#quick musings

[leatafandom]

Forgetful

Fandom/Ship: Supernatural/ Sam Winchester/Gabriel

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 257

Warnings and Tags: post season 13, older Sam, allusions to dementia, early symptoms, prompt fic, almost drabble, forgetfulness, grace, angst, whump, established relationship (only if you squint), bittersweet

Summary:  They all had been noticing how forgetful he was lately. Inspired by @fanfictionlibrary01 drabble prompt: Forgetful.

Author Note: Ah man, I wrote one happy thing and then immediately returned to my bittersweet love fest. Heh, well it's bittersweet for me, I just love the idea of an immortal being staying with an aging human forever and the human still being human. It just soothes me, so have some aging Sammy and the forever young and ancient archangel.

Read, Forgetful, Rated Teen, in full below or on my Ao3.

*note, this story (and all of my others) on Ao3 is locked for registered Ao3 users.

Forgetful

It was happening more often. 

Sam had never really been forgetful before, sure there were little things here and there. A spell, a birthday, and the ever present: "Where did I leave my keys, again?"

However, lately it had been more frequent. Like a fog was settling over his every thought, shrouding memories long cherished in secrecy. It was all on the tip of his tongue, right there but forever out of reach.

He found himself talking, laughing as he retold one of his favorite hunting stories, and then in a blink, it was gone. His brows furrowed, his tongue limp in his mouth and his jaw slightly slack. He shifted his feet, a stutter of disbelief leaving him as his eyes dashed from side to side, attempting to jog his mind back into action. Regardless of how much he tried, or how long, it as gone, vanished like a shell swept out to sea by the tides.

"It was a cat, wasn't it, Samheart?"

A warm hand touched the back of his, and he blinked at the spark that seemed to push the fog from his memory, spreading through him via the archangel's touch. He blinked, looking from concerned patient faces towards the celestial’s reassuring and timeless smirk, the entity commanding the vast tides of his mind to push the shells back to shore.

The brunette nodded, slowly focusing on the reassurance of Gabriel's easy smile. "Yeah, yeah right," he swallowed, pushing away everything except the spark Gabriel had relit within his mind. "So he’s screaming…"

[leatawrites]

A Place With Only Time

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 547

Warnings and Tags: cage fic, she/her pronouns Lucifer, true form, solitary confinement, anger, sorrow, plotting mass extinction, Lucifer's POV, quick musings

Summary: Time was all Lucifer had in the Cage, millions of years of it, spent locked away from everyone and everything. Written for @spnarchangelweek Lucifer's Day and the prompt: Time 

Read, A Place With Only Time, Rated Teen, in full below the cut or on my Ao3*.

*note, this story (and all of my others) on Ao3 is locked for registered users.

A Place With Only Time

Time was all Lucifer had in the Cage, millions of years of it, spent locked away from everyone and everything. At first, the only thought that filled the fallen angel's mind was escape, decades of trying to leave the place built to house her, but soon her anger shifted. Cold grace coiling into sorrow and loss, Michael's betrayals eating away at her. Grace contorted further, bubbling and drifting as it filled with pain. Alone with her thoughts and the last image of Michael's tear and rage-laced eyes. She had thought he loved her, more than the humans she loathed, more than the others, more than Him. The fallen archangel had thought them family, before everyone and everything else. They were bound to each other. She had been wrong. No matter how much pain had been within his conflicted grace, Michael had chosen to doom her. She longed to hate him, to hate what Gabriel had foretold would be asked of them one day. 

No matter how much time passed, she could never find it in herself to hate what was once part of her. Time she thought would fix this, that when she was freed from her prison she would hate them all, but time didn't offer her that luxury. Lucifer found that all time gave her was an unending loss and unhappiness. Her anger kept burning in her cold embers, hatred for her Father and his wrongs against them all and for the mortals that were so undeserving of her brethren’s love and loyalty.

She could hear the whispers of their growth through the cracks of her cage as time rolled by without her. The fallen celestial could hear their undeserving souls. She hadn't been wrong, they had wasted paradise, their home, and God had abandoned them all. Abandoned her.

That fact gave her twisted form some meager bit of solace, that she alone had not been abandoned to the darkness. She wondered how Michael handled His departure. If he had lost the ever-present loyalty that had been used to condemn her. She wondered if he thought about her as much as she thought about him, she wasn't sure she cared anymore after all these years. They had never come for her, there wasn't anywhere in the universe that Gabriel and all the tricks she had shown him couldn't break into. 

She wondered if Michael regretted it, wanted her, missed her even if he never came. Lucifer thought that maybe she would stop thinking about it, but time ticked by unmeasurable, and her siblings remained a constant thought. She knew she would find them again, one day.  

For all the things that time refused to give her, it gave her the prophecy that Gabriel had once wept over. Lilith had done it, her most loyal had found a way to bend her vessel to their needs. After millions of years in the dark and surrounded by her own cold, the hope of a warm body to inhabit sounded almost nice. She would see her brothers again and give them only the mercy they had shown her.

