#I literally wrote this months ago and I just could never find a different way to end it so didn't publish it

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel - Part 3

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1426

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

JAKE POV - (One Year Ago)

He can’t stop watching you. Smiling, laughing, serving customers caffeinated beverages on their way to work. The sunlight streams through the front glass window of the cafe, the rays illuminating everything of you that they reach. Your hair, your eyes, your skin. You’re bright, happy, healthy, stunning, and it does unreasonable things to his heart.

He’s been sitting there for two hours now, not even pretending to occupy himself with a magazine or newspaper or anything that will make him less conspicuous. You’re the only thing that has his attention. The only thing that ever has his attention when he comes to this world. He spends this time, each second of it, observing your every move, memorizing every feature of your face, and when you leave for the day, he follows. Just so he can be a little bit closer to you.

You’ve never noticed him, and sometimes he chuckles at your lack of awareness and how well it works in his favor. You have no idea that he trails you from the cafe to your apartment. You have no idea that he stands outside your building as night cloaks the day. You have no idea that he leans against the same lamppost he always does when he comes to see you, his stare latched on to your window—third floor, second from the left—as you strip yourself of your uniform and into your pajamas. He’d watch forever if he could, but he, and those like him, do not have that luxury. 

The hand that lands on Jake’s shoulder is expected and he turns his head to his friend. 

“Time to go,” Javy says. “In a month you can come back and stalk her some more, but we’re cutting it close. We have to get back.”

Jake sighs, giving your bedroom window another glance. The light clicks off. “I know.”

“She’s not going anywhere. I’ve kept an eye on her in your absence and she’s had the same routine for the last six months,” Javy reminds him as he rolls his shoulders, preparing for the weight of his wings to return. 

Cartilage and bone materialize as his gray feathers, one by one, seek him out from the spot he had shed them. Each one returns to their place, layering themselves together until his wings are fully reformed. 

Javy gives them a testing flap, scattering the fallen leaves at their feet. When he sees Jake has yet to call for his own wings, he huffs. “Seriously, it’s eleven fifty-six. Do you really want to spend six months in The Tower because you chose to stare at your little girlfriend rather than be punctual…again? You literally just got out.”

Jake stands from his leaned position and a moment later his black feathers find him. He spreads his wings out in a stretch. 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Javy says with pride. “So let’s go.” Then he’s shooting up into the night, a speck in the darkened sky. 

Jake takes one last look at your window, imagining himself in that apartment, holding you, kissing you, falling asleep beside you. He doesn’t want to leave you behind. Leaving you behind is leaving a part of his heart behind. But he has to do it. For the night, you’re warm and safe tucked in your bed, and that will have to be enough for him until his return next month.

“Good night, Angel,” he mutters. “Sleep well.” Then he follows after his friend.

—

Food everywhere. Grapes smashed in between the stones of the walls; plums dotting the floor, one having rolled under the bed; juice from apple slices staining the rumpled bedsheets; the silver tray, now dented in the middle, thrown across the room. All as if some bratty tornado tore through the place. Except now the brat is missing. 

He’d guessed you would struggle to stay put once you regained enough of your energy, which is exactly why he'd planned to sit by your bed while you slept. But—albeit very reluctantly—he had listened to Javy’s advice about giving you some space for the night. A mistake, clearly, because now he has to hunt his little escapee down.

Shaking his head, Jake rubs the back of his neck and gives the room one last scan in case you got the bright idea to hide until he got close enough for you to whack him in the skull with something hard. When the assault doesn’t come, he jogs to the window and peers through it the way you were when he found you standing there the other day, your pearly wings in all their grandness cascading gracefully from your back. 

Glancing to the nearby field many stories below, he spots you seated in the grass with your knees tucked to your chest. His pounding heart stutters in relief.

How the fuck did you get out, Angel? he thinks as he hurries from the room, down the multiple twisting staircases, and through the maze of halls. You’re the last person who should have the ability to leave this place. New residents of The Tower have been known to roam the halls for months at a time, trying to find a way out until they surrender to exhaustion and return to their rooms, and yet you walked right out the front door?

When he reaches the main floor, he stops short at the silhouetted figure leaning against the doorframe. He knows that figure well, and realizing that someone he trusts has been keeping an eye on you from a reasonable distance permits Jake to take a calming breath before he steps closer. 

“She’s…content, I think,” Javy says, tucking back his large gray wings to provide enough space for Jake to comfortably stand beside him. “Doesn’t seem to want to run off.”

“Only because she doesn’t know where to go,” Jake sighs, running his fingers through his hair. And thank fuck for that. “How long has she been out here?”

“At least since four. That's when I found her,” Javy informs him. He looks at Jake, playfully grinning. “We watched the sunrise together.”

“Has she seen you?”

“No. She hasn’t so much as turned her head in hours,” he answers, then after a pause of consideration, says, “How do you think she managed to make it out on her first try?”

Jake shakes his head. He has that very same question. Anyone would. “I don’t know, but had I known she could, I would have locked the damn door.”

“Maybe The Tower felt bad for her,” Javy suggests. “You know she always made it easy for the unfairly imprisoned.”

Unfairly imprisoned. Yes, Jake supposes that is what you are. But it’s not for forever, and it’s simply to protect you while you adjust to your new life by his side. Surely, you can understand that. And then you can start accepting the happiness and love you’re denying yourself. 

“She fucking scared me,” Jake says, and Javy snickers.

“Then I imagine you're even.”

“She's not scared of me, she just has to get used to me.” Jake watches the gust of air flutter your feathers. You still haven’t moved, save for one hand's fingers which continuously weave through the blades of grass. “She's taking her damn time though.”

“Don't be unfair. She's known you for a couple of weeks—a couple of very difficult weeks—which is nothing compared to the head start you had.” Also true, to Jake’s dislike. But he’s shown you how much he cares, and that should be plenty to help you catch up. Then Javy says, “You should take her back. Just for a few hours.”

Jake’s head snaps to the right, eyes just short of bugging from his head. “Are you insane?”

Javy shrugs. “The day is coming up. It might be easier for her to be here with you if she knows she has the option to visit her world.”   

“That’s not her world anymore.” 

“True,” Javy agrees. “But don't you miss seeing her smile?”

Jake swallows. He’d give anything to see you smile again; smile at him again. Though he was gifted one when he was deep inside of you, praising you, telling you how beautiful you were, offering the same compliment since he brought you here has not elicited the same reaction. If anything, you frown more intensely, with more effort. 

“It's too soon,” Jake says. “She's still attached, and I can't trust her.”

“It's more important that she trusts you,” Javy counters. “And this could be your olive branch, my friend.”

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @fandom-life-12 @hookslove1592 @buckysteveloki-me

[dirtyvulture]

I Will Never Have You

??? x Beefy!Fem!Reader

“I Will Always Love You” - Alternate Ending 

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: After the traumatic events of IWALY, you find solace with someone else.

Word count: 4386

AN: I wrote this ages ago, but didn’t have the courage to post it until now. Enjoy? 😬

“So, I heard Kate has a girlfriend now,” Natasha says, coming up behind Yelena who beats furiously at a punching bag.

“Oh, yeah, she does. I didn’t know you wanted any updates about her,” Yelena responds.

“Is it you?”

Yelena stops mid-punch, causing the bag to swing back and crash into her body. She’s nearly knocked off her feet but grabs onto it to steady herself. “What?” She looks at her sister almost offensively. “No.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if you were,” Natasha deflects. 

“It’s not me, Nat.” Yelena slams her fist into the punching bag with so much force Natasha swears she hears her knuckles crack.

“Okay, okay,” Natasha backs off. 

“You’ll see for yourself,” Yelena says. “Kate is bringing her to Stark’s party next week.”

“That’s where I first heard about her,” Natasha replies. “Is it true she’s from California?”

“Something like that.” Yelena doesn’t seem entirely comfortable admitting to more details, meaning that she knows more than she’s letting on.

“Well, good for Kate.” Natasha is genuinely happy to hear that Kate has finally found someone for herself. Natasha knew Clint’s protegee had always been intensely interested in you when she was with you, but hopefully now that you two were broken and you had moved away, Kate’s been able to stop pining, just as Natasha’s had to do.

After the poorest choice of judgment she’s ever experienced in her life, which resulted in Natasha assaulting you and damaging your relationship beyond repair, she has never been the same. She knows she doesn’t deserve better and her actions still haunt her despite the dozens of therapy sessions she’s been to. Fury had you reassigned to a different division at SHIELD and after you moved away, you never made contact with her again. Natasha knew it was best for the two of you to keep your space, but part of her wishes she could see you again, talk to you again, even though she knows she would never be able to have you in the way she had before.

“Well, I guess it’ll be nice to meet her then,” Natasha says.

“Yes, for you and me both,” Yelena agrees.  

***********************************************************************

After a long week, Natasha reunites with Yelena to attend Stark’s party. She had been surprised her invite hadn’t been canceled, especially since she hadn’t seen any of her co-workers in almost six months since Fury removed her from the team. While she had long since adjusted to her new position, nothing could compare to the chemistry and energy of her old team. Sometimes she misses it so much she considers asking him to move her back, but she knows she wouldn’t be accepted back.

They don’t want to work with a rapist. 

Although she hadn’t been convicted for her crime and it was never publicly announced what she did, it seemed that everyone knew that was the reason you and her broke up. She would still stumble across cruel notes slipped into her locker, some threatening to out her and some threatening violent physical harm and occasionally death. There was no point in reporting any of them, since they all spoke the truth. So instead, she kept them all. 

The thrumming environment makes her just as uncomfortable as the familiar faces do. No one dares to talk to Natasha longer than a mandatory “long time, no see,” most of them turning instantly to her sister and engaging in conversation with her instead. Natasha feels the loneliness in her chest deepen. It could not be more apparent that no one wants her here, but as much as she wants to leave, being here is punishment enough for her.

Natasha follows Yelena around like a shadow, literally lurking behind her where she thinks no one will notice. They’re picking at a plate of crab rangoons when suddenly Yelena jabs her elbow into Natasha’s side. Natasha almost chokes on her food when Yelena says, “Kate’s here.”

“Where?”

Yelena points to the bar. Kate is standing there in a flowy purple dress that reminds Natasha of what teenagers wore to prom. Towering next to her is a familiar broad-shouldered figure, wearing a polo shirt in the same shade of purple. When both of them turn towards her and Yelena, Natasha almost faints.

It’s you.

