Please like or reblog this post if you post any of the following and I will check out your blog!
DC, marvel, image, etc (comic related stuff in general)
Queer positive posts in general
Stuff that’ll make me giggle
Cute or ‘kawaii’ shit (that type of aesthetic? I hate using kawaii unless I’m being ironic but I love that particular aesthetic…)
Baking and cooking!
Hair dye stuff
So, a bunch of hannigram blogs followed me after I posted that blowjob fic and I feel bad because I’m not really a hannigram blog myself. I’m just a hannigram writer who occasionally cross-posts my AO3 fics here. Most of my usual stuff is just reblogs of fiercely pro-feminism, pro-choice, pro-lady, and pro-random stuff that makes me giggle. So, for all the people who are looking for hannigram, if you stuck around more than a day, here’s a little peek at an upcoming fic of mine:
Will turns his body
to Hannibal, arching his neck just enough to enhance the vulnerable
tendons. He steps into Hannibal’s space, hands sliding up to rest on
either side of the other’s waist, his thumbs knocking over hipbones.
“I wish you could give me a child.” He says, letting his voice be
without moving, a mechanical man whose gears have stuck. His face is
carefully blank for a moment, then, as if powering on, he manages,
“If you recall, I already did.”
Will can hear the
formulation of something scathing on the tip of Hannibal’s tongue,
the man incapable of holding it in, so he forges on, lets his eyes
drop down, his brow draw together. He shakes his head in the way he
know Hannibal likes. “No, I mean…” He pauses, then looks up
under his lashes, as coy as possible. “I wish you could give me a
baby. Yours. And mine.” He steps closer, presses up against solid
warmth, knocks their knees together, lifts his arms to clutch at
Bites his lip.
“I wish you could
make me pregnant.”
blast open, and something seems to crack on his face.
You knew it was gonna happen. As soon as we got the shot of Lexa waking up from a nightmare, I just couldn’t resist…. @killthegiant feel free to make it worse
It’s the middle of the night when Lexa opens her eyes, and she immediately realizes that there is something wrong. It’s nowhere near dawn yet, it should be all dark and quiet, instead there is a glowing light coming from her window, and muffled sounds she can’t identify. She gets up from the bed and slowly makes her way to her window. When she looks outside, her mouth falls open. Polis is burning. The light she saw when she woke up is the fire flaring everywhere, the sounds she heard are the screams of her people being slaughtered in the streets. She is frozen with shock and dread, watching the city and the people she vowed to protect dying before her eyes, when suddenly she hears something else, something much more terrifying than a scream. A chant, repeated over and over again.
“Nou Heda noumou.” Commander no longer…
Dread in her heart, she cautiously walks away from her window, opens the door and exits her room. Her two guards are there as usual. Except that there is nothing usual about it. Nothing normal in the way their empty vitreous eyes stare up at her from the ground, dead. Lexa walks past them and slowly moves down the hallway. The chanting resonates in her ears, louder and louder as she approaches the throne room. Then she arrives in front of the closed doors, and before realizing what she’s doing she walks inside. The sight is nothing short of horrifying. The Nightbloods–her Nightbloods–are there. Their tiny bodies sagged on the floor, their blood spilling everywhere on the cold marble. Aden’s blonde hair now black with the blood from a head injury Lexa can’t see. Her eyes fill with tears as she walks among the bodies of the dead children she watched grow up, the children she took care of and learned to love. Innocent…. She’s in the middle of the room when she finally looks up. Titus lies bleeding and cold at the bottom of the stairs that lead to her throne, his face still contorted in an expression of pain. Whether physical or emotional-for failing to protect the children–Lexa doesn’t know. And then Lexa sees her. Sitting on Heda’s throne, on her throne. Ontari. The Natblida from the Ice Nation. Covered in the blood of her novitiates, smiling proudly, a hand caressing the wooden armrest of the throne, as if it was her right to sit there. All around her stand the twelve Ambassadors, relentless in their chanting. ”Nou Heda noumou.”
Lexa wants to kill all of them, wants to rip them apart with her bare hands, but she can’t move. Her muscles don’t work, she is frozen there on spot. Then Ontari’s smile widens and she just says “For you…”
Lexa’s legs move on their own accord, she has no power over them, and they make her turn around. And when she sees her, Lexa’s heart stops in her chest. Clarke. Kneeling in front of her, held down by an Azgeda warrior. Lexa wants to run to her, wants to free her and take her away from this horror, but she can’t move once again. She can’t even beg for Clarke’s life, her voice is gone. Her petrified body is shaken by tremors when she sees another warrior drawing his sword and resting the blade on Clarke’s neck. Ontari’s words reach her ears and hurt more than a death by a thousand cuts.
“This time you get to watch…”
Anguish and despair gnaw at her as the warrior lifts his sword. Lexa wants to move, to shield Clarke, but she can’t. She wants to scream, to tell them to take her head and not Clarke’s, but she can’t. She wants to cry and tell Clarke how much she loves her, but she can’t. She desperately keeps trying to fight the invisible force holding her still, when suddenly Clarke looks up at her. She stares at her with a look of utter betrayal in her misty eyes and then, with a broken voice, she shatters Lexa’s heart forever.
“Why didn’t you save me?”
Lexa’s face twists with a silent scream as the sword cuts Clarke’s down.
And that’s when Lexa finally wakes up, her heart in her throat. A concerned Clarke looking at her, asking her what’s wrong. Alive. Yes… it was only a nightmare.