Finally uploading my take on suzie-gurus headcanon of mob boss Bog bumping into a doorframe while chanteuse Marianne hoists the slit of her dress a little TOO high to fix her garter. Sorry this took so long hun.<:{
Tried to capture the sensuality of this moment which will later spur inspiration for some rather spicy looking moments of Marianne-cough-sliding across piano suggestively-cough
Bog is frustrated as usual.:D Little does he the effect of slightly opened shirt and loose tie to a certain sultry singer.
I also did more “lippier” Bog because Krocatoo’s art is such delicious eye candy for inspiration.^^

Hey everyone! Sorry for the lack of posts and failure to return messages for so long I have been busy as of late, just graduated college and recovering from eye surgery and whatnot. Hope you are all well.

humanityinahandbag asked:

FOR THE DRABBLE THING!!! 16 (broken wing) and 46 (fever). You can do both at once you talented writing pixie!!!

AH WRITING PROMPT REQUEST! YAAAAAY!!! Okay, because I know this could be angsty, and I came up with 2 scenarios with these prompts. 

1. kind of nsfw version 16 and 46- because I took liberties with the connotation of fever and based on the idea that someone from this wonderful fandom has proposed. (I think it was Suzie-Guru, but correct me if I’m wrong). I guess their mating cycles overlapped at one point and oh my gosh the stuff all of you have come up with has had me in stitches.


It’s a thing of beauty…When the time is right and the moon dances high and the summer’s heat raises something half hellish and half heavenly within them.

It’s the time in between her lull and his rise. The time when her passion is reaching one last magnificent crescendo and his is just barely reaching the summit.

It only happened once so far, something to do with the lunar cycles and the shifting winds and biological adaptations.

It only happened once and it is glorious. 

She is searing heat and molten gazes, swift touches and biting remarks.

He is indolent satisfaction, and languid kisses. 

She burns and he proves to be the perfect fuel to her fire.

And he thanks the stars and the moon more than once with his heavy brogue.

He thanks them for this beautiful piece of them he has somehow come to hold.

He thanks them for the pain and the pleasure of her burns and embraces.

He thanks them that they have crafted him from sharp edges and resilient armor, because he needs to be tough enough to withstand her intensity and to keep himself together on this night.

They lose themselves, fever pitch, summer heat, searing pleasure…

It’s all there.

When she throws him against the wall, there is a loud crack. 

There is also pain.

He is struck momentarily speechless by it and by the strength of the passions shaking her small frame. 

He is also speechless because he has had the air knocked out of his lungs and he can’t catch his breath because her lips are on his, and she seems not to have taken note and then…

Every line of hers presses against his, and they fit so well together.

The noise he makes is both a product of hurt and delight, and she can’t really tell the difference.

His attention is drawn away from the aching pain lancing up his back and is all on this fiery thing of starlight in his arms.

There is no cooling calm in his own gaze, and she finds herself burning brighter, because his cool blue gaze is made up of  fire…and because everyone knows that the blue flames are the ones that burn the hottest.

He is the pain that comes with keeping your hand on ice too long, and she is nearly numb from it…from his look, from his touch, from her own reactions that are both mechanical and biological in their perfection.

Together they burn, fever upon fervor.


They awake, and she is somewhat sated.

His time is not yet done, but for his own good, he must be physically restrained. 

“No more…not until that broken wing of yours is fixed.” His mother chides him.

But even that is not enough to stop him or Marianne from sneaking in a few rounds once she’s left the room.


Version 2: Angsty- play with connotation of broken wing

For all the highs and lows he has experienced in his life, there are precious few joys that can compare with flying.

There are just as few disappointments that compare with having that taken away, however much temporarily.

But as he looks at the tiny, shivering thing settled into a too big bed of heather and covered in the thickest moss, he thinks to himself that this is worse than not being able to fly.

This isn’t just being grounded. 

This is sinking.

He should have known. He should have anticipated.

Because no matter how alike she may seem to him, no matter how tough her exterior, she is still a part of the Light Fields.