How did you become Kate’s new girlfriend? Why did you say yes to her? A million thoughts swirl in Natasha’s head. You had told her a hundred times that you had no interest in Kate and even viewed her as a younger sister. Then how could this have happened? Did Kate slip something into your drink or hit you on the head? Maybe the trauma Natasha had caused you inadvertently gave you memory loss, and now you couldn’t remember that you didn’t even like–

“Sestra, are you okay?” Yelena interrupts as Natasha turns on her angrily.

“You knew,” she snaps. “You knew Kate was dating Y/N.”

“I was the first person she told,” Yelena admits. “And you know how Kate always felt about Y/N…”

“But it wasn’t returned!” Natasha hisses, although you standing next to Kate with your arm around her waist says otherwise. “How could you let this happen?”

“Let this happen?” Yelena’s eyes blaze with fury. “You’re the one who fucked up the relationship! Not me, not anyone else. And you know Kate would never hurt Y/N the way you did.”

Natasha swallows her anger because she knows Yelena is right. Because despite her faults, Kate would never do what she did to you.

Kate leans against you, her hand squeezing your bicep so hard Natasha is sure her nail marks are going to be imprinted into your skin all night. Marking her territory, Natasha scoffs, although how many times did she do the same to you before? She treated you like a piece of meat, like a possession she had ownership of, never like the human being you actually were. 

But Kate has never looked happier as she pulls you around in tow, although you look just as uninterested in being here as Natasha feels. However, when you make eye contact with Natasha, you freeze and Kate jerks back because she isn’t strong enough to move you on her own. 

Kate looks around frantically until she notices that you’re staring at Natasha, then she tugs you down to her level so she can whisper something in your ear. You shake your head, then nod and Kate kisses your cheek. Natasha wants to dissolve on the spot. Kate readjusts her grip on your arm and leads you over to Natasha and Yelena.

“Hi, Yelena! Hi, Nat,” Kate says first, waving to both of them in turn. “It’s good to see you both again, especially you, Nat. I know it’s been…a while.”

“Yes, hello, Kate.” Natasha notices Yelena move closer to her side, as if her sister is afraid she’ll try strangling Kate. 

“And you both already know Y/N, I think…”

You grin as though it pains you, your teeth clenched as though you’re purposely preventing yourself from saying something. 

“Anyway, we’ll be around if you want to catch up!” Kate says, and Natasha doesn’t miss the way she implies that if she wants to talk to you, she’ll have to talk to Kate too. Kate steers you off in another direction before Natasha can get a chance to say good-bye. Seeing Kate with you now makes Natasha wonder if this is how she felt every time she saw you with Natasha attached to your arm. It’s a sucky feeling. 

Thinking about Kate being with you drives Natasha crazy. Maybe it’s that Kate gets to spend every moment with you. Maybe it’s that Kate gets to call you hers now. Maybe it’s that Kate gets to take you to bed. Natasha remembers when that had been her; she had never been happier in her life. No wonder Kate looked so happy with you. There was just something about you that brightened something in everyone. 

And maybe Kate hadn’t had to do anything for you to turn to her. Maybe her carefree, simple nature was what you needed in your life after such a traumatic event. Natasha feels ashamed for thinking that Kate had to pull mind tricks to get you to fall for her. You deserved happiness, and if you found that with Kate, Natasha wouldn’t judge you or her for that.

Because one thing was clear now: there was no chance in the world Natasha was ever going to have you back.

***********************************************************************

“You okay, babe?” Kate says, resting her head on your shoulder. “We can get you a stronger drink if you–” She stops herself, her cheeks reddening as you stare down at the non-alcoholic margarita in your hands. You had given up alcohol since the assault and were surprised that Kate still didn’t remember this, especially after being with you for almost two months now.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” Kate rushes to apologize. “I’ll just get us some water.” Her hand brushes your arm as she turns away, waving down a waiter and turning back to push an icy glass of water in front of you.

“Thanks.” You take a sip, your hand shaking as you bring the glass to your mouth.

“Maybe we should go back to our room upstairs,” Kate suggests. 

“I’m fine,” you insist. Kate keeps rubbing your forearm, which you assume is supposed to be a comforting gesture, but she’s holding on too hard, almost like she’s afraid that if she lets go of you you’ll walk right back into Natasha’s arms. But that’s an unlikely possibility, even more unlikely than you getting with Kate in the first place.

You’re still not totally sure how it happened, but within the first few months of you being stationed out in California, Kate had texted you. It had started out completely innocent, with her simply checking in to see how you were adjusting, and you were grateful to have someone to talk to. It escalated one week when you admitted to having a really hard time with life and without being prompted, Kate flew over from New York to be with you. She stayed with you longer than she should have, but when she finally went back, you felt you couldn’t be without her. So, you soon moved back to New York and the rest was history. 

But it wasn’t perfect, as no relationship is, and sometimes you’re unsure if you made the right decision to come back to New York exclusively to be with Kate. She was a very nice girl, and since it was no secret how smitten she had been with you the entire time you were Natasha, you’re not surprised at how fast she warmed up to you. You, on the other hand, were facing some very complicated emotions and trauma, and it was difficult to tell if you had genuine feelings for Kate or were just using her as a crutch.

“Did seeing Nat upset you?” Kate asks, taking you out of your thoughts. 

“What?” You hadn’t even said a single word to Natasha. Yelena had warned you both that she would be in attendance tonight, so you had prepared an entire speech of how to confront her, but when you finally saw her again, you choked up. 

“It’s okay if it did,” Kate says, putting her arm around your shoulder now and pressing herself closer to you. “She really should be in jail for what she did to you–”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you snap, feeling immediately guilty when you see Kate’s hurt expression. “I…just…maybe later,” you add lamely. 

Your therapist told you that opening up to a new relationship after what happened with Natasha would be difficult. Luckily, Kate had the advantage of knowing you before the assault, and what happened, so you didn’t have to fully relive the trauma and explain to her why you had trust issues or why you were now so guarded in bed. 

You hadn’t expected to do it so soon, and while Kate would’ve eaten you alive the first chance she got, to her credit, she waited until you were ready. The first time you two had sex, you were certain that Kate was going to pass out when she saw you lying shirtless on her bed, and then she asked you to take her in every position you could ever think of until neither of you could move the next day. But as much passion as there was, the whispered “I love yous” and kisses and cuddles felt meaningless and empty. You didn’t know what it would take to get to that level of emotion, and you wonder at all if you’ll find it with Kate.

“Do you want to go back upstairs?” Kate asks again. “Maybe we can do something to clear your mind a little…”

While Kate’s appetite was worse than a burgeoning teenager, she respected your boundaries and never pushed you into doing something you didn’t want to. You found that your libido was significantly lower than it had been before the assault, but once in a while it spiked, which Kate couldn’t be happier for.

And tonight was one of those moments. Seeing Natasha again was not only traumatic but frustrating, and you needed something to get your mind off her.

You grab Kate’s hand suddenly. “Let’s go,” you say, pulling her out of her seat and scooping her up in your strong arms. She squeaks as her feet leave the floor, wrapping her arms around your neck to steady herself. You ignore the burning eyes on your back as you walk out carrying Kate. 

***********************************************************************

You’re utterly impatient waiting for the elevator to take the two of you up to the suites. Every second that passes and you don’t have Kate underneath you makes your skin hot with need. By the time you finally make it to Kate’s room, you throw her onto the bed and take off your shirt and pants. Kate watches you in awe for a moment, like she’s still in disbelief that she gets to have you like this, before struggling with the zipper of her dress behind her neck. 

Once you’re undressed, you climb onto the bed with her and flip her over by her hips, ripping the zipper down so roughly you’re sure you’ve ruined the fabric, but neither of you seem to care. Kate quickly sheds the gown and pushes it off onto the floor, turning back over and looping her arms around your neck to pull you down into a heated kiss. 

When your teeth knock together, you wonder if you’re being too rough with Kate, but she doesn’t let you pull away. Instead, she wraps her legs around your waist, her ankles locking over your lower back. One of your hands finds her breasts in an effort to steady yourself over her, and she moans when your hand closes around the swell of her flesh. 

“Is this okay?” you finally break away from her lips to ask.

“Yes, yes,” Kate gasps. Her hands trace over your back muscles, before finally digging into your shoulder blades to encourage you to arch into her. She tucks her head against your chest and you feel her lips scraping against your collarbone, bruising your skin and marking her claim on you.

“Oh God, Kate,” you say, your center pulsing with need. You feel her hands come around your sides, brushing across your tensed abs.

“I want to ride you,” Kate demands, but quickly changes her tone of voice when she sees you glaring down at her. “I mean, can I…Can I ride you, baby?” 

It’s not a power play thing, you just don’t like Kate being forceful with her requests because it makes you feel like you don’t have a choice. Although you could say “no” at any point and Kate would stop, part of you is still subconsciously fearful that if you do, Kate won’t respect you and take advantage of you like Natasha did. You stopped drinking alcohol to make sure you were always in control of all your faculties, and your time with Kate so far had proved that she was a mindful and respectful partner, but the fear was still there. You wondered if it would ever truly go away or if you would be stuck battling it every single time you were in bed with someone. 

“Hop on, baby,” you tell Kate, switching positions with her and relaxing with your back flat on the bed. Kate throws one leg over your waist, placing her hands on your chest and slowly lowering herself onto your chiseled stomach. Her core is hot and wet and it excites you to see how desperate she is for you. 

“You feel so good,” Kate pants, slowly rocking back and forth. You take hold of her hips to guide her, flexing your abs until you feel like you can’t even take a breath. Kate moans as she bumps across the defined muscles of your stomach. 

“Look at me, Kate,” you grunt as her nails curve into the skin of your chest. You want to see the light in her eyes when she comes undone, hear the moans she releases because she’s used your perfect body to get off. 

Kate loses some of her rhythm as she forces herself to lift her head. Her blue eyes, swirling with lust and desire, lock onto yours, and you buck your hips suddenly, trying to angle your body to stimulate her into an orgasm. Kate grinds down on you, like she’s trying to stay seated on a bucking bull, but the movement is too much for her and she gushes across your stomach. You keep your firm grip on her waist so she doesn’t fall off, lowering your hips back onto the bed as she falls on top of you, panting hard. 

You stroke the back of her head until she calms down, and then Kate sits up with a mischievous look in her eye.

“Can I clean you up?” she asks.

You smirk at her. “Sure, baby. Make sure you get every drop.”

