make you squirm and want to shrink back down behind the bar.

"Shoot a man dead in his chest and ya get a little flustered over a compliment." Kyle laughs in between trying to catch his breath, his coughs sound painful.

You avert your eyes from him, like it will do your blushing face any favors. Trying to ignore the way his laugh makes your body burn. Something about it makes you feel a bit tingly. It's either that or the adrenaline coursing through your veins. They land on the man bleeding out on the floor. He's clutching his sides spouting so much profanity you feel like you need to confess at the church just hearing it.

Just as Kyle finally gets the ability to breath properly again, the sheriff and his men come bursting through the door. The same sheriff who you had a problem with. The same one who put you on this crazy path. Once again, things could never just be simple. Every little fucking thing had to get in your way.

His eyes fall on the man first, then on you. Then on the gun in your hands and you immediately groan. Of course, he had to come in just as you slugged a man. With a scoff, he gestures to his men to round up the other bleeding bandits. Kyle was able to take down the other group by himself. Their leader using the men as bait so he could close the distance.

You push the shotgun back into the bartenders’ hand and sigh. Kyle watches as you lift your skirt and put your foot on the counter. Without a second thought he offers you his hand and helps you down off the bar. You take it and allow yourself a quick smile. One the sheriff is quick to wipe away.

"It's always you. I guess I didn't make myself very clear." He says with a sneer. "I thought you were smarter than this, seems I was the one mistaken."

You shoot him a look, brows furrowed in confusion. "Sheriff, I didn't start this! I was just defending my um..."

Friend? Soon to be employee? Guy I just bought a drink for. Shot another man for?

"I wasn't talking to you woman!" He snaps, eyes flickering between yours and Kyle's. When they land on the man his eyes narrow. "Was talkin' about this one! Coming into my town, causing trouble! Think just because your daddy was a lawyer you're above the law!"

The look the red head gives him would be enough to kill. Death himself would answer that call. You watch a vein pop out from the side of his temple, his hat and hair barely covering it. Kyle didn't even show that much anger towards the man who threatened his life and interrupted his conversation.

"Sheriff Cartman I wouldn't have to come to this town and clean up your mess if you and your men did your fucking job!" Kyle hisses through gritted teeth, emphasizing the word this like he's reminding the sheriff the town doesn't belong to him.

"I should've known better than to think you could be anything but trouble! I should haul you in with the rest of 'em!" Cartman's voice is dangerous, completely immune to the looks he's getting from Kyle.

"On what grounds?!"

"On the grounds that I'm the fucking sheriff and I'm sick and tired of your bullshit!"

"That ain't enough to bring me in you fat son of a bitch!"

"Let's go ahead and tack on threatenin’ a man of the law to that too! Wanna keep going Kyle?!"

Cartman uses his first name so casually. The air grows heavy again as the two men get into each other space. Neither go for their weapons instead fingers curl around the collar of each other's shirt. Kyle looks like a lit fuse ready to blow and Cartman is just adding fuel to an already dangerous fire.

"A-Actually Sheriff! If I may!" You don't know what compelled you to put yourself in between the two bickering men. Guess there was a little left in the old adrenaline tank, taking down a man twice your size will do that to you.

"What?! Get in my way and I'll make sure to slap you with a fine as well! Helping a criminal won't look good on your record!"

"Criminal!?"

"Gentleman! I believe the lady is trying to talk! Now you either let her talk, or you take this shit outside!" The bartender cuts them both off by slamming her hands on her bar. Her voice isn't loud but it's enough to make both men stop.

The sheriff mumbles something under his breath that makes the bartender narrow her eyes. He turns to you giving you the floor.

"Sheriff just...please hear me out." You've dealt with men like the sheriff before. Men who think they're the smartest man in the room, so it's best to just make them think they're right.

"Fine. Go ahead."

"Thank you. Y-you see...I was just following your advice! You told me to find some help and that's what I did!" As you explain yourself Kyle's brows furrow in confusion. "I was looking to hire Mr. Broflovski here."

