#midnight writes

[themidnightghoul]

Movie Night

Dew wants to braid Phantom’s hair for completely innocent reasons. Phantom is excited to watch the new scary movie they’ve been wanting to see and letting Dew play with their hair. Dew absolutely does not have an ulterior motive whatsoever and they watch a movie together. That’s all.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2341 CW: Breeding talk

Authors Note: This started off as a ficlet when @forest-rot said something about braiding hair and I got an idea. Then it evolved into…this. And by very pretty request, @sexy-sea-basss here is what I was working on, sweetheart 😘

Read below or on AO3 (coming soon)!

“You wanna braid my hair?” Phantom tilted their head, confused. Dew had to exhibit a ridiculous amount of control not to throw the little Quint over his shoulder and lock them in his room for a week. Something about their innocence just absolutely wrecked Dew and it drove him insane when they did things like tilt their head like that.

“Yeah, just, you know, if you want.” Dew shrugged, stammered his way through his words. He couldn’t think of an easy way to explain exactly why he wanted to braid their hair. At the moment, he genuinely did just want to play with their hair, run his fingers through the numerous layers. He loved the stark white chunk at the front, a beautiful contrast to the inky black and shimmery purple of the rest of their hair. He loved the way the layers that Aurora had cut into it curled after they washed it. He loved holding on to it as he-

“I’d love that, Dewy. Can we do it in my room? We can watch this new horror movie I’ve been waiting to see!” Phantom’s eyes lit up and Dew felt his heart flutter. Phantom was just so fucking cute and it drove him crazy.

“Sure, Baby Bat.” They stood from the sofa and made their way to Phantom’s room, the little Bug excitedly rambling on about the movie they wanted to watch. All Dew could think about was what he wanted to do after he braided their hair and he had to shift his walk a few times, trying to hide a different kind of excitement than the one Phantom currently had.

When they stepped in to Phantom’s room, they immediately flipped on their LED strip lights, changing the color to a dim purple color, and hopped on the bed, grabbing the TV remote and looking for whatever movie it was they wanted to watch. “Come, sit.” They tapped the spot next to them and Dew felt his stomach flip. Something in the way they said that just…did something to him.

Dew sat and immediately pulled them back into his lap. His fingers pulled through the strands to dislodge any tangles, rubbed gently over his scalp. The movie started, something about a haunted pool, and Phantom leaned back into Dew, a soft purr kicking up in their chest the more relaxed they got. Dew had gotten quite good at braiding, having practiced on himself for when he needed it up during shows and no one was able to help him, and he was able to work fairly quickly most of the time. But with Phantom, he slowed himself down, allowed himself to take his time and make sure they were nice and relaxed, their focus more on the movie than Dew.

One braid in and Phantom’s purring had gotten louder. Occasionally, they would jump a little at a particularly loud part of the movie and Dew would chuckle, gently rubbing their back and kissing the top of their head until they settled again. When he finished the second braid and tied it off, he put his arms around them and just held them as they watched the movie together. He tried to focus, really he did, but all he could think about was tugging on the now finished braids and how beautiful the sounds that they would make would be when he did. Thankfully, it seemed like they were too focused on the movie to notice Dew shifting around in an attempt to relieve the pressure on his increasingly aching cock. The more he thought about it, the worse it got. Eventually, Dew began to play with Phantom’s hands, kissing his way down from the top of their head to their face. Phantom’s purrs became soft whines, torn between wanting to watch the movie and focusing on Dew.

“Just watch the movie, Bug,” Dew whispered in their ear, gently nipping their earlobe and chuckling when they shifted their body against him in search of more contact. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?” He ran his hands up and down their chest, sliding under their shirt and dragging his claws across their skin, smiling at their full body shiver as he touched them.

“Off, please Dew,” they whined, raising their arms for Dew to remove their shirt. 

He couldn’t help but groan at how easy they were making this as he slid off the shirt and threw it to the side. Slowly, he kissed and nipped his way down their neck, biting just enough at their shoulder to leave a mark, and shifted his way to their front. He propped himself up on his arms and kissed each of the scars on their chest, let his tongue trace the beautiful white patches that decorated their body. “Like my own personal galaxy, you are.” He kept his focus on Phantom’s reactions to his attention and how desperately they tried to remain focused on the movie. “Doing such a good job. You enjoying the movie?”

Phantom whined louder, their hands running up and down Dew’s back. “Dewey I can’t-“

“Good boys watch the movie like they were told to do,” he whispered against their chest and reached up to tug on one of the braids, chuckling when they arched their body against him. Their response to the tug gave Dew an idea and he sat up, moving back behind them and tapping their back. “Lean forward, on all fours.”

Phantom immediately sat up and leaned forward on their arms, their tail flicking around excitedly. Dew drug his claws down their back, reveling in the way their skin broke out in goosebumps where he touched. He tugged down their sweatpants and boxers, dragging his claws the rest of the way down the curve of their ass, over their beautiful thighs that he leaned in and nipped at, causing Phantom to let out the sweetest moan. He sat up and used one hand to trail up the scratch marks on their back, the other sliding between their legs and loudly groaning at how wet they were.