Time had proved her right, after all. Father never cared, and these half-apes had ruined their perfection. Even if they would never admit it, time had given her fury righteous heat.

[nothatsmi]

The Kings men, chapter four

Okay i'm literally shaking posting this, i've been working on it for days i lost all objectivity about it.

Someone requested this scene when I asked for recommendations on an older post, so this is tkm chapter four:

"Andrew sprawled on the couch in the lounge while Kevin went ahead to change out. Neil hesitated, changed his mind and started after Kevin, and changed his mind again. He stood behind the couch, folding his arms across the back of it, and peered down at Andrew. Andrew had one arm folded under his head and the other draped over his eyes to block the light. 'One of these days you might as well practice with us,' Neil said."

This scene is so long I had to cut some parts (including the incredible "You let us run ourselves into the ground and clean up behind us. You play the game like you play life. That's why you're so good at it.").

Not to mention Andrew's height fear, one of my all-time favorite aftg quotes ("When you said you were afraid of heights, you were joking, right?" "Andrew, you can't be. What were you doing on the roof?" "Feeling." -tkm ch.5).

Update: I cut the (too long) comic into smaller images so that you can open it and have a better quality, hope it works!

[tsukiyo-7]

I go off like a gun,

Like a loaded weapon,

Bang, bang, bang,

Grip me in your hands...

So here we go again,

It echoes in my head,

Bang, bang, bang,

Grip me in your hands...

So I can feel you here with me...

Soaked in sin,

Baptized by your kiss and now I'm born again.

[anon-nee]

Dinner

Vampire Silco! Inspired by @constantfragmentation and their Nosferatu Silco fanfiction as well as @silcoitus showing me fashion from the Dracula ballet!

[scarsji]

[inkedberries]

npcs somewhere in the capital, circa 1920

Andrey is an owner of an edgy underground club and architecture is his hobby whereas Peter is an artist the Kains commission frequently and alcohol is his hobby.

[bisclavart]

Together, now and always!!

[timethehobo]

When you look after the dead, the dead will look after you.

[quinloki]

Quick & Dirty tips for writing SMUT

The four whoresmen of writing Smut:

Position

Motion

Emotion

Sensation

Fun fact: you can apply those to fight scenes too.

Position is pretty straightforward - who’s on top, who is on the bottom, who’s penetrating who if penetration is happening. Is a leg lifted, tied, pushed back? Is someone’s hand pressing against someone’s sweaty skin?

Motion can be pretty cut and dry too - hands sliding over skin, fingers caressing, lips kissing, changing from one position to the next. How fast is the thrust, how much impact is behind a strike? Is it a bruising pace, or is it languid?

Emotion can take the same scene and change the tone. Are they both happy to be there? Is someone not as into it? Is there so much tangled up between them that it’s hard to clearly comprehend other aspects?

Sensation - is the kiss wet, soft, rough, dry? Are hands soft or calloused? Are the position changes taken with care or does the rough bite of stone beneath them scrape their skin?

Mixing these up can help you avoid a sense of repetition while you’re writing any dynamic scene. But also omitting one entirely can impact how the scene reads as well. (Ah when I say omitting, I don’t mean you must avoid it 100% - though you can, but just leaning back is enough)

Omitting position, and leaning on sensation and emotion can provide a chaotic, harried, almost desperate feeling. It doesn’t matter WHERE the hands are, so long as they’re gripping the other person. It doesn’t matter if someone is screaming into the bedding, just that they’re cumming so hard they’re screaming.

Omitting motion can leave the scene feeling disconnected. It’s good for if your perspective is coming from someone who is drugged, or exhausted or otherwise disoriented. The sensations might be making it through, but their too addled to understand what’s causing them.

Omitting emotion can leave the whole scene feeling disconnected. Performative. Business over love. An obligation. Not necessarily unwanted - noncon is most certainly emotionally charged - but omitting the emotions vs describing them as neutral helps it hit better imo. (Emotional disconnect can also be used to show defeat, acquiescence, etc. you gave in and just don’t care anymore).

Omitting Sensation might be because of drugs, exhaustion, over-stimulated so hard you’ve shorted out, or you’re just not feeling it. Not in the mood. Sometimes even when you’re looking forward to intimacy you can just kind of, not feel it. That frustration can move a story along if you’re getting stuck.

[werewolfbarista]

feed it feed it feed it feed it

reference image :3

[leatafandom]

Burn with Me

Fandom/Characters: The Magnus Archives - Agnes Montague

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 178

Warnings and Tags: quick musings, death, burn, flames, burning, quick writings, mentions of Jack Barnabas, Agnes Montague/Jack Barnabas

Summary: Some very brief thoughts on Agnes Montague.