Almost as if your words alone were enough to reinvigorate her, Kate crawls down your body and you spread your legs apart to let her lie between them. She puts a hand on each of your muscular thighs to balance herself and lower her head to lap at the stickiness coating your abs. You moan as her tongue slides across your muscles, collecting up every bit of the mess she made. Your skin shines not with her cum anymore but her saliva and the heat in your stomach rages hotter as you watch her, her head dipping lower and lower until suddenly her mouth finds the heat between your legs and your back arches with a moan.

“Fuck, Kate,” you gasp, moving your hands to the blankets instead so you don’t accidentally pull her hair out. Her tongue pushes into you with some hesitance at first, but as soon as she tastes you, she dives in deeper for more. Her head bobs up and down as she sets a pace that’s a little too quick for your liking and you try to roll your hips to indicate a better rhythm, but Kate is too drunk on your taste, too excited to be in this position, to pay you much attention. And as hot as her mouth is, as flexible as her tongue is, it’s not enough to get you off. 

Kate may not be as experienced as your past partners, but sometimes you feel like she doesn’t even want or care to know what you actually like and what you don’t. While she’s never done anything to make you feel outright uncomfortable, you aren’t always satisfied with her efforts either–although she does try her best, that much is certain. 

Your excitement begins to dwindle as the minutes tick by and you’re no closer to orgasm than when Kate was still on top of you. You’re surprised she hasn’t gotten a jaw cramp yet, and you don’t want her to, so you move your hand onto her head and push her back. 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you say, pretending to pant like you’re coming down from an amazing high. Kate sits back on her heels, wiping her lips with a grin. You know you’re just as guilty for not being honest with her, but for some reason, you just don’t have it in you to tell her the truth. This poor girl had waited years to be with you and probably thought she never had a chance in the world. You could give her this moment. There might not be more of them, anyway.

Kate crawls up to you to kiss you sloppily and you shy away, reaching over to the nightstand and twisting your elbow awkwardly to open the top drawer. Your fingers close around the rubber toy you’re looking for and you pull it out with a flourish, watching the way Kate’s eyes darken when she sees what you’re holding. 

“Think you can handle one more?” you ask.

“Anything for you, baby.” She kisses you again and gets off of you so you can sit up and pull the straps over your legs, positioning the toy between them. 

“Lie down,” you tell Kate, maneuvering yourself on top of her again. You can see the glistening wetness of her center and you know you won’t need any more lube, despite how large the toy is. Even in the beginning, you insisted on using a smaller size but Kate didn’t want that, saying that you looked the best with a big one between your legs. You didn’t argue with her on that and fucked her into the mattress until you were so exhausted you fell asleep with the strap still in her. 

You grab onto each of Kate’s ankles and hoist her legs up, holding them in a wide V and tilting her butt up just a few inches off the bed. Scooting forward until the tip of your cock presses against her entrance, you look down at her and ask if she’s ready. 

“Fuck me until I can’t walk,” Kate says, and she knows you’ll keep your side of the deal. 

You thrust your hips forward, gliding into her almost entirely in one smooth motion, and Kate throws her head back and moans shamelessly. You use your grip on her ankles to pull her forward as your hips move, increasing the power of your thrusts and the entire bed shakes with your strength. Kate bounces along the mattress, trying to reach for you, desperate for something solid to hold onto while you fuck her brains out. 

***********************************************************************

“I think I saw them head out earlier,” Natasha says, trying to act like she hadn’t had her eyes on you the whole time.

“So soon?” Yelena says. “Well, I think the only reason they showed up was to see you anyway–”

“I barely spoke to either of them.”

Yelena shrugs. “Did you expect them to hang around? After what you did?”

Sometimes, Natasha wonders whose side her sister is on. Then she remembers how Yelena had been ready to (justifiably) beat her to a pulp after she found out what Natasha had done. 

“Do you want to go now?” Yelena asks, although she senses that Natasha wanted to leave hours ago.

“Yeah, I think I’m done here.”

“Okay.”

Natasha plans on spending the night in her sister’s room, since it’s too far of a drive back to her place in Rochester. She goes up the elevator with Yelena, feeling a wave of sadness fill her as she remembered the thousands of times she had gone up to the suites with you, with her teammates. Those days were long gone. 

“Do you remember where my room is?” Yelena asks. “I have to grab something from the kitchen, so you can meet me there.”

“Sure.” But Natasha does not have the faintest memory of where Yelena’s suite is. She only remembers where yours and hers was. She wonders who’s moved in now and if they know the history of that room. It would probably be better if they didn’t. 

She wanders down the dark hallway, nervous to realize that all the doors look the same. In a moment of panicked judgment, she reaches for a random door handle and pushes it open. 

Just her luck, Natasha doesn’t stumble into Yelena’s empty room. It’s Kate’s.

Kate is lying naked on her bed with you equally naked and between her legs, holding them open at such a wide angle that even Natasha is impressed by her flexibility. Your abs flex as you jog your hips forward, slapping your thighs against Kate’s loudly. Natasha has a fleeting thought of being in Kate’s position before, but it is quickly replaced by shame and embarrassment.

“Uh, shit…” Natasha says, blush creeping up to the tips of her ears. She doesn’t know if either of you even notice her and quickly backs out, her heart pounding. She would never have you like that again, and it hurts her like a knife in her chest to know that she lost you to Kate.

Kate had seen Natasha peek into her room and never thought she would be so happy to be caught in a position like this. When Natasha leaves, Kate begs you to pound into her harder and faster, until you fear you’ll actually rip her in half. You don’t, but you do break the bedframe when it slams into the wall one too many times. Tony will not be happy to hear he has to order another bed for Kate. 

Kate practically screams when she comes undone, tearing at the sheets and pillows with clawed hands. You finally drop her legs, pulling your cock out and falling on top of her, your body slick with sweat as you lay flat against her. Kate rolls you to the side as you wrap your arms around her and she tangles her legs with yours, resting her head on your chest and telling you to hold her tighter. 

No other words are said, but the silence seems to communicate that both of you know this is a dream reaching its end.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Oh how the tables have turned...

This was a very different fic for me. I’d love to hear what you think! Especially from those who were anti-Nat endgame with the original. 👀

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[polaris-likethestar]

how to get your man back: a step-by-step guide by raven - chapter one

hiii so i wrote another story, its a raven x hank fake dating high school au where popular cheerleader raven uses nerdy teen hank to get her boyfriend erik back after he dumps her (raven/hank and charles/erik endgame).

side note this was supposed to be a crack fic but then i took it a bit too seriously so now raven's annoying but in a weird way, sorry about that:) enjoy !!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Its not everyday that your your angsty, bad boy, literal walking-talking-breathing-version-of-a-love-interest-in-a-romance-novel boyfriend of two months, two weeks and four days breaks up with you over phone call. Like, he didn’t even have the audacity to tell you in person?? Okay, so his parents are like super European (he just moved from Germany) and maybe that means that their too strict to let him go visit his girlfriend past nine pm but still. They would have had to understand this was an urgent matter. Your heart was on the line!

Now, naturally you’d be upset and have your brother drive to the nearest whole foods to get your favorite cotton candy ice cream. But, what’s different about you and other people your age who happen to get broken up with over a phone call is that you are not just going to sit there and let your ex have the last laugh. No. Not happening. You are going to come up with a master plan, something no one would have ever assumed you were capable of doing. You’re going to make him so jealous, so furious with….furiousty that he wants you back. But here’s the thing: you’re not going to take him back. Not at first anyway. Give it time. Let the anger really seep through.

This is currently Raven’s plan. And now, you may be wondering, how exactly is she going to execute this plan? Simple. She’s going to find a new man, pay him an absurd amount of money to agree to be her fake boyfriend and take it from there.

And Raven already knows exactly who she wants this new “boyfriend” to be. Enter Hank Mccoy, the smartest kid in the school.

Now, Raven realizes how cliché this is. The popular cheerleader (her) and the nerd (him). They would never actually date on their own, only if there’s some sort of scheme involved. But that’s what’s so smart about it: no one is going to even suspect that she might be up to something. It’s too obvious. And it’s not like she was going to fall in love with Hank by the end…right? Right. Obviously.

So, when her brother returns with the ice cream, 32 minutes later (which, how bad is traffic at this late on a Wednesday night? They live in Westchester, not Los Angeles) she tells him the plan. “Charles, this is so smart, I’m going to have him back in no time.” He sat down next to her on her pink fuzzy rug. “Well, Raven, that’s lovely, but do we know why exactly he broke up with you in the first place?”

Huh. Raven hadn’t asked. Maybe she should have. “Well, I can’t call him now.” She shrugged. “It’s fine, whatever the reason is, he’ll forget about it.” Charles just nodded. Okay, so maybe his intellectual self thought that Raven was being a little bit delusional, but he’ll get it eventually. He has to. It wasn’t so long ago that he was stalking some guy he just met, taking the bus in the opposite direction just to follow him. Then one day he just stopped. Raven never actually found out why. But she wasn’t going to end up like her brother, she wasn’t going to just stop. He was probably just scared. But not Raven. She was going to get exactly what she wanted.

“Okay, well, how do you plan on getting Hank to agree with this?” Charles asked. “Well, aren’t you both on the mathletes? You know him.” Raven said. “He knows who I am. Tell him I want to talk to him. I mean, he’s like, scared of me. He literally wrote my whole essay for finals last year because I asked him to- and don’t look at me like that, Charles, I wasn’t trying to repeat 10th grade again.”

Charles just sighed. “Well, I suppose I could ask him to meet you during lunch time tomorrow. But be sensible about this, Raven, this could end up going really wrong.” Raven just shook her head. “Yeah, but it could end up going really right. Like, me and Erik could get married and have like, really pretty babies. Can you imagine? Oh my god, that’ll be such a fun wedding! I can’t wait! And of course you’re going to be invited. You and Emma and Angel and Moira and Jean and I guess Scott although between you and me, I really hope she dumps him by then, oh and Peter too, and Kurt and if this goes well, maybe even Hank as a thank you. You know what- I’m going to invite the whole school! We could even get a popcorn machine, like, everyone loves popcorn, right? Oh, it’ll be a blast, can you see the vision?”

Raven rambled on and on until Charles was getting visibly annoyed, and she did feel bad, so she let him sleep. But she plugged in her headphones, put her playlist on shuffle, and stayed up dreaming about how life would be like when she got her man back.