“Someone’s excited, hmm?” He slowly moved his fingers through their folds, chuckling at how easily they writhed under his touch.

They tried to push back onto his fingers and he immediately withdrew, tutting disappointedly when they whined. “Dewy please.” Their voice was so sweet, so needy, and it sent Dew’s mind into a frenzy. He almost gave in right then and there, if he was being honest with himself.

“Tell me what’s going on in the movie like a good Bug and I’ll give you what you want.” He let his hand hover back where they wanted it most, leaving featherlight touches across their skin with one hand and kneading their thigh with the other. Their frustration was palpable and it only served to drive him more insane with need. He moved his hands away and popped the button on his jeans, pulling them down just enough to relieve the pressure on his aching cock. When that wasn’t enough, he grunted in frustration and pulled himself out fully, giving himself a few lazy strokes.

“Something is in the water…” they whined, their legs shaking as they tried to hold still. “The dad is s-sick, fuck Dew please.” They turned around to look back at Dew with tears in their eyes and when Dew pulled his hand away and licked the slick he had gathered on his fingers off, Phantom fell face first into the bed and whined so loud Dew was sure their throat would hurt.

Dew reached down and grabbed both braids, tugging on them to pull their head back. “Ah ah, you’re not hiding those beautiful sounds, Baby Bat. I want to hear every noise you make, you understand?” 

Phantom’s body sagged a bit and they let out another whine. “Yes, yes Dew, please will you touch me again? I need it so much.”

He let go of one of the braids and brought his hand to their mouth. “Spit.” Immediately, they spit into his hand and he swore he could feel their excitement pulsing through the air. “Such an eager little Bug aren’t you? Fuck you’re so cute.” He ran his spit covered hand up and down his length, hissing at the feeling, and slowly guided it to Phantom’s entrance. Running it up and down their slick covered folds, he tugged on the braid he still had in his hand. “Color, baby?”

“Green green green, please Dew I’m so green.” 

Chuckling, he tugged once again. “Good boy, using your words for me.” He pushed the head of his cock against them and left it there for a moment, testing the little Quint’s resolve. When they didn’t move, even though Dew could tell they were desperate to push back, he finally slid in with a loud groan that he was sure the entire den would be able to hear. “Fuck, baby, how are you so wet already? I’ve barely even touched you.”

Phantom could only make unintelligible noises in response. Dew knew that praise was one of the things that they got off on the most and he couldn’t help but take advantage of them already being most of the way to being fucked completely stupid. He gripped their hip hard enough to bruise with one hand and slowly started moving, gathering both braids in the other hand in order to keep them from falling into the bed as he slid in and out of his sweet little Ghoul.

“Satanas you’re taking me so well, such a-agh- such a good fucking boy, aren’t you?” He could feel the familiar coil in his abdomen tightening, faster than he wanted it to, but he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. “So fucking tight, baby. Fuck you’re so-” Phantom clenched and Dew saw stars, his head falling back as a wanton moan escaped his lips. The control he normally exerted had slipped and he couldn’t stop himself from pounding relentlessly into them, his movements getting harder and faster the more he let himself go. He could feel his knot beginning to swell as he fucked into Phantom and by the sounds they made, they could feel the base of it pressing against them.

“D-dew I’m c-close please-“ a high pitched moan filled the room as Dew nailed the sweet spot inside of Phantom and he could tell that they were about to completely fall apart. The swell of pride that rushed through Dew’s body knowing that he was the one to make them feel this way had him slamming his hips against the whimpering Quint even harder.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” He tugged on their braids again, his other hand smacking down on their ass hard enough to leave a mark. “You gonna come for me, Starshine?”

Phantom could only whine and nod as they shifted their hips the slightest bit to get Dew to hit the same spot again. “Y-yes!”

“That’s right, good boy, come on my cock. You can do it, baby.” 

“Knot…please…” Phantom’s words were slurred but they were begging so sweetly and how was Dew supposed to deny them when they asked so politely?

“You want to take my knot, baby? Want me to fill you up until you’re leaking all around my cock?” He snapped his hips forward, his knot swelling even more at the idea of being locked inside of his pretty Quint. “Fill you up so good-“ he grunted, pushing a little more and pulling a soundless scream from their lips. “See if you catch, yeah?” Dew ran his hand down their hip to their stomach, pulling them up until their back was against his chest. “Want to see this belly full of my kits. Would you like that, baby? Want to carry my kits for me?”

Dew felt Phantom clench one final time before they came with a shout, his name on their lips. As they shuddered, Dew worked them through their orgasm, holding them up as their legs shook. He pulled the shaking Ghoul down on to his knot as it finally popped, locking them together and coming as his hand squeezed their throat. The sensation of filling Phantom was enough to make him come harder than he had in a long time and the idea of them carrying his kits? It had him weakly thrusting against them, desperately trying to keep as much of his come inside as possible.