"Didn't realize you were selling yourself out now Kyle. Bounty hunting too hard for you?" The sound Kyle's teeth makes as they grind together makes your breath hitch.

"If Mr. Broflovski here agrees, I'd like for him to take me out west. If you think about it this is the best outcome. You wouldn't have to deal with me anymore and I'd be taking him with me."

"Now hold on-"

Cartman cuts him off like he's not even there, at this point Kyle's face matches his hair. "You're leaving? Jesus christ why didn't you lead with that!"

"Yeah..." You smile and let out a little sigh, the whole situation would be a lot funnier if it wasn’t you.

"I tell you what...you leave tonight. You and that ginger fuck get out of my town, my state, my side of the country! I'll give you an hour and if you're not out of here. I'll run you down like dogs!" Sheriff Cartman looks pleased with himself and the whole idea, but the more he speaks the more it comes through gritted teeth.

"Two hours."

"One and a half, only because I'm in a good mood." He clicks his tongue and turns on his heel. "Plus, however long it takes for my useless deputy to book these assholes." Cartman turns his back on both of you and walks towards his posse.

Great. You had an hour and a half to get out of town and you hadn't even asked the famous gunslinger if he was even willing to do this.

"Well, I reckon we outta be on our way." Kyle breaks your thoughts with the sound of his voice.

You look up at him with your eyes widened. He smiles down at you and flicks up his hat, moving the brim out of his face.

"No need to look at me like that. You told the Sheriff we'd be outta here so let's get a move on." He speaks.

Kyle makes his way towards the double doors without so much as a goodbye. You go to follow him but stop, turning back towards the woman behind the bar who is just picking up the broken glass scattered around the bar.

"Um...ma'am." When you call out for her, she turns and looks in your direction.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

".... You’re welcome, now get outta here. You wouldn't last a day behind bars, so go on. Get."

A soft smile plays on your lips. She was right, you had a long road ahead of you.

The bartender looks back over her shoulder when she hears the double doors close again. She let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. As she stands up with the metal pan filled with broken glass, her head lulls to the side.

"What I wouldn't give to be a tumbleweed following them. Ya got your work cut out for you Broflovski." A smirk plays on her lips.

Kyle leads you out towards the stables where he kept his horse. She was a pretty horse, a blend of brown and whites painting down her back. She doesn't stir much until Kyle gets closer, when he's within reach she bends down and presses her head against his hand.

He smiles and touches the side of her face, petting the sides gently. There was that soft and warm feeling you got when he first sat down next to you. Even after the bar fight and the whirlwind of events that happened, he found a way to go back to being so gentle. When he turns to look back at you, you quickly find something else to look at. Suddenly the saddle on the back of his horse looks so very interesting.

"I don't s'pose you got your own horse, do ya?" he asks as he unhitches his horse from the post.

"No, I don't. I... wouldn’t even know how to go about riding one." That seems to catch him off guard.

"Hm... We’ll have plenty of time to fix that. For now." Kyle walks over to you and whispers a, ‘pardon me'. His gloved hands cup your hips and lift you up. He lifts you like a child would their doll, like you weigh nothing. He sets you down on the back of his horse, guiding your legs over the side of the large creature.

It feels so strange, the way something so powerful just stands there letting him do it. You cling to the saddle for dear life as it takes a few steps forward and then back. If you had to guess she was just as surprised as you were.

Kyle swings himself up onto the horse shortly after. He puts his arms around your waist, being oh so careful on where he lets his arms rest. His hands find the reigns and it forces him to get closer. Close enough to where you can feel his chest against your back.

You can feel his heart beating against his chest, it makes you feel a little better knowing he seems to be just as nervous as you. At the very least that's what you're telling yourself. You can't see his face, unable to move any part of your body out of fear of falling off.

No, you can't see the blush that’s creeping across his freckled face. Can't see the way it trails down his neck, disappearing behind the layers of his clothes. You would never know how much he's mentally screaming at himself to get a grip.

