#i shall ship them until the very end

[ptieuca]

#bangel #bangeledit #btvsedit #btvs #buffy summers #angel #buffysource #dailybtvs #filmtv #this scene holy fuck #buffy embraced every single facet of angel #she trusted him with her entire being #that's ultimately what drove angel to lose his soul #someone who was self loathing for a century and then found a purpose and a person who not only understood but accepted him #i hate the clause #but you can't deny how beautifully tragic it is that buffy is his perfect happiness #anyway they're soulmates #i shall ship them until the very end #just like the almighty queen smg

[moodymisty]

May I request a yandere primarch of your choice getting very jealous after seeing you laughing with one of his brothers at a party and then dragging you back to his room after to remind you who you belong to?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: the community wanted Yandere Horus, so Yandere Horus you all shall have. I hope you enjoy, anon. I'm ok with this, but there's more I wanted to do. But at the end of the day I had to just bite the bullet and post it so I can take a break without this looming over me.

Summary: It's the first real outing since you've been officially named as Horus' beloved, and he realizes how much he dislikes how curious everyone is of you.

Relationships: Horus Lupercal/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Big Dick Lupercal, Takes place well before the Heresy, Yandere, Toxic relationship, That typical sort of yandere dubcon but not really dubcon kinda thing, Breeding kink if you squint, Size kink/Size difference, Getting absolutely obliterated by a ten foot tall man built like a truck, if you squinted hard you could take some dialogue as a bit sexist but it’s a stretch, Aftercare? lmao this is 40k

Word Count: 2714

Perhaps you aren't the foremost expert on parties, but the last you had thought, a party was supposed to be...

Fun.

And lacking in the drawl of military strategy and logistics. This seems more so like an ineffective way for the High lords of Terra and other high value persons of the Militarium to speak to the Primarchs and their captains, but with wine involved.

As the recently crowned Lady Lupercal, many of those high value persons are now eager to make friends with you, attempting to smile as wide as comfortably possible and earn any sort of good will they can. For many of them speaking to a Primarch, let alone making connections of a Legion would be hysterically rare; Though it seems many of them have the idea to do so through you.

Horus had warned you of it, so you suppose you shouldn't be so surprised.

Only just now have you managed to get away from them all, taking solace in a quiet corner of the palace. A Custodes on guard had given you an odd look- and by look you mean just a glance from the corner of his eyes- but he seems content to allow you somewhat near him as long as you remain quiet. Though you suppose you can't remain here for long. You have to be a part of all this, as much as you might dread it.

“Lady Lupercal?”

You turn the moment you hear the distinctive accent of Macragge-born Guilliman, who approaches you as you stand close to one of the palace's myriad of balconies. That title still feels odd to hear. He brushes just past you to stand on it, and waits until you join him. His head is tilted downward at an angle to make eye contact with you.

It's night now, and you can see the lights of hundreds of ships orbiting Terra up high above. It darkens his armor and the lights of the palace cast a harsh shadow on Guilliman's clean face.

"Had your fill of this evening?"

Normally Guilliman is quite forthright, so his small talk is a bit of a surprise. Everything has lead you to believe he was a very politely blunt sort. Though you've only spoken to the Primarch a handful of times, and very briefly.

Only just recently as Horus has made it known to everyone that you are his beloved, have you begun speaking to his legion; And his fellow Primarchs.

"A little bit. I just need a bit of air, and then I'll come back."

Guilliman crosses his arms over the delicate and expensive looking robes he currently wears, having shed his armor for the evening. It must be from his home world, judging by the interesting style and shape.

"I am a bit surprised he's thrown you to the wolves like this. Before, he was quite secretive about you." You doubt Horus would let you leave his sight unless it was extremely important, and it's not as if you can rely on him forever. Or demand him to stay.

"I assumed someone had managed to catch his attention enough for me to get lost." Guilliman shifts his weight slightly, and lets out a very quiet chuckle. It's sincerity makes you smile.

"Don't tell any of the others, but we've all gotten lost our fair share of times in this maze of a palace." He rubs his temple with two fingers. "It just keeps growing, it's like a Labyrinth. I've begun to wonder if Dorn will ever cease."

His genuine exasperation makes you laugh. It's such a human gesture, and such a human problem. It's quite easy to forget they are human, at times.

You hadn't realized you'd been smiling the whole time, but it grows when you see his disgruntled face. It goes away however when he realizes he amused you.

"If I figure it out before you, maybe I'll make us a map." Guilliman smiles.

"I will hold you to that, you know. If cartography isn't yet familiar to you, perhaps you should begin learning."

You were about to respond to him, a smile on your face, but Guilliman turns his head away towards the inside of the palace; Your own gaze follows shortly thereafter.

He must've heard Horus before he could see him, because not moments later you can see Horus walking towards the both of you; His pelt shifts on his shoulders as he does. He makes a straight line towards the balcony the both of you stand on and ignores anyone else along his path.

"Here you are," Horus smiles at you, but it's not his usual one. The one that's warm and casts the room and a pleasant atmosphere. "I see you've been chatting with one of my brothers." You nod with the smile Guilliman gave you still partly on your face, but before you can speak anything more- perhaps what the two of you were talking about- Horus does so for you.

"Perhaps we should take our leave for the evening. It is quite late, and it seems nothing or anyone worthwhile is going to make it's appearance."

He looks towards Guilliman and for a split second it almost seems like an argument is beginning to brew, with the way they're looking at each other; Guilliman is confused and defensive while Horus' jaw tenses. You can't understand how his mood has so suddenly changed, neither can Guilliman clearly, but it seems something has happened in your absence.

Now you stand literally and figuratively in the middle, before retreating your Primarch's side. He will always serve as your anchor, even when he's this turbulent.

Guilliman simply gives a curt hum in response, and seemingly decides to not uncover Horus' sudden change in disposition.

"Very well. I hope the rest of your evening fares you well," He looks down to you, though the pleasant aura he had has now returned to the cold and structured one he is known for. "And I enjoyed our chat."

Horus gives Guilliman no more than placeholder platitudes and farewells, of which the man takes with a short nod, before leaving with you in tow to return to his chambers.

That entire trip to return to them, is intense.

There is no chatter, and Horus doesn't even have the soft upturn of his lips he usually wears. Instead his face his firm, with something clearly boiling beneath the surface. You wonder if it's something from when he was gone that you could ask about, when he isn't in such a sensitive state.

Even as friendly and easygoing as Horus is, his fellow Primarchs are largely not the same apart from a few, and you wouldn't be surprised if one of them managed to- in a phrase not suited to describe a Primarch- pissed him off.

When you enter the deepest most room in Horus' wing of the palace, what serves as his bedroom, you suddenly feel his hand on your shoulder. You would've turned around even if he hadn't done it for you, as he takes a knee to get more on even height with you. But even with it, you still have to almost look slightly up at him.

Suddenly that hand on your shoulder moves to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. That firm, irritated face has been replaced with an angry, irritated expression. His nose slightly wrinkles at the top, brow furrowed.

He holds your jaw tight, but you’re not fooled into thinking it’s anywhere near him putting in effort.

“What is your title.”

You’re confused for a moment, frightened by the look in his eyes, as he adjusts his grip. You try to stay his name, but it just comes out as a confused stutter. He reiterates with more clarity.

“What is the title I gave you.”

You grasp his wrist tight and whimper out:

“L-Lady Lupercal.”

The noise that arises from him is somewhere between a hum and a growl.

“Did you forget it while you were busy being a little coquette in front of my brother?”

You hadn’t; It had been the focus of your short conversation with Guilliman. You’d tried your hardest to be nothing but polite to him, with the formality expected of speaking to a Primarch. But this is all new to you; Whatever Horus saw wasn’t there, and you’re desperate to prove as such.

"N-No, he just came up to me and I was trying to be polite, Guilli-"

He swallows the name of his fellow primarch with his lips, pressing them against your own. It's angry; Forceful. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he takes in heavy breaths, and how tense he feels. You moan softly into his mouth but even the brief moment of pleasure is overcast by Horus’ fuming anger.

He pulls away from your lips with a soft pop, and still in a kneel begins undoing the broach of his cape. Once it falls to the floor his eyes meet yours and he states:

"Take it off."

His sentence is vague and you stand unsure in the gargantuan room, as he now removes his wristguards. Once they're off, he puts a hand on your waist and pushes upward, disturbing the fabric of your dress. You feel it pull and stretch against his hand, as if it’s little more than parchment. He could ruin it all in one fell tear.

"I am being patient with you."

It's hard to disobey a primarch, especially one staring at you with those eyes. The fabric of your dress falls to the floor moments later, undone and forgotten. You step out from the circle it makes at your feet.

You imagine the only reason he hadn't simply destroyed it was after having it made just for you, in the colors of the Sons of Horus and to his exact specifications- their legion mother needed to be in worthy attire he has said- his patience won out over the potential days of headache.

But it feels like a blink you go from standing to being nearly swallowed by his sea of a bed, blankets tussled around your naked form. You think you might’ve backed up until you fell onto it, but it’s all a blur.

"The Crusade has taken much of my time, and since I have introduced you to my brothers, perhaps you have forgotten your place,” He says as he undoes the fastening of his belt.

Even on pieces of furniture meant to handle a man of such size it still buckles and bows underneath his weight, shifting your body as he cages you underneath him. His hand grips your thigh, and the sheer size forces them apart. Your body tenses and squirms underneath him.

To think such a short conversation would've had him so fuming, as his hand presses against your cunt. It makes your lips purse and and words that you might’ve considered saying don’t even leave your lips. His fingers roughly press through your folds curl inside of you, an aching stretch that has you squirming underneath him.

Though it’s not as if you have any chance of moving, even the slightest bit of his strength has you completely at his mercy.

You can feel his anger in every motion, but your blood is pounding in your ears enough that you can barely hear him. You think you might've said his name, told him to slow down, but even if you had he doesn't listen in the slightest.

Pulling his hand away from between your thighs he’s quick to flip you onto your stomach, and you lay exposed before you suddenly feel him press again the back of your thighs.

In an odd, impossible to explain way, you at times almost forget that your beloved towers over you at near or over double your height. That he possesses neigh untenable strength.

Now is a moment you do, as he presses his hips against your ass and buries you in the plush material of the bed.

Your fingers grip the blanket like a lifeline as he buries himself as deep as he possibly can, staying for a moment for seemingly little other reason than to torture you. Even with only the slightest bit of his weight on you, you feel trapped and barely able to move.

It's taken time for you to get used to taking Horus without hours of preparation- and while it still does take time, you'll always feel like he's overtaken your entire stomach. It’s that teetering on the edge of pain that has you gasping, a body not made for him being forced to. Horus is normally exceedingly gentle, but less so tonight. He is at least gentle enough as to not break you.

Whatever he saw that wasn't there between you and Guilliman, he seems intent on teaching you a lesson on not doing.

“Horus, pl-“

His massive hand grips the blanket beside your head as he grunts overtop of you.

“You are the legion mother of my sons.”

Your back arches and lips purse as his cock brushes against places so deep that it almost has your eyes watering. You swallow the massive knot in your throat and try not let out enough noise that passersby could hear.

“You will be the mother of my blooded sons, one day.”

The implication has your heart race with fear and something else as the primarch holds you down. You barely have the time to think about it, it only sends a jolt of feeling right down your spine into your gut.

Given his size it’s so easy to push you around, that he often times has to press on your shoulder and hold you like some sort of toy. Even the softest thrust can push you forward and nearly off of him; You don't have the strength to hold strong against it.

Worn and tired your nerves spark from so much sensation, cunt tightening around him. Horus continues to thrust into you with little care and your teeth grind, toes curling.

It feels good, so good, but it teeters on the edge of dangerous. Especially knowing his mood. Then again, sometimes even the simplest things are dangerous, with someone like him.

The primarch curses and swears in both high and low gothic as he finally cums inside of you, the inhuman amount leaking from you when he pulls out.

Horus looks over you, and it seems whatever you’d seen in him earlier is gone- for the time being. Even if you can't look directly at him, it's almost as if you can feel the emotion in the room change. More odd Primarch things, you assume. Not that it matters much in the end.

You lay tired, legs limp as your body aches.

Perhaps in the moment it may feel good, very much so, but oftentimes your body then reminds you that it isn’t made for a Primarch. Particularly one who decides not to be gentle with you.

There has time where no one sees even a hint of you for days, after he's done with you. He apologizes it for it, but you can always tell with that smile of his, he isn't actually apologetic.

He gently pushes you with a hand to that you roll on your back, and you look up at him worried, wondering if he's still angry.

“I am sorry, my love.” His words are sweet like wine, like they so often are, as his hand not gently holds your cheek. He isn't anymore, and you don't question it. You don't want to bring it back.

Though this isn't the first time he's become this way, though it is the first time he's done something physical in response.

“Now that my brothers know of you, I can’t help but feel as if they might take you from me, once they realize how perfect you are.”

There’s words you want to say, many of them, but you can’t manage it. Only a requited whisper of love is what you manage to say. Horus takes it well and his saccharine sweet smile always manages to pull you in and ignore the things behind it.

“I only wish for you to be mine. Always and forever.”

#horus lupercal x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting #DOBBIE IS FREE!

[alicedash2]

A day with Whitebeard's Crew and a shy trying to socialize

- YN, why don't you join the others?- Newgate asked his daughter, who, until the day she got on board, couldn't get along

-I don't know...- YN said while watching the others fading out of sight.

