tragic siblings

The footsteps outside his door were quiet, but not quiet enough. Loki scowled at the book he was trying to translate - and making no headway in. “I told you not to bother me,” he said loudly. “I’m in the middle of something.”

The lack of response was so surprising that Loki looked up, only to start a little. His door was already open, and Thor was standing there staring at Loki like he’d never seen him before. Loki jerked to his feet. 

“Thor! You can’t just barge in,” he started to say, but then he realized - it was Thor, but he did not look as he had an hour ago. His hair was longer, for one, and he was taller, broader even than he already was. Loki blinked twice.

“Brother,” Thor said, and there was something odd in his voice. He looked like he wanted to say more, but was lost for words. Loki recovered himself, tensing. 

“You are not my brother,” he said. 

Thor - or the man who looked like him - flinched. Actually flinched, like Loki had struck him, something flickering across his expression that made Loki’s stomach drop. “I am,” he said. “I think - something has happened.” 

Something? I saw my brother not an hour past-”

“Loki,” the imposter said, his voice oddly strangled. He stepped inside and shut the door, and Loki tensed further, summoning one of his knives. “Are you…” He took a half step toward Loki, reaching out, and he brought the knife up. 

“Stay back or I shall call a guard,” he said, keeping his voice from trembling through an effort of will. “Explain yourself. Who are you?”

The man’s jaw worked and it looked like the gesture Thor made when he was upset and trying not to show it. Exactly like, and it was uncanny enough to make Loki feel suddenly cold. “I am who I say,” he said. “And you are - you are Loki.” 

Loki fidgeted under the intensity of that gaze fixed on him. “You have no proof of your words,” he accused, buying time. He glanced toward the window - and fell still. 

There was dust on his shelves. A thick layer of it, even though a moment before they’d been clean. The window and curtains were closed when he had left them open. And now that he was looking…

A thousand small details. This wasn’t his room. 

He felt his chest tighten, fear worming into his heart. Dust. Why should there be dust on his shelves?

Why had Thor looked so surprised to find him here? 

Something was very wrong.

“Loki?” Thor sounded uncertain, and that was wrong too, the list only growing longer. “Look at me. Please.” 

The please jangled against his strained nerves but Loki turned, unable to ignore him. “Is this the future?” He blurted out, feeling himself start to shake. Thor looked startled and covered it poorly, but for the most part he was still staring at Loki as he had been all this time, with a strange sort of hunger. 

“I’m not certain what has happened,” he said at length, which wasn’t an answer. 

Loki’s dread deepened. He swallowed hard and looked again at the shelves. At the bed, perfectly made. 

“Am I dead?” He asked, and wished his voice didn’t tremble quite as much as it did. 

Thor did that little jerk again, like Loki’s words hurt. “Loki,” he said. It wasn’t a no, and Loki felt himself start to shake.

“No,” Thor said abruptly, his voice rough. “No. You are not.” There was something fierce and terrifying and desperate in his voice, and when Loki looked at him, in his eyes. His brother, but…not. Half a stranger. “You live, and I will protect you.”

Episode 95, part 1 of 3, and WOW do they pack a lot in to this episode. I took a truly unmanageable number of screencaps here and will not be using them all, in order that I might get through the episode sometime this year, so if there’s a moment you feel I missed, drop me an ask for Extra Thoughts! 

Having secured his own place in his own tournament’s semi-finals, Kaiba joins Mokuba to assist him in trying to decipher the hieratic text on the Winged Dragon of Ra, only to find he doesn’t need to decipher shit, he can already read the ancient secret writing of the priests. 

He copes poorly.

Like, really poorly.

Meanwhile, Isono announces that the semi finals will take place tomorrow and lights will be turned off at midnight, and Yugi’s excited.

Isono has also informed them that the semi-finals will take place at a third location (the blimp being the second, and the entirety of Domino City being the first) because Seto Kaiba is just too damn much and couldn’t choose between renting a whole damn city, staging duels atop a moving airship, or building a skyscraping tower on a private island and just DID ALL THREE AT ONCE.

So, the Nerd Herd goes to check on one of their multiple unconscious friends before their Kaiba-mandated bedtime.

Oh honey. That’s what you said BEFORE the most recent three comas!

Shizuka, trapped on a card-game-obsessed murder-blimp is even less happy.

She didn’t get to watch the only duel so far that DIDN’T end in a coma, because she was sitting at the bedside of a dying woman she barely knows. Possibly they should not have brought her on the murder-blimp.

Isis, who came to check on Mai too, tries to comfort Shizuka.

“and you don’t see us complaining!”

“Oh yeah? Then…”

Confronted with the biggest and most earnest puppy-eyes in existence, Isis suddenly tells this group of Japanese teenagers her entire life story. You know, she has probably needed to talk about this shit for a loooong time and just jumped on the opportunity. It’s hard to find a therapist when you’re a high-powered career woman with a murder-mystery family and an ancient prophecy to fulfill. 

Isis tells them all that she’s a member of the Ishtar Clan, the Tomb Guardians

but not his Tomb, apparently. Infuriatingly. 

She explains about the child-torture they engaged in…

But does not explain why they keep the two most important things they own in like, the shittiest sandstone desk-tidy I’ve ever seen.

First, I absolutely believe Isis and Rishid call the day Malik was scarred “The Tragedy” rather than anything more explicit or less dramatic. Second, this means it happened when Malik was 11.

And then a year later…

Malik and Isis have apparently been talking about sneaking outside, but Isis is worried about the potential consequences… 

Interestingly, she only says “you”, as in, only Malik will have actually broken a law. I’ve wondered before about Isis’s situation growing up: she seems to spend less time with their father, so may be being raised by her parents’ sisters or other female relatives, while Malik is raised by their father and Rishid. Segregating by gender kinda fits with the backwards nature of their clan. So possibly Isis is allowed to go outside, maybe the women (or even just, people who aren’t in the direct male line) do go out.

Anyway, Malik isn’t worried!

No pressure buddy!

And Malik and Rishid hit her with a two-pronged attack of adorableness.

I mean, who could say no to this shit?? 

Rishid calls her Ishizu-sama (”Lady Ishizu”) same as he calls Malik, btw.

And she relents, but insists that they don’t push their luck.

HOW CUTE ARE THEY THO?? With the big eyes and the adorable smiles and the excited hugs??

So Isis and Malik make their plans, and Rishid promises to flawlessly cover for them.

