#now that I've written at least a bit of this

[sazwritesstuff]

Late at Night (in the light of the tv screen) | Logan x afab!reader

Logan comes home early after being away on a mission. You're sleepy, maybe a little grumpy for being disturbed, but that doesn't stop you for welcoming him home safe. Pairing: Logan x fem!reader | Fandom: X-Men | Word Count: 2k | posted on AO3 here A/N: this started off as a cute short drabble and then it turned into smut (this is the first time I've written smut btw, sorry if it's bad) | minors do not interact! TW: sexual content/sexual references, swearing, unprotected sex, penis in vagina sex

You had gone to bed hours ago, lying in bed all alone with Logan off on a mission. It wasn’t the first time that he had been gone for a few days but it never got any easier. The man was meant to return late the next day, most likely getting back by late afternoon or early evening if it had all gone according to plan.

You were always a little worried when Logan went on a mission. At least this time he had left as part of a team. Sure, you still worried about him but it put your mind just a tiny bit more at ease knowing that he wasn’t alone. But it hadn’t stopped you from being up for far longer than usual, tossing and turning with thoughts of all the things that could go wrong.

Anxious images of Logan bruised, bloody, with broken bones kept swimming around your mind.

No matter how many times he came back in one piece you couldn’t help but worry.

It never got any easier.

Trying to quieten the anxious thoughts in your mind you had put the TV on low, your bedroom dark except for the colour leaking from the screen. Providing a constant buzz that helped stop your racing thoughts for just long enough that you could actually sleep.

You weren’t sure if you’d been asleep for minutes or hours when your bed suddenly sank to one side startling you awake. Eyes flying open. Your body sliding towards Logan’s warm body where the mattress dipped. Stopping when your side bumped against his.

“Thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow.” You grumbled, snuggling your head into Logan’s shoulder. Sleep still clinging to your mind.

He chuckled, his arms slipping around you cradling your body to his “Was meant to.” he mumbled into your hair.

You hummed, feeling yourself beginning to fall back to sleep again. Your body relaxing finally.

That was until you felt Logan shift again besides you, moving you so that you were now lying on your back as he placed his head on your tummy. All the air flew out of your lungs in an instant. Your eyes flying open once more “Logan!” you hissed giving his hair a tug with your hand.

The man was heavy. You could’ve sworn that Logan’s big metal skull was getting heavier by the second!

“What?” he mumbled, pressing a quick kiss to a slither of skin peeking out from your t-shirt. Ignoring you struggling under his weight.

Wheezing you let out a “Get off!” giving his head a quick smack.

With a huff, Logan slipped his arms around you and rolled so you were now lying on top of him again. “There. Now, go to sleep, y/n.”

“I was about to until your heavy dumbass head nearly killed me.”

“I can think of a different kind of head that’ll make you choke, baby.”

“You’re such a pig!”

He hummed, placing a light kiss on the top of your head “But you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, when you’re not trying to kill.” You grumbled. Snuggling deeper into Logan’s embrace.

He let out a bark of laughter, jostling you as he told you to “Go to sleep baby.”

“I was until you woke me up.”

“I can leave if you want-” he said beginning to raise from the bed.

“Don’t you dare!” you say sitting up, your voice softening as you let out “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Hmm. I’ve been thinking about you all day too.”

Making a split-second decision you let out “Fuck it. Take off your clothes.” Quickly pulling your t-shirt up over your head.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep?” Logan said smirking up at you. His eyes quickly flicking down to your exposed chest before going back to your face.

Throwing a leg over Logan’s hips, you settle yourself onto his lap. You leant down, whispering against his lips “I changed my mind.” Pressing your lips to his in a demanding kiss. Searching. Yearning. Filled with pent up desire and frustration.

Lips wild and hungry. Both of you fighting for dominance. Logan’s tongue invading your mouth. One of his hands tanging in your hair as the other dug into the back of your thigh. Pulling you closer.

You could feel his hard length beneath you. Pressing into you.

Tugging at Logan’s tank top, you broke the kiss, pulling it over his head. His lips moving to kiss down your neck as you dropped the fabric to the floor. Leaving open wet kisses on your skin. He kissed and licked a path towards your breasts. Taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking, nipping, licking at the soft bud making the soft flesh hard and taunt under his ministrations. With his free hand Logan pulled at your other nipple between his fingers, ripping a moan from your throat.