The muggy, cold rains and winter frost of the Dark Forest are too harsh for the likes of them. 

Her fever rages as hot as the anger in his heart.

It burns him, makes his claws itch to tear and fight.

But there is no enemy here.

He can only watch and pray and trust in the healers and in her strength.

And he is struck by her smallness…her iridescent wings are tucked tight around, in an attempt to keep herself warm. She writhes and twists, tangling the moss around her in a mess of a net.

She is just as flightless as he feels. Her wings are as ineffectual as broken things. They are merely heavy things to drag her down in her maddened movements…things too large and burdensome to do much good with this fever rushing through her.

A light knocking breaks his musings.

There’s a tightness in his chest, and it travels up his throat, scrabbling up and up. 

It seems to hurt more when he sees who enters.

Small hands, not as tiny as the ones grasping the sheets, but small nonetheless, grab his own long fingers.

They carefully wind their way through, soft caresses and shared pain tightening their grip.

And when he looks into Marianne’s troubled gaze, purple berry dye not enough to hide the bags under her eyes, he understands.

His wife is drowning just like him.

Their wings have both been broken in this instance, and no amount of blame will buoy them up to the sky they so loved because their daughter was sick and they were useless.


It’s only when the fever breaks with the rising of the sun that they are able to fly again.

Strange Magic: "King's Gambit" Archive of Our Own
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Rated M for Marianne swears a lot and Maaaaybe sex later.

This is waitingxinxsilence​‘s fault. When Marianne’s anger gets her in trouble, her perfect little world falls apart. Heartbroken, betrayed, and mad as hell, she can either go work for the detestable Bogart King, or kiss her future goodbye. Unfortunately, it’s all so much more complicated than it aught to be.

Read it here, or on AO3 through the above link. I recommend AO3, as the italics got lost in the tumblr version.

Hope you like slow builds because it’s all I know how to write. 

( Also, I’m sorry to everyone else who uses “Bogart” as Bog’s human name. There aren’t a lot of “Bog” names of Gaelic origin. At least not that I’ve found.)

Edit: I acknowledge that I may not be accurately describing the hierarchy of a publishing company (that I can fix) and that none of it may make sense but just TRUST ME ON THIS.

Keep reading

Art School AU Butterfly Bog duel with pretty much anything.


Paint brushes


Chopsticks (Dawn and Sunny won’t take them to Chinese restaurants anymore)


Paint ball guns, of course

The giant metal tongs that the ceramic department uses to pull red-hot pottery out of kilns

Rubber bands

Mini candy bars (I kept a bag of them in my drawer at college and would throw them at my friends as an awkward expression of friendship)

And many other things, I’m sure.

Plain Wars ch 7

Well let’s see how the other’s react to the new babe in the house ;)

Marianne was fumble fingered with the buttons on the back of her dress. Bog chuckled watching her face twist in annoyance at the fabric.

“Need some help with that?” he asked stepping forward.

“God, yes. You have no idea how much I hate these damned dresses,” she growled.

“Then why do you wear them? Your father knows how you are,” he said.

“Because he likes it when I dress nice,” she sighed as his fingers worked over the buttons, “And don’t think I don’t notice you eyeing me in these damned things.”

“What it’s illegal for a man to admire his wife now?”

Marianne rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You are such a sap,” she said. Bog kissed her neck and then her cheek.

“Come on, love,” he said, “It’s time for dinner.”


Marianne sat tight lipped picking at her food. Dawn looked at around the table nervously. Sunny was doing the same. Bog kept trying not to snicker at Marianne’s distress, knowing it would be bad form, and kept nudging her with his toe.

It didn’t last long though when he nudged her one time she nailed him in the shin with her strong kick. Bog just flinched and kept on eating. Mayor Fairchild shifted nervously in the silence of the dinner table. He had never seen it this quiet at the dinner table especially at El Bosque Oscura Ranch.

“Ahm,” he cleared his throat.