"Gonna be a little uncomfortable at first. Just bear with me for a while. As soon as we hit the next town, we'll see what we can do about gettin' you your own horse." With that he clicks his tongue and snaps the reigns.

You let out the smallest squeak as the horse goes from a gentle little trot to a full-on sprint. Your hands fly out to grab onto Kyle's arms using the cowboy to steady yourself. A part of you thinks about asking him to just go ahead and drop you off at the holding cell. At least then you could die behind bars and never make such embarrassing noises again. The other part of you felt a twinge of excitement when you heard him chuckle. Feeling the way it made his chest vibrate low. It kept you warm against the cold wind that rushed past you.

It doesn't take long before Kyle feels your body go slack. He peers down at you and feels his heart leap up in his throat. You were tucked up against his chest, arms wrapped around your frame fast asleep. He only wishes that he could slow down so he can take off his sarape and bundle you up in it. Instead, he settles for pulling you closer, caging you in his arms. He'd do everything in his power to make sure the ride was at least a smooth one and by the time you'd wake up, hopefully, he'd have you out of town. And hopefully then he can get more details about this job he blindly accepted from you.

For now, he'd let you sleep as he rode out towards the moon. Nothing but the wind at his back and the large pale light to his front.

Next Chapter ->

#south park #sp fanfiction #south park fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #south park x reader #requests fuel me!! #ao3 request #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #gunslinger kyle #part 1/2 #western au #I know writing in accents is stupid #but I can't help it #it's so much fun #I'm already hard at work on part 2 #please look forward to it #I love cowboys #I love em so much #like my fantasy story is inspired by D&D #My western aus will be inspired by deadlands #another ttrpg #because I have tabletop brain rot #shhh its a secret

[youngyoo-apologist]

I like this scene because when I was writing it I was thinking about how fun everything would be once Alberu joins the party ahaha

This poor guy will not only have to deal with Regressor Cale, but Regressor Choi Han AND Kim Roksoo. Those three will never let the opportunity to tease Alberu slip by. Also I find this one scene really funny because Alberu is absolutely thinking to himself ‘what the hell was that’ when he made eye contact with Cale, the young master of the Henituse family who is famous for his brutal honesty and words, is smiling at him in a way that reminded Alberu too much of himself.

Realistically, there should be no way the young master knows anything about him, not when they had only exchanged a few greetings in passing. Sure, the Henituse county was rich, but they had no reason to dig for information on him unless he provoked them. So why did it feel like Cale Henituse knew something very important about him?

#the rings of life is a very scary power lol #Poor Alberu #he doesn’t know that Cale already has a part of his secret figured out #anyway I think the rings of life works in a way where the rings of different species have differences #like obviously the rings of a plant and a human wouldn’t be the same #due to the difference between how the two experience time #and as 1/4 dark elf Alberu would also experience time differently from those who are human #since he’s still a dark elf #I thought of it as the rings being closer together #like y’all know how trees got layers cause of the bark they have over the years #something like that but they’re closer together because there’s more years to live #and it’s ’less time’ to them overall #rings of a Regressor would have them overlapping and flickering with the rings of the past and the rings of the present #maybe I should make a seperate post on how I think the power works/ looks even if it isn’t canon stuff #just rambling #tcf #lcf fanfic #og cale henituse #kim roksoo #Choi Han #the birth of a hero #lcf fanart #from [in the borderline] on ao3 #lcf

[betweenxt-the-lines]

seeking currency chapter 29 mood

(contains SPOILERS!)

