fragile fic


Some Liszt and Chopin drawings (Classicaloid and irl ones)
I think I’ve caught both Lisztomania and “Chopinmania” I think about them everyday, I always want to draw them, I constantly listen their musics, I ship them, I’m learning their biographies by heart, I worship them, I’m depressed beacause they’re dead and I so badly want to see them irl, I love them so much…..I need help.

thehufflepuffshuffle  asked:



(@hulklinging …… just thought maybe…. u could… weigh in… if u wanted…. tell us if we’re hot or cold……)

re: this fic!

i balance when i feel you to my skin
a mini-mix for cheedo, & the dag: listen 

pretty thing- broods, us- regina spektor, treacherous- taylor swift, a world alone-lorde, dear one-mary lambert, seeds-brooke fraser, gamble-lucy rose, bathe in the river-hollie smith


Meant to get this out sooner but @nightsofllyn ‘s amazing fic Our Fragile Co-commandership ended and boy was it a wild ride. I’m sad its over but at the same time the ending just hit me really hard

So here’s a totally hilarious exchange between Kylo and Hux that was probably my favorite in the whole story, I think the funniest scenarios in this chapter where the ones that may or may not have happened (especially the bit with Phasma at a cantina) 

Honestly this whole fic was like reading three different fics. the styles and plots were so different but tied together really well regardless so I wanted this comic to be in a different style than the other ones I did. So if u haven’t read this work of art yet go do that I will never stop plugging this fic
Blood and Breath - Livia_LeRynn - Mad Max Series (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 7/?
Fandom: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Furiosa & The Wives, Furiosa & The Vuvalini, Cheedo the Fragile & Furiosa, Cheedo the Fragile & The Dag, Cheedo the Fragile/The Dag (Mad Max), The Splendid Angharad/Capable (Mad Max), Capable & Furiosa, Max Rockatansky & The Wives, The Vuvalini & The Wives, Furiosa & War Rig Crew (Mad Max), Furiosa/Max Rockatansky
Characters: Furiosa (Mad Max), Max Rockatansky, The Vuvalini, The Wives (Mad Max), Original Characters, Cheedo the Fragile, Capable (Mad Max), The Dag, Toast the Knowing, War Rig Crew (Mad Max), War Boy(s) (Mad Max), The Ace (Mad Max), Ghost vuvalini, Ghost Angharad - Character, Ghost Jim Goose
Additional Tags: Recovery, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Injuries, Post-Canon, Ace Lives, Surgery, Body Functions, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Cheedo is of age, POV Multiple, The Wives ship Max/Furiosa, Furiosa POV, Max POV, Cheedo POV, Capable POV, Sickfic, Cuz wasteland medicine, Hallucinations, Vomiting, wasteland politics, Worldbuilding, Everyone gets to nap - eventually, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Wasteland religion, No one wants to be worshipped, Not-so-implied cannibalism, Mutual Pining, Prelude to shipping, Cheedo pursues Dag, Developing Relationship
Series: Part 1 of Rolling Stones Turn to Sand (if They Don’t Find a Place to Stand)

Furiosa has always been terrible at dying. She never planned on living to see the Citadel again, let alone finding herself the defacto ruler. Sure, the girls are helping where they can, but the Citadel just isn’t ready for them. Even worse, with her injuries slowing her down, Furiosa’s past finally catches up to her.  Cheedo knows she came back different, but that doesn’t mean she knows who this new person is.  Maybe if Capable buries herself in her new work, she can bury her grief as well.  Meanwhile, Max resumes his wandering which leads him to scavenge the wreckage in the canyon.

New chapter, complete with notes on Citadel plumbing and human milk products because I’m that kind of geek.
STZ-Week Day 7: Graduation
By Organization for Transformative Works

All good things must come to an end. The third-years are getting ready to leave but they have some words of wisdom to pass on to the next generation first.


okay, so this is kind of embarrassing, but a little while ago I read this gaster x reader fanfic on ao3, and i can’t find it. I was wondering if anyone had read it and could give me the title or something. It’s about the ‘reader’ in college or something and gaster is just kinda in their head, and they kinda talk. the ‘reader’ study’s science. then in like the end chapters they break the barrier, and yes it ends in smut. don’t judge please. i don’t know why, but this fic has been on my mind for about a week now, and it’s driving me insane. so if you have any information on this fic please let me know. thank you lovely’s <3

"Unlikely Hero": f!Sole x Maxson (FAINT FO4 SPOILERS)


After a distraught Sole returns from the Institute, she finds comfort and safety in the least likely place.


Her head was spinning; her vision remained blurry as she stumbled off the teleportation device platform - in her hazy mind she searched in vain for the proper name. She would have fallen to the floor, if the nearest person hadn’t caught her. She mumbled a thanks and an apology mixed together in one very hazy sentence.

“Send a transmission up to the Prydwen; tell them to prep a med bay. It would do well to advise them to have it ready in five.”

If she could think straight, she would have groaned. Of COURSE it was Maxson who caught her. Great. He was going to think she was totally incapable of anything. It was even worse that he was keeping her propped up. If he let go, she was going to collapse.