#nailedit

burned in a feathering pyre, 2.6k, loki and thor, another AU suggested by professional enabler @portraitoftheoddity

Thor woke up to Loki slapping him across the face.

“Now look what you’ve done,” he hissed. “Look where your reckless idiocy has gotten us this time!”

Thor sat up, groaning. Memory swam in slowly - he’d been in Jotunheim, then on the Bifrost, bloodlust high and shouting at his father - at the All-Father. Oh, Norns. He looked around and saw blasted scrublands, sun beating down on his shoulders. His armor was gone, and he felt weak. Thirsty.

You are unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed, Thor remembered, and turned to stare at Loki.

“You…what have you done?”

“The mortal crime of attempting to defend you,” Loki snapped. He stood up with only a slight wince, looking upwards. “I did tell you how monstrously stupid of an idea it was. Going to Jotunheim-” His voice hitched oddly, and he cut off. Thor shook his head and stood up.

“Heimdall!” He shouted. “Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!”

Loki wheeled on him. “Do you not understand the concept of exile, Thor? We’ve been cast out of Asgard, until such time as the All-Father should decide we have learned our lesson.”

“What lesson?” Thor asked blankly.

“Damned if I know,” Loki growled. “He did not see fit to inform me.”

Keep reading

6

With this flashback, I think it’s safe to assume that Akira and Aoi are step-siblings. Nothing is stated, but what we could at least gather from the previous episode, they were hinted at being siblings that weren’t blood related and with the first two pictures, with Akira being with the dad and and little Aoi hanging unsurely to the mother, it looks like them meeting for the first time. So I’m going to assume their parents married, making them step-siblings and then they sadly lost them in a car accident, leaving them with only each other.

Though I wonder how much, in his pursuit of working hard for Aoi, did Akira actually neglect spending time with her, possibly leading to her brother complex now, wanting him to acknowledge her and the person she is.

Also, it’s cute that Aoi based Blue Angel’s hairstyle on the one she had when she was little.

anonymous asked:

If/when you watch Guardians of the Galaxy 2, I'd love to see your thoughts on the connections between Nebula & Gamora's relationship and Loki & Thor's

okay! so now I have finally seen the movie and can answer your question, anon. 

there are certainly similarities - I mean, obviously, sibling rivalry between a favored older sibling and a neglected younger sibling. 

one major difference, though, is that both Nebula and Gamora come from horrible trauma - both of them were abused by Thanos and both of them grew up in a hideous environment where they were both nurtured to be killers. and I am absolutely certain that Thanos’s playing them against each other was far more deliberate than Odin’s behavior shaping the competition between Thor and Loki. 

the stakes for them were different than they ever were for Thor and Loki, and while Loki at this point in canon has that trauma, Thor doesn’t. it’s a common ground that Nebula and Gamora have, and a common understanding of the world, that Thor and Loki don’t share. (which changes, I think, the way they relate to each other pretty vitally.)

one thing I thought of while I was thinking about this, though, was the parallel between Nebula’s “you wanted to win, and all I wanted was a sister” and Loki’s “I never wanted a throne, I only wanted to be your equal”. there is also the way that both Nebula and Loki define themselves by their opposition to Gamora/Thor - part of their identity becomes the way in which they are not/are against their sibling. 

I feel like there’s less hope for Thor and Loki to have the kind of resolution that Nebula and Gamora had in this movie - both because of story requirements (Marvel not wanting to lose one of their most popular villains) and because of the difference in background. 

paradoxically, because Gamora and Nebula never had the positive ground to begin with, I think it’s easier for them to start building something once they’re both away from Thanos’s corrosive influence, where Thor and Loki ruined a previously good relationship all on their own - which is a lot harder to rebuild, in some ways.

Since this thing keeps getting likes and reblogs, I’ll update it and repost it! It goes from oldest to newest, so my least favorites are Gain and Loss, Rescue, and Love Letter parts, personally, as they’re quite old and not well written in my opinion, but—enjoy. XD

For Jacob Frye confessions and responses: jfc

- Gain and Loss (warnings: miscarriage)
- Rescue! [RQ]
- Love Letter (part of a series pt1)
        Date Night (pt 2)
        Dagger to the Heart (pt 3) - NSFW
        Healing Wounds (pt 4)
- BRAWL (AU with Edward Kenway–will be a series)
              Who to Choose?
            The Captain’s Heart [NSFW]
            The Rook’s Heart [NSFW]
- The Fall (40 yr old Jacob–will be a series)
          The Assassin’s Anxious Heart - NSFW [RQ]
          A Father to Be - NSFW [RQ]
        
The Hunt for Jacob - NSFW [RQ]
         Through the Eye of Jealousy - NSFW [RQ]
         A Volatile Climax - NSFW [RQ]
         Parenthood - [RQ]
- To Woo the One - (Series) [RQ]
         The Pursuit - [RQ]
- Night on the Train - NSFW
- Drunken Anger - NSFW
- The Fight [RQ]
- What the Doctor Ordered - [RQ] NSFW
- Son of a Glitch! [NSFW]
- Dressed to Impress - [RQ]
- In his Dreams - [RQ]
- Jealousy Fueled - [RQ] NSFW
- The Rook and the Mockingbird - NSFW
  
The Mockingbird’s Secret {NSFW} {RQ}
- Daddy Dearest [RQ] NSFW
- A Stable Ride - [40 y/o] [NSFW]
- The Dove Effect - [40 y/o] [Tragic love story]
- Sibling Rivalry - [ Collab] [Fanfic]
- On the Other side of the Tracks - Part of the prostitute series
- The Confession - [gift] [NSFW]
- A House Divided - [Fanfic] [NSFW] [Jacob x OC]
- The Clockwork Soldier [ AU: Steampunk]
- {What If} Templar Jacob Frye
- {What if} Jacob Frye Lower Class
- No Longer Yours
- {Gift} My body, my heart: [Jacob Frye x OC]
- {Gift} The Silent Prostitute: [Jacob Frye x OC] [NSFW]
- The Love of a Unicorn - {AU} {NSFW}
- The Wet Nurse - {NSFW}
- The Haunted Mill {Drabble} {AU} {40}

Love Letters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (40) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50)

Anything else that might be missed is my Jacob Frye fanart, which is buried under the myart tag on here and headcanons are under headcanon tag~!

Much love to you, dearest and thanks for your kind words!