- I try, but it's hard, when you asked me to join the crew, I couldn't even answer, you were the only one I talked to the most!- YN sat down and bent on her knees, burying her face between them

-...Would you like to go shopping with me? I may be sick, but I can still get out of here-Whitebeard stood up, he stretched and knelt down next to YN, even though the wires were still connected in his body, YN, who had a sweet smile until he refused

-better not, your health is something important - YN said finding her chin on her knees again

- you know, you can't isolate yourself forever, I'd like you to socialize - Whitebeard said getting up

- come on, get up, just because I'm old doesn't mean I should sit all day, is my health important? Well, my children's happiness is over, get up, we're going shopping!- Whitebeard took off the wires and got off the ship

- what if they get mad? I don't want Marco to fight with me or you!- YN said going down behind Whitebeard, who just stops and looks at the ground

-well, he won't fight, at most complain, and why will he fight with you? I'm the one who decided to leave- Whitebeard turns and faces YN, who just holds out his hand, YN takes Whitebeard's hand, who actually can only hold his pinky, and they take a walk through the city

-If I managed to almost fight the redhead inside the ship, it means I can walk!- Whitebeard said with loud laughter

°°•°•°

- it's Whitebeard! What he is doing? - people murmured

- Is that his daughter? Is she in danger?-Others asked as they saw YN beside Whitebeard, Izou, who was closer, finds Whitebeard and goes straight to the captain

-what he is doing ?! - Izou asked

- taking a walk with my daughter- Whitebeard chuckled, while Izou wondered the rational reason for leaving, Izou looks at YN, who just turns her face away in embarrassment

- I decided, we're just going to buy some things and go back to the ship- the man walked again, this time, he takes YN and puts it on his shoulder

- What are you doing?!- YN asked with fear

- I want you to have a good viewof the city, you just stare at the ground, maybe we'll walk all day, so you might not be able to stand it, the city is big-

- where would you like to go?- Whitebeard asked, YN balances on Whitebeard's shoulder

- I don't know... Shall we buy something and go back to the coast? There's a beach there- YN asked shyly

- Alright, let's go - Whitebeard said walking through the city

°••°•°•°•°•°°°°••°•°•

Whitebeard had a father-daughter day, just shopping and talking, they walked around town and found each one of the crew, some in bars, others having fun and even flirting with some women, near the end of the afternoon, Whitebeard and YN were already on the beach , but not alone, the crew decided it would be fun to get them all together, each had bought sake and other alcoholic beverages, YN quickly but with difficulty made friends with Thatch, who invited her to go with him to buy food, and later, Ace, who invited her to eat some good meat with him and Vista, Marco, was a little disappointed, he warned YN that Whitebeard was in bad health, but he didn't fight with YN

- I'm very surprised you managed to get Pops off the ship for just one ride, but next time, at least let me know and I'll come along, what if Pops felt sick? You wouldn't find me that easily-yoi- Marco continued with the gigantic responsible speech while YN apologized relentlessly

- please, Marco! It wasn't she who decided that- Izou arrived together with Haruta

- Do you want to go buy candys with Haruta? - Izou asked YN, who quickly nodded and walked away quickly while the youngest boy followed her

- I didn't finish-yoi! - Marco screamed

- but she interacted, sometimes I forgot she was on the ship - Jozu approached

- in a few days she'll be more talkative than Ace- Izou said sweetly

- I find it difficult, nobody surpasses Ace-yoi - Marco said

°•°°

The party lasted many hours, even at dawn they were still having fun, but soon they noticed that YN was not around, Marco asks Haruta where YN was, but he says that YN had gone to buy sweets with him, but, soon after she said she was going to a stationery store to buy materials, and that he should go back to the ship without her

- I wonder if she got lost?- Marco wondered, they start looking for YN, some in the city and others on the ship, all worried, some created paranoia that someone with bad intentions had taken YN, which increased the crew's anxiety , after a few hours of searching and asking directions to the few people who were still awake in the city, YN is seen walking along the beach with some bags

- Where did you go?! We were worried!- Ace said

- Warn the others that we found her!- Ace said

- Sorry, Ace, I didn't want to worry you!- YN spoke with his tired face, but slightly smiling

- it's just that many stores were closed, so I had to walk a lot to find it, and it ended up taking me the whole day, sorry! I didn't think it would take so long, I came as fast as I could- YN dropped the bags on the floor

- I am tired! I can't walk anymore!- YN crouched on the sand, panting

Ace picks her up and puts her on his back, while picking up the goods and taking her to the ship.

-Is she okay?-Izou asked while others approached

-ah, yes, she's just tired, she walked almost the entire island and it took the whole day!-Ace spoke while putting YN in the chair

- sorry guys- YN said softly

-it's okay, we didn't know it would go this far, here, food- Thatch gave a plate of food to YN who ate it quickly out of hunger

- you walked for 7 hours! Seriously, what's your problem?- Marco said

- and what did I say about responsibility-yoi?- Marco sat beside YN,

- thanks for the food, Thatch, I'm going to take a shower- YN said leaving quickly

- you won't run away-yoi- Marco held her by the shoulders

So, YN spent a good 1 hour listening to Marco's sermon, who besides worrying about YN, did it for her sake, saying that it is very dangerous to go out alone on a deserted street in the middle of the night, Ace tried to defend YN, but he ended up listening Marco's sermons too

#one piece #one piece x reader #whitebeard pirates x reader #portgas ace smut #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace #one piece izou #marco one piece #edward newgate

[rippersz]

𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺, 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺

───※ ·❆· ※───

───※ ·❆· ※───

(An OC/Named Reader x Larissa Weems one-shot) (Bittersweet/angsty. Possible part 2 depending on feedback.)

Summary: Odette sends a letter and it ends up in the wrong hands.

───※ ·❆· ※───

‘January 11th, 2023

Odette,

I am terribly sorry to inform you that the letter you sent to a woman named Mirabelle did not end up in her hands. I believe the mail carriers fell short along the way and got it mixed up within my pile of documents; thus my wayward response to you. Considering the nature of your words (I must admit I read them - my actions were caused by split curiosity and confusion), I suggest you re-envelope and reseal your letter before sending it again. I have slipped it in with this one. And if you choose to listen to me, then we shall both hope your sentiments arrive to Mirabelle in a timely fashion with no surprise stops along the way. Until then, someone must tell her that she is a very lucky woman.

And that I am very sorry she broke your heart.

Happy New Year Odette. Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 18th, 2023

Larissa,

Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness. I am far sorrier than you are. Obviously if I knew that was going to happen, I would not have let it. Okay that doesn’t make much sense, but I’m sure you know what I mean. I think. Hopefully? Anyway, thank you very much for sending the letter back. I gave myself some time to think it over and did as you suggested. New envelope, new seal, new everything. Except the perfume on the letter was different. Are you wearing Jean Paul Gaultier? It’s very nice. Mirabelle may appreciate the mix of scents (I’m wearing Marc Jacobs - Daisy), so at least she’ll get something out of it. The words, on the other hand, I’m not so sure. That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily. That’s a big flaw, I think. Oh well. I guess rambling’s a flaw too. And here I am. Forgive me?

Thank you again. Happy New Year. Odette’

‘January 23rd, 2023

Dear Odette,

Please don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault, as you know. And if I knew the letter did not concern me at all, I would not have read it. But, I’m sort of glad that I did. It was perhaps one of the best letters I’ve ever read in my entire life. Are you a writer, by any chance? If not, you should consider becoming one. The rambling could add a nice personal touch - it’s not as big a flaw as you think it is. It certainly introduced me to your keen sense of smell. Speaking of which, Daisy is wonderful. I may have a roll-on tube of that somewhere. Otherwise, you’re correct. La Belle was released in 2019, it has become my new personal favorite. Are you a perfume collector? Or perhaps a bloodhound? I jest, I jest. Though I do appreciate the follow-up. If Mirabelle doesn’t appreciate your love, I may have to send her a letter myself. That being said, please let me know what she says? If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.

Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 29th, 2023

To Larissa,

You are far too kind. I write in my free time, yes, but I’m not sure I’m good enough to become a writer. However, your support still means a lot - even from all the way in California. Quite a long way, right? Crazy how paths cross. Anyway, I’m not a perfume collector, no. But my friend, Cassie, wears the same kind. I know for certain that she’d say you have good taste. And I’d agree. That bloodhound comment was funny. I know you can’t hear my giggling, but trust me when I say I am. I wish I could be as witty, but I don’t know what to say. My humor is typically made up of making fun of people. Do you have a guilty pleasure I can harp on? An embarrassing secret? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. And as soon as I get something back, I’ll let you know. Don’t start writing just yet.

Best, Odette’

‘February 5th, 2023,

Odette,

Telling you my secrets already? My, I believe we’ve skipped a few steps. What happened to a favorite color? A favorite memory? An age or profession, perhaps? If you couldn’t tell by now, I am still jesting. One of my guiltiest pleasures, though you may find it juvenile and silly, is the fact that I am a huge chocolate fiend. Many of my coworkers are aware that the best drink to buy me is a hot chocolate - hold the whipped cream. I am watching my figure after all. And because I pity your lack of matched wit, I’ll tell you that my biggest secret is the fact that I quite enjoy Taylor Swift’s music. Don’t ask me about my favorite song, I don’t think I could choose just one. Oh is that- is that the sound of your giggling? Maybe I can hear it from here, Ms. California. Now it’s your turn to hear mine. In the meantime, enlighten me on what you write about. I’m thinking poetry and free-form, with a focus on romance. I do a bit of writing myself from time to time, but it’s always in a diary. Never further. Perhaps you can do both of us justice and contemplate publishing? I’ll be the first to run to the shelves.

I hope you are well, Larissa W.’

‘February 13th, 2023

Dear chocolate fiend,

White. My first trip to New York City after Mirabelle. I arrived in the afternoon, went to see a movie, grabbed dinner and headache pills on the way back to my hotel room, and couldn’t sleep for the entire night. So I went out at 3 AM to see Times Square. It was only a block away and let me tell you, Larissa, it was beautiful. It was unlike anything. I felt safe for the first time in a while - beneath all of those lights. I was invincible. Not even loneliness could touch me. 27 and counting. Secretary. And potential writer. Someone I met recently has been trying to push me further into my hobby- to really adopt the lifestyle. You wouldn’t know them, though. Them? They/them? Please correct me if I’m wrong, Larissa. These letters wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable if I was calling you something you weren’t. As for me, I go by she/her. Mirabelle did as well. Does? Did? I’m not sure - I haven’t heard anything back yet. But that may be for the best. Horrid segue here (shame on little writer Odette), but Taylor Swift? Wow, I must be giggling quite loudly. HA HA HA HA HA!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!! I swear that one day I’ll get a laugh out of you as well. In the meantime, as you say, I’ll happily inform you that you’re a psychic of some sort. Yes, I write poetry and free-form romance. Novels have never been my thing though. But if I did write any, I’d have to say psychological horror is a favorite. I may give it a crack if you’d edit for me? Unless you’re terribly busy, Ms. Vermont. Then please don’t worry your pretty little head.

I hope you’re ‘weller’ than I am, Odette

(P.S. Happy Valentines Day)’

‘February 19th, 2023

Dear sweet poet,

Do forgive the late response. Work has been keeping me busy; but if you’re serious about editing, I’m sure I can set some time apart for you. That memory of yours does sound quite glorious - nearly heavenly. Such freedom is a dream for many people, myself somewhat included, so I admit I’m the tiniest bit jealous. However, I could always visit the city in the summer. Times Square is already calling my name… maybe I’ll even see a certain 27 year old stranger there. Maybe we could even grab hot chocolate. But I suppose you’d rather enjoy your independence. That being said, you are quite correct - they/them is one of my preferred pronouns. Much like yourself and the mysterious Mirabelle, she/her is another. And I’m glad we both agree that these letters are quite a treat. I have not had a pen-pal in quite a long time. My old roommate and I used to talk after we graduated, but times change. Much like they did for you and Mirabelle. I believe I may have loved my roommate in that way, too… but it’s as I said. Then again, she was always more of a psychic than me. I just got lucky. As for the answers to my questions, I’m quite sure none of those were secrets. Unless, of course, your favorite color is known only by myself. In which case, I’d consider myself lucky again. But either way, come to the table please Odette. Tell me yours - but only if you wish to.

Weller is not a word, Best, Larissa W.’

‘February 23rd, 2023

Dear Larissa,

Weller is a word if I want it to be. That is my secret. No, but in all seriousness, you’re correct. Fair is fair. So I’ll grant you this: I’m a redhead. Ugh I know! I know! It’s terrible. Horrible. I’m sorry. If you find that you can’t stand me anymore, I understand. A writer, secretary, AND a redhead? What’s next? An FBI agent? I can’t disclose that information. Speaking of which, you have yet to answer your own questions. All is fair in love and pen-paling, am I right or am I right Larissa? It’s okay. You can admit it. I’m right. Just like I’m right in saying that your roommate made a big mistake if she’s not with you now. Speaking from experience, love like that is not something one finds often. I’d say I’m glad you experienced it, for it has its good moments, but I know that the ache can be bad. Quite bad. Not to worry, though! If you figure you want to send her a letter, you may get a pen-pal out of it. Kind of neat, huh?

I’m sorry she broke your heart, too. What a foolish woman. Tsk tsk.

Best, Odette’

‘February 28th, 2023

To the resident redhead,

How could you betray me like this? A redhead? On the other side of these pages? I feel scorned. Scorned and touched. Very much like a writer to offer comfort for an offhand comment. I appreciate the sentiment more than you know. And just for your information, Ms. I’m-Always-Right: Silver. Getting my teachers certification and celebrating with a few friends before life pulled us in different directions. It was a wonderful night. I haven’t laughed so much since - and that was quite a while ago. 32 next year. Principal. I do hope that was enough to sate your burning curiosity; I’m sure you can be at ease now. And since I do so enjoy meeting you halfway, I’ll tell you that I’m very fair-haired. Very. Perhaps one day you’ll see. Until then, don’t let the curiosity kill you little cat.

Best, Larissa W.’

‘March 5th, 2023’

‘March 12th, 2023’

‘March 16th, 2023’

‘April 14th, 2023’

‘May 21st, 2023’

‘June 9th, 2023’

...

And the months went on.

And on.

And on.

And every few days, another letter came. Another letter went. Another letter was written. Another letter was sealed. Another letter was received. Another letter was cherished. Kept. Forever a lovely memory. Larissa and Odette went and went and went- on and on and on- exchanging and smiling as each paragraph grew in length. From this to that and whatever else they could find to think about; they formed a banter and connection like no other. Poking fun, making jokes, referencing previous letters, gossiping until their hearts were content. Purring within their chests, eagerly awaiting another letter. It kept their days moving. It kept their souls dancing. From miles away, they cheered each time they saw the thin familiar scrawl of Larissa’s writing and the loopy tilted words of Odette’s penmanship. At one point, they even tried copying each other’s style. It was hilarious. It had both of them laughing at the same time - and later doing it purely to mock. Such things, little but large, were frequent and lovely. One time, Odette mailed a perfume scent strip of her new favorite; and Larissa, never one to be outdone, sent a roll-on tube of La Belle. Odette got so ticked off she made her promise that they stick to letters and paper only. Larissa, usually a stubborn soul, agreed. That was their dynamic. Their push and pull. Their agree to disagree. Never did they fight; rarely did they not see eye to eye; and constantly did they playfully argue. It was small things- small insignificant little things- but they moved the conversation along. And it made them smile. It made them laugh. And during the hardest parts, the parts in which life pinched at their skin and dragged at their souls, it made them cry. It made them weep. It made them open up. It led to Odette confessing that Mirabelle had left her and it led to Larissa confessing that Morticia had left her as well. Two women, two ships in the night, both of which got away. And not gently, not two slow drifts into the night, but a harsh yank. Morticia left school with a man on her arm and Mirabelle returned to California one day from a business trip in France with a ring on her finger. The two of them agreed that it was funny how life likes to slap lovers in the face. That it was funny how life likes to get in the way. And enjoys ending good things and ruining them. Taking them away too quickly. With no warning at all. Without a single goodbye.

The last letter Odette sent was on October 28th, 2024.

Larissa hadn’t responded to her previous one. Or the one before that. And eventually, after much contemplation, she gave up. It wasn’t healthy- worrying so much. Odette figured that perhaps, finally, her worst fear came true and that Larissa realized their little arrangement was more odd than she thought. That she knew virtually nothing about Odette, not even her last name. And that she didn’t find her amusing anymore and didn’t want to associate with her anymore and didn’t want to even say hello. Or goodbye. Or anything in between.