Slowly, the two Ghouls came back down from their high and Dew lowered the drooling Quint to the bed. He gently brushed their hair out of their face, kissing their cheeks and nuzzling his face against their neck. “You okay, Starshine?” He kept his voice soft and smiled when Phantom started to purr and snuggled back against Dew.

“Never better, Dewey.” They ran their hand across their stomach almost absentmindedly. 

“I can hear that brain working overtime, Baby Bat. Talk to me?” He put his hand over theirs, lacing their fingers together.

“Did you mean it?” It was almost a whisper but Dew knew exactly what they had said.

He was quiet for a moment before he pulled them against him hard and hummed, nodding his head against them. “Yeah, baby, ‘course I did. But only if you wanted me to mean it.” Phantom was snoring softly before Dew had even finished talking. He smiled, rubbed his hand across their stomach again, and laid beside them as he waited for his knot to go down. When he was able to pull himself out, he quickly cleaned up the sleeping Ghoul and put their sweatpants back on, covering them up with their bat blanket. He put their favorite horror movie on and went to clean himself up, returning to the bed and climbing in next to them when he was done.

“Love you, Dewey.” They mumbled, turning to face Dew and nuzzling their face into his chest.

Dew smiled, pressing a kiss to their forehead and holding them close. “I love you, Starshine. Always and forever.”

[midnightanxietytm]

He takes his whiskey neat

A/N: Look, I think i was possessed while writing this one /j. It was like 1 am and I was procrastination on college work, I dunno what happened but this is the ungodly spawn of my imagination mixed with sleep deprivation, caffeine and stress. Enjoy and don't question it too much

Contents: Ford Pines x reader, pinning (lots of pining), I pictured reader in their late 40s to early 50s so there is an age gap but nothing extreme. There's some plot in those holes. uhhh lots of tension and no payoff because im pretty sure I passed out before I got to that part.

Word count: 996

There’s this look on his eyes now that you can’t quite figure out.

Ever since Stanford Pines came back from the portal, ever since weirdmageddon and the end of that fateful summer, something about him fundamentally changed. There’s contempt, relief, sure, but there's more to it, something that he keeps deep in that rattling metal-protected brain of his.

And god forbid sometimes you just want to pick him apart entirely, figure out every detail, note it down, absorb it, maybe then his mere presence won’t entice you, mess you, so goddamn much.

It culminates, as all events are bound to do, right before that year’s summer vacation, you blame the heat. 

Soos and Melody took a vacation for themselves, entrusting the shack back to Stan’s less than trustworthy hands, just like old times. Ford slips back into the basement so easily you almost follow him; your mind briefly longing for that nostalgia of being freshly out of college, when you and Ford were easily impressed by the oddness of the world.

You were a prodigy; a good ten years younger than him yet still doing your masters while he did his doctorate, and in the same area with similar themes! Back then, you two were just bright-eyed yet very tired academics… Then Gravity Falls presented itself on a silver platter, and Bill followed through.

You were there, on the day of the portal, or at least, almost there, going back for the thousandth time, expecting no answer to your knocks at the door as usual, only to be met with the fallout of something far worse than refusal.

And then he was back, less jittery, less paranoid and less sleep deprived than he was before at least. But there was that thing in his eyes, that inherent distrust, detachment…? You struggled to find the words and if there’s one thing that you as a scientist can’t deal with is a question that goes unresearched.

So it began; your “research” depended on experiment and to experiment, you firstly decided to get close to your unwilling subject. And you go down the rabbit hole.

You find him in the basement, of course. He’s drawing on loose sheets of paper, some of the discarded pieces lay on the floor, and the cd player by his side is playing just loud enough to muffle your footsteps as you approach him by his right side. “Updating the journal?” You ask, nonchalantly, as if you hadn't obsessively turned each page of his journals before, as if your own handwriting wasn’t squeezed in the first ones before his old muse took all the space left.

Ford just hums, raising his chin slightly, but not his eyes, just to acknowledge the question. “Not really, just trying to get some proportion practice. Looking back, some of my work on the first journal was… Not the best.” 

A chuckle leaves your mouth; “If you say so…” You hum, picking up one of the filled out pages that were pushed aside in the table and pretending to look it over as he places his pen down and looks up at you.

“Any advice?” He asks, and once again you pretend to be paying attention to anything but him and his every movement.

“Not really… I think you’re good.” You place the paper back at the table, leaning against it. “Thought you’d be going through your abstract phase by now, honestly.” And you smirk down at him.

He leans back, crossing his arms; “I fear I’m too logical to have an abstract phase, even my craziest dreams have math and science behind them.” And you both laugh, and your curiosity itches more and more every millisecond.

The next words that leave your mouth were planned and inwardly rehearsed, but they come out natural as a summer breeze. “Every tortured artist has an abstract phase, get on with the times, sixer!” It comes out as a joke, it's a test. And suddenly you’re too nervous to stay there, staring at him and waiting for a rebuttal. You push yourself off the table and zipline to one of the bookshelves, reaching towards the back of it, you pull the ‘eureka whiskey’ and the two cups.

He just watches you for a second, then accepts the cup as you pour him one, then one for yourself. 