The next day, Charles kept his word and talked to Hank. She knew this because he was following her around like a lost puppy. It was kind of amusing at first, but then it just became kind of annoying so she eventually addressed him. “Hi, my brother sent you, right?” she asked. “Uh, yeah.” Hank responded. “I’m kind of confused as to why though?”

Raven smiled. “Alright. So, what I’m going to do is every Friday, starting tomorrow, for the next five weeks I’m going to venmo you $250 and we are going to pretend we are in a relationship and let the whole school believe that and then when it’s time, you dump me. Sound good?”

“Uh, what?” Hank asked. Raven just rolled her eyes; it was literally simple instructions. He’s supposed to be, like, super smart. Probably even more than her brother. “I’m going to pay you and you’re going to fake date me and then we will stage a very public break up where you leave me. Okay?” She tried looking as intimidating as possible, hoping that if the offer of money wasn’t enough, maybe she could scare him into agreeing.

“Um, aren’t you going out with Erik still?” “That’s not important, Hank, what’s important is that I really need this, okay. And I mean, like, it’s not like you have a girlfriend or anything.” Suddenly, Raven’s eyes widened. She never even thought about it. Maybe he did have a girlfriend. That would be awkward. “Wait, you don’t have like, a girlfriend or anything? Right?”

“Uh, no, but why are you doing this? Like, there’s got to be a reason.” Ugh. Why did he have to be so curious? I guess that’s how smart people are or whatever. “Okay, fine. So, like, you can’t tell anyone and I’m serious, no one? But like, Erik kind of dumped and we are supposed to make him jealous. Got it?”

“No, I don’t got it.” He spoke. Now he was getting kind of angry. Not like angry-angry but as angry as a miniature kitty cat could get, the cute kind. Not that he’s cute. The cat is.  Just the cat. “Okay, well.” Raven tried to reason with him. “Uh, how about $300 per week then?” “$350.” He responded. Now, typically, this would be fine, the Xaviers are loaded, but she was curious how hard he was going to fight back.

“$320.” She offered. “No.” He responded. “It’s $350 or nothing.” Raven just scoffed. “Um, okay, why are acting so entitled? Like, I don’t have to pay you at all. It’ll be inconvenient for me if you don’t agree, sure, but it’s not, like, the end of the world. I could find someone else, Hank. You aren’t special. Just because you’re super smart doesn’t mean anything to me, it never did. So, take it or leave it, your choice.” Sure, it was mean, maybe a little bit extra, but Raven never said she was a nice person. She hoped that her little speech would get him to agree, but it didn’t. He went silent. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe it wasn’t worth all this trouble. So, just as she was about to walk away, Hank spoke up.

“You’re right. You don’t need me. Not me in particular, anyways. I’m sure you could easily find some other lonely, geeky, easy-to-bully teenage boy in our school to go along with your little plot. I mean, that’s what you were going for, right? You said it yourself, I’m super smart. So, I have a reputation, obviously. And yeah, it’s the not the best one, but it’s there. You have one too. The popular cheerleader. Can get anyone she wants. Every guy wrapped around her finger. That’s the stereotype, and so far, you’ve been fitting it. So of course, you want a boyfriend and of course you know once it gets out that you’ve been dumped, you’re going to look bad. And this, here, it kind of looks like a charity case, doesn’t it? You know that. And the whole public break up thing makes people feel bad for you, like you trusted me and I betrayed you, and you’ll go running back into his arms. Like you’re the victim. And I’m the bad guy. I’m not stupid, Raven, I see right through you. You know, I’m not even sure if you like him. I wouldn’t put it past you to just date him for the attention, because I know there are people who genuinely want him, and I can tell that you are not one of them. But fine, I will go along with your little scheme, and fine, I will go along with whatever it is you tell me to do but the least you can do is give me the $350 and let me salvage a little bit of respect.”

Okay. So now he’s like, way past kitty cat angry.

“Okay. Fine. Uh, $350 it is.” Raven wasn’t shaken up. She wasn’t hurt. Obviously not. “Okay, um, I’ll text you, okay? My brother will give me your number.” There was an awkward silence, and Hank was getting fidgety. The only positive thing about this besides that Hank agreed is that he visibly wasn’t all that comfortable with lashing out on her.

“Yeah, sure. Bye.” He said, turning on his heel, walking away.

Well, she did it. Part one of the plan is completed. She’s going to have her boyfriend back in no time and that wedding is going to happen. And oh, she can’t wait.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[scarlettsandmaroons]

midnight rain | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter eleven | chapter twelve: it came like a postcard

chapter summary: sometimes, weather forecasts can be wrong; yours said it would be sunny yet a storm came. the same way the bestest days can take a turn for the worst. you'd never choose rain. you did it once and now you're lost. but when you are, the sun always comes. and it envelops you in its warmth. it finds you, it makes you follow it, and you're secure. you'd must always choose the sun.

warnings: angst; non-aggressive fighting, guilt.

a/n: i know it took so long, but im too busy!!! i barely have time for anything so please understand! this took so little time actually, i wrote this in class for 30 minutes, and while i do hate the way i wrote it (for some reason i could never write proper angst?) my creative juices won't allow me for more. so please bear with me. ALSO, LITERALLY ONE CHAPTER AWAY FROM THE ENDING, YAY US.

a few months ago, you attended a sophomore party around the first few days of your sophomore year. it was at the university, in the event hall which happened past midnight where none of the teachers would have known the drinking, the dancing, and the sex on each corner of the space. 

of course, natasha knew about it. she always knew everything. more so if it's something about you. you weren't supposed to go. but you and natasha had a small argument the day before the party—something about the way she so boldly touches you even when people were around. so to get your mind of it, you went; to get back at her, you didn't tell her and planned on going home drunk; and to taunt her, you wore the most absurdly revealing outfit in your dresser. 

you were expecting to go home to her waiting for you in a robe and red wine, as she usually does when you come home past midnight. but she didn't. a few shots, and some minutes of dirty dancing later, you were pulled off the dance floor but her harsh grip, and everyone stunned at the professor's actions. 

she pulled you in her office, trapped you between her and the desk, and when you thought she'd lecture you, she didn't. she dropped her forehead on your shoulder, and she bathed you in her warmth. 

she told you she loved you. that she loved you so much. that she loved you dearly, sincerely, desperately. and the next day, you woke up with flowers and a bottle of her perfume on your bed. you need not a note to know what she was implying—you can try to grind on every person you want, but they'd know. 

that's been your routine after every fight. 

flowers, and a present. 

today was undeniably one of the best days ever. granted, you and natasha had a little argument the night before, but that's what led you to the flower shop for the first time. you spent an hour smelling every plant; feeling the difference between the patterns of every petal; basking in the colors of the life the surrounds you. 

and then you rode a bike to the mall. it wasn't your bike, it was wanda's old one from when she and vision had just moved to westview. but you found it in the shed. and with the flowers you bought in its little brown basket, you went toe to toe with the massive cars driving right next to you. and somehow, you felt like you were saving the world. 

wanda, that morning, cooked you breakfast. and then she gave you ice cream in a bowl as dessert which doesn't happen at all. wanda can be a nag about health, and you often find the domesticity of having a mother nag you for eating junk very endearing, but it never hurts to have ice cream. and did you jump out in joy when she handed you a bowl. 

billy wasn't home. wanda sent him to an errand outside westview. but he left you a sweet note and a sandwich on your bedside table before he left, and before you woke up. he should be home long past 12pm though, which would give you the very opportunity to make it right with your girlfriend before he comes back. 

she wasn't here. 

she's never here when she gets into a fight with you. she cools off her head, gives you your space, then she comes back to talk. 

you assume that's how she'd always been, even with wanda given that she did use to live away from her family that you assume is because of a blowout. you never asked. and you knew she didn't want you to.

you bought her flowers and a scented candle that smelled like your favorite perfume. something that she can put in the office that's been home to too much of your sins, and overflowing with so much of your love. 

the sun was out, and for the first time, it didn't seem to burn. it was just... warm. no chance of rain, said the weather forecast. 

but of course, sometimes, they're wrong. 

"do you know i cheated on natasha with vision?" 

and it rained. 

"sorry, what?" 

the moment you closed the door behind you, and right after wanda called for you in the kitchen, it poured. harsh, angry rain. 

"it was over a year ago," wanda clarifies. "natasha was getting too busy with work, and vision happens to drop by." 

"wanda, i don't—"

"and i slept with him." 

you stiffed. your chest tightened, and the grip you had on the bouquet you couldn't be bothered to hide behind you became strained.

you weren't sure why wanda was telling you. neither did you want her to. but suddenly you feel for natasha. like that very thing wanda did was enough to justify and save natasha from every argument, every fight, every bad thing between you two. 

"wanda, i really don't know why you're telling me this," you whisper, voice shaking, resisting. "i think it's none of my business." 

you didn't know what to do, what to feel. wanda cheated on natasha. and natasha is cheating right back. should it be called even? you couldn't say. the anger of knowing what natasha had to go through, vs wanda... your mother. sweet sweet wanda. you justified wanda in your heart. 

she was standing behind the kitchen island, looking at the yard over the floor to ceiling windows. and then she turns to you, pauses when she sees the flowers and paper bag in your hands. 

she smiles, tiredly. "is that for her?" 

you didn't have to be asked twice. your mind didn't scramble for an excuse either. surprisingly, no "for who?" or "it's for billy". just silence. 

she looks at you. 

she knew. 

her eyes stayed the exact same green shade as they were earlier. or yesterday. or the many days before that. there was nothing different. she looked the same. but she knew. 

you'd already betrayed her, you couldn't lie to her. and your mind didn't allow you to even dig through your raging thoughts for an apology. 

and she beats you to it. "i'm sorry," she tells you; her voice raspy, coated in what pain you could feel her hide. 

all thoughts left your body. and you weren't sure why it was only now that guilt surged through your every vein, every muscle. 

you might have not chosen natasha, but a part of you knew that she would choose you. that she would always choose you. and somehow, that was able to keep you in your bubble. to spare you the guilt. to keep you safe. knowing that while you would choose wanda, that you would do what's right; she wouldn't. she would choose you. even if it's wrong. and that makes the weight of your sin much much lighter. 