“Logan.” You mewled, your nails digging into Logan’s shoulders.

“Tell me what you need baby.” He said looking up at you, flicking your nipple with his tongue before moving across to the other nipping at the bud with his teeth. Sucking, nipping, licking. Suck. Nip. Lick. Again and again. Building up a steady rhythm with his tongue.

“You.” You panted. Hips rolling against Logan’s hardness, your shorts and his boxers the only barrier separating the two of you “Please. I need you inside of me.”

He hummed, ignoring your demand, concentrating on your breast. Keeping up the pattern he’d created against your skin.

“Logan.” You whined rolling your hips on top of him. Causing a groan to escape Logan’s lips.

“Patience, baby.” Logan wrapped his arms around your body and rolled you onto your back. Leaning down he connected his lips to yours. Pulling your shorts to the side he quickly slipped a finger between your wet folds, gathering the wetness from your entrance and beginning to rub soft, slow circles on your clit.

Reaching one hand down you began stroking Logan over his boxers, feeling the hard, hot length of him under your palm, making him moan above you.

“Not yet, darling,” he grabbed your hand pulling it away “I want to watch you come on my fingers first.”

“But Logan-” you began to whine, stopped by the demanding kiss Logan placed on your lips.

“Be a good girl and come on my fingers, then you can have my cock baby.” Moving his finger over your clit just how you liked it, increasing the pressure just a little more and making you squirm. Rolling your hips to meet his hand, he smirked and asked “Does that feel good, baby?”

You nodded biting your bottom lip. Your eyes drifting shut as pleasure coursed through your body.

“Hmm. Keep your eyes on me, can you do that for me?” his voice coming out huskier, betraying just how affected he was.

“Feels- So good” you breathed, your voice breaking, hooded eyes latching onto Logan’s above you. “Please.”

“Please what?” you tried to chase his fingers, grinding your cunt even more on to Logan’s hand.

“Logan. Please. Please. More. You make me-” you gasped as you felt Logan shift above and insert two fingers inside “feel so good!”

“Fuck.” He breathed “You’re gripping my fingers so tight for me, darling.”

“Logan, I’m gonna, fuck-” you dug your nails into his shoulders “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me. Come on, baby, that’s it. Cum all over my fingers.” At Logan’s encouragement you came with a shout, chanting his name as you threw you head back in ecstasy. Logan’s fingers didn’t stop until you reached down and pushed his hand away as you began to feel overstimulated. Your body still shaking from your orgasm.

Logan brought his fingers up to his mouth, moaning as he sucked them clean. “You taste so good.”

You giggled, threading your hands through his hair and pulling him down for a kiss. Tasting yourself on his lips.

You felt Logan trail a hand down your body reaching down to pull your shorts past your hips and down your legs. Lifting you hips to help him slide the clothing off, kicking the offending fabric off of your foot.

From his head you racked your fingernails down his back, one of your hands going to the waist band of his boxers slipping them down his thighs. Freeing Logan’s cock from the confining fabric.

You felt Logan rub the head of his cock along your folds. Collecting the wetness there before placing it at your entrance and slowly sinking inside of you.

You moaned. Shifting beneath him, raising your hips to meet his. No matter how many times the two of you had sex you never got used to the thickness of his cock stretching you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gripping me so good. So tight. So fucking good.” He pulled out, leaving just the tip inside, before thrusting forwards inching further inside of you. “Perfect fucking pussy.” Setting a slow, languid pace Logan thrust deeper and deeper inside of you.

Pressing kisses against his collarbones you ran your nails up and down his back. Leaving red scratches on his skin that vanished as quickly as they appeared.  

Gripping your legs Logan moved them up over his shoulders, pressing you deeper into the mattress, hitting a new deeper angle inside of you. His thrusts picking up pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room creating a symphony as you both moaned and panted.

You could feel yourself clenching around Logan’s cock. Tighter and tighter. Closer and closer. Your second orgasm so close.

Leaving one hand on his back, nails digging into his skin, you reached down and began rubbing your clit. Gasping as you sloppily tried to meet Logan’s thrusts with your own.