And it’s truly the eureka whiskey, because goddamn you just found something in those eyes. 

He takes a sip; “Yeah I guess those portal days would do for some good surrealist pieces at least.”

“I can’t even imagine.” You say.

He smirks, lips inches from his cup. “You can’t…” He takes a sip. “That’s the point of surrealist.” You want his brain under a microscope, you want his breath mixing with yours, you want to never see him again, you want to wake up near him every day.

The curse of science is that in the endeavor to figure out the world, the scientist often loses sight of themselves. 

The witty remarks, the planned lines, the psychological strategies, all fly out of you head and you lean back against his desk. He’s leaned further back now and his chair is turned diagonally towards you and he watches with a smile and those eyes. “What did you see?” It’s almost a whisper, because you think he might actually tell you, and that scares you more than anything.

“Too much…” He swallows, sighs, takes a swing of whiskey and rests the empty cup on the desk. “It was very chaotic, honestly that’s all I want to say…” You sigh, pushing yourself up to sit at his desk, and his head tilts as he watches you. 

“I’m glad you’re back.” You settle, even though it doesn’t even come near to all the things you want to express. He smiles, and his eyes travel down, landing on your hands, holding your barely touched whiskey glass. You follow his gaze, and chuckle. “I’m more of a whine person.”

“I know…”

[midnightdemonhunter]

24 hours before he wakes up in a bathtub, Gorgug meets a friendly stranger in his apartment building.

Now that I've finally caught up to fhjy, it's time to post the fh fanfic everyone's been waiting for.......saw au!!!!! In this lovely oneshot, read for a deeply awkward Gorgug, an unsettling Kristen, and the beginning of the end.

[legendary-guest]

@gogofordrakgo wrote something that included a red lab coat and I was compelled to bring it to life. Blue and red are one of my favourite colour combinations, I just had to see what it'd look like on Drakken. I went for a young Dr. D; he has not been at it for very long, but he's developed some muscle. Experimented with skin tones and the scar to see how they would look!

[midnightprelude]

My debut novel with @oftachancer is more available in paperback and will be available as an ebook and on Kindle Unlimited on March 20th! Check out the link here!

Thanks to @lethendralis-paints for the gorgeous cover art! They were amazing to work with as always!

In addition, you can sign up for my giveaway here to enter to win a signed copy of the novel or an art print!

[alanyaa]

Katra katra bikhri hu me tujhe pane ke liye,

Par tu kabhi naa lauta, mera ho jane ke liye,

Di thi Mene mere pyaar ki duhaiyaan tujhe,

Thukara diya tune vo pyaar bhi mera is zamaane ke liye....

Katra katra bikhri hu me tujhe pane ke liye....

[kariiimm]

They say that time's suppose to heal ya but i ain't done much healing

[dak-attack]

Master list

Phone Formats

Eddie Munson

Snapchat imagines

Kit Connor

Tom Holland

Dream Futures

Tom Holland

Harrison Osterfield

Harry Holland

Sam Holland

Paddy Holland

Poems

Dirt and Sand

She Thinks

Other Writes

The Highway

[mydnightposts]

Fear and Feeling-

And what do u do with a heart that just feels.

What even is a heart if not for feeling,

Love and pain

Sadness and joy.

What do u do with a heart that just feels

Both numb and tingling.

All these emotions with no one to dump it with

Alone in the room outside it rains

Inside theres tears.

Fear, all it does is feel.

[themidnightghoul]

Take a Bite

Swiss has only one thing on his mind: sinking his teeth into a certain Earth Ghoul.

Rating: Explicit (MDNI 18+ seriously I mean it) Word Count: 1757

This was written for @hypnoneghoul because his love for SwissAlps made me want to write about them 🖤

Read on AO3 or below!

It was like the worst kind of torture, being so close to him but unable to do anything. Swiss had to watch him all night from his stage and somehow act like he wasn’t dying to sink his teeth into every inch of the Earth Ghoul that was right fucking there. Watching the way he threw everything into his drums, the way he gripped the sticks with his hands (Satanas those hands would be his downfall), the sweat pouring off of him. Mountain was perfect in every way and Swiss wanted nothing more than to take a bite out of him as soon as he could. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, why he wanted to feel his teeth sink into his flesh, but he needed it more than air and it was the only thing he could focus on right now.

All Ritual long he was stealing glances at Mountain, throwing him his thousand watt smile and tilting his head. Eventually Mountain caught on and Swiss would occasionally catch him biting at his lip, flashing a glimpse of his fangs, running his hands up and down his thighs when he had a moment to rest. Swiss felt like he was on fire, burning from the inside out. He took it out on everything except for the Ghoul he wanted between his teeth the most. When the buildup became too much, he jumped off his stage and stomped across to Dew, toying around with him during Watcher in the Sky. On his way back, he took the path that went behind Mountain’s kit and quickly snuck up to him, tickling at his waist, and then made his way back to his stage. For now, he was sated, but it wouldn’t last long.