It broke her heart a little bit.

Okay it broke her heart a lot a bit.

The radio silence left Odette living on autopilot for weeks. Months. Nearly half a year. She’d get up, check her mailbox, and go to work - only to come home, check her mailbox, and go to bed - just to do the same thing over and over and over again. Day and night. Night and day. It was worse than Mirabelle. It was worse than anything. No amount of teenage angst or familial grief could get over the deep void left within her soul once those letters stopped coming. Once the friend she found by accident, the kindred spirit she stumbled upon, the woman she lov-…. well. Once that one person decided never to write again.

Though like most difficult things that left her raw, Odette’s heart began scabbing over. She cleared her desk, packed away the special pens she used, put the paper neatly into a box, and tucked the leftover Larissa letters away right along with those sweet memories. Then she put them into the back of a closet she rarely rifled through… and tried to forget it was all there. The La Belle, which she rarely touched, was hidden in her pajama drawer at the very back- wrapped up in old T-shirts she no longer wore. And every other thing that existed around her, that reminded her of Larissa, was pushed out of sight. Out of sight and out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight… out of mind.

The company was celebrating her 5 year anniversary. They wanted to fly her out to Vermont. Jericho, Vermont. To have a little vacation there. To enjoy life. To fucking torture her.

She almost didn’t go. She almost canceled entirely. She almost quit her goddamn job because that was the same job she had when she first met Lar-…..

But she went anyway. Vermont was large enough. She’d be fine.

And she was, much to her surprise. She was entirely fine. It was a beautiful change of season; the air was crisp, the trees were changing color- morphing back into sunny greens. The world enjoyed its rain as April introduced May to Jericho and as the year of 2025 blossomed into being. Odette spent her days reading, taking walks, basking in the beauty of the log cabin the company rented for her. It was truly lovely. Truly a dream come true. And she didn’t even think- didn’t even wonder- about the other ship that got away from her. That barely even brushed past her, or lingered, before parting the water and skating away into the night all those months ago.

It was blissful. It reminded her of New York. Of that freedom- that independence- that song within her soul, dredged up from the depths.

But there was one thing.

One tiny little thing.

One little reminder that never left her. That she didn’t let go of.

“Hot chocolate, no whip, for Odette?”

A small smile grew on her lips as she slid out of the booth and made her way up to the counter. The young man met her eyes, returned the smile, and gestured to the warm cup on the counter with a nod of his head.

“Thank you lots.” And with that, she retreated to her booth.

Hot chocolate.

She wasn’t going to give up hot chocolate, let alone any chocolate at all, just because a distant soul enjoyed it. The whipped cream was something she wanted, but… old habits did always die hard, didn’t they? Oh most definitely. And as Odette reclined against the comfortable seat, eyes tracking the screen of her work laptop, hot chocolate firmly placed on the coaster to her right, she lived up to that sentiment with no room to spare. Leaving work at home was hard. She dove into it some time ago; dedicating more time, thinking, and hours into the well-oiled machine of her job just to distract her from everything outside of it. When she was there, responding, taking calls, managing dates and meetings and this, that, and the other, the world fell silent. Into a distant buzzy din. Into a land of muffled sounds and unimportant chatter - like her head was dunked under water as soon as she opened her emails. To a certain extent, it was calming. Repetitive and not at all that difficult after she figured out a proper routine; the worst part was dealing with those who couldn’t write properly. And in the professional world, that was rare. Well- if a person wanted to keep their job of course. And she definitely wanted to keep hers. It was fulfilling. Enriching. She made some friends, she shook some hands, she reassured her bosses. They knew she was reliable. Friendly. Odette never faltered. And they counted on that. Counted on her. Gave her the time of day. Responded when they could. Cherished her like a human. Like a friend. Unlike-

“Larissa? Hot chocolate, no whip?”

Odette blinked.

The muffled bubble popped. The world flooded back. She looked up from her screen.

Was she going mad? Crazy? Bonkers, finally? After all that time? Had she misheard? Maybe the young man said Patricia. Or Melissa. Or-

“Larissa! Hey, long time no see!”

Larissa.

Odette turned around in her seat so fast, she nearly broke her neck. She shuffled to the end of the booth, peered around the side, eyes wide and hands gripping the edge of the table… only to feel her excitement die as soon as it existed.

Of course. Foolish her. She didn’t know what Larissa looked like. She never got a proper description. Never got a photograph. Or a phone number. Or anything at all. Just a P.O. Box and a state. Just… nothing.

“Hello Jerry, it has been a while, hasn’t it? How are you?”

No, she- well she did get something. She got little things. Details. Odette’s brow furrowed as her eyes, hazel and starry and glazed over with apprehension and fear and admiration and horror, ran up and down the woman’s body. She was tall. Larissa never mentioned tall. She was curvy. Larissa never mentioned curvy.

‘I am watching my figure after all.’

…She was stylish. Larissa never mentioned style and fashion.

“Oh I’m good, I’m good. What about you? How’s the semester going?”

“I’m well, thank you. It’s… well it’s definitely going, Jerry.” They shared a laugh.

She was English. Larissa never mentioned being English. She wore gloves. Larissa never mentioned gloves. She-

Wait. Semester?

‘Getting my teachers certification…’ ‘Principal.’

Odette felt her heart drop.

But-

“I’m sure it is! I- oh shoot. More customers. Sorry, Larissa. Can we catch up later?”

“Of course Jerry. You know where to find me. Until next time.”

Hazel eyes watched the stranger wave. Then turn around.

Oh.

Dear lord…

She didn’t recognize her- not really- but the fair hair, which only registered then… and the silver jewelry. And the… the…

Odette watched as the woman walked past. She watched and she felt her heart in her ears- pounding, clawing, dancing- as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. So deeply. So deeply it made her lungs ache. So deeply it made her soul tear in two.

La Belle.

Odette had never packed up her things so quickly. She never slammed her laptop closed so fast, never slid it into her bag so messily, never threw the bag over her shoulder or shoved her wallet into her pocket or grabbed the hot chocolate with such vigor ever before. Not once in her life. And rarely did she act so impulsively- not after Larissa. But seeing her then, somehow knowing deep within her soul that it was her… it broke- snapped- the thin resolve of Odette’s sanity and sent her flying out of the Weathervane like a bat out of Hell. She was burning up inside. Electric. Her eyes held fire and ice and so much warmth, so much desperation, that she nearly toppled over herself in her hurry.

The woman- Larissa- was a fast walker. Her long legs took her far as she distractedly typed on her phone with one hand and held the cup of hot chocolate in the other. Odette, being short and clumsy, was red and out of breath by the time she got close enough to call out her name. And call, she did. Call, cry, silently plead, she did.

“LARISSA!”

It was loud. Like a roar. Like a harrowing yell. Like something that held months and months and months of pain and sorrow and grief behind it. It instantly made her throat hurt, running it raw in only a second, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care at all. Not when her voice got Larissa to stop in her tracks and turn around, eyes searching and confused.

Of course, as to be expected, she had no clue who she was. Not even an inkling. Larissa got no description either - not even a photo. All she knew was that Odette had red hair. And that a woman with red hair was storming toward her, all fucks thrown to the wind, sneakers smacking the pavement hard as she stomped down the sidewalk. Larissa looked utterly puzzled, slightly mortified, entirely put off by the sight of such a determined stranger. Like she wasn’t sure if she had done something wrong and if she had, she wasn’t sure how to fix it. But Odette would tell her. Odette would make it known.

“What the fuck?” was the first thing out of her mouth.

A rather harsh introduction, but necessary nonetheless. She didn’t even really mean to say it, but the surprised widening of Larissa’s eyes had a twisted spark of satisfaction spiraling up within her soul.

And her outburst, naturally, meant many things. Not just ‘What the fuck?’ but ‘What the fuck? Why did you disappear? What did I do? Did I hurt you? Did I say something? Did something happen to you? Do you feel sorry? Do you miss me? Do you wish you responded? Do you hope to never hear from me again? Did you always know this would happen? Did you ever even bother to think that you should tell me you’re that beautiful? What the fuck, why are your eyes so blue? And why are they piercing? Staring at me? Heavenly and deep and never-ending? Like.. oceans… and why are your lips so soft looking and plump and red? Where did that scar come from? Do you hate it? Do you know that I like it even though I’m only seeing it now for the first time ever? Did you always wear your hair like that? How long does it take you to get it like that? How does it feel to take it out after a long day? Did you know your makeup is flawless? And that your jawline is magnificent? And that you’re so tall… and you look so strong… inside and out… and why the fuck did you not mention you were British? English? What does it matter? Just what the fuck? Why the fuck? How the fuck? What the fuckity fuck?!’

But overall, it only meant ‘What the fuck? Why didn’t you say goodbye?’

“I beg your pardon?”

Unfortunately, Larissa could never read minds. Or hearts. So the vague pangs of longing, like old rusted blood, only ached harder as the taller woman blinked and frowned.

A blush painted Odette’s cheeks. Right. Somehow, along the way of admiring, she’d forgotten. Larissa had no idea who she was.

“Um.” Clearing her throat, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. Suddenly, things were very awkward. Terribly awkward. So horribly bloody awkward. It was a wonder if Larissa could feel the odd lull in conversation, the sudden dousing of Odette’s flames, but it didn’t really matter. If she wanted to, Odette was sure that if she chose to walk away, if she chose to take one last look before turning around and never coming back, then Larissa would never know. Then she’d just be another story. Another odd memory to tell her children one day, if she ever wished to have them. In her letters, the taller woman admitted that she didn’t think she ever would. But Odette always had a feeling that she’d be an amazing mother. Looking at her then, taking in the perfect posture and the crisp seams of her clothing, the feeling became fact. Larissa would be the best mom.

Funny that… there was a time, long ago, where Odette fantasized about making sandwiches for picnics and uprooting her entire life. Just to see the proud smile on her pen-pal’s face as her child grew and grew and grew and flourished. And maybe even ended up calling her ‘mom’ one day too.

But as Larissa wrote once upon a time, things changed. Time went on. And that was how it was.

So she could turn around. She could very well wrench herself from her spot and drag herself back the way she came. She could apologize, tell her she was mistaken, and that she was sorry - and then she could walk off into the sunset and pretend nothing ever happened. She could burn the letters. She could burn the very memory of her. She could forget the name ‘Larissa’ entirely and all would be left to rest. And that would be that. Que sera, sera.

But Odette was never the type to give up easily. Mirabelle, wherever she was, could attest.

So instead of abandoning ship, she powered through.

“It’s Odette,” came her firm tone. She straightened her back and tilted her head to look up properly, trying to stand tall in the face of heartache.

But heartache didn’t recognize her.

“Have we… met before?” Larissa blinked, turning to present her full attention.

Odette flushed red. Angry. Sad. Liberated.

“Have- have we met before?” She repeated, scoffed, outraged by her old friend’s obliviousness. “Just how many Odettes do you know?!” Her hands ran to her hips, firmly rooting themselves there as she began tapping her foot and glowering.

Such a display had Larissa scanning her from head to toe, desperately scrambling for understanding and recognition. The loose T-shirt, the black leggings, the sneakers, the hazel eyes, the pretty features, the freckles, the plump cheeks and curved body, the bag on her shoulder, the hair on her head. Red. Fiery. Standing out against the blue of the sky like a stain on white fabric. Messy curls and natural red red red.

Red… red…

Odette watched as Larissa froze. Her lips fell open, her eyes widened, she could practically see the way her heart stopped in her chest.

She remembered.

She remembered.

“…Odette?”

The shorter woman nodded, slowly feeling the anger and excitement drain from her body. It was fun being anonymous for just a moment. It was fun being the only one that remembered - having the chance to feel properly scorned and betrayed. But that didn’t last very long. The come down was harsh. Quick. A fall from immense grace. Especially when she saw the tears. They welled up in Larissa’s eyes, glossy and wet, making those sapphires shine. So swift they were. So rapid. As if sparked by Odette’s very existence.

Though maybe Larissa wasn’t the one that was tearing up. Maybe it was just her. Maybe the haze of the world, growing slightly blurry, was caused by the water that threatened to fall over her own lashes.

“Yeah.” It was all she could think to say.

For even with all of her passion, even with her love of words and her many discarded story drafts (all coincidentally started in the year 2023), even with whatever eloquence she was naturally born with, Odette couldn’t come up with a single meaningful thing to say. There was much, of course. But none of it fit. None of it made sense. Everything that lingered on her tongue, finally unlodging itself from the stickiness of her throat, was too heavy. Too heavy for the moment. Too heavy for the sidewalk. Too heavy for the side of the street. Too heavy for Jericho. Out in the open. Vermont. Miles away from home. Too close too close too close. Too much all at once. Maybe running after her was a bad idea. Maybe taking the vacation was even worse. Maybe sending that letter to Mirabelle in the first place was the poignant moment in which she should have changed her mind and threw it away when she considered it.

But she hadn’t.

And so there she was, staring up at Larissa, suddenly helpless. That ship that passed her in the night all those months ago had come back around; except that time she had stumbled upon it herself. And she wasn’t entirely sure if she was grateful- or terrified. Maybe the ship hated her. Maybe the ship would crash into her and ruin her and maybe the ship would begin shooting cannons. Maybe the ship would continue right past her. Maybe the ship would-

-hug her?

Odette blinked, very much unsure of what was happening as soon as she felt the comforting weight of long arms pushing themselves under her biceps and interlocking behind her back. La Belle and the soft clean smell of faded shampoo filled her senses. Her nose. Her lungs. Her eyes. Her heart. And soul. Part of her was so confused it wanted to grasp Larissa’s shoulders and shove her off. And the other part of her, the part of her that had dreams about receiving another letter from the one that broke her heart, wanted to give in.

‘That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily.’

Odette’s arms pressed against Larissa’s waist. Their holds were odd, skewed by the cups of hot chocolate they held and the other items in their grasps. But nonetheless, it was… it was unlike anything. Each breath died on Odette’s tongue. She felt the atoms in her brain disappear. Like they never existed at all.

“I’m sorry.” It was said so softly, she was near certain it wasn’t uttered at all. But then Larissa was pulling back, hands shaking as she brought them to her lips. “I’m sorry.”

There was grief in her eyes. A sadness that not even the most haunted of poets could explore, nor understand, nor emulate. It gleamed. It cut Odette in half. It had her taking steps back, suddenly unsure. Suddenly disoriented.

“What-… what happened?” She was breathless, bewildered at the sight of regret swimming in Larissa’s eyes.

The taller woman opened her mouth… then hesitated. Her gaze burned through her old friend- then twitched away and ran over the world around them. The sidewalk, the street, the shops, the Weathervane, the town itself. They were out in the open. And their… reunion… was too good for that. Too painful for that. Odette watched as Larissa’s lower lip quivered; as the thoughts ran through her mind at the speed of light. And before she even spoke, she knew what she was going to say.

“Please, come with me,” her voice was soft. Silken. Heavy with guilt. Pouring with unspoken words.