#ff: seeking currency #au: TheWorldIsEnding_AndImLateForWork #shuggy #shanks x buggy #i know i did say i want to post my reaction on the chapter but i explain feelings more with memes #also im burnt out of writing for the day bc i already wrote my heart out in the ao3 comments #which you should!! authors want to know how much they broke you. not an author but i imagine they would #i still might write my reactions out. who knows... #but for now have memes. because i need to cope somehow. #and expect me to react to fanfic chapters this way too. i either meme or am crying over the comments and/or analysis #one piece #seeking currency #TheWorldIsEnding_AndImLateForWork

[themoonking]

when people bring up the racism, homophobia, transphobia, romanticization of domestic abuse / rape / pedophilia / incest, literal actual written porn of literal actual real life flesh and blood children, et cetera et cetera on archive of our own, one of the ao3 stannies’ main defenses is “you can just filter out the tags if you don’t want to see that!” when that defense has no fucking legs to stand on.

ao3 is not an archive, it is barely even a website: a rant <3 (very long)

ignoring the fact that it’s a problem that all of that is permitted on the site in the first place (i guess child porn and racism are fine, and the people who allow it on their platform are fine, as long as i, personally, do not see it), that defense literally means nothing. it’s assuming that every little thing on ao3 is tagged properly and it absolutely is not, and if you think it is you are dumber than rocks. i mean for fuck’s sake, just touching on archive warnings and not tags, “creator chose not to use archive warnings” is literally a valid option for fic authors to use when it should fucking not be.

if someone is a freak who thinks that pedo shit is hot, they might not tag it as “rape” (archive warnings OR tags). i’ve literally seen underage father/son rape porn with no trigger warning tags but “child abuse if you squint”. IF YOU SQUINT. if someone thinks that domestic abuse is actually cool and sexy when attractive people do it, they might not tag it as “abuse”. if someone is a freak who likes incest, but bends over backwards to justify it by only shipping adopted family members, then they tell themselves that they don’t view it as incest, and might not tag it as “incest”. if someone is a racist, a homophobe, a transphobe, et cetera and they wrote bigotry into their fic (or else wrote a deliberate troll fic to trigger people on purpose), do you really think they’re going to tag it as racism / homophobia / transphobia / et cetera? and some people get kicks out of writing purposefully triggering content and either leaving it untagged or mistagging it so that people will read it unsuspectingly.

even for just general content tags, it’s a mess. people just forget to tag things all the time. people deliberately won’t tag the endgame ship of their fic because “it’s a spoiler heehee”. people use the romantic or sexual “x / y” tag instead of the platonic or otherwise “x & y” tag, sometimes by mistake sometimes on purpose. it’s a joked about issue how people will tag characters or ships that appear in their fic for two sentences.

there’s no standardization of tags, which is a pretty obvious problem. what first comes to mind is the “dead dove: do not eat” tag which should just not be a tag at all because it just has no meaning. depending on the individual fic writer using it, it could mean anything from “literally the most sickening and depraved thing you’ve ever read in your life” to “horror w/ gore”. but it applies to other vague tags too - different fic writers will have different ideas of what the tag means.

in addition to that, what is and isn’t made a filterable tag, what tags are made synonymous, et cetera, is entirely up to the whims of the site staff. as an example, if you’re trying to look for fanfiction of a singular animated disney movie, the infinite crossovers with other disney movies will not actually be counted as crossovers (which they are) because they’re classified as the “disney theatrical animated universe” (which isn’t a fucking thing), so you can’t filter them out the “exclude crossovers” way. if you try to filter out the fandom tag “disney theatrical animated universe”, it’ll show up with zero fics because that tag is synonymous with every disney animated film (regardless of if the fic author actually used the tag “disney theatrical animated universe” or not), thus also filtering out the one you actually wanted to find.

and do not get me fucking started on the “all media types tags”, which also just shouldn’t be a thing because it makes it fucking impossible to find the specific fics you’re looking for. some people use it in place of tagging a specific canon / adaptation when their fic very clearly draws from one specific canon / adaptation, and you can’t filter it out because it’s synonymous with every fandom tag under its umbrella.