Once the final song was finished and Mountain was able to climb down from his platform, Swiss practically pounced on the giant. He hugged him, his arms immediately wrapping around his waist and squeezing, and inhaled his scent. Even through his sweat soaked clothes, which Swiss found himself gently gnawing at as he hugged him, he could smell dirt, moss, pine trees, fresh air, all of the scents that enveloped the Earth Ghoul and made him him. It was like taking a walk through a forest every time that scent washed over Swiss and he never wanted to leave. 

Through final bows, Swiss was glued to his side, and as they made their way off the stage for the final time, he refused to let go of Mountain’s hand. He dragged him away, practically sprinting back to the dressing room. The others chatted amongst themselves, pretending like they didn’t notice how Swiss’ desire was practically drowning them with how strong it was tonight. No one even jokingly made a pass at Mountain with how Swiss had been acting, content to pair off with each other and leave the two of them to themselves. Swiss changed quickly, throwing on sweatpants and a hoodie and keeping his eyes trained on Mountain the entire time. He audibly groaned watching him undress and change into his after show clothing, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited around for the rest of the pack to be ready to head to the van. 

The ride to the hotel felt like it took far too long. Swiss sat next to Mountain, who was running his fingertips across the top of his head, occasionally scratching the space that would be between his horns if they weren’t all still glamoured. Everyone laughed, talked about the Ritual, but all Swiss could focus on was Mountain and how he was going to devour him as soon as their hotel room door was shut. 

“Just a bit longer, Spark. You’re being so good,” he whispered, and Swiss thought he was going to die on the spot from those words alone.

Once they were in the hotel lobby and the keys had been passed out by Papa, his usual speech about behaving and not causing any issues given, the Ghouls all piled into the elevator to head to their respective floors. Swiss hadn’t let go of Mountain, burying his head in his chest and just breathing in his scent to try and keep himself calm. The elevator ride was mercifully quick and when they hit their floor and stepped out, it was Mountain’s turn to drag Swiss along as he walked toward their room for the night, the Multi-Ghoul feeling like he was high off of the scent he had been breathing in.

“Have fun you two,” Dew called out, saluting the two Ghouls as he dipped into his and Rain’s shared room.

Swiss just flung up his middle finger as he fumbled his way through unlocking the door and kicking it open, stepping inside with Mountain right behind him. The door to the hotel room was barely shut and their bags were still in hand but Swiss was already all over Mountain. He was all hands, claws, teeth, desperately grabbing and pulling at Mountain’s clothes to get them off as soon as he could.

“Need you, Mount. Please,” he begged, pleaded, swore to Lucifer himself that he would do anything just to have his Earth Ghoul now.

Mountain effortlessly picked Swiss up, making him feel small which was an unusual feeling for him, and walked over to the bed. Swiss nipped at any open skin that he could reach with Mountain just chuckling at how needy the Multi-Ghoul was.

“What is it with you tonight, Spark?” He sat down on the edge of the bed, holding Swiss in his lap as he continued to pull at his shirt, grumbling when Mountain dropped his glamour halfway through pulling it off of his head and it got caught on one of his horns. “You’re so cute when you’re grumpy, you know.” He gently pressed a kiss to the end of Swiss’ nose and watched as his glamour melted away.

“Cut it out, Mount,” he chuckled, his cheeks darkening at Mountain’s compliment. “I just…I don’t fucking know, don’t ask, just take your clothes off.” 

Mountain, rolling his eyes, ran his hands up the back of Swiss’ shirt, claws dragging back down his skin. “You’re insatiable, Swiss. We have all night,” he whispered, leaning in to run his fangs along Swiss’ pulse point. 

Swiss whined, a needy and pathetic noise that made Mountain smile. “Fucking hells, just let me-“ He was cut off by the feeling of Mountain sinking his teeth into his shoulder and he felt his cock kick in his sweatpants. The strangled sounds that escaped his throat only seemed to urge the Earth Ghoul on, his teeth shifting while still buried in Swiss’ skin. It took more effort than he could fathom to not immediately make a mess of himself and he had no idea how he managed to hold his shit together.

When he finally pulled away, gently licking at the puncture marks, Swiss was fuzzy headed and grinning like an idiot. “Already falling apart, are we?” Mountain chuckled and drug his teeth across the bite again which, mercifully, made Swiss come to his senses. 

Swiss growled, pushing Mountain down onto the bed and holding his hands above his head. “I’ve been waiting all fucking night to get you under me, Dirt Boy. Sit. Still. Behave.” His voice was a low rumble, that of a predator finally locking on to its prey. He nosed behind Mountain’s ear, let his tongue run down the vein on his throat that he loved so much, felt his fangs dripping with anticipation. As he inhaled Mountain’s earthy scent, he felt him squirm beneath him and he growled again. “Don’t move, Petal. Let me have this. You have no idea how much I need this.”

Mountain behaves, stays still, keeps his arms where Swiss had them held down so that his own hands are free to drift up and down his chest, his waist, his hips, digging his fingertips in hard enough to leave bruises that he’ll see for days. When Swiss finally had his fill, scenting him enough to where no one will be able to mistake who marked up the Earth Ghoul, he sat back and looked down at him for a moment. He wasn’t prepared for Mountain to tilt his head ever so slightly and grin at him and it made his breath catch. “Go on, Spark,” he whispered and turned his head fully to the side, baring his throat to the Multi-Ghoul.