“Fuck,” Logan breathed feeling you tighten even more around his cock as he looked down at where you were joined, his cock thrusting in and out “Good girl. Rub that clit, baby. Rub your clit for me. Want you to cum on my cock.” Thrusting deeper and harder into you, hips slapping together.

“Such a good girl. Rubbing your clit as I fuck that pretty, little pussy. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you baby? You want to come on my cock?” you nodded, words escaping you, “Then cum. Cum for me pretty girl. Cum on my cock.”

The knot in your belly tightening, tightening, tightening… and then it snapped. Eyes rolling into your head. Body pulled taut. Scratching at Logan’s back. Fingers still rubbing your clit. Faster and faster.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groaned above you. Pounding into you.

The grip of your cunt on Logan’s cock sending him over the edge. Logan’s thrust turning short and a little sloppy. Groaning your name as you felt his hot, thick cum flooding your insides.

Stopping after a few more thrusts before holding himself inside of you. Your body shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

The two of you panting. Sweating and out of breath, Logan leant his forehead against yours. Keeping most of his weight off of you, his arms braced on either side of your head, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Such a good girl for me.”

Looking up at Logan, the light of the TV screen illuminating his features, you smiled. Sleepy, happy, content. The two of you out of breath and sweaty. Your body felt like a limp noodle.

Whining as Logan shifted, pulling his cock out of your slit, moving to get off the bed.

You watched him as he moved off the bed. Your eyes straying to his naked backside as he left the room.

Seconds later you heard running water in the bathroom before Logan padded back inside your bedroom with a wet washcloth in hand. Kneeling on the bed beside you he quick wiped up the mess he’d made before throwing the cloth into the wash basket by the door and lying back down next to you. Curling his arms around you and pulling your body to his.

Pressing a kiss to the top of your crown he mumbled into your hair “Goodnight, love.”

“Night, Lo.”

[fanaticsnail]

Fic authors self rec! When you receive this, reply with up to five favorite fics you've written (include links, and if you want- a few thoughts about each one), then pass on to at least five other writers if you're up for it. Spread the self-love ✨\o/

Hi Quin! Thank you for this! I have been thinking about these for a little while, and I am grateful for the opportunity to talk about them!

Last One Laughing

This platonic fic was for a mutual going through a hard time, and I wanted to give them something to laugh about. This is also where I truly fell in love with the Heart Pirates enough to want to put an OC in there with them. If you like stupid jokes, this is the fic for you.

Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes

One of the closest fics I've come to enemies to lovers. This fic was one of my favourites to write, simply because I enjoyed the idea of making Doflamingo a love-sick, yandere, subby mess. Chuck in the pollen trope and I'm just in love.

Shameless

A three-part series that was only meant to be a mini fic for Eustass Kid. This was where I first fell in love with the big guy and I began slipping away from the love of the Red Hair pirates. Of the fics I've written, I actually reread this one because I enjoy the second-hand embarrassment from the reader character I created. I don't think I've made a reader I've felt that internal shrieking at as much as this one.

Hey Doc

The way this was meant to be a silly writing exercise for an exhausted and exasperated doctor and their crew, it has now dived into something completely unexpected. I love writing this series so much, it's like a little bit of joy all wrapped up in a mess of silliness. The Kid Pirates need someone like this gn!reader, and I was happy to fill the spot. Just purely platonic shenanigans with a crew full of unhinged idiots.

Daughter of the Sea

Benn Beckman needed a small fic about what it was like to aid Shanks in raising baby Uta. I really wanted that softness from him, and I remember exactly how I was feeling when I wrote this in one sitting. I remember I started this at 6am with just a general idea, wrote various parts throughout the day between my duties and my job, and sitting in the bath until about midnight getting it all done. It played out like a movie in my head, and I adored the company it kept me.

[muovipalikka]

A. It never was, not to me

It had been quite a while since their wedding, but Kremy still kept asking Gideon if their marriage was ironic. And Gideon didn't exactly know what he meant by that, but Kremy had been serious about it being ironic at the wedding. Shucks it was the reason they were married so Gideon just kept answering yes even if he didn't mean it.