It was Odette’s turn to hesitate. Years… nearly. However much time. She didn’t really know. She stopped keeping track once she realized she was losing sleep over it. Hours upon hours of sleep. It affected her work - it affected her body. It slit the throat of her life and dragged it through dirt. ‘It’ being the silence. ‘It’ being the goodbye that never came. ‘It’ being Larissa, Larissa, Larissa.

The same Larissa who held an apology wound up in her lungs. The same Larissa who looked down at her as if she couldn’t quite believe she was real, standing before her, breathing and living. The same Larissa whose shaking hands held a cellphone and a cup of hot chocolate that was swiftly running cold. The same Larissa with the same shining eyes that glistened with tears and crackling memories and affection, warmth, that seemed so out of place. Years without the comfort of that dove-like soul… years without the… the love? Love? Is that what they had? Perhaps it was too little too late to wonder. Perhaps Odette was just dipping into wishful thinking. Giving into the dreams she repeated over the years. With every word, every breath, every letter - she found herself begging. Pleading. ‘Please. Please please please invite me to Vermont. See me. Know me. These pages are killing me.’ All of it secretly scrawled between her slanting lines. Running in circles behind her hazel eyes. Displayed for Larissa, even though Larissa did not exist before her at the time.

Not like she did in that moment. In Jericho. In tears.

“Let me explain, Odette. I meant- I… just- give me a chance.” Larissa blinked her tears away and straightened her shoulders, tone growing desperate, body growing tense.

Never before did she sound like that in their letters. But never before did she leave Odette for so long. Interesting circumstances… Funny how life ended things so quickly. Funny how life brought out the truth in a person when they felt themselves tugged at a loss. Pushed to their knees. Though she said she had an explanation… and her old friend had never been a liar.

“Okay,” Odette breathed, clearing her throat. “Okay.”

“Really?”

‘Yes of course, really,’ Odette thought, looking at her with a mix of surprise and anger and devotion. ‘What are you, mad? I’d never just walk away. I’d never just give up. I can’t help myself. I never could. You know this. You know me.’

───※ ·❆· ※───

I quite enjoyed writing this. Might take a break from writing 'Heat' and 'To People Watch One Person' for a bit- same with requests. For the foreseeable future, whatever comes to mind will be written. I've started watching GOT again... and a certain Ser of Tarth has strummed the strings of my heart {as always} so maybe expect something with her? Dunno. Either way, thank you for staying with me. You mean the moon and stars, believe me. - Ripley x

───※ ·❆· ※───

#fanfiction #larissa weems #wlw fanfic #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #rippersz #gwendoline christie #angsty fic #bittersweet fic

[valleyxdoodles]

Highkey want more friede fics/headconnons like why is he soooo underrated 😭😭😭

Anyway can I have friede oneshot like reader who scared of highs like reader loses a fight friede comes in frying and scoops up reader before they or their pokémon gets more hurt and reader wakes up after being knocked out for a bit realise their up in the sky, starts freaking out friede is trying to calm them down.

Or

A little hcs like you dress up like him/do personation of him.

Maybe trivia like you really want see how well he knows pokémon.

Something funny maybe you want to prove that no matter what friede doing he will always catch you in his arms no matter whats his holding/doing (like that one scene Brooklyn Nine-Nine)

Anyways I hope this feeds the friede simps (like me) and good day/night 



😩✋ SAY NO MORE MY LOVE.

I SHALL FEED YOU A VERY TASTY DINNER TONIGHT!

(Ok so, the night thing was very cute and I would like to know how tf you have access to my WIPs…)

WHEN YOU DRESS UP LIKE FRIEDE!!!

-Okay so, when you first met Friede, you had the random thought “How comfy is that jacket?”

-So when you two started dating, you decided to be a menace and steal it.

-Ligit TORE it off Friede when he was sleeping and he DID NOT wake up (Talk about deep sleeper, eh)

-He woke up and screamed

-“WHERE’S MY JACKET?!”

-“Hey, Babe.” You said mocking how he talked to you

-*CONFOOSED PROFESSER*

-He looked at you and said “The hell?”

-Then he jumped up and said “You looked adorable!”

-Then it hit him.

-“YOU LITTLE THEIF!”

-Cue running around the ship and laughing your ass off because your almost as quick as Cap.

-“DAMN, YOUR FAST!”

-“Thank you!”

-“Gimme my jacket.”

-Gimmie a kiss 😚

-Cue morning breath Friede trying to make out.

-Cue you hiding until he brushed his teeth.

-Now you two make out. 💋

-And he gets he jacket back at the end.

(HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!)

#pokemon friede #pokemon #friede x reader #professor friede #Reader x friede #valley writes

[twigg96]

Works Master list 💕

Hello my sweet lovelies. It has come to my attention by some very lovely mutuals that I should make a master list of all of the works I have posted here on Tumblr. First and foremost I would like to say I do try to reblog most of my original posts and fics over on my second page @bionicpancake00. However none of that is in order nor is that sorted. So I am making this list, categorizing the works, and will be posting this and will be updating it each month with each new entry. (Hopefully lol) so let’s get started. Shall we 💕😊

First and foremost I am going to post my AO3 HERE. Most of my long form content that is not X reader ends up there. If anyone has any request for HCs, x reader fics, longform fics, or simple suggestions I am always accepting them either in my asks or my DMs. Linked HERE is what I do ask my requester's include, just simple things that I believe most writers ask for.

Metalocalypse Dethklok HCs Relationship HCs

Dethklok with a neurodivergent S/O

Dethklok with an Autistic S/O

Dethklok with a Bipolar S/O

Sharing a bed with Dethklok

Dethklok with a smol tactile S/O

Breaking up with Dethklok part 1

Breaking up with Deathklok part 2

Dethklok with a really shy S/O

Dating Pickles

Dethklok dating a belly dancer

Dethklok helping their partner through a monthly cycle

Foot rubs and massages

The boys caring for a sick/injured S/O

Dethklok caring for a sick partner

Dethklok with a disabled S/O

The boys caring for an S/O with chronic migraines

Proposing

Wearing their shirts

Fear of public relationship in fame

Wedding reaction and Song HC

FLUFFY HCs

Dethklok caring for crying S/O

Dethklok dealing with an S/O's annoying coworker

Dethklok & Mags with a Goth S/O

The Boys receiving head scritches from S/O

S/O is Charles' Daughter

Dethklok with a crush on a shy S/O

PETNAMES

MORE PETNAMES

Dethklok with a British crush

Pickles & Magnus with S/Os who likes cute things

Dethklok helping an S/O who's mensurating

The boys with a nerdy S/O who infodumps

Dethklok with a happy/cheerful S/O

The boys realizing their partner has a angel wing tattoo

Their first "I love you"

Trying to impress their crush

Sharing a pink bedroom with Dethklok

Pickles with a S/O w/ scars on their thighs (TW: Scars)

Pregnancy/Parent HCs

Dick Knubbler, Dr. Rockzo, and Magnus as the father

Dethklok Pregnant (MPREG)

The boys as a dad to a teenage girl

Papa Murderface HC (Lullabies)

Papa Murderface HCs (Being a dad)

Dethklok Daddies

Random HCs

William Murderface cooking HC (Based off of @polyklok's post)

A Potato Flew around my Room Vine

Dr. Rockzo HCs

Dr. Rockzo Relationship HC

Yandere Magnus ( CW: Touches upon abusive relationships)

What the boys smell like

Dickface HC

Pickles' Rats

Dick Knubbler HCs

The boys as yanderes

Helping Toki when he's having a flashback

DRAMA The boys trying to steal each other's partners

Sleep HCs with Murderface

When their partner has a lot of stuffies on the bed

How old are these dudes

Skwisgaar HCs

Nathan HCs

Murderace HCs

Toki HCs

Pickles HCs

Magnus & Nathan HC (Based off @folkdevilism's post)

Continuation of ^ This

Toki's Christmas HC

Dethklok's favorite football team

Witchsona HC

Dethklok's Zodiac

Just some art I made

Just a little tag game about ships I did once

Toki name HC

Does Dethklok Tip?

Nsfw HCs

Birthday gifts

Dethklok with a Bratty S/O

Murderface's first time with his S/O

Favorite Sex Positions

The boys reacting to a loud S/O

The boys finding out they're their partner's first... everything

Dethklok Fics

Eyes like Diamonds (Dickface)

Until Next Time (Charles X Reader)

By the Light of the Library (Dethklok & Reader PLATONIC)

You're all I need Babe (Dickface)

Take Me To Church (Skwistok)

Just Us (Tickles)

The Walking Dead Daryl Daryl Dixon X Reader

You're kind of a MILF Huh? (Parents! Daryl X Reader FLUFF)

I Should Have Been There (Daryl X Reader ANGST)

Can I Trust You Dad? (Daryl being a dad)

Spring Chicken (Parents! Daryl X Reader)

Thank you for the Music (Daryl X Reader FLUFF)

In the Nick of Time (Daryl X Pregnant Reader ANGST)

Princess (Daddy! Daryl X Reader/ Daryl being a dad)

Beau as a middle child HC

Strangers like me (Daryl X Reader from Merle’s POV)

Midnight Moonshine (Pissed off! Drunken! Daryl X Reader)

Into the Darkness, I become Stronger (Daddy Daryl X Injured! Reader HURT/COMFORT with the tiniest SMUT)

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington HCs

#masterlist #will be updated #metalocalypse #stranger things steve #the walking dead daryl #metalocalypse headcanons #imagine metalocalypse #dethklok #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion #william murderface #skwistok #dickface #spicy #tickles #charles x reader #Platonic Polyklok #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x you #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie

[idontknowreallywhy]

A little more Birthday fluff for the flyboy.

A glimpse into the future because I’m adamant he must have a happy one. I didn’t actually get time today to write the main part I intended but I shall post now in case I never manage to get there!

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Objectively, Eleven was clearly the best ‘bird.

She was 6-mach faster than One, more manoeuvrable than Shadow and could carry more than her fair share of weight, even if it wasn’t as much as third-generation-turtle Twelve could.

And Scott had flown her like a second skin… he’d been far more involved in Eleven’s design than he had of IR’s original fast response craft. And of course he’d been the primary test pilot, putting more than a few grey hairs on Brains’ and Virgil’s heads in the process. Not to mention his wife’s. He smiled wryly to himself at the memory of the incredibly loud dressing down he’d received post a certain test flight… which had been closely monitored from the island right up until he’d tried out the high speed air to water transition Brains hadn’t fully stress-tested yet and the comms had gone offline for a few minutes. Or ten.

Half an hour at most.

The smile broadened to a grin as he recalled the aftermath of that particular argument… and, Well. Even if six children hadn’t quite been the plan, Scott had really needed to objectively exceed his father’s record at *something*… so… all’s well that ended well.

But Eleven had always been his eldest daughter’s bird.

And the extra machs were irrelevant now. Ever since the the appointment shortly after his 70th birthday when the doctor had forbidden him from exceeding Mach Five. Slower than Two for goodness sakes. His immediate objections had been silenced by a very clear indication that the doctor’s baseline opinion was that it wasn’t wise for a septuagenerian to exceed the speed of sound at all.

Lest he make any fuss that might get back to Virgil… or god forbid IR’s current commander in chief, whose precise combination of his wife’s and his own genes mildly terrified him even now… he nodded meekly. He’d only bent the rules a couple of times in the 5 years since. Maybe three…

Or four.

Eight at most.

Anyway, he’d always maintain One was best: she’d always have an important place in his heart - his first great love.

Which is why, at the newly attained age of 75, as he stood staring moodily out of the lounge window awaiting Eleven’s return to the hangar beneath the pool, his second slipped her hand into his and quietly towed him towards the transport tunnels over to Mateo. The cavern which used to house the old back-up generator, redundant since the island had made the switch to fully renewable energy sources, had been expanded to create a new hangar. It was here the older ‘birds nested quietly, awaiting their occasional moment in the sun as back up to the younger generation.

Nothing was said on the journey, she just squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back. Scott helped her out of the little pod, and he led the way this time to where his pride and joy towered over them, gleaming silver and blue as she ever had. Scott paced an inspection circuit around the base, pausing to buff a smudge from one of the stabilisers with a shirt sleeve. His wife followed, gripping his hand ever so tightly and, he suspected, appraising him as minutely as he was assessing the ship.

Satisfied with what he saw, Scott stood back and smiled up at One, rather fancying she was smiling back down at him. The hand suddenly slipped out of his and he frowned, missing its warmth immediately but his concern was assuaged when both arms wrapped around him from behind and she propped her chin up on his shoulder to whisper in his ear:

“So, Flyboy, are you going to take me for a ride today?”

TBC?

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #romantic fluff #whether the primary romance is with One is up for debate tho #happy birthday Scott #future thunderbirds #idontknowreallywhy fanfic

[crowzenn-murders]

Ask and ye shall receive... Asks!

My request is for a very rarepair, my comfort ship....

Adribrina (Adrien x Sabrina)

I wrote a one shot for them just for funsies and 🥺 I love them your honor. They're goobers. They pun at each other. They're both givers who aren't used to receiving in return so they just give and are grateful and it's a feedback loop. They make the dumbest little things cute and drama/stress free. They lay in blanket nests and watch anime until they fall asleep or makeout (with equal probability). I ended up writing a 120k fic on these two sillies.

No salt on Marinette(I don't do salt) she's in good shape in the fic too, honestly probably better shape than canon by the end. 🤣

Idk i drew them like a partners in crime, and maybe they just look at each other and understand the other, just cuddling! Thank you for requesting !

#my art #art #fanart #zenndcc #doodles #adrien agreste #sabrina raincomprix #adrian x sabrina #rarepair #art requests #zenn.asks #mlb fanart #mlb #miraculous fanart

[iridescentdove]

i'm so sorry for being dead for so long ,, things go on at work and i have to prepare for some cosplays event, then be away for 2 weeks at spain—

requests are closed by the way! sicne people still keep sending me stuff 😭 don't worry, i'll open them once i'm free. for now, everyone stay safe and happy !! i can't wait to write again, because i have many ideas for all of you <3

spoiler: bsd series ✨️

because i've been gone for long, here's a small preview for you. also, the series has a bit of smut maybeee ...

it's a dazai x reader x chuuya.

yes, you heard me right. now get over here, you simps.

WASHED AWAY

INTRODUCING - A BUNGOU STRAY DOGS: SIREN! AU

...

It was a peaceful voyage in the luxurious cruise. You leaned by the docks, arms rested on the railing as you look out to sea. Well, this was boring. Your mother promised it was way more entertaining than staying home all day coped in a room.

She were so wrong.

Splashing came from below – seemingly, in an attempt to draw attention. One'd think it was just a dolphin, or of some sort. Until well, you heared talking.

— "Oi, Dazai. You'll be noticed, you know!"

— "Exactly what I want~? Hehe."

Two sirens ... casually swimming and following the cruise ship. They obviously had tails instead of legs – swimming around gracefully. They looked ... so handsome, in a way. A charming appearance that shouldn't even look real.

Wait–

SIREN?!