Any resolve that Swiss had pretended he still held vanished and he immediately bared his fangs and latched on to Mountain’s throat. He punctured the skin effortlessly, like it was nothing more than paper, and wiggled his jaw as he tried to get the best hold. Mountain stayed as still as he could but the sounds he let out underneath Swiss only served to encourage the Multi-Ghoul to bite harder, deeper, ensuring his mark would be permanent. Swiss moved his hands everywhere on Mountain that he could get ahold of, less with the desire to leave bruises and more with a need to just feelhim. 

Seconds, minutes, neither Ghoul could tell how long had passed before Swiss removed his teeth from Mountain’s neck, lapping the blood that flowed from the deep puncture marks. He kissed the dark and swollen skin around the bite gently, smirking when Mountain would hiss from the pain. 

“You look so pretty with my teeth marks on you, Petal,” Swiss whispered against his skin as he continued to kiss, moving from the bite to the front of his neck, down and across his chest. He left less intrusive bite marks, these more intended to be playful, akin to decorations. Moving down from his chest to his stomach, his hips, nipping and marking as he moved. He would alter between leaving teeth marks in the skin to sucking pretty bruises, kissing each mark he made. Sitting back on Mountain’s legs, he admired his work.

Mountain’s eyes were glazed over, fluttering open and closed occasionally. His beautiful grey skin was covered in Swiss’ marks and he looked like a beautiful piece of art. Swiss took his fingertips and moved them along Mountain’s skin. As gentle as he was, Mountain let out soft whimpers each time he made contact with a mark, his hips rolling up against Swiss’ body as he desperately searched for any sort of contact.

“Oh Mount, who’s falling apart now?” Swiss chuckled as he bent back over, fangs itching to sink back into skin.

[linipikk]

Aziraphale shielding Crowley from water

and Crowley shielding Aziraphale from fire

[midnightdemonhunter]

(What do you wish for?)

[midnightanxietytm]

ATLA- A role swap AU

Water.

Earth.

Fire.

Air.

Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony, but everything changed when the Water Tribes united and attacked. Only the Avatar mastered all four elements; only he could stop the ruthless waterbenders. But when the world needed him most, he vanished.

or

ATLA but it was the Water Tribes that became imperialists. Featuring Zuko and Azula as the kids who find a boy trapped inside a magmatic geode, and Katara as the Princess of her nation who was banished and now has to look for the Avatar.

Hello, Midnight here!

I have talked about this fic in here once or twice but never linked it because im a little dum dum. Anyways im sorta proud of it and think i might actually finish it for once yk.

Anyways if ya wanna like... read it... and discuss it with me..... id be happy or whatever 🙄

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Hanged Man

Written by @oftachancer and I for the @30daysofdorian event!

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

CW: Southern Circles of Magi; conversion therapy (aftermath); successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma

The Circles in the South were appalling. That was all Dorian could think, over and over, as he followed the novice away from where his father was amiably chatting with one of the elder scions of the Gallows. An apt name for such a cold place. Cold - in the air, seeping into the stones. Cold - in the study of eyes behind heavy place helmets. 

“And this is the library,” Karl Thekla said as he pushed a narrow door open into a dark and crowded room.

Dorian fought a sneeze. “Oh, yes, very nice.” He could have fit three of them into the library at Qarinus. “Your lamps seem to have gone out.”

Karl shook his head. He was a broad sort of fellow with soft blue eyes and an impressively well kept beard. “We had an ordinance from the Council. No more magelight.”

“…they want you to use… open flames… in a library?” Dorian asked slowly. “Does this ‘council’ know that books are typically made of paper and parchment and therefore are quite flammable?”

“Hm,” Karl answered him, smiling and noncommittal. “We have your paper on interdimensional temporal analogs. I’ll show you.”

“Gladly.” More than he expected from a glorified prison. The reason his father had thought to bring him to this dismal place was entirely unclear to him. They hadn’t seen the sun once since they’d set foot underneath those ominous statues in the port—men and women twisted in expressions of agony—and Dorian was wondering if he would return to Tevinter with a deathly pallor. “What manner of study do you conduct here, Karl?”

“This and that. I used to-“ He shook his head, drawing a long drawer out crowded with scrolls. “Mostly, I help the elders with their work. Keep the books organized. That’s a task that takes a fair bit of time as you can imagine.” He poked through the scrolls, checking labels by the flicker of a flame through glass. “What is it like?” he asked quietly. “Up there?”

It was the first time Karl had asked anything of the sort and it caught him off guard. How much was he supposed to say? Would it hurt father’s business if he confided in the apprentice? Dorian glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “In Tevinter, the land is so riddled with magic it seeps into the soil. It makes everything hum, feel more alive. I hadn’t noticed it until the first time I left. The world feels dead here.” He dropped his gaze, tucking his hands into his pockets. “No offense.” They had a mage, manually organizing scrolls. It seemed a dull, meaningless, unnecessary sort of task. “What do you mean: you ‘used to’?”