Kremy had for a while tried to convince himself that the wedding didn't mean anything. That it was just ironic, but having asked the question now about a dozen times. He found himself hopping, praying to the Baron or really anyone who would listen that Gideon would say no. In his daydreams Gideon would loudly proclaim no and sweep him off his feet and pull him into a deep kiss. Kremy knew that would never happen, but the small bit of hope kept him asking again and again.

"Our marrige is just ironic right gid"

Gideon was hearing the question for the millionth time. This time they were sitting by the fire the others sleeping in their tents. Just when Gideon was about to say yes he got a better idea wanting to tease the alligator.

"Ya hoping that by askin' me again and again the answer will change?" Nudging Kremys side with his elbow.

Kremy didn't answer he just kept staring into the fire not really looking at it and Gideon hoped that he hadn't said anything. Eventually the fire started to die down and Gideon took the chance.

"I'm gonna go look for some firewood or someth–"

"Our marrige is ironnic right gid?"

Kremy was still staring into the fire slowly dying. He didn't have the thousand yard stare anymore, but Gideon thought he looked a little sad. He knew he should just say yes and not risk it, but he coudn't.

Quietly he said "no" and with the almost shy smile of encouragement from his husband. He continued quetly, but with a bit more bravery "It never was, not to me at least".

And Kremy looks at him smiling like he's just won the lottory.

Kremy didn't know exactly what to think, but he knew he was smiling like a fool so might as well.

"I'm so happy you're my husband"

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

My native language is Finnish so please be kind. This is also the first fanfic I've ever written so... yea.

Hope you liked it!

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 19: Lil' Beethoven (Ride 'Em Cowboy)

First of all, let this very important fact be known: the love I have for all three albums in the Lil' Beethoven trilogy cannot be overstated. I think I can safely call them my favourite pieces of art ever made. You know, when you look forward to something and it not only lives up to all your expectations but it's also just SO SO much more? Something about this neoclassical / dada / deconstruction of pop music / whatever-you-should-even-call-it approach is absolutely PERFECTLY suited for my tastes, and I didn't even know I was looking for something EXACTLY like this until I found it.

I think the circumstances of my first hearing of this album are pretty funny and something I got pretty lucky with actually (I often think about this with Sparks in general, as much as I wish I've known about them sooner I also do feel like they appeared in my life when I needed that the most. But anyway.) I was very eagerly looking forward to hearing it and finally seeing for myself what the genius of this album is all about. But I insisted that I can only do it through a physical format because yesss, let's make it even more *special*! The moment I've been waiting for! So yeah let's gooo, I need to wait until my CD arrives in the mail (that was one of the longest weeks of my life). And then I started to wonder, well, maybe I actually won't like it that much. To hype myself up to this extent and then be severly dissapointed - would have sucked!

Well, I was NOT dissapointed. Instead I was perplexed, confused, but also very intrigued and quite, ok not just quite, *completely* amazed already. That was the initial reaction and I think it's a rare but very beautiful moment when this happens - no need to *fully* grasp it right away, but enough to be all like "oh that was SOMETHING. I need more." As I said after that first listen (and I actually have my whole LIVE reaction to hearing LB written down lmao, that's how much of a big deal this was for me), I felt like it actually has to grow on me a bit still, gradually but surely with each next listen, rather than the 1st listen being THE prime listening experience. And that was very true! But it wasn't even gradual, it was very fast, seriously. And something very important that stood out to me right away too were the melodies - something about them, and that continues into HYL and ECOTD too. It's this classic feeling of: this always existed, or at least it feels like I've known it for years already. And as I listen more and become more familiar with them the magic still grows.

It's of course no coincidence to me that an album that relies so much on extreme levels of repetition is so addicting, even hypnotising. And once upon a time I thought that I couldn't like something that's too repetitive and therefore could be considered monotonous or "predictable". But nothing is predictable about LB actually. (Besides... ok, I'll get to that one bit later). But yeah, it's good for the brain. And it's been said before by others but this music definitely has this certain neurodivergent appeal thanks to all this, and, well, I love that aspect of it so much and I definitely relate to it on some level that goes even deeper than just song topics and instrumentation choices. It's in the structure and the fundaments of it all too.