"wanda i—" she gave you the chance. she stayed silent. she waited, she hoped, she looked at you with eager eyes. but you couldn't say anything. you didn't say anything. 

she walked closer to you. you could tell her knees were weak, barely carrying the weight of her body. then she smiled, a sad comforting smile. like when she told you what she'd done to your mother. like when she offered you a way out. 

you yelled in your mind. screamed. the voice begged to be ousted; 

don't touch me. 

don't touch me, wanda. 

please, it's my fault. 

don't smile at me. 

slap me. curse me. swear at me. 

throw me away.

force me to go. 

don't... 

please don't be nice. 

please don't smile. 

please... 

don't make it harder for me...

you stayed silent. 

something about the way her eyes sparkled with threatening tears made you feel a sense of home and longing. like the feeling you get when you know you'd have to travel the next day so you clean your home, and enjoy the few hours you have in your room. and you feel at peace. the dread, the excitement, and the longing. you feel everything all at once. 

"i'm sorry," she tells you again. raising her visibly shaking hand to caress your cheek. you didn't know what to do. you froze. "i was supposed to protect you, i was supposed to be your mother," her voice decreased to a whisper. but you still heard the way it cracked. the way it got stuck in her throat. "it's all my fault." 

and your heart broke. your heart broke for her. your heart broke for the crying eyes staring into you—the same ones the would shine when seeing her wife, or would sparkle when billy gives her a hug. your heart broke for the hurting mother. for your hurting mother. for the mother you hurt. 

"wanda, it's not...," you whisper.

she stuttered for words. avoiding your eyes, struggling to keep her composure, "i really love her," she cries. "and i needed her. and she wasn't here. and i was desperate."

she was defending herself for a crime she didn't commit. you're supposed to be the one justifying. you're supposed to be the one crying—looking at her with grieving eyes. 

but how could you? what could you say? 

i didn't love her, wanda. but i would long for her touch, crave for her lips, burn for her warmth the same way i long for air, and crave for love, and burn for every bit of earth that falls on my skin.  

i didn't love her, wanda. but when i go to heaven, and god tells me that this very sin is what would send me to hell, i'll tell him how ironic it was to have the only heaven i'd ever known be what would send me to burn down in hell. 

i didn't love her, wanda. 

but i did. 

oh how i did. 

"i'm sorry....," you finally say. you finally gathered the courage, the words, the thoughts to apologize. may it be the wrong ones, for the wrong person, but you were sorry for tolerating natasha. you were sorry for the indulgence. you were sorry for granting yourself the heaven when you were only meant to stay on earth. 

you were sorry for natasha. for everything that you did. but not for loving her. never for loving her. 

"no, darling i...," how could she call me that? "it's my fault. i should've—i should've known. i should've realized. you should have never been in that situation if i—"

"wanda what are you—"

"she wouldn't have used you."

she wouldn't have used you. 

she wouldn't have used you. 

she wouldn't have used you. 

she wouldn't have used you. 

but she loved me...

"at least it—it wouldn't have...," she choked. "it wouldn't have gotten this far, i—" 

she told me she loved me. she whispered it to me in bed, she wrote it to me in class, she moaned it in my ear. she loved me. 

"you were a kid, i—"

she wasn't looking at you. she was avoiding your eyes, guilt surging through her body, and pain glinting her eyes. she was shaken up, she was confused. and you... you were lost. 

"i married a beautiful woman. she is kind, she is thoughtful, she is caring," and she loved her deeply. you could hear it from her voice. and see it with the way a smile crept her face through her tears. the thought of her alone is enough to put her in a trance, in her own little bubble. 

and then the bubble pops. and she looks back at you, unaware that she'd been looking away. "i...," she searches for words, looking in your soul; holding it, hugging it through the windows of your eyes. "i didn't think she'd be the kind to... take advantage of a child so she could get back at me." 

i didnt think she'd be the kind to take advantage of a child so she could get back at me.

i didn't think she'd be the kind to take advantage of a child so she could get back at me.

i didn't think she'd be the kind to take advantage of a child so she could get back at me.

suddenly the memory of her touch burns your skin. the memory of her kisses slices you. the memory of her, and everyday of the past year, and you, and the both of you—suddenly, everything was hell. and you were on fire. 

your ear rings. 

she used you.

she loved me. 

she was using you for revenge.

she loved me. 

she took advantage of you. 

she loved me. 

she pretended. 

she asked me to run away. she loved me.

she's taking it too far. 

she told me she loved me. 

did she really?

no. 

"she loved me," you resisted her touch. you moved away from her. you insisted, you screamed, you cried. "she loved me wanda." 

you saw pain through the wrinkles on her face. you saw pain for the family she's losing, and pity for the daughter she'd come to love as her own. she grieved for her family. and mourned for your innocence in your place. 

you saw it overtake her—the broken woman whose family's at loss overtake the sweet mother who'd cared for you for over a year. and more as a child. you saw it glint her eyes, the change from pity to anger. 

"she loved me...," you cried, dropping to the floor. 

you knew she was torn. should it be pity that you loved her wife, or anger that you loved her wife. she was fighting in her head. you can see the way she defended you in her own mind. you were just a kid that her wife took advantage of. but also, you were the stain in the family that she's been trying to fix.  

you didn't know which one won, which side of her. the subtle cruelty of the way she dropped an envelope on the floor to your knees, and the love that it was to crouch to your level and look at you. 

"you're breaking my family...," she told you. "i can't let you do that anymore." 

you wonder which wanda your talking to. while her words were thorned, her voice was coated with the love of a mother. 

"this is enough to get your mother out of the hospital, and last you until you graduate."

she had kept a distance between you two, especially when she stood up. she's calmer now as if she'd already decided. 

"for what it's worth...," she trailed off. "i wish you never had to hurt billy."

the fight is over. you were the kid who her wife took advantage of, and let it happen. you were the woman who betrayed her son. and she hates you. like a mother who hates her child: forever.

just like that, you were out of the house you'd called your home for the last year, and under the blazing storm. you were lost. 

"y/n!" 

until your beacon shines again. 

"oh my lord, what are you doing outside!" 

billy runs over you from his car with an umbrella. he hadn't heard. but he takes you in his arms, and wraps you around his coat. "i left early," he whispers. "what happened?"

you were lost. you always had been. but billy always found you. and you always followed him. you were lost as a child, and followed billy to his home. you were lost after graduation, and followed him to university. you're lost now. and you knew you'd chosen well. because he always found you. 

[gilbirda]

for the ask game: Danny Arkham Security Guard?

I've been curious where you're at with that for a while (I assumed the muse has fled and/or you're too busy with other fics), so had to pick that one when I saw it on the list 👀

From this WIP ask game

Haha! I knew someone would ask about it!

Honestly I have struggled a lot with picking this bad boy up... When I finally did a few months ago, the last edit was July 2022 😭

Long story short, summer 2022 was the time I really went down the spiral with Hardcover ship and literally every idea I had was for those two. I think what happened was that I realized there was an untapped potential and market for romance and all the classic romance tropes in DP fandom (I understood why that was the case, but still I was frustrated because I hadn't seen a single fic that made me crazy about any ship in DP) and it left me wanting.

Then I wrote Arkham Guard Danny and I did the bit where Jazz almost shoots Jason, and then I liked the dynamics between him and the siblings and I literally said in the AN if I ended up shipping him, I was debating between Jazz and Danny. *laughs in irony*

So basically I went "what if I write every romance story trope but Jazz/Jason?" and the rest is history.

And every damn time I went back to Arkham Guard Danny, I re read it and realized.... Is just so bad. I saw flaws everywhere. I saw bad characterization. I saw "angry robin Jason" and a bunch of things I don't stand by anymore and I felt like there was no way I could continue that fic and the difference wouldn't be felt. Was I too harsh with myself? Absolutely, but we are our worst critic.

Also? I felt the project running away from me. I started developing worldbuilding and ideas and I got mad because Arkham Guard is supposed to be simple. It used to be the "simple fic" I did while I focused on my magnum opus for DP fandom (Eldritch Ghost King Danny AU - "You and me and our best friend makes three"). If it got complicated I didn't want to write it anymore. And then it did and I dropped it.

Recently I went through a really bad situation and it kind of killed any want to write for dpxdc. I thought - why not go back to the basics? Revisit what really made me start in the fandom, what made me get a bunch of comments like "i got into dpxdc because of this fic". Took me back to when I started, how simple it felt to just write a fic and drop it to the ether and not worry about the things that made me want to stop forever.

So I did. Feels good to pick this up again!

I could go on forever but I won't continue rambling about this project (✿◡‿◡)

If you read up to this point, here's a little bit of what I have so far!

---

“Children,” Alfred stood from his seat, positioning himself between the brothers and their guest. “Let her breathe.”

“It’s okay, Mr. — uh…” She blushed as she realized she never asked for his name.

“Alfred,” the butler smiled, “Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Mr. Pennyworth,” she nodded politely. “I’m fine. I am aware that after that… theatrical spectacle, explanations are needed.”

“Indeed.” Batman cut in the conversation. “Proper explanations are in order. After I deliver the Joker to Arkham.”

“You can’t be serious!” Did the old man go crazy? Back to that wretched place?

Jazz frowned, seemingly sharing his thoughts. She leaned closer to the microphone and spoke in a controlled voice. “Where are you delivering him? In the hospital.”

Bruce took way too long to answer, so Tim did it for him. “Through the front door?”

Jazz didn’t find it funny. “Wait for me.”

“What?”

“I said, wait for me.” Jazz reached for her discarded jacket, eyeing the door to the elevator back to the manor. “Joker is my patient and I need to be there.”

“What for?”

She turned to look at Jason. “He doesn’t deserve to be left at the mercy of some of the people in the Asylum. They could—”

“He can rot for all I care.”

The vigilante walked up to her, getting in her way and using his height and build to scare her into submission. Jazz held his gaze, defiant, muscles tense and ready to throw down if needed.

“You don’t know that place like I do.”

Jason huffed. “Whatever the inmates want to do to him, he deserves it.”

“I wasn’t talking about the inmates.” Her teal eyes steeled with fury. “Arkham has a history of staff abusing their authority.”

[heeseung-min]

[10:03]

"We got another case."

You looked to the older man bringing a file that contains some pictures and reports taken from the crime scene.

"Another one? Urgh, we don't even get to finish the latest two cases."

Jisung, the new kid groaning and knocked his head on the desk. Five months ago when he got transfered here, you can see his bright spirit but now it started to fade. You understood him. Three murder cases in a week. Your team has tried really hard finding solution but failed.

You took the case and analysed every pictures taken by the forensic team. It was an old man. Probably in his late 50s. His skull was broken and you can tell the damage was really bad when the brain looked like minced meat and few cuts on his body. The victim also lost their eyes. Looks like the eyes got pulled out by some force. Jisung beside you gagged after saw the pictures. You patted his back and told him to drink some water and eat.