“Before they moved me here. I’m from Ferelden. I trained hounds and pigeons and hawks there.” Karl’s smile softened. “It was my home. I was in love.” He cleared his throat as one of the plate-clad Templars walked past them, lifting one of the scrolls. “Here you are, my lord.” And Dorian had a sudden rushing sensation that the man’s quiet, happy smiles since he’d met him that morning were largely for the benefit of the people guarding him. 

More like a prison than he’d believed. 

As the footsteps faded, Karl took the scroll back with a shake of his head. “You don’t want that. It’s a history of spoons. Actually, there’s an interesting little section on filigrees, but… One moment, I’ll find the paper. I had some questions actually. Quite a bit was censored before it reached us. Is your tour taking you as far as Ferelden?”

“No, not quite so far as that. Montsimmard is our last stop.” Ferelden was a backwater, his father had said, with little but fleas and rain. Karl had seemed pleasant enough, though. If he’d come from Ferelden, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Would you have me send a message to her on your behalf?”

“Him.” Karl bowed his head. “I’d be grateful if you would try. I’m not certain if they’re getting stopped on my end or his. Haven’t had word from him in months and the man’s a chatterbox. Ah, here we are.” He drew a scroll free with a gilded baton and a series of inscriptions on its sheath. 

Him? A man? 

“You see when we received the shipment, it had to go through a border station - all the scrolls from Tevinter do - and they’ve made a muddle of specifics in section four…”

Dorian blinked. He was staring at his own manuscript, but all of the details were wrong. Sigils misplaced, text blotted out. He winced, shaking his head. “Anyone who tried to use this would be incinerated, at best. It’s utterly useless as written.”

“We had gathered as much,” Karl surmised, gently touching the parchment as though it could be valued as anything more than kindling. “Terrence did try, despite my warning, poor man. Dreamers will dream. Still, the summary was inspiring. I had a theory…” He set the scroll down and glanced over his shoulder, drawing a long folded sheet of papers from inside of his robe and carefully shifting his broad shoulders to conceal them in a corner. “That this might be closer to what had been intended? I don’t see why they bother mucking about with these things. It’s not as though we’re likely to get ahold of the lyrium, let alone the ingredients required. Still. Makes them happy. I guess that’s something.”

Dorian studied the scroll, humming to himself. A bit of a brutalist approach, surely, but it was nearly there. He traced a few sigils with his fingertip, lines appearing burnished into the parchment. “Not a bad go of it.”

“High praise,” Karl breathed, casting a quick grin in his direction. “I’m a glutton for theory. Yes. That- I wouldn’t have thought of it that way. Thank you.”

“As am I,” Dorian murmured, ducking his head. It had only been a spell to harness energy from storms. Why in the world had it been fiddled with? Why had they banned magelight, of all bloody things? Why had Karl been taken from his home? Was it because of- A fog seemed to creep into his mind then, slow and opaque, making it difficult to think. Karl was rolling up a piece of parchment and stowing it away. “I apologize, what was it we were speaking of?”

“What weren’t we speaking of?” Karl asked with a little roll of his eyes, waiting again for the heavy footfalls of a Templar to pass. “Magic in the soil, you said? Anders would bloody love that.”

“Anders?” Dorian asked softly.

Karl nodded once, his smile warming, his eyes softening. “That’s one of his names. One of many. Too brilliant to have just the one.”

“…and you love this-“ Dorian blinked, something not quite making sense. “This Anders. From Ferelden.”

“From the top of my head to the tips of my toes. And the backs of my knees. Definitely those.” Karl ducked his head, nodding down the row of books. “Do you want to see- he does these drawings of cats that are amazing. I’ve them in my chamber.”

“Cats,” Dorian repeated, bewildered. This man has just admitted to a near stranger that he- Love. The death of duty, his father had said. A fool’s solace. Dorian nodded his head, too confused to protest. “Yes, why don’t you- I’d be interested in seeing them.”

So he followed the initiate down the hallway and around a corner, up a staircase and around another bend until they reached another narrow door. Karl ducked inside, waving at the door. “Shut that?” he asked, kneeling and pulling a board from the wall under the window to draw a pile of papers from the floor. “Just need a moment to find them.”

It took him more than a moment, untying ribbons and retying them, sorting the piles of papers into stacks around the floor like a squirrel with its hoard of nuts. Letters. Notes. Sketches of animals. Karl grinned, collecting a few deeply-creased papers that had clearly been folded and unfolded many times and held them out. “See. He can get all the poses. Impressive, yeah?”

Dorian stared at the paper in his hands, holding it like it was a priceless artifact. To Karl, it certainly was. There were five depictions of the same cat, with the inscription ‘Prince Fuzzybum’ emblazoned along the top in an inelegant scrawl. Sleeping peacefully, batting at a butterfly, lying on its back, curled into a ball, and licking its lips lazily, the chubby striped cat was caught forever on the tattered parchment. Something in Dorian’s chest ached. “Very impressive,” he agreed, feeling dizzy. “Why are you here, instead of there?”