~Oreana Galena

extension line

standalone; nc-17; msr; SMUT, seriously smut, angst, hurt/comfort; set-post Paper Clip pre-Piper Maru; prompt was “phone sex”. This is phone sex.

A/N: Last time I told people not to read something in public I got a bunch of folks reading it at work. But hey this is heavy NC-17. Don’t read it in public. Or do I guess I can’t tell you want to do. 

A/N2: I told myself I wasn’t going to post this this week because I didn’t want to detract from my very unsexy casefile fic. I’m compromising with a shameless self-promotion. Cool off by reading my casefile! 

***

He can’t move without knocking over paper. Open files surround him, stare him down and tell him: You are a sad, sad man. Photos of UFO’s, stark white specks on grainy backgrounds – cones, saucers, the trapezoid (spotted only once in 1947 on the coast of Indonesia by a Dutch tourist drunk off Bintang), domes and disks and winged cigars and his personal favorite, but most implausible: the mothership. Scully would tell him Mulder, you’re crazy. And maybe she’d smile a little, tucking it into her fist like there’s a chance in hell he hadn’t picked up on it and ascended. But maybe that’s more implausible. The last time she smiled at him he had to come back from the dead and hold their boss at gunpoint. Dana Scully is tough to please.

Her sister’s file sits on the coffee table – his copy of it, with the frenzied pen marks and the filled out margins and grease stains where he’d been eating and forgotten to wipe his hands. He’s… technically not supposed to have this. They won’t mark it as an X-File. Shoddy agents doing shoddier work with no clue to what goes on in smoke filled rooms are being tasked with, trusted with, the gravely important feat of bringing justice to Melissa Scully and thereby bringing some goddamn peace to one Special Agent Dana Scully, M.D.

He is tasked with being the bearer of bad news.

In the cosmic light of his fish tank he tries to think about space and nothing else. The mothership last seen in Cartegena Colombia –the city that founded Miss Colombia –did not seem to abduct anybody – was just cruising around – all the cows were okay. And don’t call her she’s at a conference wait until she gets back.

He knows, he knows she is definitely a ‘rip the bandaid off and all the skin with it’ kind of girl. Takes hits stronger than the Federal Reserve. And this isn’t the worst news, her sister can’t die again, but shit. She’s been so… off lately. So angry and unpredictable. Which he likes, just a little, because he thinks he’s probably always needed a friend who also lost a sister to an interminable maze of government conspiracy in space and hates herself for it. It is beyond obvious that she does. He gets it, he lives it every single day of his pitiful life, but he cannot bear to see it in her. He just can’t. It’s like watching your hero die of a horrible disease or a slow motion car crash or the sun dying out right before your very eyes. And yes, it’s possible he has her on some kind of pedestal.

Don’t call her, he repeats to himself, a warning and a mantra. It’s a little funny (see: tragic), because he thinks about calling her pretty often now, tragic details about murdered siblings aside. She’s hilarious and throaty and way more willing to talk to him about his favorite science fiction technologies at night, way more willing to weigh in on whether they’ll actually be possible in the near future. On the phone she is wearing sweaters with her hair pulled back drinking a glass of wine and thinking only about what’s going to happen when she sees him in the office tomorrow, where they’re going to go. Don’t call her.

She calls him.

He’s kind of knocked on his ass. Papers go flying when he scrambles to answer the phone and a glass of tea almost spills all over Melissa’s smiling face. He rights the cup before answering, whisking the file away and tossing it on his desk.

“Mulder,” he says.

“Mulder, it’s me,” she replies.

“Hey Scully. What time is it there?”

She huffs out a laugh, and it’s nice to hear. “Mulder, I’m in Bethesda. If I throw a rock I might hit the Hoover building.”

“Oh, it felt a little farther than that.” He knows she will smile at this, if only to placate him.

“Three more days, Mulder.” And now he’s smiling. “Three more days and I’ll be back and we can go check out that… what was it again…”

“You’re slacking, Agent Scully. Mass cosmic awareness. A mining town in Nevada – in it’s entirety, I am talking about the whole town – has suddenly decided to do away with coal because of its effects on the environment. These people lived and breathed coal their entire lives, and now they’re suddenly denouncing it?”

“That would certainly explain their distaste. The mining industry is one of the most heavily exploited at the expense of public health. They’re all dying of black lung.” 

“Yes, but would that distaste generally lead to multiple cases of ecoterrorism resulting in the death of four people?” The line remains silent. “Sudden urges to be more environmentally conscious or socially responsible are commonly noted symptoms by alien abductees.”

“You believe the whole town was abducted?”

“I don’t know what I believe, Scully,” he replies, leaning back and rubbing at his neck. “We have to go investigate first. I have my theories.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” It’s fond, fonder than she’d let herself be were they face to face. He is glad they are not.

“Scully,” he says. Her full attention is like a physical feeling. It’s almost like she’s breathing down his neck. “Scully, I have some news. About Melissa.”  The mood changes and that, that is like a physical feeling, too. He’s had her back for five minutes and now he’s lost her again, which seems to be a habit for him.

“News? What news? What have you heard?” In the way all of these cases go Scully has been sanctioned off to the ‘family’ side of things. She’s not an agent here. She hears what everybody else hears, when everybody else hears it. He’d go mad. He has to tell her.

“They have two suspects for her murder,” he lets out. He doesn’t need to expand. She’s too smart for that.

“It’s not him.” Her tone is flat, emotionless. “They don’t have him.”

“It doesn’t appear to be,” he says gently. “They’re lackeys. They have a combined IQ of 46. They’re not the kind of men the Syndicate would send to do the job.”

“I sense there is a but.”

“But they are the kind of men They would hire to do this job. Take the place of the real guys in order to escape a harsher fate.”

“You think they’re hired bodies, happy to rot.”

“Their alibis are shot with holes and somehow each of them have a motive,” he admits. “They’re not fighting it.”

The wrong man goes to jail and there will never be justice for Melissa or for Scully. In the hospital room Scully turned to him and told him there was no justice, not at all. He’d like to believe that isn’t the truth. But how could he fault her for feeling that way?

“It should’ve been me,” she says, as if she were saying it’s cold out. Or your mail has arrived. Or what her plans are for this weekend. He is so close to telling her he’s glad it wasn’t that it frightens him. She may never forgive him. Mulder is silent for too long, or maybe she’s just had enough, because she continues: “I didn’t call to talk about this.”

That catches him off guard, and he pulls his legs up with him on the couch in a fit of nervous intrigue. “What did you call to talk about, Scully?” he asks softly.