as an example of the issues of both the “all media types” tag and mistagging in general: as a fan of the witcher books, it used to be a fucking ordeal to find fanfiction specifically for the books (post netflix show release). some show fans would, for whatever reason, tag their fics with the book fandom tag in addition to (or even in place of!!) the show fandom tag when their fics were unquestionably show-specific, meaning i could not simply search only in the book fandom tag. i could not simply filter out the show tag, because some show fans would, for whatever reason, tag as fucking “all media types”, when their fics were unquestionably show-specific. and alas, i could not filter out “all media types” and the show tag, so that i see only those fics which have been deliberately and exclusively tagged as the book, not only because as mentioned some show fans would tag their show fics with only the book tag, but also because the fucking all media types tag filters out the book tag as well, leaving me with zero fucking fics REGARDLESS of if the author actually used the “all media types” tag. now, thankfully, i’ve thankfully seen this issue in this specific fandom lessen, but it still occurs in other fandoms and i guarantee that it didn’t lessen in the witcher fandom because of any fixing of the site on the part of ao3 staff.

another common defense of ao3 freaks is that it’s an “archive”, and therefore can’t get rid of anything anyone posts, and disregarding the fact that that is not how archives fucking work, they don’t just allow anything and also ao3 DOES get rid of fics... when they say that they don’t like proshippers, apparently, archives have... you know... archivists. they have someone or a team of someones making sure that everything in the archive is *properly fucking categorized*. they have someone or multiple someones making sure that everything they recieve (1) belongs there and (2) is properly labeled and organized. same for libraries. meaning that if ao3 really were an archive and not a sub par fanfiction website, they’d have something like that in place. something as simple as a report button for fics with a review team that will see if something’s been mis- or untagged. they’d have some kind of standardization of tags (especially the warning / trigger tags) and have proper tagging enforced in some way. and then they could also do something like stop being spineless racists, queerphobes, and pedos have the barest minimum of content guidelines saying that you can’t post fucking hate speech.

if something is mistagged or untagged, the most you can do is leave a comment politely asking that the author fix the issue, and then hope and pray that they do that. and if that person thinks [insert form of abuse] is hot, or if they’re just straight up a bigot that wrote bigotry into their fics to be bigoted, or they’re a troll that gets kick out of deliberately traumatizing people by tricking them into reading their mis/untagged fics, they might not! AND if you see a major tagging issue on an orphaned work, or a work that has an inactive author / hasn’t been updated in forever, good fucking luck getting even a negative response.

you can’t permanently block tags (i mean even tumblr.hell has that), meaning that if you would like to search for fic without coming across something troubling, triggering, or just something you don’t like, you have to either (1) do a work around by having a bookmarked link for every fandom you’re in or every character you like with all of your tags already blocked, (2) download browser extensions that do the work for ao3 because they can’t be bothered themselves, or (3) input every individual tag every time you search ao3 and don’t forget that all of those options only fucking work at all when everything is tagged properly, and we’ve already established its not. you also can’t actually block people (you can only prevent them from commenting) meaning that if there’s a specific person you’d like to stay away from your fics or a specific fic author that you don’t like and would like to stop seeing their fics clogging up the tag, you’re out of luck (though for the latter you could insert “-[username]” into the “search within results” box, but then uh oh we’re right back around to having to input that every time or have a bookmark)

their archive warning system is shit. first of all it’s functionally useless because, as mentioned, “creator chose not to use archive warnings” is an option. what’s the fucking point of special required archive warnings if you’re going to allow people to opt out anyway. second of all, aside from “chose not to use warnings” and “no warnings apply”, the only warnings are “major character death”, “graphic depictions of violence”, “rape/non-con”, and “underage”. disregarding the fact that they shouldn’t be allowing porn of underage characters in the first place (but i’m talking to a brick wall on that issue) and that “non-con” (and “dub-con”) as terminology needs to die, it’s just fucking rape lets not use weasel words... this is a paltry list of possible warnings. there’s no official warnings for depictions of: domestic abuse, animal abuse, depictions of racism / homophobia / transphobia / et cetera, suicide, self harm, et cetera et cetera. and we return to the issue of standardization of tags. in your required archive warnings at very least, there should be a standardization of what these mean, but ao3′s own faq is just like “ehh... you decide. we’ll leave it up to you”. what qualifies as graphic depictions of violence? two people may write the same level of violence, but qualify “graphic” differently, and make different decisions regarding their warnings. and we also return to the issue of: if a freak doesn’t see something that is clearly rape as rape, they might not tag it as such.