I legally can't finish this without a dedicated paragraph to the 2004 Live In Stockholm performance because HOLY SHIT. Feeling so lucky again that all three of these albums got this treatment and we have recordings of these half-concert-half-performance-art pieces that we can now marvel at. I will say that like, a pretty big part of the sum of the appeal that LB has as an album is stored in this show and its visual and narrative elaboration on its themes. And also it's just so fun to watch! Sometimes I thought about how this might be an even better introduction to LB / this era of Sparks / Sparks in general than the actual album but well, never had a chance to test that and you know. Maybe shouldn't recommend Sparks with one of the most leftfield things there is to be found from them. Either way, very good, very important, felt like experiencing the power of LB for the first time all over again.

So now, please hear my exact reasonings for why I so deeply love (almost) every single one of these songs......

The Rhythm Thief

NO song made such a big impression on me the first time I heard it as this. I might have gotten more used to it after all this time but man, The Rhythm Thief, you will always be the realest one to me. This is what made me look forward to the whole album so much and convinced me that it would be like nothing else I've heard before. And that turned out to be so very beautifully true!

How Do I Get To Carnegie Hall?

I could listen to this one a hundred times in a row over and over and not get sick of it one bit. That's it, idk what else to add, beautiful and ethereal in every way

What Are All These Bands So Angry About?

Mostly I just want to direct everyone's attention to the bridge section, at the 2:26-2:52 time mark, which as far as I can say is the most heavenly piece of music ever made. Feeling like that Winnie The Pooh soul leaving his body gif each time I hear this

I Married Myself

Aromantic anthem, to me. Not that much to say actually but it's just, a very sweet and pretty song even when it might be taken as just this sort of ironic piece, I think it's this situation where a song can be taken more or less literally and it doesn't lose anything, rather the sincerity takes on a new sort of meaning? Because yes, maybe this hyperbolic situation (marrying yourself) COULD be the solution to the heartbreak of failed relationships. Ever thought about that??? Ok, stopping right here and leaving my I Married Myself analysis for another day

Ride 'Em Cowboy

My mind is blank on this one suddenly. But it's so good believe me. I love it a lot. It just has this LB spirit that makes it very addicting to listen to

My Baby's Taking Me Home

This was sort of the first Sparks song I've ever heard, or maybe that I quote-unquote purposefully listened to, and I think that's pretty important considering that it was the moment that ultimately lead to... all this. This song has always been incredibly beautiful and powerful to me, but lately it just makes me emotional to an extent that makes it hard to listen to most of the time. I WOULD sell all my material possessions for even one chance to experience this song live by the way

Your Call Is Very Important To Us. Please Hold

Earns soooo much as a live version, but even without that I think it's genius in the same way as The Rhythm Thief, and maybe the most disquieting piece here overall... If we ignore the next one maybe

Ugly Guys With Beautiful Girls

Sitting there hearing the intro of this song all like "huh, this is so chill and calm... too calm..." and then being hit with, well, everything that's going on in this song afterwards was truly THE MOMENT back in the day (and re: the predictability thing. idk though, it's not like, really an issue). Later on I decided that this sort of narrative nature of the song makes it have less replayability value than the rest (???) but I abandoned that opinion soon enough, thank god. I love it how long it took me to realize that this song and the ending of MBTMH are the only times when drums appear on this entire album (I mean no, I'm not very proud of that fact actually, as the self-proclaimed biggest LB fan in my area. And The Rhythm Thief literally saying "say goodbye to the beat"... come on man). So yes, sometimes less is more! I adore this song now it's such a treat I would gladly terrorize my neighbours with it

Suburban Homeboy

Ok, I'm sorry Suburban Homeboy fans but this is the only song here that I'm not a HUGE fan of. I still think it's brilliant and an incredibly fitting ending for the whole thing - the mood whiplash is amazing as this is the only "vaguely happy sounding" song on here, per my words from months back. And what's better than yelling WE ARE THE SUBURBAN HOMEBOYS! (I'm actually awaiting today's Sparks karaoke rating reveal very impatiently lol the reveal happened before I posted this and I'm very happy about it)

One more actually, a quick word on Wunderbar because it gave us two things that we might have not been able to do without: 1) this whole album actually (the fact that LB exists because of Wunderbar giving the Maels the idea to continue meddling with this style. Up there as one of my fav pieces of Sparks trivia) 2) anddddd the 21×21 performance of it of course

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[cerise-on-top]

hey!! its me again. your only current madcom requester (as far as i know), i was wondering if you could please write skittles and possibly deimos (seperate) with an artist s/o? specifically one who is constantly doodling them and making art for them? thank you!