Silence on the other end, and then a weary sigh. “I don’t know, actually. I’m not sure why I called.”

“Maybe it was good for you to get away,” he offers. “Take some time.”

She laughs, a little bitter and resentful. Not of him, but of life, circumstance, injustice, maybe a little of him. “Mulder, have you ever hung out with a bunch of doctors? They’re not the most delightful bunch.” A beat, and she adds: “Don’t say anything. I know you want to say something. I am telling you not to say it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “You’re the most delightful person I know.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

“Especially when you tell me to shut up.”

There’s a sound on the other end, like fabric moving against fabric. She’s lying down in her hotel bed with her weirdly formal silk pajamas and a good book on the other pillow, he imagines. But she called you instead. She doesn’t know why she did but she did. She doesn’t want to talk about Melissa. Don’t be a brooding asshole and try and force it out of her. She doesn’t want to talk about Melissa. “How’s your trip, Scully?”

She sighs again, a large rush of air that makes him wince at the volume and the hairs on his neck stand up. “It’s okay so far. Tonight was just the opening ceremony. Wining and dining and formal wear and all of that. I have my panel tomorrow morning.” A little groan plays in his ear, the one she makes when she’s stretching forward with her hands behind her back. “I cannot believe the dress I stuffed myself into tonight. I’m going to be scrubbing glitter off my skin for days.”

“Hey, you never dress up for me.” Has he ever seen Scully in a dress? He has seen her in a bra and panties, and that one time where she had to change in the back of their rental and he told her he wouldn’t look but hey he kind of did. Scully wears thigh highs in the summer and it had been all he could think about for two straight weeks. He’s never seen her in a dress, though. A sparkly one?

“You never take me anywhere nice,” she says dryly. “I think I’ve heard this one. Now you’re supposed to tell me I nag you too much.”

“You nag me too much, Scully. What color was the dress?”

“Why do you want to know?” She sounds faintly annoyed, the way she does anytime someone mentions her femininity. She likes her pants, he likes her in pants. But a sparkly dress?

“So I have a detailed description to regale at the Bureau watercooler. Everyone will be astonished. No one will call me Spooky anymore because I will be crowned king of hot gossip.”

“People will stop calling you Spooky when you stop talking about poltergeists and alien probing,” she grumbles. But she gloriously relents for some unknown reason and tells him, “Green. The dress was green. And I loathe it with a burning passion.”

“Green, huh?” He likes her in green enough. He’d been gunning for blue. She’s got this blue shirt thing that always looks really nice, makes her cheeks look pinker than they are. Don’t talk about Melissa. “What does it look like? What’s the cut?”

She doesn’t answer for a moment; he’s not sure what she’s thinking, the question is innocent enough. But apparently she doesn’t feel that way. “Why the hell do you want to know, Mulder? Are you trying to break in to the fashion industry?”

“Well, tell me about the opening session then,” he says kind of desperately. Scully what the hell do you want me to say? I’m sorry your sister is dead? I’m not sorry it wasn’t you? Conversation doesn’t come easy when you are choked with guilt. Conversation rarely comes easy for them on a good day.

“Long-sleeved,” she answers instead, her voice hard. “Boatneck collar.” He can see it. It looks nice on her. Classic, like an old film star. But then she adds, lowly: “Tight, Mulder. The dress was very tight.”

Oh, he thinks. Oh, shit. What the hell was that.

His voice gets stuck in his throat and it’s just as well – what can he even say to that? He’s too confused to find it sexy, too caught off guard to shock her back.

She does not take mercy on him.

“I got compliments, the whole night.” She continues. Her voice gets deeper and deeper, like a bass guitar, like something important and integral but not necessarily front and center. “Others liked it, I didn’t.” She pauses. He does not respond. “But it wasn’t because I didn’t look good.”

There’s an out, right there. There’s something he can say to bring them back to where they were before. She left it open. I’m sure you did look good, honey, in a stupid southern accent, the only accent he can do. You should model it for me sometime, lascivious and lewd enough for her to roll her eyes and not file a report with HR. He says nothing.

“Because I did look good, Mulder,” she says. “I looked very good. And I’m sad you didn’t get to see it.”

The rasp in her voice is not all sex. There’s longing and pain and grief so deeply embedded it’ll probably be there forever. But there is sex. Good lord, there is sex. And he knows it because he’s never heard it before, not from her. Not in her.

“Scully?” In his voice there is longing, and pain, and grief so deeply embedded it will be there forever. And there is sex. There is sex sex sex. “What are we doing?”

Fabric on fabric again, her too-loud sigh puffing in his ear. This time he winces for an entirely different reason. “Do you want me to, Mulder? Do you want me to dress up for you?”

“I don’t think…”

“Mmm.” His stomach slides hotly, his cheeks go red. That sound felt like a caress. “You could tell me no.”

“I could,” he says skeptically. He wants to giggle. He feels crazy.

“Yeah, you could. You could tell me no.” He should. He almost does. This is Scully, he won’t demean her by convincing himself it isn’t, but it’s not his Scully, it’s not his place, it’s not the right thing for him to do. They’re not supposed to be doing this. His attraction for her thus far had been a latent thing, hidden behind layers of intense need so asexual he at times wanted her to cradle him like a child. “You’re my superior, right? The department head. You could tell me no anytime you like.” Oh, fucking hell. “Or you could tell me yes.” Oh jesus christ. “Tell me, Mulder.”

Latent is not absent. Not a bit. Not even a little bit.

And he is messed up. A lot. A lot messed up. Like the kind of messed up you have to be when you find out in the bullpen your partner slept with not one but two of her instructors and you take an early lunch to stop yourself from beating the hell out of Fred from national security who was a friend to Agent Willis and doesn’t know when to shut his mouth. So you file a complaint for sexual harassment and creating a hostile work environment instead, the only bureaucratic B.S. that ever made you feel good, only to immediately erase your good deed by disrespecting your aforementioned partner so thoroughly you almost paint the bathroom stall a whole new color. That – that might have been when it stopped being so latent. He’s not sure. There were the thigh highs, that day she chose a darker lip shade, that time he almost called her name while amidst the throes of passion with another woman, bedding certain death and his own blood-deep misery. He hadn’t even known then. He thought he was grieving.

He tells her yes. What is he supposed to tell her?

“How tight was the dress, Scully?” he grunts, letting the desire consume his voice. He’s already tugging his t-shirt off, reaching to palm himself through his jeans. This is a routine he understands well. It’s different (he’s not paying for it) but the mechanics are the same, only that his wallet is happier. But his soul, oh god his soul. He’s not surprised to find himself mostly-hard and sticking to his boxers.

“I hate the dress,” she tells him harshly. “I’m not wearing it. I’m wearing a suit.”

Okay, good. Good he can work with that. God can he work with that. He’s worked with that for months.

“Color? Pants or skirt?”

“Skirt, it’s too hot in Nevada for pants. It’s the maroon one. I like how it makes my legs look.”

“We’re in Nevada?” They’re in Nevada. He’s touched. He loves her legs, compact and lightly muscled and so smooth under her naughty little thigh highs. He traces the head of his cock bulging through the denim and lifts his hips in the air at how good it feels just from that. He wants to pull it out. He wants to wait, too. “On the coal mining case? Where?”

“At the motel. It’s not like the one I’m in now.  We’re at one of those dives you always pick. I hate the motels you pick, Mulder”

“I know. I know you do. We need the money for the travel expenses. Are we – are we arguing? Talking about the miners?”

“No,” her breath catches. What is she doing. What is she doing. Licking the tips of his fingers he reaches down to tweak his nipple, pretending it’s her doing it, pretending it’s her nipple and he’s worrying it with his teeth. “No. It’s night time. We’re back and we’re having dinner in my room.” And she breathes out again, trailing into a moan.

“Scully are you – are you touching yourself? For me?” he swallows and thinks to himself, fuck it, unbuttons and unzips and shoves his hand down the front of his boxers.

“Yes, I am,” she says, and she does not elaborate. Fine. He can imagine it just perfectly in his head, decides she’s taking the same route he is. So rarely do they think alike but when they do it’s always brings them closer. She’s pinching her nipples, wishing it was his mouth. She’s cupping her pussy through her pajamas and grinding against her hand for the tease of it. Like he would do it. He likes it slow.

“Eating dinner,” he prompts her. He could take the lead, of course, the scenario is promising and he has ten different ideas for where it might go. But this is her story and she’s trying to tell him something. Maybe one day years later he’ll pick up on it; as for now he just focuses on her voice, on how it starts low low low and rises up with the suspense of a roller coaster, on what she’s doing to herself to make her sound like that, on if she’ll ever let him do it to her.

“Eating dinner.” She repeats. “Chinese. And you’re trying to make me laugh.”

“And you don’t?”

“You’re not that funny,” she says. “Not usually.”

“But sometimes–” he moans and finally pushes his clothes off until he’s completely naked, collapsing back against the couch with guns-drawn urgency. He keeps the phone cradled between his cheek and neck, tonguing his fingers one more time and reaching down to jack himself roughly. “Sometimes you laugh. Sometimes you can’t help it.”

“Sometimes you’re funny,” she shoots back, and he is made stupid with adoration. “I’m taking off my clothes, Mulder. In the motel and right now. I’m taking them off and I want it to be you.”

“It is me, Scully,” he promises. He looks down at his cock, jutting out from a mass of tangled curls and so hard in his large hand it hurts. Would she like it? God would it fit. Yeah it would. She’d have to work at it but it’d fit. “You’re wearing a suit. Your maroon one.“ He pauses to really see it in his head, and his stomach clenches. “I kiss you first and you taste so good I get distracted. I unbutton your blazer. The buttons go to your chest, right? And you normally wear a gray sweater with it.”

“Yes, yes, that’s the one,” she whimpers. He hears – shit, he hears something wet, something slick, and it can’t be but maybe it is. Maybe she’s riding her fingers and pretending it’s his cock because she’s as impatient as him and she can’t help but fast forward a little. In his mind she’s already undressed and his mouth is between her legs. But still, her story, her pacing. “Do you like that one, Mulder? Do you like the way I look in it?”

“I like the way your cute little ass looks in it,” he replies darkly, stroking himself now in earnest. His words come out in short bursts as he tries to form them around his heavy breathing. “I like when you take the blazer off because the basement is too hot and you’ve got that tight sweater on. I want you out of the suit.”

“It’s off. It’s off. All of it. And you’re…”

Completely naked and so fucking hard for you the rest of my body is numb. Thinking about your pretty mouth and clever tongue and the feeling of your hands in my hair. Thinking of dead sisters and shared purpose and extensive therapy. Don’t talk about Melissa.

“Clothed,” she finishes instead and oh, Scully, that’s dirty. “Clothed. I’m naked and you’re fully clothed, and you have me spread out on the bed.”

“I do? Are you like that right now? Spread out?”

“Mm, no, I’ve got my h-hand between my legs and I’m sort of–” she chokes, and he can guess what she’s sort of doing. “Rubbing against it. Mulder are you. Are you?”

“Are you kid– yes, yes. I couldn’t stop with a gun to my head. I’ve been since this first started.”

“You’re always so defensive,” she says, but it’s filled with laughter, until it’s not. “I’m. I’m fingering myself, Mulder. I’ve got. Two fingers. And. Um.” Lacking eloquence, almost incoherent. He wants to see what it’d be like if he was actually touching her. If anyone needs a break from their own mind it’s Scully, and him, of course, but he’d give it to her if only one of them could have it.

“I have you spread out on the bed,” he picks up. His eyes squeeze shut, his fist tightens, his free hand slips down to fondle his balls. “I have you spread out and Scully. Scully. Let me. Let. I want to.”

“What? You want to what?”

“I want to lick your pussy, Scully,” he says in a rush, gritting his teeth. There’s the dim awareness that he’s just kicked it up about ten different levels and she might bail, which is terrifying. What’s more terrifying is how viscerally he wants it, how he’s thought of it in the past but never quite yearned for it so badly, never licked his lips and tried to guess what she’d taste like. “It’d be – so good. I’d make you come so hard.”

“Say please,” she demands huskily. He bites his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, willing desperately not to come. The mothership soaring over the British Isles in 1975, everyone pissed at the lack of crop circles.

“Please,” he says. The hard plastic of the phone digs into his cheek, and he presses his mouth to it like he’s worried she won’t hear him. His eyes close, his hips roll into his touch. “I want to put my mouth all over you. I want to lick you out until you’re begging me to stop. Please let me do it.” She doesn’t respond for a moment, so he takes the time to listen to what she’s doing on the other end. Shit, yeah, okay, she’s definitely fucking herself. He hears something like a headboard slamming on a wall, a muffled shout. And then finally, finally, “Yes. Yes, you can do it. Tell me how you’d do it.”

her words hold a power Mulder’s never in his life been privy to in another person; it’s the way he’s constantly reminded that it’s her saying them, and the effect this has in him scares him into acting blindly. His body goes hot all over for the fiftieth time as he fucks his fist and thinks about dragging his tongue from the small of her back to the crack of her ass and further down, tugging her labia with his lips and licking the juices off of her thighs. He tells her this.

“I’d do it so sweetly, Scully, and so, so softly. You’d come before you could ever expect it, and then I’d do it again, and again, and again. I wouldn’t let up. You’d have to pull my hair out of my head to get my attention.”

“Mulder, fuck.” He’s heard her say it once before; she’d been cursing out a local cop for calling him a creep. He still doesn’t know why she got so heated. His reaction now is not all that different to what it had been the last time he’d heard it. “Mulder, fuck me. Fuck me fuck me fuck me please.”

“Yeah, Scully, I’ll fuck you,” he hisses. His hand is her wet heat, she’s sinking down on him, he’s got her folded in half on his couch and he’s got her on her hotel bed, the nice one she’s writhing in right now, with her back to his chest and her calf in his hand so he can look down and watch himself push into her. The pressure builds, and by the way she sounds he is positive she feels it too, in the base of her spine and then everywhere else. He’s never wanted to see her face more in his life. “I’ll fuck you so good you’ll never forget it. I’ll fuck you into the mattress. Anything you nee-” he gulps and cuts himself off. “I-I want to make you come. Are you coming? Scully. Scully tell me I’m going to make you come.”

“You’re going to make me–COME–” she shrieks, and that is it for him. His seeds spills out between his fingers and over the back of his fist and he gasps brokenly into the phone, her name, her full name, the name he’s given her, tells her how much he wants her, thanks her, rocks into his fist until it physically pains him, talks her through her orgasm until she’s shaking from overstimulation and telling him okay okay okay okay.

They breathe together until they’re all caught up with their oxygen and their feelings. He keeps the phone against his cheek and his eyes shut tight. He’ll let her speak first. He tells himself, don’t mention how wrong this was. Don’t talk about Melissa. Space. The mothership descends and no one is taken that day and no one is hurt and the cows are all fine.

“Thank you,” she says finally. The worst part is she means it. Oh, Scully, he winces. If he wanted a partner just as messed up as him he’s apparently got it now. He knows, without a doubt, no matter how much he’s already beginning to wish otherwise, that they will never bring this up again. “I think – I think I needed that.”

“You have to leave me a review in the Washington Examiner,” he jokes sleepily. “It’s only fair.” It doesn’t earn him a laugh. But she doesn’t hang up.

“And thank you for telling me about Melissa.” His eyes pop open and he wraps his hand around the phone to press it closer to his ear. “I don’t know… how you know, or if you’re keeping track of it somehow. But I just - thank you.”

“Of course, Scully,” he says fiercely. “Don’t thank me for that. Of course I would. Don’t ever thank me for that.”

“I just miss her so much.” The tears in her voice are frighteningly intimate. He hates that he loves it, that he needs it. “It should’ve been me, Mulder. I can’t stop thinking that. It should’ve been me. Why wasn’t it me?”

Because I am the luckiest son of a bitch alive on this planet, he doesn’t tell her.

anonymous asked:

What would be your ideal Thor: Ragnarok movie?

Are we talking “my ideal within the parameters of what we’ve already been given” or “my ideal, in general”? Because those are two very different things. 

I guess I’ll go with the former, though I will say that at the very least I wouldn’t throw Jane out with the bathwater. And probably I’d work something about Frigga coming back being part of the plot (someone talked about that being how Hela gets out, because Loki makes some kind of deal to bring Frigga back to life and naturally it goes horribly wrong). I’d probably also not include the Planet Hulk stuff, because I’d prefer to keep the Thor mythos centered on…the Thor characters. 

I get that increased interconnection is important and everything (cf. all of the Avengers showing up in Cap’s movie) but still, I’ve resented that bit since I first heard about it. 

Within the parameters of what we have, though…what would I like to see? My primary want, of course, is for a Loki who isn’t a villain but isn’t exactly a hero, is just his twisty, morally dubious self, helping Thor but in very much his own way. I’d like to see Loki get to use his magic. My hope is that they get separated at some point - when Hela explodes Mjolnir? - and both he and Thor end up working from opposite ends to get out of Sakaar. 

I’m also very dedicated to Valkyrie having a significant role - getting backstory and character hopefully outside just “the badass woman”. I’m intrigued by the glimpse of her fighting Hela in the trailer - let’s go into that. Let’s have Valkyrie have a personal stake in things. 

Also let her and Sif be girlfriends. 

For Hela - I would really like to see Cate Blanchett get the evil dark queen role that she actually deserves. The MCU as a whole has suffered from some pretty forgettable villains - Malekith in particular comes to mind as one played by a great actor who was woefully underserved by the movie. Let Hela be a massive, terrifying, sort of eldritch villain. I want to be scared of Hela and at the same time have her step on my face. 

If it were me, I’d probably also slant more toward the drama and less toward the bombast. I’m nervous about the idea that this movie is going to be a comedic one - I feel like it removes any chance of following up on any of the emotional beats raised in previous movies. Asgardians just lend themselves to high drama and I love it. I’m worried about things like Loki’s death and the emotional impact thereof not getting followed up on. 

I’d probably either hint or directly address Loki’s connection to Thanos, too. Because that’s a thread that especially leading into Infinity War should really come back.

I think, basically, my ideal Ragnarok would go back to what was so good about Thor, imo: the family relationships and the family drama. And I’d probably murder a man to see the family pull together in the end to fight Hela as a team. 

I would murder ten men for some kind of reconciliation, no matter how weak and tenuous, between Thor and Loki. 

types of unreliable narrators in books

the flawed hero: has an intentionally written character flaw that they don’t realize is a character flaw. however, this flaw has its consequences and is not merely a result of author oversight. might or might not come to their senses by the end of the story. might or might not be a tragic hero. younger sibling of the oblivious.

the biased: fraternal twin of the flawed hero. has an opinion, belief, or trait that causes them to focus heavily on some things and ignore others. doesn’t automatically draw conclusions based on the evidence given to them. HOWEVER, that evidence is given, the conclusion is supposed to be drawn, and the author knows that. see: harry potter.

the oblivious: genuinely does not realize a major truth, due to personal reasons. this truth has a direct impact on the plot and realizing it seriously changes them. done spectacularly with tyler durden and much less spectacularly with everything else. played with in undertale but we’re talking about books here.

the misinformed: incapable of giving a fair account of the setting OR plot OR other characters, due to the world conspiring against them. probably one of the most minor examples of an unreliable narrator.  see: the handmaiden’s tale. 

the nick dunne: named for nick dunne in gone girl. lies by omission. things that they do lie about or gloss over in the narrative are very understated and only amount to a relatively minor reveal. tolerable for that reason only.

the goddamn shitfuck: deliberately omits plot-changing information that a normal person would be thinking about. does this for The Big Twist. ruins the book by reminding you, the reader, that the author is a hack who couldn’t figure out a way to keep people in suspense when they’re in on a secret. should not be the narrator of a story that takes place inside of their own god damn head, because they clearly do not have a brain that operates like a person’s, but rather a brain that operates by a very shitty copy of the Laws Of Narrative Drama. there’s a special place in hell for these narrators, and it is a hell where they’re trapped in a heist movie with a dozen shitty narrators like them.

anonymous asked:

You know how Chuck reacted to meeting the winchesters? What if he did accidentally create them? Like, he started writing his books to distract himself and, being god, the characters became real?

Basically, I love this idea. 

When season 11 revealed that Amara was Chuck’s sister, it changed things in the show. BIG things. Like, the whole entire shows mytharc since day one things.

I’m actually not exaggerating here, hear me out please.

Okay, so what do we know about the “Winchester Gospels”? They were written to record the end times and the roles that Sam and Dean Winchester were supposed to play. Sam and Dean are the tragic siblings, manufactured by the angels to be the perfect vessels because they are in themselves mirrors for Michael and Lucifer on earth. The show spells it out for us thanks to Gabriel: “why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy’s plan. You were born to this, boys. It’s your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other.”

So Dean is supposed to kill Sam as Michael killed Lucifer, one must destroy the other, the older sibling destroys the younger sibling for the sake of the world. That is what Chuck was writing about, Sam and Dean and their destiny in the apocalypse.

Now, Sam and Dean may have ripped up the ending, but that wasn’t the whole story, because Chuck has his own part in this giant mirror of a mirror. Because Michael and Lucifer weren’t even the original story. Chuck and Amara were.

Before creation, Chuck and Amara were siblings in chaos, I dunno if I imagined this or not but I am pretty sure that Amara calls Chuck her ‘big brother’ implying she is the younger sibling but I am not entirely sure on that so don’t quote me here. Nevertheless, we have two siblings, and in order to create the universe, one destroys the other. Chuck chooses creation over Amara, thus starting a millennia long series of events ending in Sam and Dean fighting it out on that day in Stull Cemetery. 

Why therefore did Chuck hide away during the apocalypse? Why didn’t he reveal himself? Because he was ashamed at what he had done to his sister. Because the whole apocalyptic mess was his fault because of his guilt at choosing everything over her. So what does he do instead of fixing things? He writes. 

Chuck wrote Dean Winchester to be himself. Dean is Chuck’s “Mary Sue”. (yes I damn well used that term.) And Sam? Sam is the sibling he gave up for the universe.

So when Chuck poured all of his love and guilt and sorrow over his sister into his new creation, Dean Winchester became everything that Chuck could not be. Dean Winchester will always put his brother before everything else in the entire universe. Because that is a fundamental part of Dean’s creation. Chuck wrote the Winchester’s specifically to undo his own tragic story. In his writing, Dean does not sacrifice Sam for the world, Dean always saves Sam. Even at the risk OF the world. Because Chuck’s biggest regret was not putting his sister first.

It all combines in a rather beautiful narrative symmetry doesn’t it?

portraitoftheoddity  asked:

Thor's always been good at spilling blood. But right now he'd give anything to staunch it. Anything to stop the flow, even as crimson seeps out from between his fingers, so very very red against the pallor of Loki's skin

[short thing! sort of handwavey Ragnarok related, laughably non-canon compliant I’m sure but wtf ever]

“Well,” Loki said, laughing. “This must feel familiar.”

“Hold still,” Thor snapped, anger half strangling him because anger was better than fear, and fear was the only alternative. “You foolish-”

“That’s familiar too,” Loki said, lips flickering up at the corners. Don’t you dare smile, Thor wanted to growl. You have no right to smile. He pressed his hands down harder and the smile did vanish as Loki sucked in an unsteady breath only to choke on it.

Keep reading

skeletontemple  asked:

Would you mind drawing Lacie and Oswald with 3C? All platonic, please, I know it's more of a romance meme but there's just not enough happy art of these tragic dead siblings out there and I just want them to hug it out and be okay

Don’t worry!! I’m all about the platonic stuff it’s pure and beautiful
They do deserve more love and happiness…

anonymous asked:

Hi honey! I'm new to your blog and I was wondering if you had a masterlist? I hate asking people because I know they get asked a lot but I spent about 20 minutes trying to find one on my phone and I can't see it. Sorry!

{Welcome aboard~! Thanks for following, lovely~!

Oh, honey, it’s not your fault. The problem is the tumblr app takes away the links at the top for some reason unless you look at my blog through say google or something. =/ I really wish they would fix that. But to make things easier in the future, I’ll tag this post as masterlist and link everything that I have on my off-page masterlist.}:

Please, take a moment to consider shooting me a donation~. I enjoy and love writing for you lovelies, but your support helps me stay focused on such things. You can use my Ko-fi account or send me an email at: oreana.minamino@gmail.com

So unfortunately, there are too many links on this page, so it will continue to de-link. Just click here for the master list!

Here is the list, my dears, of all imagines of each Assassin and or Templar I’ve done~! BE WARNEDthat the love letters don’t have warnings–only ratings. R MEANS RESTRICTED so sexual content may be in that letter~! 

Please keep in mind not EVERYTHING will be listed on this page. If you want drabbles and other little stories, you might need to look under the character’s tag specifically. The only stuff I save here are the ones that do well or are frequently requested~!

Anything regarding headcanons, just look under the headcanon tag. All other specific tags to the AC characters will be listed for you below.

Anything regarding my artwork will be under the myart tag.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

For Ezio Auditore confessions and responses: eac

- Language Barrier - [AU]

Love Letters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

Connor Kenway

For Connor Kenway confessions and responses: ckc

- No Man’s Property - Part of the Prostitute series

Love Letters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)

Edward Kenway

- Run Away with Me - A series of imagines with Edward and the reader.
             Stormy Waters (pt 2)
             Let the Training Begin (pt 3)
             Captured! [RQ] (pt 4)
             End of the Line (pt 5)
- BRAWL (AU with Jacob Frye–will be part of a series)
             Who to Choose?
            The Captain’s Heart [NSFW]
            The Rook’s Heart [NSFW]
 - Caught in a Bad Romance - Part of the Prostitute series [R]

Love letters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Shay Patrick Cormac

For Shay Cormac confessions and responses: scc

- Running from Love - [RQ]
- The Irish Father - [RQ]
   -The Healing Spirit [RQ]
- Her Betrayed Heart - [RQ]
- Her Body, the Canvas - Part of the Prostitute series - [self-harm/thoughts of suicide]

Love Letters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Arno Dorian

For Arno Dorian confessions and responses: adc

- An American Prostitute in Paris - Part of the Prostitute series
         - A Whole New Beginning - [RQ] [NSFW]

Love Letters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16)

Evie Frye

For Evie Frye confessions and responses: efc

- Her Adventurous Lover - [NSFW] [female/female]
- Between a Rook and a Mind’s Paradise {Hinted fem/fem} {SFW with lewd imagery and words}

Love Letters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Jacob Frye
For Jacob Frye confessions and responses: jfc

- Gain and Loss (warnings: miscarriage)
- Rescue! [RQ]
- Love Letter (part of a series pt1)
        Date Night (pt 2)
        Dagger to the Heart (pt 3) - NSFW
        Healing Wounds (pt 4)
- BRAWL (AU with Edward Kenway–will be a series)
              Who to Choose?
            The Captain’s Heart [NSFW]
            The Rook’s Heart [NSFW]
- The Fall (40 yr old Jacob–will be a series)
          The Assassin’s Anxious Heart - NSFW [RQ]
          A Father to Be - NSFW [RQ]
The Hunt for Jacob - NSFW [RQ]
         Through the Eye of Jealousy - NSFW [RQ]
         A Volatile Climax - NSFW [RQ]
         Parenthood - [RQ]
        Worries of the future [RQ]
- To Woo the One - (Series) [RQ]
         The Pursuit - [RQ]
- Night on the Train - NSFW
- Drunken Anger - NSFW
- The Fight [RQ]
- What the Doctor Ordered - [RQ] NSFW
- Son of a Glitch! [NSFW]
- Dressed to Impress - [RQ]
- In his Dreams - [RQ]
- Jealousy Fueled - [RQ] NSFW
- The Rook and the Mockingbird - NSFW
The Mockingbird’s Secret {NSFW} {RQ}
- Daddy Dearest [RQ] NSFW
- A Stable Ride - [40 y/o] [NSFW]
- The Dove Effect - [40 y/o] [Tragic love story]
- Sibling Rivalry - [ Collab] [Fanfic]
- On the Other side of the Tracks - Part of the prostitute series
- The Confession - [gift] [NSFW]
- A House Divided - [Fanfic] [NSFW] [Jacob x OC]
- The Clockwork Soldier [ AU: Steampunk]
- {What If} Templar Jacob Frye
- {What if} Sacrifices (2) {AU}
- No Longer Yours
- {Gift} My body, my heart: [Jacob Frye x OC]
- {Gift} The Silent prostitute: {40} {Jacob x OC}
- The Love of a Unicorn - {AU} {NSFW}
- The Wet Nurse - {NSFW}
- The Haunted Mill {Drabble} {AU} {40}
- The Prostitute’s Apprentice {RQ] {NSFW} {Virgin Jacob}
- Between a Rook and a Mind’s Paradise {Hinted fem/fem} {SFW with lewd imagery and words}

Love Letters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (40) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52)

< OTHERS~! >

- Desmond Miles
For Desmond confessions and responses
: dmc
Love Letters: (1) (2)


- Shaun Hastings
- Son of a Glitch! [NSFW]

Love Letters: (1) (2)

► Assassin’s Creed 1

(N/A)

Assassin’s Creed II/ Assassni’s Creed II: Brotherhood

- La Volpe
Love Letters: (1)

- Machiavelli
Love Letters: (1)

- Leonardo Da Vinci
Love Letters: (1)

Assassin’s Creed II: Revelations
(N/A)

Assassin’s Creed III

- Haytham Kenway
Love Letters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag

- Adéwalé
Love Letters: (1)

- Charles Vane
Love Letters: (1)

- Anne Bonny
Love Letters: (1)

- Edward Thatch (Blackbeard)
Love Letters
: (1)

- Benjamin Hornigold
Love Letters: (1)

- Julien Du Casse
Love Letters: (1)

- Woodes Rogers
Love Letters: (1)

- Jack Rackham
Love Letters: (1)

Assassin’s Creed: Rogue

- Liam O'Brien
- One Final Mission - [RQ] [NSFW]
Love Letters:
(1) (2)

- Christopher Gist
Love Letters: (1)

Assassin’s Creed: Unity

- Pierre Bellec
- Princess of Paris - [RQ]/NSFW/Series
        The Princess’s Torn Heart

Love Letters: (1)

- Elise de la Serre
Love Letters: (1)

Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate

- Henry Green
Love Letters: (1) (2)

- Crawford Starrick
Love Letters: (1) (2)

- Ethan Frye
Love Letters: (1) (2) (3) (4)

- George Westhouse
Love Letters: (1) (2) (3)

- Emmett Frye
For Emmett Frye confessions and responses
: efc
- Assassins Will Play - [RQ] NSFW
- The Fall (40 yr old Jacob–will be a series)
          The Assassin’s Anxious Heart - NSFW [RQ]
          A Father to Be - NSFW [RQ]
         The Hunt for Jacob - NSFW [RQ]
         Through the Eye of Jealousy - NSFW [RQ]
         A Volatile Climax - NSFW [RQ]
         Parenthood - [RQ]
        Worries of the future [RQ]
- Daddy Dearest [RQ] NSFW
- Sibling Rivalry - [ Collab] [Fanfic]

Love Letters: (1) (2)

- Jack the Ripper
For Jack the Lad confessions and responses
: jtrc
- Sibling Rivalry - [ Collab] [Fanfic]

Love Letters: None

► Final Fantasy 15

Prompto Argentum

- I don’t a Need Prince Charming Saving Me {Hinted Noct/Prompto}