“Can you walk?”

She managed a jerky shake of her head; the world was still spinning.

“Didn’t think so,” he sighed, then the world was knocked from under her feet, “don’t worry. I’ve got you. I’m taking you back to the Prydwen.”

She wanted to open her eyes, take in what the others must think of her. Did they think she was weak? Being carried like a child by their leader? He was being surprisingly gentle. Had he known what she would find in the Institute? He couldn’t have. He would have warned her. The last thing she considered before she blacked out was how safe she felt, surrounded by his arms and the faint scent of leather.

“And you’re quite certain she doesn’t need another blood transfusion?” Maxson’s agitated tone dragged her back to consciousness.

“Perfectly certain, sir. She’s coming too now, look. I’ll be outside if you need me.” The medical officer sounded vaguely harassed. She felt sorry for him. If Maxson was impatient, he would have been rather intimidating to the poor medic.
Well. No point keeping him waiting. Hesitantly, she slid one eye open, then the other.

She wasn’t expecting an expression flooded with relief to be her greeting.

“You’re alright?” He was sitting beside her hospital bed, heavy coat hanging off the back of the chair.

“Good as new.” She promised, “ready to deal with the consequences. I know I fucked up. They see us as hostile now…”

“They would have anyway.” He waved a hand impatiently, “stealth isn’t your strong point. If you were discovered they would have killed you. I’d much rather you came back alive and pissed off a few Institute bastards than died in there.”

The reminder of all she had learned washed over her in a fresh wave of agony. Her son. How could he have turned out this way? To a point where not even maternal love could convince her to side with him and his Institute. Thankfully, he didn’t press for more information until they were in his office, adjoining his quarters.

“Your son. Did you find him?”

And so she told him everything. There were a few moments where his hands twitched as though to clasp hers.

“He’s evil.” She finished flatly, “and I keep thinking… Is it my fault? If I’d found him sooner? I thought it had only been ten years…”

“It wasn’t your fault. Nobody could have gotten you out of that Vault any sooner. It’s not your fault he turned out the way he did. What matters is we got you back alive. I was about ready to come after you myself.”

“What, didn’t think I could handle the mission?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I have utmost faith in you, actually. I just wasn’t sure those Institute bastards would give you back to me.”

“‘Me’ meaning the Brotherhood collectively, right?” She hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t meant to be so obvious in her fishing for some idea of where they stood. But ever since he’d taken her a few weeks ago - rough and dominating - she had ached to know. Ever since he had growled in her ear that she was his. Had he meant that?

“You belong with the Brotherhood,” his hands rested on her waist.

“That all?” She asked.
A smirk crossed his rugged features.
“Persistent, aren’t you, for someone who could barely walk yesterday.”

“Absolutely persistent,” she smiled faintly as she spoke.
“It should go without saying that you belong to me. Or do you need another reminder?” His smirk was very obvious now, clearly he, too, was remembering their last encounter.

She feigned innocence. “That’s for you to decide, sir. Last I checked, you’re in charge.”
To her surprise, he laughed, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.
“Wouldn’t want to break you when the medics have just fixed you up.”

“I need the distraction. When I’m with you… I don’t have to think about anything else.” She confessed all of this with her eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Sure, she was a tough soldier. A survivor. But when she was with him? She was just a young woman. A young woman faced with a powerful man she was certain she loved. Why else would she do such morally questionable things, if not for him?

“Please,” her words were a breath in his ear, “help me forget…”

Gods, he loved a submissive, and her… Gods he loved her. He had allowed her so much. Allowed her to bend and break rules, refusing to harm or dishonour her. And it was to him she had run now, when her world was falling apart again.

There was something oddly intimate about that, just as there was a certain level of intimacy to the kiss he dragged her into. He liked the way her hands ran up his chest, snaked around his neck and stayed there, pulling herself closer to him as her lips parted, allowing him to kiss her deeply and thoroughly.

She was wearing civilian clothing; a blouse and skirt, easy to strip off.
“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, a rare display of consideration. Normally he was an aggressive, dominant lover. Not now, not this time. Not when she needed to be treated carefully.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the nearest surface; a mostly empty desk. He set her down, resuming their kiss, one heavy hand roaming her body. She was scarred, but still beautiful to him. This woman had survived the Institute. The Commonwealth. Every damn thing the world had thrown at her. And here she was, with him. He bit down on her lower lip gently and she sighed into his mouth, yielding her tongue to his.

Uncomfortable with their present position, he moved her again, this time without breaking the kiss. He laid her down gently on his bed, breaking their embrace briefly to remove what remained of his clothing.

“I’ll try to be gentle. If I hurt you… Tell me.” His hands were wandering again. She was so ready for him, and he had barely touched her; the thought - and proof - of how much she wanted him made him almost painfully hard.

“Do you think about me?” He murmured in her ear, using one hand to rub the head of his length against her entrance.

“A-all the time,” she stammered, one small, scarred hand running up his chiseled arm.

“At night? Is it my name you moan?” How much longer could he tease her?

“Mmhmm,” she bit her lip, eyes fixed on him.