-💾

Welcome back! Thank you for another Madcom request, I was looking forward to writing it! This one was also really sweet!

Deimos and Skittles with an Artist!S/O

Deimos: He draws from time to time himself and isn’t even that bad at it either. Sure, it’s never gonna be an elaborate painting or anything, but small drawings of Sanford eating some kielbasa or Hank getting beaten by Doc again. His drawings are usually more on the humorous side since he prefers those. Either way, he’d feel honoured that you like him enough to want to doodle him this much and draw for him. Yes, he knows that he’s hot shit, but it’s still nice. In fact, everyone at S.Q. will know about you being such a wonderful artist since he’ll show those drawings to everyone. You’re such a nice person, and so good at arts, it deserves to be shown off to everyone he knows. Give him enough drawings and he’ll draw something for you as well. As mentioned before, he’s pretty decent at drawing, but he’ll genuinely put in some effort into drawing you, for example. Deimos gets around a lot, and he does loot quite a bit whenever he can, so don’t be surprised if he walks up to you with some art supplies that he got from somewhere. You’re always on his mind, so naturally he’ll get something for you just so he can see you draw. Sometimes you might even get to draw with each other since he would get into it again ever since he received a few doodles from you. Although I should mention that he’ll still draw funny things to get you to laugh, he does want to see you be in a good mood. And if it’s because of him, even better. However, he’ll keep each and every single drawing of yours in a box, they’re near and dear to him. I know he can draw too, but he would love nothing more than to ask you to draw a picture of you and him together as a keepsake. It’s more personal than a picture to him and takes more effort.

Skittles: Like Deimos, he, too, draws from time to time. Unlike Deimos, he’s not very good at it, but that has never discouraged him from drawing a nice scenery. In his eyes, with everything he creates he’s only gonna get better and better at it, so he really doesn’t mind not being the best at drawing. He likely has tried drawing other grunts as well, including you, so you’ll likely see a drawing of you here and there. How could he not, after all. However, he proudly does show you his drawing as well. Hypes you up like no one else when it comes to you drawing. Sure, he’ll be quiet when you are drawing, but he’ll never miss an opportunity to ask you about some new creations you may have made. He’s as genuine as it gets about it too, he really does want to see your drawings. However, he’s not a very good critic since everything you make is the best thing ever in his eyes, so you really shouldn’t ask him for constructive criticism if you want some. He can and will find something good about each and every single one of your drawings, whether you like it or not. He hangs the drawings you give him up as well. Especially with magnets on the fridge since he wants to see them for as long as possible. Also keeps them in a neatly decorated box, and also shows your skills off to everyone willing to listen to him. If you’re ever down to take some commissions, he’s your best bet since he can always find someone willing to buy from you. Very excitable about your skills and loves talking about you in general. Nevada deserves to know about how great you are. Skittles will also come up to you with some art supplies here and there, if he can find some. As long as you’re happy doodling away, he’s happy as well. Gives you a big hug for each and every single drawing you make for him, he wants to reward you somehow.

[yesokayiknow]

Did you ever write any of that adult life skills dw crossover you were talking about ages ago

yes!!! it's got abt 1k written but i never finished it. whoops. have a snippet!

[aerodaltonimperial]

woke up feeling weirdly grateful to fandom (must be pride month lol) so just wanted to toss out a big thank you to anyone who has ever read my fics. you really make me feel like i matter when i hear that my words make people happy or flaily or screaming or what have you. it honestly means the world to me knowing that people take their own free time and use it to read things i have written; given everything, i can't overstate how much this helps to heal over the big me vs. writing/publishing wounds. 💚💚💚 i had really truly considered leaving fandom the past few weeks, but i don't want to any longer, and a huge part of that is you wonderful folks for being here.