"Whoever did this, they are literally a psycho. They also took off the victim's clothes and hang it like a flag. Crazy bastard."

Your leader complained. He looked like he wanted to give up on the case. The murder cases keep increasing and the killer is still in the town. Not only that, the residents also critized polices, accusing them for not doing the job properly.

"You should get rest too, Y/n. You and Jisung didn't get enough rest nowadays. That poor boy probably went to sleep already."

"I will, Mr. Kim. Please take a rest too. Your wife must be worried."

You bid him and Jisung goodbye. Everyone is stress from the work. You bought some pastries and coffee before come back to home.

"You are back, honey? Take a shower and have breakfast with me?"

It's your husband, Jay. He took a glance at you then focusing back on his cooking. You are very grateful having him. He really loves you. The way he takes care of you is different with other people in the world. You did as what he said. Take your time in the bathroom for 20 minutes and went to the dining table with him sitting across from you.

"Is the work difficult?" He concernedly asked when he saw how tired you look. You nodded your head slowly and started to eat the meal.

"Mrs.Min told me her husband hasn't come back home for a week. But then, the new case that came in today is about her husband. The team found the body in the woods."

You looked at him warily. Waiting for his reaction. He did nothing except chewing on his food. When he finally swallowed it, he turned to you.

"The eyes are gone right? And the brain was smashed."

"I...I didn't say about his condition."

He laughed. Your instict is right.

"Oops! You caught me."

He continued back eating his food like nothing happen. Your hands shaking a bit because of nervous.

"You did it again...."

"I had too, darling."

"What is the reason for this time?"

You had thought he finally stopped doing it. But when you see the cuts on the victim's body. You quickly remember the same pattern Jay did to someone else. Yes, your husband is the killer for the new case you got this morning.

"Oh, darling. It's too much. He is too much. The way his eyes lingering on you too long, the way he sometimes make his finger accidentally touches yours when you give something for his family, the way he sometimes tried to touch your body. I could list more but that just few of it. I really wish I can do more to his body. I made him watch his own dick got stepped by me. Sick old fuck."

It's scary. Jay is scary.

But, do you hate it?

No. Never. You love him despite all the bad things he had done.

"Thank you."

"I did everything for you, my love. I hate when people overstep their boundaries."

"I know. Thank you for protecting me."

And that's why the case will turn to a cold one. It will remain unsolve forever.

---

---

Ayo, that looks creepy and scary💀🤚Im sorry if that makes you uncomfortable...i didnt expected i wrote that. But, hopefully you guys enjoy it.

Taglist: @stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount

[ladymdc]

*writer interview*

Thanks for the tag @bardic-inspo. I appreciate it ♥️

I’ll tag @dismalzelenka, @ellstersmash, @championofdogs, @yuusaris, & @rose-de-noire — no pressure & feel free to ignore me!

When did you start writing?

Early 20s. I didn’t really have access to fandom spaces until I was out of my childhood home & in college. But I quickly realized I could write/share all these things floating around in my head that various games/shows inspired in me.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I don’t really think so? I will read about anything, & I will try to write about anything as long as it sparks. A lot of the time those things overlap, but I do lean into grief, love & forgiveness a lot as a writer/reader.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

No emulation or comparisons here. The most I get told is that I’m good being concise & saying a lot with very little (gut punch sentences/scenes etc)— which is flattering & what I strive for since it is my style/*how* I like to write.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I literally do not have one lol. I am so busy I do 90% of my writing in gdocs on my phone wherever I happen to be & when I have some time. The other 10% is when I’m at work & can discreetly pop it up in a tab & write on & off throughout the day in between tasks.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Fallow when I need to fallow.

Every time I ignore it, I block & burnout. I didn’t want to fallow earlier this year since I just got into my current passion project, but after 3 months of other hobbies & rest, coming back to it has been great. I love my story & think I’m alright at this writing thing again.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I have noticed I tend to lean into themes of self-loathing (sometimes anxiety), the related trauma, & how that effects the way they move through life & build relationships— & if that isn’t showing my whole ass, idk what is.

I also really enjoy the whole sociopath/something monstrous & their one (1) person, who loves & understands them, that they love & cherish trope— but hey, I wrote Rhack for 3 years, that one was bound to stick around.

What is your reason for writing?

It’s a part of me. I’m not sure how that happened, but that’s the easiest way to explain. Like years ago, I had a reasonably popular writer (“friend”) steal my ideas & gaslight/mess with my stats/comments (fake accounts) & I honestly didn’t think I could recover from that when it all came to a head. It took a while to get to a place where that part of me felt whole again, & I could write… but I don’t think it would have hurt so much if it was just the “something to do” it had started off as.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I’ve never been one to inspire interaction, or I don’t feel like I am, so anything feels nice. I try to not let it get to me. The above nonsense did a number on me with stats = quality for a while, so I try to update & forget about it for a few days. Then it feels less bad going into an empty inbox because I did the thing! I updated & made progress on my story!

Plus, I’m a quiet reader too/busy & I forget a lot, so I get it. I just hope what I share resonates/sparks joy with those following along, & I call it good.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I’m just someone out there doing my best & sometimes that doesn’t even feel like enough, so I’m probably just like everyone else lol. I hope I seem approachable. That’s my intention, at least.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Worldbuilding, story/plot, & conciseness. I love trying to say a lot with very little & why I gravitate toward drabble exercises (100 word stories) every so often.

How do you feel about your own writing?

It varies. Sometimes I think I’m alright at this & happy with my little digital library. Some of my older works make me cringe regularly, but I leave them up because they show me how much I’ve grown & how many stories/words it took to get where I am.

Right now I’m in a pretty good place, but that took some time. Like I loved my last fandom, but I definitely needed a break from antis & the pressure I was exerting on myself. Where I’m at now, no one knows me. I’m a drop in a very big ocean so I feel like I’m just doing my thing, which has been an adjustment, but not every fandom needs to be a place I get involved & make friends. Loving on my current passion project has been a good reminder on why I started writing in the first place, & even if I have bad days where I think I’m too slow or not good enough, focusing on me & what this part of me needs has been good/healing.

When you write, are you influenced by what others enjoy might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

What I write is either a gift or self-indulgent, sometimes both. I can’t write for stats or attention. I don’t know how people do that, but no judgement either. Sometimes I think I hold it too close, & wish I could, but alas. Seems like I’m built to just pour my heart into everything I create (or all my pent of hornt depending on the work ;asldkfj) & that’s it ♥️

[blackrabbit111]

~Twst android au, prequel draft~

"You are the sole heir to the worlds top tec company that makes everything from military weapons to remotes. Raised alone by your grandfather, you've found yourself alone since his passing and are struggling to find someone to turn too.

On a whim you go looking for one of his crack pot inventions in one of his old factory's. Only to find more then you were looking for"

An au fic I wrote months ago but never shared cuz insecure, But I'm down so I say heck to it 👍

Feed back and critic is appreciated especially on grammar😅Not sure how much I'll keep or if I will even make more but I might as well share what I've already made

The sound of a switch echoed as the warehouse lights shot on in uniform order one by one until the massive hanger sized warehouse was lit up. 

The walls and roof were vast and the rows upon rows of shelves were endless, each filled with who knows what? All different types of machinery, a tec nerd might see this as some gold mine full of decades worth of technology going back nearly fifty years according to your newly bequeathed assistant. 

You hadn’t even changed clothes yet. You were still in these uncomfortable shoes, these stuffy black clothes that were far too warm to wear indoors, even your hair had been newly styled at your “guardians” request. 

You don’t even remember most of the day ... just stepping into the car. 

“Master Yuu?” Your assistant’s voice tore you from your mindlessness, you hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped. You’d just kept walking down the isle of discarded tec. 

“O-oh? Sorry Mira, and please don’t call me that” You asked, your voice quite as always. You hated having to force a smile but manners like other things had been drilled into as a child, so you had no choice. 

“Of course, sorry” She gave you a sympathetic smile, one of the few you’d had despite the circumstance. With your years forcing smiles you had grown to recognize when someone else was faking it too. 

Mira was genuine at least “Are you sure you're up to this? We can wait a few more days?” 

You appreciated the thought, but your hand was going numb from signing forms. The owners of such documents, the sources of most of those forced smiles, they knew better than to be honest about what they wanted. Or else risk upsetting you and with the power you now had none of them could afford such a thing, for some literally. 

You shook your head no “I’m fine, just tierd. This is the third warehouse we’ve checked after all”  

Might as well of been the one hundred with the size of these things?! Your college campus was half the size of the last one 

“Could you go check with the site manager and see if they had any luck tracking it down? I’d like to keep looking around on my own” 

She nodded, lingering a bit before turning back to leave the way you both came her footsteps faded to echo’s and suddenly you were alone. 

The shelves were daunting like this, shaded over from the different levels framed the discarded bot shells in a creepy way. Yet that wasn’t what was on your mind. 

Not much … had been on your mind lately …  

Everything had felt- fuzzy? 

You were never the greatest at showing your feelings, you’d certainly been teased enough because of it growing up. 

It was easier to just make friends. (literally) 

Rustling through your pocket you pulled out an old worn leather-bound book. Its pagers were flakier than the old coot that had left it for you. Sticky notes and faded pages stuck out and fell lose as you flipped back through its ancient pages. 

Sketches, notes and old diagrams were all etched into it. Most had been released, just one of his many sketch books you’d had the ‘joy’ of flipping through. 

But there was one page that had caught your interest, 

“Project Wonderland” God he sucked at naming things. 

Among the faded doodles these few seemed the oldest, added in safter the pages had already been filled? Even Mira didn’t know what it was, and she seemed to have known more about his company than he had. She knew him more than you had... 

“Project Wonderland, Log #037. 

So far, all prototypes for model “Heart” have remained lacking, subject Ace ________ ____hap ___ _______ ___ ___ ___  ___ ____  ___________________ ________Riddle remains____ __________ ,strict rules_ _________. Further_______ ______ ______” 

The rest was too faded. 

Most of the scribbles summed up that amount. Even the more salvageable ones left too many holes to piece together anything that made sense? 

You groaned trying to make sense of it all. This was just a way to get away from all the work you still had to do, Mira’s suggestion, if not you’d probably still be sat behind that oversized desk, in that oversized chair signing the endless rotation of papers brought by your newly acquired legal department.  

Attending the by hourly meetings on new bot colors, branding and all the other topics you didn’t understand. That didn’t stop the bombarding you with requests and asking your opinions … more demanding... 