Much confusion was held. A siren? Wait – are you just dreaming? There's no way they're real, right? Yet your thoughts were proven wrong as soon as you saw two of them swimming just by the ship. Oh, how strange.

— "Hm? ..."

What a queer day. You decided to peer over just down by the railing, noticing their bickering and rested your arms by the cold metal, unsure what to do next.

They seemed to be ... whispering to one another, but you couldn't understand the foreign siren tongue. Aha joke, you did.

That librarian knowledge did not go to waste.

Soon, the two sirens looked back up – both staring in the direction where you were.

— "Hey ... look there. There's an attractive young mortal!"

— "Shall we... greet them, Chuuya~? Hehe."

— "I shall not refuse the first chance of entertainment, either."

Both sirens swam up as their tails moved fluidly, their sweet siren songs ... filling your ears.

They wanted you.

A lulling, sweet song – having enchanted the very core of one's own being and slowly leading to the predator. It was as you thought. Despite how tempting it was, you really didn't want to drown, do you?

So! You decides to back off. With your mouth shut. What a brave soul. You used every fiber of your being to resist the song, finding it praisable that you'd have read knowledge of sirenhood beforehand ...

They didn't stop. It became louder. And louder. And louder – it soon came that your own will was slowly breaking apart. They needed you. To listen.

— "This mortal is quite strong ... but they will succumb soon."

— "Awe ... They can't resist forever~"

— "Especially with two sirens."

No.

Two male sirens.

They were seducing you.

Seduction. That rang in your ears. Well, heavens me! It's been quite a while since you've ever heard of that. Ever since you were once seduced by a student in junior high school and somehow ended up shoving him into a broom closet filled with puke and cobwebs since he wouldn't shut the fuck up.

Obviously that was Nikolai.

Slowly, you panicked. Trying to find a way to escape this dire situation, in any means necessary. It may as well be hopeless, but you couldn't just succumb to your end. You kept your mouth shut, trying not to say anything ...

They swam towards you, slowly. Their voices ... singing, still. You wanted their voices. And their words. And their body. And their touch.

In fact – oh, why not.

Well ... you just wanted them.

You opened your mouth. They were basically ready to spring up and grab you at anytime. They were an inch away from the ship, where you stood. They were smiling, as usual – it seemed.

Give in to them, (Y/N). It's just that easy.

...

Oh, fuck it.

— "I ..."

This wouldn't have been preferred, but yet again, this is you obviously – (Y/N). The most lucky and yet (usually) stupidest bitch we know. Ah, look at that. Here it comes. You take a deep breath, clenching your fists.

She notices Chuuya's gleaming, steely blue irises staring at with that sultry look.

— "... Sir ... those are fanfiction blue orbs."

Silence came afterwards.

Chuuya was stunned at this comment. He didn't stop singing, though. If anything, he was more interested in singing and seducing you. He was a siren.

But at some point, he was at a loss for words. One simple question was in his mind, bugging him.

What in the flip-fucking fish is fanfiction?

Dazai had stopped singing as well. He was staring at you, raising an eyebrow – he looked amused, yet concerned? He looked like he was jaw dropped, to be honest. He seemed to be he was in disbelief. What the f-

— "Those ... are what?"

Not much of a moment later, you replied to the brunette.

— "Don't smirk, fishboy. That's cringe."

With that, it took all your might to salute and speed walk away ... whereas, when you finally made it inside – you shut the cruise doors loudly. Sad. Now they have to wait for you to come out again ... which might never be in a hundred years.

In the end, the silence protruded as soft giggles were heard. Until, the two sirens were full fledged in laughing – mostly because you called a siren a ... fishboy.

— "A fishboy~? Aren't you precious."

— "But don't worry. This is the start of a great entertainment. This is fun, Dazai."

You could hear them singing outside the door.

— "You can't keep us out. We always find a way – even if we have to break into the cruise ship and drag you to the sea."

They were so fucking petty.

—————————————— ♡♡♡

aaaand done! it's a long preview, huh? SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME I DID MY BEST.

it'll be out once i'm no longer on hiatus and have finished all seven requests in my inbox lmfao. it's not much at all, but i only post when i get a burst of energy so ...

see you all soon! <3

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #armed detective agency #dazai osamu #port mafia #decay of angels #siren au #bsd siren au #chuuya nakahara

[spitfire-of-the-sea]

The Stowaway Series, Part 4: Karma

Guys. I know it's been *ages* but work is kicking my butt and taking away my will to write at the moment. (Thanks, science. No, it's great, please ruin all my hobbies for me).

Thanks for all of you who were waiting and encouraging me to continue. <3 The name for reader!Kitty is not yet fixed, if you have a preference, let me know in the comments!

And now, without further ado:

Find part 1, part 2 and part 3, if you want to read the beginning of this. =)

Word count: 3.4k Warnings: Still SFW. Just naked butts. Pretty safe, I think? Characters: Ace, Marco & Thatch… and cat!reader :D and Pops appearing, too!

The Stowaway Series, Part 4: Karma

You sat there, just watching them with zero thoughts in your brain for a couple of moments. Two grown pirates – one with a bounty of well over a billion, the other still with a respectable bounty of over half a billion – as they splashed each other with water and bubbles alike. Half-naked, of course, because none of them was wearing a shirt anymore.

What was this?! A Coca-Cola commercial?! What kind of freak pirate ship had you ended up on?!

You blinked slowly, your drenched fur slowly dripping water and making a puddle around you. A bubble slid down your nose and made you sneeze.

Or, perhaps, this was the male version of pillow fights…?

Somehow, right then a bucket smacked Ace right in the face and you thought that you probably preferred the more traditional pillow fights. Like, the ones that didn’t break your nose or anything. Not that Ace seemed to have any problem – if anything, it was the bucket that seemed rather worse for wear now. Slightly deformed, very much melting.

You instinctively ducked when a piece of soap came sailing towards your head and thanked your feline reflexes for saving you from looking like a Persian cat. You shuddered at the thought and slowly, one by one, your brain cells blinked back into existence. This brought with it the revelation that you were absolutely drenched and dripping wet, still bubbly, and very much in need of a proper rinse.

It did, however, also come with the realization that those two were currently pretty distracted and for the first time, you weren’t held by a half-naked man, surrounded by pirates, or incapacitated by water. This, you happily noted, was your chance to get out of here and find a place to hide away with your ninja-like skills. A place that was…-

“Did those two boneheads just abandon you like this, kitty?” the voice connected to the two hands that picked you up cooed at you.

Okay, so your perception wasn’t the greatest at the moment. So what?! You’d been through a lot, okay?!

With a deep, deep sigh, you just hung there in those hands that had closed around your ribcage, not even bothering to fight anymore. You were so done with this shit.

1/10 stars. Do not recommend. Service personnel is pretty hot but ultimately fails at its job.

“Shall we finish the job, hm? Maybe by the time we’re done, Marco will have scrubbed that feral little raccoon clean, too,” Thatch murmured and you were taken over to the shower he had just occupied.

And then… with a start… you remembered that he had been in exactly that shower like a moment ago and he’d been utterly naked. You also remembered that you had visually confirmed only minutes ago that he had a fine ass and the rest of his anatomy had also been pretty convincing.

On the one hand, for the sake of your modesty, you should be very concerned with the fact that he was probably still naked and you were about to enter a shower – also fully naked because you didn’t really count fur as clothes – with a man you had met less than an hour ago.

Had he saved your life? Yes.

But still. You were a good girl. (Or at least that’s what you usually told yourself. Most of the time.) You didn’t climb into showers for some naked and very splashy adventures until you were reasonably sure you’d actually end up having a good time.

On the other hand… you twisted in his arms and threw a curious glance down his front, your tail twitching in interest. If the rest of his body was any indication, he’d be…

Awwww. Covered with a towel.

“Miss Kitty, have a seat,” Thatch said and placed you on top of a little stool. You blinked up at him, not fully unsatisfied with the treatment. For one, he was being polite, and additionally, he had basically perched you on a little throne. Yes. Yes. This was acceptable.

Happy to hopefully get rid of the surplus bubbles you generously offered him a paw, somewhat ignoring the fact that you were supposed to be a simply stray cat, and he took it with a chuckle and started to rinse it clean.

“Or should I call you Lady, hm?” he asked and kneeled down next to you, very carefully washing all the remaining shampoo from your fur as you glanced down at him regally.

Admittedly, this didn’t feel too bad, you had your little perch, a pretty damn good-looking guy kneeling in front of you and basically giving you the finisher of a spa treatment…

Maybe you’d actually give them like… 5/10 stars after all.

Within a couple of minutes, you were actually pretty much clean and he turned off the water and stroked you with long, even movements to squeeze the water out of your fur. It felt quite heavenly, to be honest, and you might actually have started to purr a bit again…

Of course, you just couldn’t have nice things, could you?

Because this was when the door banged open – you were pretty sure some tiles cracked at the impact, and a freaking giant entered the room. And not to be dramatic… but he barely fit through that damn door and by your very modest estimate, it was probably four meters high. You started to look up along the legs. And looked up. And up. And.. still up.

When your gaze landed on a bare chest – what the fuck else, this ship apparently suffered from a severe cloth famine – you noticed enough scars to supply a full battalion of soldiers. And as it traveled even further up, you noticed a white captain’s coat slung over wide, wide shoulders. And as it finally reached a face, ducking in below the doorframe, you saw a white beard.

A.

White.

Beard.

You made a gurgling sound as all the air in your lungs suddenly rushed out of your body and you went first stiff, and then hot, and then felt the fur all along your body desperately trying to puff up against the forces of the remaining wetness in your fur.

Oh no. Oh no no no. This was Whitebeard. The legendary Whitebeard. The guy who’d fought the Pirate King and lived to tell the tale.

“I’m hungry,” he said by way of greeting, “and the boys told me to come here.”

The pressure in the room was almost overwhelming and your feral instincts kicked in before a single brain cell could so much as put a word in in favor of reason. He’d eat you. He’d fucking eat you. He was Edward Newgate, the famous Whitebeard. They’d cleaned you up to serve you to their bloodthirsty captain who ate babies and cute kittens for breakfast!

With a battle scream, you exploded out of Thatch’s hands onto the floor and barely managed to land on your feet in your blind panic. In a feat of pure elegance, you somehow tripped over your own tail only one step further, resulting in you face-planting on the floor for about 0.1 seconds, because that was all the time you allowed yourself to waste. Digging your claws into the tiles, you pushed off and actually propelled yourself onto the wall, just below knee height for the giant between you and survival. If you hadn’t been so busy not getting eaten, you’d have complimented your athleticism.

“What the…-,” Thatch managed to say by the time you took the second long leap towards the door.

You’d manage. You were swift. You were like the wind.

“Flight risk!” Ace screamed when you did your third leap and pushed himself off the floor to rush after you. Fate was in your favor. His foot landed on a bar of soap, his eyes widened comically, and his leg was pulled out from under him as he slipped. You’d have appreciated the beauty of it, probably, the arch his body described as his ass went up and his upper body went down and he landed – hard – on first his shoulders and then his head. You heard something crack and faintly hoped it wasn’t his head. It was pretty.

“Not so fast-yoi!” Marco chuckled as he plucked you out of the air in your fourth leap without breaking a sweat, wrapping a towel around you at the same moment. “And here I thought you were getting used to us.”

There was a select choice of words on the tip of your tongue. Among them were several that were connected to a certain part of his anatomy and the places he could shove it. You were not gonna be eaten! You’d scratch their eyes out! You’d carve your name into their faces! You’d fight until your last breath!

You had claws! You were a ferocious tiger, no matter how small! You had the devil’s power…! You… fucking… couldn’t get out of the towel!

“Now, what’s that?” Whitebeard asked, his tone rather surprised than particularly hungry.

“A cat,” Thatch answered helpfully and ambled closer, toweling his hair dry as he walked.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should turn back into your human form to show them that you were not a cat and therefore, should not be eaten. Perhaps you should declare that you were not a virgin, either, just to be absolutely sure that they wouldn’t think you were useable for any sort of ritual or for feeding to the giant or…-

No. No. That was dragons. Dragons ate virgins.

What did giants eat?!

“I can see that,” Whitebeard answered, somewhat exasperated, and ducked lower to get a better look at you while you were fighting to get out of the towel. Your claws sliced through the cloth like a hot knife through butter and yet you just couldn’t get free. You shot a wild look at the giant captain.

You were no more than a snack for him. Surely, you weren’t even worth the effort!

But maybe it was no effort. He’d swallow you whole. Like that famous whale at the start of the Grand Line, that supposedly swallowed ships whole. You fought with renewed ferocity and Marco clicked his tongue at you, fighting to keep you under control.

Ace slowly tried to get up again, clutching his hands to the back of his head. “Ouch.”

He was still alive, then. Good. At least you thought it was good…? Perhaps…? At least you hadn’t gotten any cat-eating vibes from him.

The sounds of fabric ripping below your claws announced how close you were to freedom and Marco cursed under his breath, juggling you from one hand to the other to avoid giving you a chance to latch onto one of his fingers.

“Is anybody going to tell me why there’s a cat?” Whitebeard asked finally, his tone surprisingly even.

“It’s our new cat,” Ace said, rubbing at the back of his head. There were tears in his eyes as he tenderly felt around for the quickly forming bump.

“Our cat?” Whitebeard prompted, slowly sounding less patient.

“Yes,” Ace confirmed. “Spot.”

You sank your teeth into a piece of towel and ripped at it, glaring up at Marco, who reached for a second towel, frowning. “She doesn’t have a single spot-yoi.”

“I see lots of spots,” Ace muttered and blinked slowly. “I knew it all along. The soap almost killed me. Told you it causes more harm than good.”

“Your head is way too hard for that. You’re fine. Also, I think Whiskers is a far better name,” Thatch threw in.

Personally, you thought they were both pretty shit. With a low growl, you twisted in Marco’s hands, managed to graze his index finger with one fang, and then were rolled into a second layer of towel. You didn’t feel entirely unlike a burrito.

Heh. A Purrito.

You were hilarious, even when you were 5 seconds away from being eaten. But you were not about to give them any ideas.

“Would you stop that?” Marco asked you with a sigh. “It’s just Pops-yoi.”

“Fluffy?” Ace suggested and slowly came to his feet. Even upside down and pretty sure something horrible was about to happen you could appreciate that the drops of water glittering on his skin and slowly sliding down his very defined abs made him look fine as hell.

“Killer,” Marco threw in and you glowered, wiggling yourself forward and out of the towel wrapped around you millimeter by millimeter. You were still contemplating the idea of turning back into a human – both to be able to think straight again and to maybe tell them that you wouldn’t stand for such ridiculous names. Ah, and the detail to please not eat you or do something else horrible.

Thatch leaned forward and booped your nose. You snapped your jaws at him but he was too quick for you, you didn’t even manage to nick him. “Catness Everclean,” he happily suggested and you couldn’t help it, you rolled your eyes.

So he read those types of books, huh? Probably also read romance novels and smut. You scoffed.