Karl’s proud smile slipped as he took the paper back, carefully smoothing it with his thumb. “It’s safer this way. It’s supposed to be,” he added, the furrow between his brows deepening. “I thought it would be. I’m not so sure anymore. I suppose that’s not really a thing, up north, is it? Mages not being allowed to- Because the Chantry says we’re supposed to put Andraste above all else. I tried to, for a long time.” He laughed a little. “She can’t compete with Anders. Too bad for her.”

Family above all else. The Imperium above all else. Perhaps they weren’t so different, after all. 

A sharp pain shot through his temples and Dorian doubled over, reaching towards the other man for support. His vision blurred, his stomach lurching.

“What-“ Dorian muttered, feeling as though he might spill the contents of his stomach. “Where-“

Karl’s hands were steady on his shoulders. Warm. More slender than they’d seemed. “I’m with you. You’re alright.” The deep Ferelden accent was gone, replaced by clipped consonants from the inner lakes and rounded Carastes vowels. “You’re strong. Be in this moment.”

There was something so familiar in that voice, but the moment Dorian had the thought, it slipped away like sand through his fingertips. He leaned into the touch, his frame shaking violently.

“Which moment?” Dorian whispered, but his own voice sounded far away and warped. “Where am I?”

“He told you about the man he loves,” Karl said slowly in a voice that wasn’t his own, watching him. Something about the way he watched - solemn and steady - felt so familiar. Familiar like the voice. “And you told him. You told him- What did you tell him, Dorian?”

“I don’t know,” Dorian whispered, his voice catching in his throat. “I can’t- I don’t-“

“Skin like whisky?” Karl laughed, the Ferelden drawl returned with gusto as he leaned against the bed a few feet away. He had a few papers in his hands. “You’re a poet. You need to help me write something better. Mine are all: ‘your hair is good, I want to pull it’.”

Whisky?

Pull?

Dorian felt ill.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I can help you,” Dorian coughed, bile on his tongue. “I wish I could. I don’t- I’m afraid I don’t know how.”

Skin like fine whisky, eyes like mossy pools. He could spend an eternity studying the myriad shades in those irises and never grow tired. Trace the curve of that smirk with his fingertips and still never understand all of its facets. He could-

What?

What could he- 

Why couldn’t he-

Dorian wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes tightly.

What did you tell him?

What did he say? 

Where was he? 

Why was everything agonizing?

“He sounds,” Karl was saying, his voice fading in and out, lost in a conversation that Dorian couldn’t quite keep up with, “and I say this with the utmost respect for your lover, like a nerd.”

He-

Dorian doubled over onto the ground, his hands pressed onto the cold, unforgiving stone.

His lover. His lover.

My-

He gasped, crying out in pain, his insides feeling as though they’d been set alight. 

“He sees the world in color and light, hears his magic like music,” his own voice was saying, though his lips didn’t move. Burning, scorching his skin, searing his lungs. “He makes me feel whole, for the first time in my life.”

“Yeah,” Karl sighed, resting his head back against the straw mattress. “Yeah. That’s the stuff. That’s the whole thing. I miss him every minute of every day, you know? How long until you get to go back to yours?”

“I don’t know,” Dorian heard himself admit softly. “He’s training with a Rivaini spiritsinger. I haven’t heard from him in months.”

Who?

Who was he-

“You write my letter and I’ll write yours. Maybe we can confuse the blokes into actually answering,” Karl suggested with a wink. “Keep them on their toes.” 

How could he not remember? Why did everything hurt?

Dorian’s voice was a dim echo, as though heard from underwater. “Yes, why don’t we? Perhaps that will catch their attention.”

“You’re lucky,” Karl said, sprawling on the floor to write. “To love out loud. To see the clouds when you want. Don’t take that for granted.” 

“I won’t,” Dorian said, through another’s mouth, the vision fragmenting and shifting. Aloud. Somehow the word felt wrong. “I promise.”

[midwrights]

If a person tells you that you're the reason why they do it, don't reply them to do it for themself. They know that, and they said that because it makes them happy. They've likely spent their time doing it alone—for themself, and doing it for somebody else makes it so much worth it.

[alanyaa]

Sab ko khush rakhne wali,

Me apana dard kise batau.....

Kon sunega, kon samjhega,

Me apani kahani kise sunau,

Chuna tha ek humsafar jise, usse bhi kya me umid lagau,

Dega vo mere har mod par mera sath, kese me khud ko yakeen dilau,

Sab ko khush rakhne wali,

Me apana dard kise batau.....

Tanha, adhuri si hu me, dil ke raaz ab or kese chupau,

Khushi ke vo do pal, ab kaha se me dhund laau,

In roti aankho ko kese samjhau, koi nahi mera, jo mujhe hasaaye,

Bin bole meri baat samajh jaye, bas kuch ghadi sang yuhi beth jaye,

Sab ko khush rakhne wali,

Me apna dard kise batau......

Sab ko khush rakhne wali,

Me apna dard kise batau......