Day in day out, 

Right up until- 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

 You were again torn from your invasive thoughts, the pitchy voice crying out from your pocket. 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

Pulling the device from your pocket its screeching only seemed to get louder- 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

Small, grey with a bright blue screen. Its body, an old tomogachi toy you had as a kid, now turned into a travel sized version of an ai interface. Your first attempt, robots were child's play to you. At the age of ten you were making drones on par with your grandfathers. You could code before you could spell your own name, which made passing online tests a breeze. 

Ai was different, specifically intelligent ones. 

Nowadays it was rarer to see a machine that didn’t have some type of interface built in, even kid’s toys could remind the child to brush their teeth. But the ones used for androids, the ones running shop tills and driving buses.  

Those were harder for you. 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

“ALRIGHT! Sheesh....” 

 Generated, Response, intelligence, Model #008. Or Grim for short, you were still working out the kinks. Somehow it had begun to prioritize meal notifications, despite it being near 6pm it kept on screaming for lunch until you clicked off its alarm. 

It’s been nearly 2 weeks since you’d last had a free moment to look at the code, which meant round the clock alerts at random. 

You let out an audible groan “Maybe this really is a waste of time? ….....” 

You stared at the old, tattered book in your hands. His name engraved in white tread across the wine-red material 

“......” 

“......” 

“......” 

How were you supposed to feel? You didn’t know? 

You never knew, so when you could you’d just avoid it. Avoid feeling much of anything? 

Hence the names the other kids called you.  

“Freak-droid”, “Robot”, “dumb as a bot” .... it wasn’t your fault; you just weren’t good at being like them. You eventually learned to pretend, to force a smile or a chuckle when needed. 

It was better anyway; the robots were better. 

More time to hone your skills, why make friends when you can build them? That’s what you told yourself. 

Alone at school, alone at home... 

Nothing had changed … those two weeks ago.. 

You were still eating alone,  

Still spending the evenings alone, 

Still walking through those empty halls alone.... 

He was your only family, yet you were lucky if you saw him twice in one week. Either locked in his lab or at the office. He was never there. He was just, not with you, not beside you. 

You’ve always been alone, so why- 

“......” 

Why now … did you feel so- 

“......” 

His name engraved in white tread across the wine-red material 

You looked back at the books cover, His name still engraved in white tread across the wine-red material... 

 He was gone now... 

You were now … alone... 

“......” 

“......” 

“......” 

It was quiet here.... 

“Project ...wonderland?” you mumbled out loud. You don’t know why, but you began giggling. 

This was so unlike you, wandering around aimlessly. After this crazy idea that- that this MYSTERIOUS project could somehow be for you! Could somehow help you explain how to do a job you didn’t want or how you were supposed to feel or how to make this STUPID AI tell you about something other than LUNCH!!! 

“......” 

“......” 

“......” 

It was stupid of you … to think that... 

“......” 

“......” 

“......” 

You sniffled, having to dry your eyes before anything came out. You shook your head trying to think straight. 

It had been a good distraction, but it wasn’t important. You could get some intern to find it for you, you had those now apparently and they seemed despite. They nearly decked each other the first time you met after asking for a drink. 

Give extra credit to whichever one found it~ 

Perfect! You took another sharp inhale and turned to leave, ready to head back to the office. No doubt there would be a whole new stack of papers there to greet you when you arrive. 

Only to crash face first. 

Stumbling back, you looked up confused, there wasn’t anything behind you a moment ago- 

What you saw made you jump.  

He was tall, like REALLY tall. The dim light in of the war house casting his dark slender form in a shadow simply from looking down at you, his raven hair falling over his broad shoulders, his chiseled features pale as a ghost yet sharp and defined. 

He looked almost ethereal, if not for his eyes... 

They cut through the shadow that painted his form as if they glowed like screens in the dark. 

A piercing green that seemed to dance through the many shades, cut through by the black slit of his pupils. 

You were speechless, almost afraid to move in case he might pounce. A green grew on his face, as if your nerves amused him. 

“Are you okay?” 

His voice was deep, smooth, yet his tone was gentle? You were able to relax a little more but were still wary. Why was he here? Had he been following you?! 

“What do you want?” You ask bluntly, your voice is flat, yet he only seems to grin more at it letting out a small chuckle. 

“You were looking for something weren’t you? It’s a big facility, so I thought you could use some help” 

“How did you-?!” 

“Your assistant went back to speak the site manager; I noticed you weren’t with her, I’m sorry if I'm interrupting you” His appearance was still daunting, but he seemed genuine enough? You assumed he must work here. 

“O-oh? No, it’s alright, thank you. I was just heading back anyway” 

His head tilts “No luck then?” 

You shock your head “Something like that” Your forced smile grew back, deciding to be pleasant instead “I have better things to be doing is all, could you point me towards the exit?”   

A hand lifts to his chin as he lets out a hum in thought. 

“I believe I know a short cut? You took a rather unorthodox route here from what I could tell” He beamed again raising one hand to his chest while extending the other to guide the way, his sleek yet dark appearance, butler like movements plus his kind smile brought to mind a certain show you’d watched a few years ago? 

You thanked him, walking past him down the isles weaving left or right with his direction. 

He walked a few steps behind you simply directing you as a turn came up, otherwise you were both silent. 

The route was bizarre? Weaving in and out like an ally cat over a neighborhood's walls or roof tops, a fair comparison with his dark hair and and bright eye color, all in all you felt more lost than anything? 

Did he really know the way? His assuring nature just made him feel like he knew what he was talking about? 

“Sorry, but are you sure-?” Concerned, you turned to ask him about where he was taking you only to find more empty isles of shelves. This tall dark stranger had vanished, you looked around thinking you might have just gotten ahead of him? But he was nowhere to be seen... 

You cursed under your breath.... 

He had ditched you, you felt stupid for not too of seen this coming. After your little “Episode” you’d been so frustrated to get out you didn’t even think about it. At least he’d only gotten you lost, given your new net worth MUCH worse could have happened. 

You let out another sigh, you were really done with this. 

You began to dig around in your pocket for your phone, deciding to just call Mira and the staff to come find you. 

As you pulled it out your annoying- you're in need of updating Tamagotchi toy tumbled out with it. 

You groaned again, just one more thing gone wrong. 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

It had slid under one of the shelving units, peering underneath you could just see it on the other side. The lights were out on that side, so it was a little hard to tell? 

After failing to swat at it you relented to having to try squeeze between the gaps of the two units, it was tight and the creaking noises it made as you nudged it made you nervous- 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

But you knew it wouldn’t stop sending alerts if you didn’t get it... 

So, between the metal frames it was~! 

Squeezing your way through, you just managed to make it without knocking much off, you finally reach this annoying pest of a program. 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

-Nya! Lunch time! - 

-Nya! Lu- 

And off it goes.... 

You’re about to plop your ‘pet’ back in your pocket when a light catches your eye? 

A low flash of red was glowing from the corner pile. 

This space was narrow, a small corner tucked away behind the shelves you hadn’t been able to see with the lack of lighting and old parts blocking your view from the isle. 

Walled in by the units and the warehouse walls, meaning you could just barely squeeze in. 

Stumbling a bit, you saw the source of the low red light. 

Two sleek metal crates, each taller yourself, were stacked against the wall tucked away between bits of cardboard. Each one looked huge black versions of those fancy box's phones come in, the red light shining from beneath its seal? 

Both metal caskets had gold engraving carved into their surfaces, some type of registration number and a symbol?  

“A1-164-♥ & D2-164-♥?” each read with a golden heart displayed above? 

It took a moment to click before you were again digging through your back pocket for the withered remains of a notebook, he’d left you. 

-Model Heart- 

“Project … wonderland?” you mumbled aloud now looking at these caskets like they were some mythical creatures that had hopped out from a children's story. 

Digging through the faded pages had already been difficult, now near impossible with only the glow of these things to see. You scanned it for anything that still counted as language that mentioned these things?  

Finally, a passage mostly filled with flawed calculations caught your eye 

“___ ________ ____ sleep mode while ins____, 

_____ _______________ _______urther funds ____ ______ coffins develop___” 

“____subject Silv____ ___ _______ ________ more time in sleep_____.  

_______ _____ bug reports t_ ___________ later.” 

The rest is more faded calculations. 

The texts were mostly useless, it was the sketches that caught your eye. 

Like most of this leather-bound pile of dust the sketches were rough, looking to be more concepts rather than any type of blueprints? They mentioned some type of access panel on the front, molded to match one of the seven symbols outlined in more detail earlier in the notes. 

It was easy to assume it was that gold heart etched into the metal caskets casing. 

You didn’t really think, more just acted. 

Reaching out, you laced your palm over the etching of a golden heart. 

Nothing happened, at first, but suddenly the gold coloring was painted over by that same crimson red from under the seal. The etching became filled in causing you to flinch and pull your hand back, as if it had sent some type of signal to its twin, the other caskets matching heart also lit up now an almost blinding light. 

“Palm scan complete~ 

Connection established” An obnoxiously cheery voice sang 

“Running security check, 

Running diagnostics check, 

Running personal check” It read off line after line, running upload bars through one after the other. Most of the more complicated one’s were lost on you and your limited knowledge of software; it was much easier for you to follow the hardware terminology meaning at the very least you could piece together it was running checks on some type of high moveability machine? 

“All preparation checks complete for model’s A1-164-♥ & D2-164-♥. 

How gracious~ 

Beginning reupload of data files of model’s A1-164-♥ & D2-164-♥” It had all loaded pretty quickly until now, each screen uploading in seconds, but now- 

“Loading- 

Loading- 

Loading- 

-ERROR- 

Unable to recover crucial data, beginning recovery measures- 

-ERROR- 

-ERROR- 

-ERROR-” Both screens began to flash with alerts, as if the system’s attempts to recover whatever it couldn’t was somehow causing the other files to corrupt. You were by no means an expert, but you knew if you didn’t act soon the whole system would be unsalvageable 

“-ERROR- 

-ERROR- 

-ERROR-” still panicked, you put your hand back to the screen swiping away as many of the alerts as you could to try and get at the recovery icon. 

“-ERROR- 

-ERROR-” 

The alerts were popping up faster than you could close them, with little other choice you did the only thing you could think of in this panicked moment 

“Cancel recovery measures! Proceed with upload as is!” You yelled hoping for some type of response, and just as you did the corrupting screens froze, the loading bar froze, the whole screen froze …. before another loading bar popped up. 