“Boys…,” Whitebeard said with a tone that you knew pretty well from your father. It was the tone he used when he was down to his last nerves and he was between giving you up for adoption and accepting his hand in making you the person you were. Your ears twitched.

“Can we keep her?” Ace asked, slowly coming closer, one eye squeezed shut and with one hand still at the back of his head.

“I don’t think…-,” Whitebeard started.

“Look how cute she is!” Ace immediately continued and grabbed you out of Marco’s arms. Still covered in one layer of towels, plus a few stripes of the first one. You tried to twist but his grip didn’t give an inch.

His effort was admirable, really, but with only your face visible in the layers of towels, and your eyes almost popping out of your head from the effort of fighting for freedom, you probably looked more deranged than cute.

“We already have a dog,” Whitebeard answered slowly.

You hissed, sounding somewhat suffocated. Probably due to the lack of air in your lungs at this current moment.

“Somehow, she reminds me of Ace-yoi,” Marco muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Is she trying to kill us? Sure. But in a slightly deranged and yet charming kinda way. You can’t really be mad at her. It’s cute, in a way.”

For that, he got another hiss. Sadly you couldn’t give him the middle finger right now. Which was probably good, you reminded yourself, he was an evil pirate, after all.

“Lady Floofiness,” Ace said as if he had heard nothing. When he tried to kick Marco who stood beside him, the older commander simply moved out of his way. “Once she’s dry, you can see for yourself. She’s really pretty and very, very gentle.”

Okay. You were pretty happy he hadn’t cracked his skull open. He was pretty cute. Plus, he probably wouldn’t let you get eaten. You hoped. At least he was your best shot in this room.

Marco snorted a laugh. “Gentle? She tried to amputate my finger. Again.”

“You held her wrong,” Ace hissed under his breath. “You need to support her…-“

“Butt. I know-yoi,” Marco answered with a shake of his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

What was this fascination with your butt?! You had a pretty great one, sure, but in your human form. That you were not about to show them. You had decided so. Perhaps your animal instincts had been a bit overwhelmed by the giant standing at the door, but you slowly lost the fear of somebody wanting to eat you.

Or perhaps you were just going numb. Whichever one.

You squinted up at Whitebeard, who was looking at you with a frown. His beard twitched as he regarded you and you quickly reversed direction and instead of trying to get out of the towel, you buried yourself deeper into it, away from his prying eyes.

“Stefan might not like it,” he finally said.

“He likes Kotatsu just fine,” Ace countered. “And she’s much smaller, won’t take up any space. She can sleep in my cabin.” He started to slowly unwrap you and you grabbed one corner of the towel and tried to hold onto it, suddenly not desiring freedom so much. Freedom meant having no barrier between you and those piercing eyes.

You were still holding onto the towel desperately when two giant fingers grabbed you by the scruff of your neck and picked you up. Gulping, you winced when your body went limb, suddenly unable to do anything but stare at the giant man who had picked you up. He held you in front of his face and you held your breath. This was it. This was the end.

He opened his mouth and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Goodbye, cruel world. I’m leaving you today.

“Stefanie,” he said then and you slowly opened one eye back up.

A brief moment of silence, then Thatch cleared his throat and Marco shuffled his feet, searching for words. Ace was less polite. “That’s a shit name, old man,” he blurted out.

“Fluffy isn’t much better,” Thatch murmured and Ace shot him a glare.

“Says the man who suggested Catness Everclean-yoi.” Marco crossed his arms in front of his chest and shook his head.

“Yeah, and Killer as a name for a teeny tiny fluffy cat clearly wins a prize for creativity,” Thatch shot back.

Marco shrugged. “We can also call her Calamity Jane, seeing as how she made Freckles almost crack his head open, made you bleed for the first time in, what, four years? And has actually managed to nick my skin here.” He lifted a finger with a frown and you could see a tiny drop of blood there for a moment before blue flames engulfed it and it was gone in the next moment.

Thatch, who saw the sparkle in Ace’s eyes, quickly shook his head even as he took a look at his forearms and registered with some surprise that you had indeed managed to scratch him. He dabbed at it with the end of his towel, still shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

“I think it’s cool,” Ace weighed in and came to stand just below you, holding his arms out expectantly. You curled your tail around yourself and hoped that you’d indeed be handed over again. Ace was the one who held you in the most comfortable way – by far!

To be fair, perhaps you hadn’t given Marco much of a chance with your little panic attack.

But that was hardly your fault. You were in a room with Edward Fucking Newgate, also called Whitebeard. Also having the highest bounty in the whole of the fucking world. You were pretty sure a little panic was justified.

“You just like it because it fits into your little card naming scheme. Ace. Spade Pirates. Spadille. Calamity Jane,” Thatch accused him and when Marco raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he shrugged. “Queen of Spades? Calamity Jane?”

“Oh,” Marco made and rubbed at his chin. “Then no.”

“Hey!” Ace snapped and lifted himself on his tiptoes to reach for you.

You honestly shouldn’t feel so relieved at the guy heartily grabbing your butt, but at least Whitebeard let go of the scruff of your neck and you dropped into Ace’s outstretched hands. Gulping down a shiver – not quite successfully – you were happy when he brought you close to his chest again. Especially since he didn’t seem to mind that you were still wet.

“I haven’t said yes yet,” Whitebeard reminded them with a sigh. “At least I know now why they were all snickering like idiots when they sent me here.”

“You also haven’t said no yet,” Ace reminded him with a grin and started to stroke you with long, calming movements. Eyes unblinking and brain simply overloaded thanks to the last hour, you lay there against his chest and contemplated whether this was karma. Whether perhaps you had stolen one too many times from the rich and given to the poor. Mainly you, actually. But you were poor.

Ugh. You needed a cocktail with lots of rum and a cigarette.

And you didn’t even smoke.

#kitty!reader #stowaway series #reader x one piece #reader x Ace #reader x Marco #reader x Thatch #whitebeard crew #marco the phoenix x reader #ace d portgas #crack fic #kitty needs a cocktail after this #I feel like the others were funnier v.v #I hope it's not too boring for y'all!

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on tomarry

thank you for the ask, anon!

tomarrymort was one of the first ships i ever read, and it remains a firm favourite of mine. certainly, it's my preferred pairing for harry [sorry to all the hinny girlies i'm friends with now], and it's up there among my preferred pairings for voldemort [along with riddledore and snapemort].

[i have a current tomarry wip, as well... just in case you were looking for something to read...]

but why do i like the pairing?

firstly, a couple of facetious - but still extremely important - points:

harry does not stop banging on about how hot tom riddle is. he simps for him shamelessly, which i respect, and he's clearly physically attracted to him, which is important in a relationship. tom is a bit more demure, but he does point out that he and harry look alike, so clearly he's been checking him out.

their mind connection is also hot, as generations of smut writers know.

thinking about how all harry's friends react to the revelation that he's banging the dark lord entertains me endlessly. ron, a stoic, can handle it; hermione, very much not a stoic, cannot. my guilty pleasure is the idea that dumbledore secretly ships it.

the pairing lends itself really well to a vast variety of themes and genres. darkfic, villain-redeeming fluff, time travel, stockholm syndrome, crack, horror, pwp? yes, all yes.

and then the main, and much more serious one:

harry is, canonically, the only person to believe in the possibility of voldemort's redemption.

the complexity of grief, anger, and atonement is something i like to explore in my reading and writing, and voldemort being someone whose obvious damage has led him down very dark paths is my preferred way of seeing him. i love an outrageous villain voldemort as much as the next girl, but i definitely would rather write him as slightly more fragmented and, therefore, slightly more capable of doing something with his life beside killing and being immortal.

harry gives him that space, and the pairing has so much potential for being a genuinely beautiful meditation on the power of forgiveness and love.

i'll try most things once, but i have developed some tomarrymort dislikes:

the forgiveness point is the reason that i don't like the subgenre of tomarrymort in which voldemort has all the power. the prophecy said the dark lord shall mark him as his equal, but that seems to be absent from lots of fics.

the canonical harry does not respect the canonical voldemort as he behaves in the series - and he certainly does not and would not submit to him, even in the face of torture [he refuses to bow to him in the graveyard when he's fourteen, he's not letting him run rings around him as an adult].

similarly, while harry is prepared to be morally flexible in pursuit of the things he wants, i don't think he would ever accept a relationship with voldemort in which voldemort actively refuses to change even a little. this doesn't mean writing voldemort as suddenly becoming a meek little lamb, but it does mean harry fighting him on his worst instincts and, very probably, winning. that isn't to say that i don't like dark stories with the pairing, but i much prefer those fics if harry stays defiant and aggro until the very end in them.

on a similar point, i'm not fond of harry when he's written to be fragile, delicate, or stereotypically feminine [he's a jock who wants to become a cop!].

i'm a member of ham nation, but i'll happily read fics in which harry bottoms, but i would like it if authors could move on from equating that with a hyper-submissive personality, completely subsumed and controlled by voldemort. maybe they do have dom/sub vibes in the bedroom - i love that for them! - but that's not the same as top/bottom and it doesn't mean it spills out into everyday life.

i very rarely read fem!harry stories for a similar reason.

and then, in general, i don't read non-magical aus, and i prefer fics without dumbledore bashing, which can be hard to find.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #tomarry #harrymort

[fishfingersandscarves]

unsent - 1989

[Excerpt from an unsent letter found on Robert “Hob” Gadling’s shelf in the Library of the Dreaming]

Dear Stranger,

Funny.

You know, you’d think with all my years of writing letters and sending letters and burning letters I’d be better at writing them. Maybe I’m just too talkative for my own good. All these words get jumbled up in my head and stop just before they leak out of my pen; it’s easier to talk it out. Stream of consciousness and whatnot. I shall endeavor to do my best, but I’m no James Joyce.

Anyway, letters. I didn’t exchange letters with Eleanor, though I learnt them some twenty-odd years before we met. Ironic, nowadays, for a printer to be illiterate, but you know how it was in those days. I’m sure you’re well-read, you seem the type to love stories. Grand ones, probably. Myths and folksongs, and those crappy paperbacks that Summer lends me.

(We met in Lucerne. Cloud topped mountains, clear waters. Lots of cows and cats everywhere you look. There’s this lion relief that’s there, looks straight from those C.S. Lewis books. Anyway, we saw the lion, walked the bridge and ended up having a drink. She was on break and was working on her thesis on Gender Communication in Germany during the 1400’s and I was drinking my way through the rest of Europe. So it goes. She’s a good friend.)

Eleanor had wide handwriting. Probably wasted more coin on journals for her than I could afford, but it was worth it to watch her smile and worth it more to glimpse her doodling in the margins. I started copying her O’s, I think. A reminder.

Elspeth and I exchanged letters like currency. A last-ditch effort to resist the novel of the telephone on her part. She loved old things. (ha) But was so excited when we sat for a daguerreotype the very first time. As always, she was late to the trend, but I remember the moment afterwards, when everything had cured and the photographer had tilted the copper plate to catch the light and I could see us standing there, clear as a reflection in glass, all miniature and solemn. I kept it until I couldn’t anymore. Lost it on a sailing ship out from Bombay in 1912, I think. I remember it though. She had spidery print, like she was always pressed for time. She filled both sides and more every time she wrote me. Tried to learn shorthand to save time but she would get it all mixed in with her cursive instead. I swear it was like I was deciphering code at times! Her long spiking Y’s still follow my hand. It gets messy and I tend to smudge, as you no doubt can tell.

I don’t know if you know any of this already. You know everyone so… I suppose you probably know this all too.

Well.

Enough stalling I suppose.

I waited for you. Into the wee hours, until Martin, the bartender, clicked on the lights and told me to go home. Smoked a whole pack and then some out back afterwards, loitering by my car like some bloody dolt. I kept thinking, “Maybe this’ll be him.” Stupid, I know. I feel like a sucker. Some great idiot. Like this is all one cosmic joke. I know you’re not human, I’m no fool. You’re long-lived like me, that is certain. You were interested once. In my experience. In me. I wonder how long you can hold a grudge. Two hundred years? Three? I’ll wait for you. Of course I will. I shouldn’t have said what I did back then. I should’ve thought it through. But, here I am, talkative, stream of consciousness. All fancy words for someone who doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. When not to push.

I should’ve just said it outright. That I’m lonely too. It gets hard and then it gets better. But it’s easier when we’re not alone. People need people. And who knows? Maybe you’re not people. But you’re my friend Maybe I’m not either, not anymore. And us not-people need to stick together. I would weather the loneliness with you if you’d have me.

I wish I could see you. I wish it wasn’t like this. Me, waiting and wanting. I want to see you. I want to know you. I want more of you, in every way.

I’ll be here, in 2089.

I promise.

I promise.

[Torn and crumbled, here, the letter ends]

now on AO3

#my writing #the sandman #dreamling #the sandman netflix #dream/hob #smth smth memory of people can be shared through habits retained #i havent written epistolary fic in a hot second #also elspeth is from the comics! fun fact

[dukeofdelirium]

less than a year until byler is bones ❤️

awwww is someone scared of byler endgame? 😂

let’s look at the facts, shall we?

1) Will was deliberately written to be gay and in love with Mike

2) in the same season this was revealed, Mike was deliberately written to be incapable of telling his canonical girlfriend he loves her

3) Mike also cannot touch Will for some reason even though they are canonically best friends. Cant even hug him without having a whole crisis

4) Mike is confirmed to not know that Will is gay or in love with him, stated by the Duffers AND Finn meaning there is no reason Mike shouldn’t be able to hug him unless…. 🤔 he is perhaps in love with Will?

5) Will gives Mike a coded love confession using a piece of art he created that was never resolved, meaning it is absolutely going to come into play in the final season

6) Mike was pushed into telling El he loved her BY Will, and then afterward she barely spoke to him

7) Mike and Will ended the season at each others side, literally paralleled with 2 canon couples in the same exact frame, which is very intentional foreshadowing

8) again I repeat the lie Will told Mike, the lie that is the ONLY reason Mike even confessed to El in the first place and tried to say he loved her, has not been resolved.

What do you really think is gonna happen in s5? That Mike is gonna find out Will lied, that everything Will said was from El was actually just how he felt and that Mike’s response to said lies was a direct response to Will’s own love confession and that Mike is gonna be like “well that’s so weird and gross of you, Will!” 😂

They literally wrote Will as a second love interest to Mike. They wrote Mike as having serious issues with his girlfriend. They wrote Mike and Will together the entire season and Mike and El broken up the entire season. They ended the season with Mike and Will together and a whole lot of unresolved romantic tension between them that we again are not making up or imagining with shipping goggles. It’s literally a canon love triangle.