Marianne looked up and blinked at her father, “Yes?”

“You wanted to tell us something?” he said, setting his fork down.

“Er… I-I’m still trying to work out how without getting bombarded,” she said pushing the potatoes around on her plate.

“That ain’t gonna happen, honey,” Griselda said with a chuckle.

Marianne groaned, “I know…”

“Marianne, just tell us. What is it?” Dawn asked. “I’m getting worried. You don’t tell me anything anymore.”

“You are taking care of the twins twenty-four seven. When do we have time to talk like sisters anymore?” she said with a smile to her sister.

“It’s about to get harder to have any sister time, too. Well maybe easier all things considered,” Bog said, smirking at her over the rim of her glass.

“Bog!” Marianne yelled swatting him in a friendly reprimand. “I was supposed to tell them!”

“As the father, I feel it is half my right to be able to tell them when you can’t,” he said. Marianne gaped at him as did the rest of those at the table.

“I swear I could kill you sometimes!” she yelled pushing back and half standing. She didn’t get a chance to swat at him again though as Dawn shrieked and threw herself at her sister.

Marianne blinked, wide eyes in surprise then narrowed her eyes at Bog. “I’m gonna get you for this,” she mouthed.

He smiled and shrugged. Mayor Fairchild was beaming at her and stood wrapping his eldest daughter in a hug.

“How far along?” he asked.

“I am really gonna kill you now,” she snarled at Bog.

“Why?” he asked.

“You know why, you loudmouthed cur,” she growled.

“Marianne?” her father asked.

“I have known for a while,” she said bracing herself.

It took him a moment to register that. “Marianne Helio Fairchild! What were you thinking?! I ought to tan your hide until you could see through it!” he yelled.

Marianne flinched and didn’t point out that her last name was ‘King’ now, nor the fact she was a grown and married woman.

“Running off like that knowing you are with child! Do you know how dangerous it is for the baby?” Mayor Fairchild fretted.

“Especially when you are carrying your first child,” Griselda said. “The first child is the hardest and the most dangerous for the both of you.” Dawn blinked a little and Marianne saw Sunny and Bog pale a bit and look at their respective wives.

“Thank you, Griselda,” Marianne said, “Now I am doomed to an entire pregnancy of ‘be careful’ ‘don’t do that’ ‘let me get that for you’. Why don’t you just lock me in my room.”

Griselda chuckled and stood and waddled over to Marianne taking her face in her hands. “Don’t worry, sweetie. He only does it because he loves you. And you know what?”

“Hmm?” she wondered, pulling her face from Griselda’s hold.

“You two are gonna make fantastic parents,” she said with a wink.

Well here we go I hope you guys like it. I enjoyed writing this… all day. Yeah. I was doing twenty different things at once. I always do twenty things at once but today was really hectic… with a lot of sewing. And not much progress… -_- one day… anyway R&R

Strange Magic Fic Idea: Sleepy Hollow

Okay so the other day I was watching the Tim Burton version and in my head I saw Bog as Ichabod Crane and thought he would be so epic playing that part and Marianne as Katrina but more badass and here’s what I got:

Constable Boggart ‘Bog’ King is send to investigate the mysterious murders happening in a sleepy town called Sleepy Hollow.  He meets the Tassels, Lord Dagda and his daughters Marianne and Dawn who are different as day and night.  Marianne is more the tougher and rebellious while Dawn is more sweet and flirty.  Marianne’s ex Roland is trying to win her affection after she caught him with some other girls and decides not to get involve with him ever again despite her father and Stepmother’s wish ‘hint hint,’. 

When Bog shows up Marianne decides to give him a hand with finding out more about the deaths and with the manservant’s son Sunny whose father was also murder but also very protective of Dawn but wants to get to the bottom of things.  They track clues and learn more and find there’s a conspiracy involve and that something supernatural is happening within their little town.

Also I like to add that as a twist the stepmother is actual related to Roland and both are conspiracing to inherit everything so there’s a little twist added if you like.