[blubble-lake]

it's been over 2 weeks and this thing (unfortunately) still has a grip on me

[sysig]

Special Counseling (Patreon)

[eternal-learner]

might have screwed something up at work that resulted in costly damage and could cause very worrisome issues in the future but there's also a chance that it's not my fault and i won't know until i talk to my journeyman about it on monday so yay it's gonna bother me all weekend

[nostalgia-tblr]

started another fic D: didn't mean to, but i went to bed and then had to get up and write 1000 words (!!) of a sylki alternate s2 fic. i shall put the plot/idea below to ENTICE and so I don't forget it myself.

it's not a fix-it as such i just kept the S2 look and locations and characters (OB!!!) and there is a different stupid scifi thing that needs fixed (and also no sad ending because fuck that).

instead of time-slipping loki was sent back the TVA at the right time and he's trying to fit in there and thinks sylvie will be mad at him and besides how would he even find her in such a huge expanding multiverse? oh no! he daydreams a lot and has some odd moments like forgetting how he takes his coffee, and seems to in some be mentally connected to sylvie in a weird scifi way.

obviously he doesn't do anything sensible like tell mobius, so he sneaks off to ask OB who knows all about Variant Entanglement, which is like quantum entanglement but with less science and more selfcest. OB explains that ALAS loki and sylvie are currently entangled variants, which is rare and OB is very excited to get to see it happen but also he's annoyed that apparently nobody told loki not to touch himself if he met himself. (...not in a euphemistic way, this time, just you shouldn't touch your own variants or this might happen.)

it's gone a bit comedy which i think would be a nice change from writing ANGST all the time (and i need to switch modes for the Con Artists AU anyway), though there is a bit of angst (Sylvie does not like the TVA, of course, and some kind of shipping angst will happen as well) and i think i will add some weird pornographic shared sex dream thing just for the hell of it. not sure how that will work, probably involves what i like to refer to as "a confusion of pronouns."

i think OB fancies Casey in this, so there's a 'subplot' for you i suppose. i don't know how long this fic would be but the roughly 1200 words i somehow have so far (this includes some dialogues that need to be not just dialogue though) have not yet got to the point of sylvie showing up aside from in the opening scene which is a flash-forward because... eh, it is just is. but it won't be that long, surely? (this is what i said about the 8800 word sifki fic too.)

ANYWAY LOOK, here is a snippet for some idea of the general tone, in which Loki meets OB but in a different way from in S2 (ooh!):

“Ouroboros.” The man on the other side of the desk looks up from his work. “Oh hey, a visitor!” “I’m told you’re the man to see if I have a technical problem,” says Loki. “Who told you that?” “Casey.” Ouroboros looks pleased. “Casey remembers me?”  “Apparently so.” Loki drops the document he brought with him onto the desk. “You wrote ‘Towards a New Theory of Variant Entanglement’, considered by many to be the seminal work on the phenomenon.” When Ouroboros opens his mouth to ask the obvious question, Loki cuts him off by answering; “According to Casey.” “Wow, he really does remember me!“ “Why wouldn’t he?” asks Loki.  “That’s what I always ask myself!” Determined not to be put off by the oddness of his potential saviour, Loki tries to push the conversation in his desired direction. “I need to ask you some questions about this paper,” he says. “Sure! Ask away!” After an awkward pause, Loki admits, “I didn’t understand a word of it.” Ouroboros’s excitement deflates a little. “Oh.”  “But Casey - yes, he does remember you, I think he might be a bit of a fan, actually -” “Oh, wow! That’s -” “- says that the answer I need is in here.” Loki taps his fingers on the work in question. “So I was hoping you could translate this for an interested but woefully underqualified layman. Please.”

[revenantghost]

Oh no... When you post a fic and it does well enough that you make it a multichapter but that first part was a fluke ahhhhhhhhhh

[allisonreader]

@lady-merian I just read your prologue for Reckoning again. I still love the contrast given to the two men. And also how obviously upset and chaffed that the stand in king is about not being able to take up proper kingship. I love the comparison between the differences of the crowns and even the fact that he is related to the royal family. That there is the family resemblance there.

[noxtivagus]

IM DHING SKMFNDNEM

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

a trip down memory lane (remembering ancient ocs who were definitely various flavours of neurodivergent and I didn't realise)