And you think the love triangle isn’t going to end with byler? Lol. Why even write byler as an option if it won’t be acted upon? There’s literally 0 reason to have written Mike or Will this way in s4 unless the plan is for them to end up together. It’s not some difficult narrative to comprehend. If Mike can’t tell his gf he loves her, there logically must be a reason for it. 🗿🍷 but it’s ok, I know you’re slow seeing as you’re a mileven. Take your time, maybe eventually you’ll get it <3

y’all rlly think Mike isn’t in love w Will when he’s out here looking at him like this for literally no reason LMAO bro is gay. bro can’t tell his gf he loves her cuz he’s gay and closeted. bro is gay coded more than Will ever has been and Will is the confirmed gay one 😂

#byler #anti mileven #byler is requited #stranger things #anon

[skellymom]

"Vagabonds" Chapter 12

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

(Pinterest credit: Maulia)

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

To read Chapter 11:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/744912201871245312/vagabonds-chapter-11?source=share

Word Count: 1.3K

Background: Flashback sequence: Love is born. Who was her father? Hunter having relationship regrets, dark and broody angst. He's got a very small part at the end of this chapter. But I PROMISE to have much more Hunter content in Chapter 13! To help with any confusion: Mad's Clone trans sister (non bio) is named "SHE" (mentioned in Chapter #9 "In The Beginning") and her name is capitalized to prevent any confusion of what character is being spoken of.

Warning: Swearing, fear, physical pain, fainting, blood, breast milk, natural childbirth,Star Wars Canon violence, discussion of Love's genderfluidity.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

Recap:

Several Night Sisters understood and respected Mad’s choice. And, disagreed with Mother Talzin’s methods.  They helped plot secretly to assist with the intervention...some planning to leave with the Nomaadi as well. 

...because Mad knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Mother Talzin was only playing at being accommodating.  Mad could see the omen of celestial bodies in the sky above her.  A baby born under these conditions signaled to Mother Talzin this child would have some sort of significance.  She would keep the baby and NEVER let Mad’s child leave this planet.   

And she would NEVER let Mad leave alive, either. 

"Love's Arrival"

Mad sweating, bore down and pushed. 

The baby slid out covered in a caul...silent and unmoving. 

A Nightsister handed the baby to Mother Talzin.  

“My child...are THEY alive?” 

Mother Talzin ignored Mad’s pleas, removing the caul from the baby’s head, dropping it to the ground matter-of-factly. She passively scrutinized the new life in her hands. 

“Answer me PLEASE! Are they ALIVE???” Mad was frantic, struggling to hold her composure. 

One sister tied the umbilical cord, then Mother Talzin cut it with a sharpened Kyber crystal kife...glowing red. 

“Your female child is alive and breathing.” Mother didn’t even bother to look at Mad. “But uncharacteristically quiet for a newborn. She hasn’t even opened her eyes yet.” Mother Talzin traced the vaguely heart shaped red pigmentation around the baby’s eye. 

“THEY!” Mad spit out. “The baby is FLUID!!!�� 

“Oh...and WHO told you THAT?” Mother condescended. 

Mad had enough of this woman’s shit. “MY child...in the WOMB! We have a BOND.”  

She struggled to sit up, grabbing hold of Mother Talzin’s skirts and yanked HARD. 

“GIVE ME MY CHILD!!!” Mad growled gutturally through her teeth. 

Mother Talzin’s head snapped around angrily “I am standing in as proxy for MY SON. The child will stay with me until my son is ready for HIS PADAWAN.” 

“Maul can kiss my ass! He doesn’t care about HIS child!!!” Mad shot back. 

“We shall see when THEY fully manifest their Force powers.” 

“At least you FINALLY got the pronouns right this time...BITCH!” 

Mother Talzin yanked her skirts out of Mad’s grasp disgustedly. The Nightsisters around her eyed each other nervously. Then one gasped loudly and pointed towards the baby. Mother turned her attention back to the newborn. 

The baby’s bright amber eyes bore a hole through Mother Talzin. She could feel it probing her consciousness. Attempting to communicate. No words, of course but...images, feelings, something deeper... 

The Vardo and Beldame streaked past the group at low altitude. The ships engaged their sound alarm systems, imitating angry beasts screaming above the people below. Their attempt to intimidate and catch the Nightsisters off guard. Many of them scattered for cover. Several stayed put with Mad. 

Mother Talzin stood tall still staring with interest at the baby. The baby stared unflinchingly back at Mother Talzin. The horrifying sound from the approaching ships did not affect either of them. 

The ships returned for another pass, flying even lower. Then again, and again...purposely toying with their newfound enemies. 

When they had enough of the Nightsisters dispersed for cover, the Vardo quickly landed and dropped a group of Nomaadi mercenaries. Men and women clad in mismatched armor, their helmets in the shapes of angry snarling predatory biomechanical animals, fitted for night and thermal vision. Large blaster weapons trained upon Mother Talzin and in cover formation to ward off rear attack. 

The Beldame continued to pass over the sky above them, shrieking like an angry beast. Then circling like a hungry shark. The ship’s weapons ready to blast ANYONE who dared come out from cover to intervene. 

Mother Talzin and baby kept each other’s gaze. 

The Nightsisters who planned to defect from Dathomir helped Mad up from the ground. 

“Give me my child. I won’t ask again!” 

Mother Talzin calmly reached into the pocket of her skirts. The Nomaadi braced themselves. Several engaged their weapons from stun to kill. 

She pulled out something hidden in her hand, shook it, then tossed the contents at her feet. The Nomaadi Merc in front of her flinched, expecting an explosion or witch magic... 

...several small, polished animal bones hit the ground, rolled, and laid to rest just short of his boots. 

Mother Talzin regarded them silently. “You may have your child. But there is a cost...” 

“It would have cost to let you KEEP my child! Don’t act like you’re doing do ME a favor.” The GALL of this woman. 

“YOU will never know peace. If I or my son do not acquire your child, another entity shall.” 

“WHO???” 

“I cannot name it. SOMETHING that will gain power over everything in this galaxy. Something dark looming over the horizon of our days. It’s coming...and NO ONE can stop it.” With that she kissed the baby on the forehead and let them go. 

Mad winced, as she expected her child to drop to the ground once they left Mother Talzin’s hands. 

As the Night Witch stepped away, the baby hung in midair...levitating in place. Their eyes changing from bright amber to deep yellow green. Closer to the color of their mother’s. 

Mad, with assistance from three Nightsisters, limped to her child and took the baby in her arms. 

The Mercs kept position with their front man training his blaster on Mother Talzin as she wandered away into the Dathomirian night. 

The Beldame swooped down, hovering 3 feet above the ground, gangplank opened to receive its crew. Mad and the Nightsisters quickly boarded. 

The Merc crew of the Vardo, seeing the extraction successfull let their guard down. They didn’t come planning to kill ANYONE, unless extremely necessary. The fear Nomaadi had of the Dathomir Witches proved correct, unfortunately. The fear of their REVENGE.  

No sooner had the Witches gotten Mad and her baby aboard then a fire fight broke out between the Nightsisters and Nomaadi Mercenaries. Green plasma fire, red blaster bolts, screams filled the air. SOMETHING huge hit the Vardo, and the ship exploded. Its concussive force rocked the Beldame violently... 

...and one of the Witches staggered backward, falling out of the open hatch. Another tried to grab ahold of her and caught open air. Mad’s sister SHE caught the Nightsister before she too fell to her death.  

The Beldame’s pilot: Uncle Taavy, struggled to close the gangplank quickly to not lose the rest of the crew. Then engaged the engines to leave the planet. 

But the ship shook refusing to budge. He threw the ‘Dame into full throttle. Still it refused to engage. Uncle Taavy swore a string of curses in his Nomaadi tongue.  

“What the Kark is happening!” SHE yelled. 

The Nightsister in SHE’s arms replied “Mother Talzin and the Witches won’t let us leave.” 

Both Witches looked terrified. Terrified of what Mother Talzin would do if they couldn’t escape. 

Mad had enough of Maul and his Mother. She handed her baby to the second Nightsister now seated, and purposely strode to the back gunnery. Adrenaline and anger fueled her determination.  

She climbed the gunnery and slid into the seat. Through the windscreen Mad witnessed Mother Talzin and the remaining Nightsisters holding back the Dread Beldame with their magic. Green plasma enveloped the ship. Mad ground her teeth in anger, engaged the blaster cannons and started firing away on them. 

Mother Talzin blocked the blaster fire. It dissipated hitting nothing. 

Mad screamed in anger, beating the walls of the ship with her fists. The space between her legs oozed blood, her breasts leaked milk...and her baby started to wail...for the first time. 

The cry was strong and piercing...and angry. Everyone on the ship heard it. 

And so did Mother Talzin. She seemed shocked to have done so and immediately stood down. Calling off the fellow Witches. 

The ‘Dame shot forward quickly, as if let go by an invisible hand. Uncle Taavy whooped in glee, to be rid of this forsaken planet. He slammed the ship into high gear and hauled ass. 

Mad and Mother Talzin locked eyes as the ‘Dame raced away. She swore she’d fight that bitch until the day one of them died. Nobody was taking her child away from her. 

The adrenaline was wearing off and the burden of giving birth caught up to Mad. She slumped in the seat, feeling wetness between her legs and chest. 

Sister SHE prevented Mad from falling onto the floor... 

...Mad descended into darkness again... 

Hunter laid on his bunk sifting through the events that transpired since he met Mad. 

The throbbing pain between his legs, burning scratch on his face...the deep bite mark that FINALLY stopped bleeding. 

His heart ached a bit too. Pain, love, lust, yearning, uncertainty...so much...felt like it would explode. 

Cid’s words bounced around his head...paining him that she was possibly RIGHT. It was the ONLY accurate intel Cid had ever given him. 

“Ya looking for a world of hurt, Bandana?  “Cause that’s all you’re gonna get with that one.” 

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

Chapter 13 to arrive in May!

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb hunter #skellymom #tbb fan fic vagabonds chapter 12 #the bad batch fan fiction vagabonds chapter 12 #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x reader #tbb fan fic #tbb fan fiction #the bad batch fan fic #the bad batch fan fiction #clone thirsting #tbb clone thirsting #tbb genderfluid #tbb trans #the bad batch genderfluid #the bad batch trans #loves arrival #vagabonds chapter 12 #tbb hunter x oc reader #the bad batch hunter x oc reader

[presidenthades]

Once again, I am doing a series of my behind-the-scenes thoughts for The Golds while I do light edits for formatting, typos, and continuity. Here’s Chapter 7!

My original expected chapter count for this fic was 7 (one stanza of “The Song of the Seven” for each chapter title), but as I started increasing the number, I realized I needed to get creative with chapter titles. For this chapter, I picked the penultimate lyric “close your eyes, you shall not fall” because much of the chapter consists of Aegon helping Jace not “fall” into a further downward spiral, and there’s a certain amount of faith required by all parties that everything is going to be OK in the end.

Originally, Jace’s road to recovery was going to be even rougher than in the final version. She refuses to eat or drink anything, and her family gets pretty desperate to the point of doing stupid things to get her to eat. But I felt like that was unnecessary angst and trauma, and she’s already been through enough, so I dialed it back.

Similarly, she was going to have bad perinatal depression up until and after she gave birth, and there was a sequence where she refused to even hold Cheeseball for some time after he was born. But again, it made me feel like I was whumping on Jace and Aegon for unnecessary pain, so I focused more on the “comfort” rather than the “hurt” part.

This chapter is in Aegon’s POV because it was originally supposed to be the second half of Chapter 6 before I realized it was way too long. After I cut it in half, I debated rewriting it in Jace’s POV, but she’s stuck inside her head a lot this chapter whereas Aegon has a lot more action and growth. We return to Jace in Chapter 8 when she’s feeling more like herself but still recovering.

Orwyle is not a popular character in the fandom, which is understandable. He only gets like one minute of screen time, but that one minute made me think a lot about his character. When he’s a junior maester, he suggests a new poultice to try on Viserys instead of the traditional leeching method, and he shows a bit of doctorly compassion to Rhaenys when Vaemond’s body is being prepared. In the book, Orwyle’s defining trait is that he’s cowardly (he literally rewrites history to make himself look better to the Blacks, and he flees from the ship taking him to the Wall). But I was intrigued by how he ends up working at a mid-level brothel and teaches the girls there to read (how he gets caught later). He didn’t have to teach them how to read, but he chose to anyway (to his own detriment).

Overall I consider Orwyle as someone who’s very talented at his job (healing and teaching), and is actually a pretty empathetic person (good quality in a doctor), but he’s not strong-willed and is willing to cave on his principles to stay alive. Not exactly a villain, definitely not a hero either. So he’s going to do his job and do it well, regardless of his patient (especially in this AU verse where there’s less conflict).

After three years in the Stepstones, I’d be shocked if Aegon didn’t learn first aid (same with Aemond). He’s not necessarily interested in healing and such, but he’s capable of basic combat-adjacent medical tasks. So he knows how to clean and bandage wounds, and he can recognize common healing herbs.

I don’t think I need to explain that Westeros has a pretty poor understanding of mental health and doesn’t know what therapy is 😅. For most people who’ve undergone trauma, they would probably be told “carry on, as you were, etc” and they have to just “get over it.” But Jace is a princess who doesn’t have to worry about earning a living, has an overprotective husband, and is pregnant with a very important baby so her health and comfort are of paramount importance. So she luckily has a supportive environment dedicated to her recovery.

As is stated later in the chapter/fic, Jace fires her remaining LIWs because she’s convinced herself that it’s her fault they were injured/killed, and sending them away from her service will keep them safe. Irrational to be sure, but Jace has always been prone to blaming herself for things. She’s also worried that firing the LIWs will reflect poorly on them, hence her trying to compensate them monetarily. But the offer is insulting to Rhaena, who acts as a LIW primarily out of love. If Jace were more herself, she would’ve realized the implications of her offer equating Rhaena’s love/loyalty with a monetary value.

Initially, Jace’s list of “safe people” is very short: Aegon and Luce. Aegon is self-explanatory. Of all her sisters, only Luce makes the initial list because a) they’ve always been very close and b) Luce was there when they found Jace at the Garden, so there’s an added feeling of security. Although Aemond was also at the Garden, he isn’t on the list because their prior relationship wasn’t nearly as close as the other two.

When Rhaenyra touches Jace’s face while trying to feed her, Jace flips out because the Tyroshi grabbed her face when forcing down the dreamwine and later during his attempt with moon tea.

A little irony in Aegon offering to be Jace’s taste tester, when you think about how he dies in F&B 😢.

During Chapter 7 of the Handbook, Luce picks up three dragonglass daggers from the blacksmith. I mentioned them in the Handbook commentaries, but I’ll reiterate that she intended for Jace, herself, and Joff to each have one, as the three full-blooded daughters of Rhaenyra and Laenor. Jace clearly hasn’t been using her dagger, except to display it on her mantel maybe.

Daemon has decided to develop an emergency protocol in case any of the Targ girls are kidnapped again. I’ve been debating writing a oneshot about it.

Castle kitchens are hot, loud, messy places, and a princess would have no reason to ever go there. In a castle as large as the Red Keep, there are probably multiple kitchens. I imagine the Holdfast has a king’s privy kitchen and queen’s privy kitchen solely for prepping their food, and probably other kitchens too. I imagine the largest kitchens to be in the main part of the Red Keep, and that’s where Aegon puts Gyles and Ronnel. It’s a longer walk to get the pies to Jace and Aegon, but Gyles and Ronnel have a much wider social circle of other servants. It’s also where Aegon has his little office of petitions, and he likes being able to run out and grab pies whenever he wants.

