#micah writes

[joondemiel]

for the lily x jane enjoyers

get to know me (inside)

F/F, pwp, 6.6k

Jane uses her body weight to slam the door behind her with a resonating thud. She crashes back onto it, letting it hold her up for support. For someone so tightly-wound and controlled, it’s almost theatrical. Far more attention-grabbing than just closing the door behind her like a normal person. Jane’s fingers are spread wide against it, knuckles white with tension. “Is someone chasing you?” Liliya can’t resist joking. Jane’s nostrils flare, thick eyebrows knitting together as she makes burning eye contact. “I’m standing in the hall like an idiot,” she snaps, “Stacey Hunter is right next door.” Liliya shrugs. It’s a coordinated move, just enough to let her slouchy sweater roll down one shoulder. Jane’s eyes dart to the newly-revealed skin. Gotcha. Liliya raises her chin, letting her hair shift behind her. Under her own roaring pulse in her ears, she can hear Jane swallow. “Fuck it,” Jane breathes, and she launches herself forwards.

aka All Stars hookup in 1221 but make it lesbian

[enchantedruin]

𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔡 — 𝔠𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔩'𝔰 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔪 inspired by @yandereunsolved

The thought of you as my servant, my acolyte, my willing thrall…makes my blood boil, sends my mind reeling with visions too sinful, too profane to voice aloud. To have you kneel before me, your eyes wide and worshipful, your body trembling with the force of your need…it is a temptation beyond all measure, a unfathomable fantasy that haunts my every waking moment.

I'd like to own you. I want to swallow you whole, to make you a permanent part of who I am. I want to fully melt into your spirit and body till I can't distinguish where you start and I finish. I want to empty myself there so I can go to the deepest recesses of you.

Castiel leans down to rest his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath.

But I am afraid. Afraid of these feelings, these desires that threaten to eclipse everything else in my world. Afraid that in giving in to them, I may lose myself entirely, may forget the higher purpose to which I have devoted my existence.

❦︎

[micahdotgov]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hannibal (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Jack Crawford Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Season/Series 01, Post-Episode: s01e09 Trou Normand, not like right after but roughly after then, Fluff, Angst, Murder, blatant stealing of canon dialogue, Alternate Universe - No Encephalitis, au where hannibal is slightly less of a dick, only slightly though, Museum Date, Love Confessions, with dead bodies, Will Finds Out, Dark Will Graham, First Kiss, over a dead body, Implied Cannibalism, discussions of greek mythology Summary:

Will chokes a little on his wine, hopes Hannibal didn’t notice, but knows that he did. Now, Will won’t lie that his feelings about Hannibal don’t go slightly beyond the platonic realm, and he won’t pretend he doesn’t see the way that Hannibal looks at him sometimes. They’ve been toeing the line between playful banter and flirting for a while, but lately every conversation feels laced with tension. With the addition of their joint care over Abigail, they seem to be heading in a direction Will feels like they were always going to go.

i finished my first hannibal fic! i’ve been working on this for what feels like ages, i feel like i’m letting my baby loose in the world (they grow up so fast). if you read it, please let me know what you think, either here or in the comments!

[we-are-fam-ily]

Soft Intruality

Wordcount: 400

Warnings: Allusions to sex because Remus is a horny bastard, spiders

I just really love this ship a lot, y’all. 

Early morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, glancing off of Patton’s sleeping face. It painted bright stripes on his tanned skin, and just barely missed hitting his peacefully closed eyes.

Remus watched in rapt fascination as his partner slept. Last night had been fun, a wild romp between the sheets with Patton moaning beneath him, but that Patton and the Patton he saw now before him seemed to be two separate beings.

That Patton was beautifully seductive with flushed cheeks, arousal-lidded eyes, and loud as hell.

This Patton was still and ethereal to the point of angelic, making barely any noise with his tiny puffs of breath. This Patton’s honey-blonde hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo, glinting in the light coming from outside. His eyelashes brushed innocently over freckled cheeks, hiding sweet blue eyes from the horrors of the waking world.

This Patton would be perfect, unmarred, pure- except for the dark bruises down the side of his neck, a testament to the night prior.

Not that Patton wasn’t normally pure and perfect and lovely and good and precious. Because he was. He was equally hot as hell at all times too.

There was just a disconnect, somehow, between the times Patton was writhing in pleasure and times like these, still and peaceful.

Inspiration struck, and Remus rummaged around in his nightstand until he found a length of yarn he’d stashed there for some reason a few months ago. With a grin, he dragged one end of it gently across his partner’s face.

“Patty! Wake up! There’s a spider on your face!”

Patton woke with a shriek, tumbling out of the bed and inadvertently taking the sheets with him, ending up tangled in them on the floor.