this website gets a disgustingly large amount of money every year that it doesn’t fucking do anything with. it’s been over a decade and they’re still in fucking beta. features that would actually be useful, like an actual block system, don’t exist. they technically have a report system for abuse and harassment and such, but apparently what they qualify as abuse and harassment is fickle. ao3 defenders seem to be very proud of the legal work they do for fandom / fanfic authors, but they set aside a very small amount of the money they get every year for legal advocacy, and they actually use even less of that, because it’s not the early 2000s “anne rice hates fanfiction” era anymore - you aren’t going to get fucking sued for writing fanfiction in the first place. based on their own self-reported yearly cost of upkeep, they literally already have enough money to run the site as they are now for the next twenty years.

once again: ao3 is not an archive. it is not a library. it is barely a even a website.

#specifically a website run by freaks #who care more about ppl's 'fannish experience' than they do ppl of color abuse survivors and the real children ppl write p!rn of #anyway here's the rant i promised in the coming days since that one post #also i know people will come at me and say that dddne DOES have a meaning its a signal that the reader knows what theyre getting into #so cant be upset if it upsets them #or something along those lines #but (1) we've already well established that the reader very likely doesn't know what they're getting into #because a lot of the shit on ao3 is untagged or mistagged #and a lot of stuff with the dddne tag specifically isnt properly tagged because authors use dddne as a catch all #and just put that down instead of actually properly tagging their work #and as mentioned the authors that use it that way use it for literally anything that might make something uncomfortable #from the sickest shit there is to a little bit of gore #and you can say that those authors (who use it without also tagging what exactly they're talking about) are using the tag incorrectly #but oopsie! that then circles back around to (2) if someone is using a tag incorrectly there's no way to deal with that #other than a comment and a prayer #i speak #anti ao3 #anti archive of our own #fandom nonsense #my monologues

[expectiations]

Doctor Who: The Day of the Doctor, Chapter 10 - The Love of the Doctor:

"He smiled back at her, and leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek, before leaving as quickly as he was able to, a little under seven hours later."

#i think about this on a daily basis #what happened during those seven hours? #the tenth doctor was already down bad for her #river song #tenth doctor #river x ten #tenriver #doctor x river #the doctor #the day of the doctor #the love of the doctor #this is also me requesting more tenriver fics #i may or may not be also planning to pen a fourteenriver fic myself #because the ones on ao3 are rather disappointing - mostly

[captalwork330]

he doesn't.

also i love how thawne said: "my former enemy" like wha

FIRST OF ALL, how did you get back your powers!? second of all…FORMER??? YOU GUYS ARE FRIIIIEEEENDSSS??? when how why what.

HWHAAAAA. Thawne just casually putting his hand on Barry's shoulder makes me have a newfound emotion. THE GLANCES.

Reverse-Flash being the GOOD COP!?!?!?!? HWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMNDASWHHEWA. Barry being the bad cop is just >>>>>>>>>>>>

HOW THEY GLANCE AT EACH OTHER LIKE "this guy fr fr now???"

thawne smiling.

me and my former enemy beating the shit out of darkside

#eobard thawne #reverse-flash #LEGO #LEGOverse #just don't ask him about it #please i just need a story a fanfiction. whatever. in tumblr AO3 Wattpad whatever medium i just NEED to know how they became friends #(for research ofc mhm yes) #like because literally the LEGO Flash movie ended with Thawne without his powers and in the ginger penalty corner #clearly this game is post the movie since Barry already knows reverse flash and somehow hes in the legion #eobarry #my art