Author Notes: When I saw this prompt, all I could think about was Agnes. Inspired by @fanfictionlibrary01 drabble prompt: Burn.

Read, Burn with Me, Rated Mature, in full below or on my Ao3.

*note, this story (and all of my others) on Ao3 is locked for registered Ao3 users.

Burn with Me

There was always the burn.

It was all she was, all she knew, and all she remembered in the end.

Everything she touched, she was, she could be. Burned.

There would always be burning. It was consuming.

But nothing was sweeter than her flame, than the destruction it could bring. Though perhaps he— the idea of him, of them— could attempt to try to come close, but it could never be.

The sweet fire laced with oranges and reds that caressed and soothed as much as they stole and eradicated. It was all there was or would be or could be.

As that’s what they did, her god-- her reason for existing. It stole and destroyed until there was nothing left but flames and the ever lasting burn of complete desolation.

It was her home, her only real home. A home made of burning flames and loss and suffering.

It housed and held her, but in the end it would destroy her too. It was all she would ever be, an echo of fire, pain, and loss incarnate.

[leatawrites]

Aliens in the Streets

Total Word Count: 1,310

Ship- Spider-Man/Deadpool -Spideypool

Warnings and Tags: Blood, Gore, violence, aliens, death, banter, established relationship, no boxes, older Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Captain America, 

Author Notes: I dived way back and pulled this short spideypool from the ashes. I actually have two similar stories for this same prompt, so I just put them together since it's the same goo alien species in my head. 

Summary: Originally written for Gore prompt #12: Neon/Rainbow Gore.

Read the first chapter of Aliens in the Streets, Rated Explicit, in full below, or read both chapters in full on my Ao3*.

*note, this story (and all of my others) on Ao3 is locked for registered Ao3 users.

Drenched in Color

Peter panted, he was too old to be fighting gooey monster aliens that seemed to want to eat everything. He rolled onto his back from where the alien had thrown him, flipping himself back onto his feet and swinging himself back up onto a nearby building as he watched Wade throw a handful of grenades into the scattering crowd of aliens. Peter felt at his mask, knowing part of it was burned from where an alien had sprayed him. 

“I hate invasions,” Peter huffed trying to catch his breath as he watched Deadpool wade through the carnage of multicolored blood and viscera that followed his grenades. At least Deadpool was making a dent in them.

Wade looked over his shoulder unable to hide the glee that filled him at the explosion of color. “No way! Spidey their blood!” Deadpool jumped from leg to leg, looking back to find Peter hanging from a flag pole. “You didn’t tell me they bleed so pretty!” 

“That’s because I couldn’t make them bleed, DP!” Peter called down to him. “Don’t get distracted!” he added, unable to hide the wound to his ego. 

Wade chuckled, pulling out his swords and running forward toward a group of screeching aliens. He twisted, letting Bea slice through them cutting the less than gooey head from their color-filled stomachs. Peter grimaced as Wade continued forward, leaping through the air and letting a sea of bright colors spray into the street and over his suit. 

“Aw don’t be mopey Spidey!” Wade called back to him. “I’m sure you did something.”

Peter grumbled at Deadpool's words, flipping through the settings on his web-shooters and choosing an electrified one. He watched as the antihero dashed forward swinging his swords around him as he spun in the air. The twin blades sliced through the circle of aliens that had surrounded him. Wade didn't slow, hacking his way through another spray of neon purple, smiling beneath his mask at the multicolored organs that spilled from its innards. The spider grimaced at the colorful blood as it soaked into Wade’s suit and colored the street. He shook his head at the moving lumps of gelatinous matter at Deadpool's feet. 

“I am not doing the laundry this week,” Peter grumbled from his perch, before swinging himself around the pole and launching himself forward. 

Deadpool didn’t stop his gleeful laughter as he continued to slice his way through the borough the Avengers had left to Spider-Man and Deadpool. Spider-man's change in webbing proved more than effective enough to slow them down before Wade could slice through them. The two worked in tandem, moving forward, thinning out the herd, and rounding up the few straggling aliens.

Peter’s nose scrunched looking down at Wade’s covered suit. His hand paused on his web shooter to look up at the vibrant phosphorus blood that had started running down the street. “Do you want help or are you just having fun now?” Peter asked, looking around the street at the empty block before turning his head towards the few creatures left destroying buildings the other way before jumping down to join Wade on the colored street.

“I got this,” he replied, watching as Spider-man landed beside him. “You just stand there and look pretty Webs.” He turned from him as Peter chuckled. “This is my kinda rave,  he called as he took off down the street.

Read the second chapter Finger Paint on my Ao3

[turtleblogatlast]

It’s hard to escape self doubt

[cyclonixi]

got carried away with the hatching

[pokemonblack3white3]

My beautiful mutuals if you have any pokemon OCs please please please tell me about them I am begging you I want our OCs to frolick in the fields of friendship together or possibly kill each other whichever is more appropriate