Gyles and Ronnel are used to Aegon, so they’re relatively chummy with him. But they’ve never met Jace before, have only ever seen her at 1000% gorgeousness during her wedding parade, and have heard plenty of Aegon’s stories about how perfect she is. Of course they treat her with more respect and awe than they treat Aegon 😛.

I like to think that Ronnel does become a knight one day, and he wins a tourney in Jace’s name 🥰. And he’d probably take on a house name like Baker to honor his father.

I was trying to figure out how orange juice was made before things like juicers were invented. England had cider presses for apples, but citrus wasn’t really a thing for them back in the Middle Ages. Eventually I stumbled across the citrus reamer, which is definitely something they could’ve carved/created back in the day, but I COULD NOT get over how phallic it looked 😂. Naturally, Aegon finds it hilarious. I’m debating whether Gyles truly is innocent or if he’s messing with Aegon and has a great poker face.

I lingered on the details of how the pies are made because it’s important that Jace sees the process for herself and internalizes that pies are safe foods, they aren’t drugged, Gyles is trustworthy, etc.

I wanted to make sure that Jace wasn’t in a depressed, traumatized torpor all the time, because that isn’t how it works. She can have “good” moments when she’s moving around and seems normal, and then there can be “bad” moments when something triggers her, or she’s having an off day, and she spirals. The important thing is that she’s overall making progress, and it’s OK if she has days when she takes a few steps back.

We got more info in Chapter 8 on what Jace and Luce talk about in the garden. Luce is thinking about her upcoming nameday, which is the earliest date that Rhaenyra will allow her to be betrothed. But then there’s another year until her sixteenth nameday, when Rhaenyra will allow her to get married. Luce is pretty impatient, so she wants to figure out how much canoodling she can get away with during the year in between. So she asks Jace, because she’s positive Aegon didn’t keep his hands entirely to himself before the official wedding 😏.

Aegon is now very loath to ever let Jace out of his sight again, unless he’s 100% sure she’s safe in their room. The Joff incident in Chapter 9 probably doesn’t help.

Luce always haggles, even if it’s about how much distance Aegon has to stay behind her and Jace.

Aegon immediately gets bored of guard duty. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some form of ADHD: Impulsive, restless, moody, hyperfixation (usually on Jace, but he can get really into his sleuthing).

Hypersexuality sometimes occurs after trauma/sexual violence, hence Jace’s uncharacteristic behavior after the garden scene. And knowing Jace, she’s probably (wrongfully) blaming herself somehow for “leading on” the Tyroshi.

Luce heard the Langward knight gossiping about Jace and got upset, then Aemond beat up the knight to make her feel better, as one does.

Court life means people are always going to gossip and run with the most salacious rumor possible, and it reignites Aegon’s desire for a private life, where he and Jace can live according to their own devices without worrying about what other people think. Unless he pulls a Maegor, he can’t do anything to stop the courtiers from acting like courtiers. So he comes up with the Dragonstone solution, but it’s only a temporary solution. As Otto says in Chapter 10, they are inextricably a part of the game, and Aegon and Jace can only hide away in Dragonstone for so long.

When they were kids, Aegon came up with many plans that got them all in trouble, so Luce recognizes the face he makes 😝.

Aegon has a very soldier mindset of “just pack some clothes and leave,” without thinking about how complicated it is to actually pack a princess’ household. Luckily Luce knocks some sense into him!

I don’t know what winter roses are supposed to look like except that they’re blue, but I liked the idea of petals close together huddling for warmth. And I completely made up Valyrian roses. Not sure if they actually came from Valyria or if it’s named just for the appearance.

Despite everything that happened, Jace is STILL WORKING 😭. What else do we expect from a girl who worked on her wedding night, I guess…

KL has a well system (it’s a big deal during Jaehaerys’s reign), but I imagine the public wells and fountains get real dirty real fast, especially in poorer parts of the city. When Jace was at the Garden, I imagine the girls had limited clean water to offer her for drinking and washing because they have to walk pretty far for good water. So Jace is thinking about that as she writes her well cleaning proposal.

I’ve been thinking a while about writing an Otto POV fic, and one of the ideas I jotted down for myself was that Otto is secretly a nerd about public infrastructure and sanitation. Oldtown seems to be a much cleaner and better run city than KL. I like to think about Otto adopting pet projects that make the capital less smelly and dirty. So Otto is naturally a supporter of a well cleaning project, and I’ve mentioned before that he likes Jace. Also he’s very invested in the pregnancy being successful, so he’ll do his part to reduce stressors.

Once again, the key to influencing/manipulating Jace is not by appealing to her own desires, but by appealing to the happiness and well-being of her loved ones. Aegon knows this, and it’s a good thing he adores her too much to use this power for evil.

Aegon’s household is basically just Gyles and Ronnel, so his departure preparations are quick. I’m sure he has personal servants assigned to him who handle his laundry and such, but he probably bribed them years ago to leave him alone so he can have privacy and sneak out. And he became rather self-sufficient in the Stepstones (although as royalty, he would’ve had servants there too for menial stuff), so he doesn’t want anyone helping him dress or shave or bathe or whatnot.

Aemond is such a bro, holding down a knight so Aegon can beat him up 🥲. Aegon knows Jace would disapprove of him breaking someone’s jaw for gossiping so he’s careful not to leave any evidence on his person.

Aegon also knows how to push Aemond’s buttons, so he easily convinces Aemond to join the Dragonstone vacation. Aemond would probably have invited himself anyway once he found out about the guest list.

While Jace has been reducing the governing work she does during pregnancy, Rhaenyra has been doing more of it. In canon, Rhaenyra seems content to isolate herself with her family at Dragonstone, so I carried over that attitude of savoring domestic bliss into this verse. But here, Jace is an overachiever, and I think her example kickstarts Rhaenyra into being more active too. So Rhaenyra has work obligations, and social ones as she’s been ingratiating herself at court again. It would be difficult to pack up her entire household (much larger than Jace and Aegon’s) and disappear to Dragonstone for 2-3 months, so she can’t immediately leave like the kids can.

Like Aegon, Rhaenyra is a bit paranoid now about letting Jace out of her sight. She’s also had a longstanding petty grudge about Jace picking Aegon as her #1, so she strongly disapproves of Aegon’s plan to take Jace away, even though Dragonstone is very close and technically her castle.

Aegon is not what I’d call emotionally mature, and he’s a troublemaker by nature. So he deliberately responds to Rhaenyra with things he knows she’ll hate hearing. And in the end, he forces Rhaenyra’s hand by telling Jace “of course Rhaenyra would love for us to go to Dragonstone” 😇.

Poor Daeron is too pure for Daemon’s Torture 101 class. Meanwhile Joff has an avid clinical interest in human anatomy, and Daemon is having the time of his life. Targ family bonding!

The Tyroshi put a collar on Jace, so Daemon put a collar on him to make things fair.

The Tyroshi knows he’s never going to escape, and he’s already endured an awful amount of torture/mutilation. At this point his goal is to die swiftly, so he tries to provoke Aegon into killing him.

I haven’t 100% decided the Tyroshi’s backstory, but I’m imagining him coming from one of the powerful conclave families in Tyrosh. There was absolutely no need for him to go to Westeros and make money through usury and slavery; he chose to because he thought it’d be fun to “get one over” the Targaryens by conducting a trafficking ring in their own capital (I imagine Tyrosh having an ancestral hatred of Valyrians, even though a lot of their culture was inherited from them as a result of being part of their empire). Just in case it wasn’t clear what kind of sadistic sociopathic person he is.

Joff has been brooding a lot about Laenor’s death ever since they found Old Willow, and now her guilt is carrying over into recent events with Jace.

We will learn more about the wet nurse in Aegon’s memory in future fics 👀. She calls him “Uncrowned One” because in this verse, he’ll be another Aegon the Uncrowned.

“Three children you shall have with your wife, black or green or something in between.” In canon, Aegon has three kids with Helaena. In this verse…well, I feel like I’ve dropped a lot of foreshadowing about him and Jace 😊. “In between” refers to how there isn’t a strong black/green divide in this verse, but there’s a new faction (gold) that includes people on both sides.

“All of them shall break like your legs and wings.” In canon, all of Aegon and Helaena’s children die terribly, and Aegon and Sunfyre end up crippled. In this verse, there is a close call during Cheeseball’s birth; if the maester and midwives had chosen to save Jace, the process for extracting a stuck baby is really gruesome.

“Unless you keep this little shadow close to the sun.” Jace has gotten a lot of sun imagery in this fic, and Joff is kinda obviously the shadow. It’s because of Joff’s intervention that the birth ends well. So there’s a way to avoid the “broken” part of the prophecy, but the condition must be met.

Aegon is a skeptic when it comes to witchcraft and prophecy, but there’s a reason his subconscious brings to the memory at this moment. Don’t leave Joff behind!

Aemond finds it extremely undignified that Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world and a veteran of multiple military conflicts, has been relegated to delivering baggage.

The stained dancing slippers that Jace finds in her room at Dragonstone are the same slippers that someone (Luce) accidentally ruins in Chapter 3 of the Handbook.

Valyria is strongly inspired by Classical Greece and Rome, so I decided to give them Roman-style bathhouses, which were often decorated with mosaics and has a hot room, warm room, and cold room. The Targs (or whoever built the castle) imported this to Dragonstone, and the volcano means they can get hot water very easily. Aegon was in the guest quarters last time he visited so this is his first time seeing the family bathhouse.

Some commenters suggested that Luce and Aemond are probably canoodling during their trips to the Dragonmont. There might be some of that going on, but Aemond is a huge dragon nerd, so I can imagine him geeking out about exploring the Dragonmont while Luce is disgruntled about him being oblivious to her attempts to make out 😂.

Gerardys is hoping that Jace will be OK with him and the midwives helping her by the time it’s time to give birth. But in case she isn’t OK, he decides to put one of the Targ girls on a midwifery fast-track. He picks Baela because she’s the strongest of the bunch, and acting as a midwife can be very physically exhausting.

Meanwhile, the mysterious bangs in the tower are Joff and Daeron trying to figure out ways to light the glass candle. This involves blowing up some stuff along the way.

Hyrkoon the Hero is part of ASOIAF lore, one of the potential alternative names for Azor Ahai. I decided that he’s the main character in quite a few fairy tales/myths, and every hero needs a sidekick. I invented the sidekick Santus the Swine by combining a half-pig character in Chinese folklore and Don Quixote’s Sancho Panza (whose name is supposedly derived from the Latin Sanctus), and it wasn’t until afterwards that I thought about the Pink Dread (which never happened in this universe because Jace stopped Aegon). I guess Aemond really can’t escape the pig references in any universe 🐷.

Anyway, Aegon’s really lucky he didn’t get himself and baby Jace killed when he shoved their wagon down their stairs. And Jace not being cut by the Iron Throne is a sign, maybe??? 👀👀👀 And yes, there is much symbolism in little Aegon helping baby Jace climb up the throne 🥺.

#my writing #meta #house of the dragon meta #hotd meta #fanfic meta #aegon ii targaryen #female jacaerys velaryon #the golds

[rynwritesstuff]

Willow - Part II

Pirate!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, cumming outside

Word Count: 680

Summary: Captain Ren takes you in his quarters. (Read part one here.)

Author’s Note: This is just a reminder that my requests ARE open for pretty much any of Adam’s characters! If you have any ideas, thoughts, or requests, feel free to send them my way :) Also, I am thinking of making a new taglist for my writing, so if you’d like to be tagged in my writing, let me know, and I’ll be sure to make that happen! - Ryn

(Edit is not mine, credit to @kyloremus​ !)

“Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind. Head on the pillow, I can feel you sneaking in as if you were a mythical thing – like you were a trophy or a champion ring – but there was one prize I'd cheat to win.” - Willow, Taylor Swift

He grabs your hand and tugs you down to his quarters eagerly, incredibly ready to have you again after a few days of keeping his hands to himself. He closes the door behind you, and you get on his bed, already hurrying to pull up your skirts. 

You look him up and down wordlessly, desperately.

His body is carved from marble, and despite the scars that litter his pale skin, you find him to be the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Captain Ren’s large hands work at his trousers to pull his cock free, and you spread your legs as his dripping, red, erect cock is revealed. You don’t think you’ll ever stop wanting him. This feeling? This longing? It is forever. 

The Captain steps forward, cock in hand, and leans over you. He is a man of very few words, always quiet, but he is thoughtful and intentional when he does speak. 

You reach up to touch his cheek, caressing the scar that runs from above his right eyebrow down to his chest. You smile up at him, appreciating the shaky sighs he’s letting out as he thrusts into you. 

“O-Oh, Kylo . . .” you breathe, hand moving up to grip his hair. He lets you. He’d let you do anything at this point in time. 

“Fuck,” the Captain curses, immediately starting to roll his hips. He’s not going to last long today. Some days it takes him closer to fifteen minutes to actually orgasm, but if he hasn’t had you in a while, he climaxes easier. You don’t really mind either way, as long as you get to have him. 

What a beautiful thing it is to be united with someone in this way. 

“You’re s-so handsome,” you tell him as he fucks you harshly, his hips rocking back and forth as he chases his climax. 

Kylo grunts, and that is the end of the verbal exchange.

Your body bounces furiously, so furiously, in fact, that you wonder if the two of you are affecting the ship’s rocking. You groan, eyes rolling back as he continuously hits that sweet spot deep inside of you. Kylo grips your wrists and pins you down so that you can’t tug and pull at his hair, and you lean up to kiss him. 

His lips work against yours, giving you exactly what you want. Kylo moans softly, and you feel his cock begin to twitch inside of you, and you know that he’s going to pull out soon. “Fuck, s-so good . . . So good, Captain.”

His eyes are shut and his plush lips are parted. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You wonder, sometimes, how this could be wrong. How could God make someone as marvelous, as handsome as Captain Ren, and expect you not to desire him in this way? How could God craft such an excellent man and then ask you not to touch or fuck him? 

It just doesn’t seem fair. 

Kylo pulls out suddenly with a loud grunt, and begins to touch himself so that he can–

“Fuck!” Kylo exclaims, his seed spilling on your stomach just as you expected it would. “Mm . . .”

You cup his cheek and pull him down to kiss him again. 

“My love,” you sigh. “So wonderful.” 

Kylo kisses you again, and again, and again. He kisses you until you can no longer tell where his lips end and yours begin, and you absolutely love it. You smile up at him as you tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. 

“Shall we finish watching the sunset, Captain?” you ask as he finally tucks his cock away, adjusts his trousers, and grabs a cloth for you to wipe yourself off. 

Kylo glances at you, a small smile on his face. 

“I would like that.” 

#rynwritesstuff #kylo ren #kylo x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x yn #pirate!kylo ren #pirate!kylo ren x reader #kylo ren au #star wars #star wars characters #star wars character #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader