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#i need to get back to my fanfic
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part 3? i’m wildin. now on ao3! that’s when you ken its getting serious

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Riza’s eyes fluttered closed. She was frozen in the middle of her dining room. Everything was threatening to unravel inside of her because of him. It was so unfair, but he’d always had the knack for it. He knew her better than anyone else.

“You have to leave me behind,” she whispered.

“I won’t.”

Roy –”

Arms were circled around her tightly. Riza stiffened, then tried to break free from his grasp, but couldn’t. His hold was too strong. Just like it always had been. What was once a strong source of comfort felt like it was suffocating her. It was a tragedy, really, but it was only because they couldn’t be together like she so desperately wished to.

“Please,” she begged him. “Stop.”

They were back here again – an embrace that was a dangerous idea. With his arms around her she felt safe, and Riza hated herself for it. It was weakness. It was something that may get him killed.

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I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but I kept forgetting. Here’s a masterpost of all the illustrations from Call Me Back When the War is Over. At first, I was just going to do this because I’m an incredibly self-indulgent person, but honestly, it’s like a cute little doujinshi this way, plus you can see the evolution of my skill at drawing Bleach characters as crudely rendered adorable woodland creatures (plus that one oddball normal illustration down near the end). I don’t know if I ever mentioned it, but this is entirely @diademchiofthetripod​‘s fault because she said she wanted to see fanart of Rukia’s Brawl illustrations, and I am a stunt queen with no chill.

I would honestly love it if someone who has not read this fanfic would attempt to tell me what it’s about, based on these wack-a-doo drawings.

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This is a Glee post about the Kurt and Quinn fight about Karofsky’s suicide attempt. It’s probably gonna get ranty, I watched the clip on youtube and I didn’t want to right my opinion in the comments because it will probably be long and it could possible end up turning into being about Quinn’s issue and how the show angers me with how they treat her and her clear problems. I haven’t written it yet, so we’ll see. And you know me on my bullshit especially about  Quinn should be in the place where in the year 2020 I still have a Quinn icon.

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Apparently Eldarion and Faewryn are a ship now. I guess that’s a thing that I’m doing??

Cross-posted to Lifetimes

“You don’t need to go through all of this effort.” Eldarion repeated, yet again for the several-th time it seemed, only for it to fall on deaf ears. “You spoil me.” 

Faewryn looked over her shoulder, a brow quirking up. The steam rising from the bath she leaned over was curling the short pieces of hair around her face into springy ringlets. “Well then it’s a good thing I’m not just doing this for you.” 

Dumping in her last jar of petals, the scent of calendula joining the rich scent of rose, lavender, and chamomile rising thick in the air, Faewryn trailed her hand through the water once again before straightening. 

“My father used to make this mix for my mother after she’d come back from training weekends or fights.” She didn’t bother pulling her robe back together, instead letting the light, silky fabric slide from her shoulders and pool around her feet. “She swore by it.” Her beckoning hand kept him from letting his eyes drift over her form, as did the cacophony of muscle aches and pains when he moved. 

“I believe her words when I was old enough were that it was ‘practically orgasmic.’“ 

“The expectations are high then,” Eldarion’s smart remark was lost when he groaned, scrunching his face up as he eased into a standing position. It was what he earned for being young and reckless. Believing he was above the hand of an experienced guard and a shield had put him back in his place right quickly.

 He was partway through the excruciating process of removing his trousers–when Faewryn had dragged him into the bath removing his shirt had been what he had managed without losing too much of his dignity. The trousers had been a bridge to cross later. A bridge that had approached far too quickly–when suddenly Faewryn was right in front of him. 

Without wasting a moment her hands undid the lacings of his trousers and yanked them down around his ankles. She planted a foot on the remaining fabric, nodding at him to step out of them. “Must I do everything for you?” 

Shooting a wounded look her way, Eldarion shook the last of his trouser-leg from his foot. “You didn’t have to do anything–I was getting there.” 

Her smile was bright and far too amused for his dignity’s survival. “Fine: must I do everything for things to be done in a timely manner?” 

“Only because you are so impatient.” Eldarion hobbled over to the edge of the bath, Faewryn trailing right behind. Sinking his foot into the water, he couldn’t help but hum in pleasure at the warmth already seeping into his pained muscles. 

As he lowered himself into the water, petals brushing against his skin, until he was completely stretched out, he made a much more pronounced noise. The heat of the water and the rich scent of the herbs was practically the lock and key to all the tension he was holding in his muscles and he let his head fall back against the wall. 

A tinkling, bell-like laugh preceeding Faewryn stepping into the water. “That good, hm?” The bath sloshed as she lowered down between his legs, her back against his front. As the water encased her too, her own pleased purr tailed the end of her words. 

She sank down deeper into the water into her head was resting on the middle of his chest, her chin just above the water. With her eyes closed in bliss, Eldarion couldn’t help but laugh. 

“That good.” 

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