“Show me,” on the sentence - command, really - he slid into her slowly. He was rewarded with a faint whimper of his name. Somehow, that was almost sexier than the way she cried out when he was rough with her.
He bit back a groan when her legs locked around his waist, pulling him in deeper. He used one arm to stay propped up, the other fisting into her hair. It took control, so much agonising control, to keep his pace steady and deep. He was so used to being rough and hard and fast. But this? This was worth it. Her eyelids dropped closed and a faint moan escaped her lips.

Gods, he felt so good inside her; given how different this was to the last time, she could feel every inch of him inside her. It wasn’t long before her entire body was shaking with the aftermath of a blissful climax.

He was close, so close. The rapid rise and fall of her chest and her expression of bliss pulled him closer and closer to release. Her breathy moans, the whispers of his name in his ear… It was driving him wild.

The almost feral growl that tore from his lips as he reached his climax set another in motion for her. They rode out their releases together; a soft sigh escaped her lips when she felt the warmth of his release inside her. Another intimate gesture.

He held her afterwards, even though aftercare wasn’t necessary this time. He just liked her being close to him.
“I’m not sending you in there alone again. Any further assaults on our enemies, will be carried out with a full escort.”

“I don’t need to be protected, Maxson,” she smiled slightly, fingers tracing every muscle on his chest absently.

“Wasn’t a question,” he muttered, “you either take the escort or I keep you off field work until the Institute is destroyed.”

She gave him a sour look. “Fine. Speaking of the Institute. What are we going to do about them?”

“Believe me when I say we’ll wipe them out entirely. Enough of this. We’ll discuss this later. No war business in the bedroom.” Another rare smile.

“Thank you. For looking after me. You’ve done so much for me…”

“It wasn’t exactly a burden,” he brushed his hair from his eyes, “believe me when I say I’m glad you’re on our side. Why didn’t you side with them, by the way?”

“Shaun is gone. That man… That isn’t my son. If I sided against the Brotherhood… I would lose friends. And you. I’m done losing people I love.” The last sentence had been accidental.

“I was wondering when you’d actually mention that to me,” his smirk had returned.

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew,” he rolled his eyes, “your problem was your belief that I didn’t feel the same.”

“So… You do feel the same?”

“I don’t make a habit of bringing simple conquests to my private quarters. I certainly don’t make a habit of carrying just anyone almost a kilometre to a vertibird and the med bay. Among other things.” He looked almost awkward.

“So. What happens now?”

“Nothing’s changed,” he pressed a kiss to her temple, “you’re still mine. You’ll always be mine. Just so we’re clear.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Over the intercom, the Captain was calling for him.
“Not a damn moment’s peace,” he muttered.

“Do you need me to report for duty, sir?” She was only half teasing.

“If you’re tired, no. Stay here and sleep. Come and find me when you wake.” He was already easing his muscular form back into his uniform.

“Alright,” she mumbled; she WAS exhausted. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, and then he was gone. She drifted off to sleep peacefully; the sheets still held the scent of leather and gunpowder. When she woke, she would go to him.
She dozed off, dreaming of a better world.

Fragile Soft Machines

Fic status update!

Sorry to say after I’ve already put this one on hiatus to let me finish Wintersend, but my brain isn’t in a place that’ll allow me to write fic right now. I need to take a bit of time - hopefully only one more week - to get some energy back & sort myself out. Thank you for being patient.


Pairing: Regulus Black x Lily Evans

Setting: Modern, non-magical, college AU

Word Count: 959

Written For: @theprofessionalunicorntickler [happy birthday!]

Regulus goes to Starbucks for his morning macchiato—double espresso, triple caramel, shut the fuck up, Sirius—every single weekday for the duration of his freshman year.

He’s a sophomore when he finally gives in and rushes Delt-Ep like all other respectable Black males not named Sirius.

And it’s after rush when he becomes the honorary Little Brother of the greasiest, most second-string Hannibal wannabe in the history of the probable-but-not-publicly-proven Great American Inbreeding Program. For the most part, Snape just sends him on stupid, perfunctory errands, nothing like the gross cottonmouth keg-stand hazing bullshit that Malfoy puts Crouch through. And it’s annoying, of course, especially since Snape wears a fucking TIMEX with a periodic table-printed pleather strap, but. It could be worse.

Either way, it’s on an otherwise uneventful Friday afternoon in mid-October that Regulus finds himself standing in line at Not-Starbucks, mentally steeling himself for the downright emasculating task of ordering Snape’s passionfruit chai iced tea—extra passionfruit, like, extra extra passionfruit, it’s basically a whole new flavor of Naked Juice—from the frazzled girl behind the counter. Suddenly, though—

There’s a shift change.

A tall, slender girl with milky skin and fire-red hair chopped short to her ears is tying an apron around her waist, impatiently looking up to scan the remainder of the line.

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Lessons Learned

Summary: Kids are taught a lot by the people around them. Sadly, some of these lessons do more harm than good.

Just a short, angsty teenage Stan fic, the inspiration for which hit me in the dead of night, and then refused to let me sleep until I wrote something down. Hopefully ya’ll enjoy, so my sleep deprivation will be worth it (: 

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