Remus burst out laughing, taking the opportunity to admire the soft curves of his partner’s naked body wrapped up in sheets.

“Remus!” Patton whined. “That’s not funny! You know how I feel about creepy crawly death dealers!”

He laughed even harder when Patton grabbed his glasses and put them on before glaring at him.

After a while, Patton gave out a small sigh, and his face morphed from angry to pouting.

“I’ll forgive you if you kiss me.”

Remus obliged, enthusiastically leaning down and pressing his lips to those of his beloved.

It was a great start to the day. He looked forward to many more kisses in the future.

[boredbeforeimetyou-blog]

original poem

“dear,”

by micah carter

3-22-18

dear college, tomorrow i am going to rock your world. i’ve never been this excited about my future before.

dear girl i’ve gotten closer to lately,

i truly trust you with anything and like i said before, talking with you always leaves me feeling whole. you are one of my closest friends in the world, and i love you.

dear suicide prevention talk guy,

i didn’t like your description of bipolar disorder. that’s not who i am. but i appreciate you trying. it’s a lot more than other people do.

dear girl who i will dance the night away with soon,

i don’t know why seeing you smile is one of the nicest things in my entire universe, but it is. i cant wait to see you look beautiful as always.

dear one of my best friends,

it’s okay to cry. you don’t just have to be the one everyone depends on. you can depend on others, like me. i am here for you. especially after this very hard day. i am always here for you.

dear straight boy,

you’re probably bad for me, but i am realizing i only have a couple more months. i hope talking to you can progress easier.

dear person i misjudged,

i’m sorry. i thought you hurt him so i made an assumption and that wasn’t fair. you are incredibly thoughtful and great and i was wrong. so i’m sorry.

dear bigot in my art class,

you disrespecting my pronouns on purpose will not change who i am. i’m not sorry that i’m more of a man than you’ll ever be.

dear others sitting around me at a table,

i’ve learned today to embrace people that others pick on, even if they are annoying. i am going to try my hardest to make you feel welcome.

dear boy who means a lot to me,

i am so happy you’re happy, because you truly seem it. i cant wait to hear all about what you do in college, and occasionally meet up with each other. you’ll read this i’m sure, i love you.

dear girl who has never stopped being there for me,

i’m pretty sure you’re one of a kind. i cant bear thinking of college without you by my side. i’ll never lose touch with you, i love you.

dear (both) art teachers,

thank you for standing up for me. in times like this, it’s very needed. you are definitions of safe spaces, no matter what bullshit he spews.

dear razor,

this is an abusive relationship i’m pretty sure i don’t need anymore. but we’ll see.

dear testosterone,

someday.

dear suicide hotline scribbled on my arm,

you are useful and i am wanted.

dear you,

life is brightly colored, even when you think the colored pencils are lost.

dear me,

you are going to have a future. a man, a husband, a son, a writer, an activist, a snake owner, a theatre dork, a friend, a lover, a changer of the world. it may not seem like it now, but tomorrow is just the start.

[royalteass]

reading the layout of strahd’s guest room and there’s a closet but no bathroom um where is mika gonna piss??? out the window??

[joondemiel]

matryoshka - chapter six

2015. 9.3k

If the table hadn’t frozen before, it turns to stone now. Svetlana’s breath catches in her throat. Her fingers twist into a death grip on the stem of her wine glass. Her father’s eyes are on her but she can’t meet his gaze.  “I’m not going to marry Svetka,” Ilya says, again in the same even tone.  Svetlana feels her cheeks heat up. She prays it’s not as ugly and uneven as what’s going on with Grigori Mihajlovich's face. The glass is so cool under her hand, she yearns to pull it towards her and press it to her face. Or maybe to down it in one.  “Then you are an even bigger idiot than I thought,” Grigori spits, “It is a shame that when you were given your mother’s beauty, you were also given her brain.”  Svetlana flinches at the mention of Aunty Irina. From the corner of her eye, she sees her father do the same. Ilya is a rock, unmovable. 

[joondemiel]

matryoshka - chapter five

2014. 8.9k

After she's sent her congratulatory messages, Svetlana listens to Ilya give his thank-you speech for MVP. As the unfamiliar sound of his English comes softly out of her television, she finds her mind drifting to Montreal Jane of all people. She’d figured it out the other day. She first saw the name in Ilya’s phone about three years ago. It’s the longest he’s kept anyone on his roster, aside from Svetlana herself.  She wonders if somewhere up in Québec, there’s a beautiful woman watching the same program on her own TV. She wonders if Montreal Jane is sending Ilya Rozanov her own congratulations. If it will appear in his notifications next to her own.  She wonders if Jane loves him. Or if she’s like Sveta, and she wishes that she could stop.