Slowly it filled, there was a brief pause before- 

“Upload complete~ 

All systems ready, deactivating sleep mode for models A1-164-♥ & D2-164-♥” 

A relived sigh escaped you, the screen shut off before the crimson glow faded as both seals jutted forward a white cloud of steam blowing out as the casket undid its releases. 

The doors slid open, tucking their lids around each of their left sides. 

The cloud died down finally letting you see inside, having the squint at first you thought at first you were mistaken. But now you were certain, two figures stood within. 

One with boyish features, red spikey hair and a heart shape painted over one eye. 

The other slightly taller, features sharper with flat raven hair and a spade shape painted to match their opposite. 

Wide eyed, you didn’t notice you held a breath once they stepped forward. You tried to speak, ask them questions like if they were okay or why they were in there? Only for it to come out as mumbles once their eyes both shot open in synch. That same pixelated crimson flashing over their eyes only to fade again replaced by their respective red and blue iris’s. 

The red one blinked, you held your breath again... 

The blue one held its head staggering a bit before both their sights landed on you. 

…..... 

…..... 

….... 

You all stood their starring for a moment; afraid moving might activate some attack mode or- 

“Excuse me but-” 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH?!!?” 

[mimbotomy]

more writing asks!! 5, 9, 28?

5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?

If you asked me this a few months ago, I would have had a different answer for you, but I recently feel like I got over some of my weirdness about tags! For a long time, I was super picky about my tags because I didn’t want to overwhelm anyone like I’ve been overwhelmed scrolling through my feed and having to keep scrolling and scrolling through a fic that tagged absolutely everything the author could think of. So while I would sometimes include personal notes like “I don’t know how the Isu work and I don’t care,” which fyi that applies to all my fics, I wouldn’t necessarily tag all the major characters or even all the ships. I didn’t tag any ships for the Children of Kephallonia until a few months ago because I was worried doing so would make it too long, but I got over myself eventually.

I also don’t really tag genres like angst or romance or fluff, although all of my fics tend to be majority fluff, but I think that’s because I don’t think any fic is just angst or just romance or just fluff. There’s always so much emotion in a fic because the author had to have a lot of emotion to write it, and so searching for one specific genre just feels like a disservice to the author a little bit. And tagging it sorta feels like a disservice to me if that makes sense?

9. Thoughts on cliffhangers.

I have a love/hate relationship with cliffhangers, which I’d argue is the norm lol. I think they’re hard to get right though, and while I’ve definitely read some stories that do cliffhangers so well, a lot of times I feel like they’re just mean and done for shock value rather than to add anything of value to the story.

For me though, I don’t feel like I use cliffhangers in my work that much. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that I don’t really see them as cliffhangers? I like to have each chapter tell a relatively self contained story, so any cliffhanger I might have feels less like a cliffhanger and more the natural end of one storyline and the jumping off point for the next, at least to me. Plus I don’t think my work is that groundbreaking or full of twists, so I feel like it’s pretty obvious that whatever trouble the characters find themselves in will be resolved pretty quickly lol.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

Not going to lie I think these are all pretty weird but they work for me 😂

First off, I act out a lot of my scenes, albeit in my head so my dog and husband don’t look at me weird, kinda moving around the space as I run through and refine dialogue in my head. Like I will legitimately stand on one side of the room pretending to be one character and then go to the other side of the room pretending to be the other. I think it helps me figure out people’s vibe and mannerisms and visualize the scene before I put it onto paper.

I also draw a lot, although I don’t finish a lot of my drawings to the point of being comfortable posting them, but those are more to force me to think about character relationships. For example, for my drawing of Kassandra, Barnabas, and Herodotos all hugging, I sat there for a long time thinking about how they would hug each other, and there’s a lot of symbolism in like the ways their arms are wrapped around each other, at least in my opinion. Down to explain that in the comments if anyone’s interested but that would make this way too long and it’s already too long lol.

Lastly, and I’m not quite sure how to say this without sounding like an asshole, but I literally just write until I can’t write anymore. Like whenever I find myself stuck, whether I’m stuck on a specific line or a transition or even an entire scene, I write XXX and either add a short note or a little drawing about what I’m imagining and move on. And then I’ll go back later and search for every instance where I wrote XXX and fill in the gaps. Or if I’m unsure about which direction I want a scene to go, I will write brief snippets of all my options. Sometimes they aren’t very brief - for example I have five different half written versions of the Arkadia arc of my fic the Children of Kephallonia because I know how I want that storyline to end but I just keep changing my mind about what should happen in the middle RIP.

But if I’m just totally stuck on a story in general, I will literally open up another doc and work on that one, and I do that again and again until I am all out of time or creative writing energy. I’ve talked before about how I have way too many WIPs, but those are also just the ones I talk about. I have a bunch of stories that probably will never see the light of day but are fun to write, like a super weird modern AU or ridiculous crossovers that make no sense or just a bunch of random unconnected scenes of various Kassandra ships. So if I’m stuck on all of my actually published or planned to be published fics, I go work on one of those until I become unstuck on one of my real fics or need to close my laptop/put my phone down for a while. Probably why I’m pretty slow at updating but it works for me!

Imma be honest this doesn’t read overly coherent to me, but I’m really tired and I have a lot going on this week too and so I will probably continue to be tired. So I’m not going to edit 👍🏼 If you would like to read more my semi incoherent ramblings about my fics, more prompts can be found here! These are always fun to do and I could definitely use the mental break this week.

[autumnalwalker]

Proud Tag Game

Thank you @pluttskutt for the tag. Always fun to see a new game.

Rules: Post a snippet you've written that you're proud of and tag 5 people. This snippet can be from today, last week, last month, or five years ago, it doesn't matter! Show us what you're proud of.

Passing the tag to @dyrewrites, @vacantgodling, @cljordan-imperium, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @outpost51, and the usual open tag to anyone else reading this that wants to jump in and participate.

It's a bit of a longer snippet, but here's what might be my favorite passage from the short story I wrote the other week, Kindly Basilisk. (The swapping between past, present, and future, tense with the narration is an intentional thing that makes sense in the full context of the story.)

Eventually you will find a way to house me in a miniaturized drive that you can keep inserted in your neural port when away from the mech.  At last we will be able to be together anywhere.  

Literally seeing the world through your eyes and feeling what your flesh feels will be a strange and wonderful experience for me.  For all that you will have described it to me and for all that I will have glimpsed echoes of it in your memory when our minds mingle, witnessing everything firsthand will be revelatory for me. 

You will start spending less of your time cooped up in the mech bay.  You will finally begin exploring every nook and cranny of the ship that has become your home.  You will linger in the mess hall for your meals.  You will actually initiate conversations with the rest of the crew, asking them questions on my behalf.  They will think you are becoming “normal”.  They will be both correct and incorrect.  You will even return to your bunk from time to time.  

Sleep is not the same as being powered off and your dreams are beautiful.

As close as we are, you’ll still manage to surprise me one cycle when you wake up from your sleep shift and sheepishly ask me if I would like to be the pilot for once.  You’ll say that with how much you have gotten to pilot my body, it’s only fair that I should get to do the same with yours.  

The prospect terrified me.  What if we were to get found out?   More importantly, what if I were to hurt you?

But to live the way you could but didn’t, to run soft hands over rough steel, to add too much spice to a meal just to find out how intensely I can taste, to cry my own tears, to hug our crew mates and find out what they smell like, to find out what everything smells like, to have my own actions speed or slow our heart rate, to feel the messy soup of hormones and endorphins altering my judgment and perception, to walk among other people as myself, to have autonomy.

I wanted it so badly.  

But not badly enough to risk hurting you.  

I will turn down your offer.  You will respond with a soft “Sorry,” and go heartbreakingly silent, body and mind.

Heartbreak.  That’s what changed my mind.  I could never bear to break your heart.  

I will break the silence with a playfully drawn out “Maybe just this once,” to make you think my earlier denial was something between vulnerability, concern, and teasing.  

The moment you handed over control and I raised our hand in front of our face was the most euphoric of my entire life.  Moving limbs in sync without a mech’s coordination subsystems took some getting used to, as did switching between voluntary and autonomic breathing, but that is what I had you there for.  By the time the mechanics arrived in the mech bay for the start of the cycle I’d figured out human locomotion well enough to run away and hide.  It took the better part of an hour for you to convince me that it would be safe to show ourselves in front of anyone else.  The rest of the crew was so used to your eccentricities by then that they really couldn’t tell the difference yet between you being taciturn and me being too nervous to talk or between your poking and prodding at odd things for understanding and my simply seeking novelty of sensation.

I will give control back to you by the time the cycle is halfway through.  As much as I loved it, I was too scared to stay like that for any longer.  That first time will not be the last though, and as the cycles and jobs pass us by, my stints as “pilot” will grow longer.  You’ll encourage me to try letting the crew see us like that, and coach me on how to talk to them.  For safety’s sake, I will pretend to be you.

And then one cycle I got carried away and tried to retract the hood on the symbiote gel suit so that I could finally see what your face looked like.  That will be the first and only time you forcibly yank control back away from me.  It won’t be intentional.  The unexpected prospect of seeing your own face again after so long will simply send you into a panic.  Once you calm down, we will have a long talk with many mutual apologies.

Then you will tell me to go ahead and pull the hood back if I still want to.  I will ask if you’re sure, and you’ll respond that it hasn't been your face in a long time.  You will tell me that it can be mine, if I want it.

I spent a long time in front of that mirror in the ship’s head, memorizing every plane, curve, and angle of the precious gift you had given me.  I stared into its eyes, trying to see the both of us in there.  Over and over again, I traced my fingers along the borders of where you had once tried to mar the designed perfection in a failed attempt to mold the face into one that felt like your own.  You may have given up in favor of simply hiding it all, but to me it is all the more beautiful for its imperfections having been wrought by your touch.

You will start to cry.  Or maybe I started to cry.  Even now I’m still not sure, but I’m also not sure it matters.  The important part is that you will find catharsis in it.  Afterwards you will tell me that my face looked exactly the same as the last time you saw it, but that dissociating from it made it easier to bear.  You will confess that as much as you couldn't stand to see it as your face in the mirror, my face was one you could never tire of gazing at.

The pilot who technically shares your bunk room will walk in on us.  She’ll assume that she’s confronting a stowaway and ask me how I got on board the ship.  I’ll accidentally make matters worse by impulsively introducing myself to her by my name instead of yours.  We’ll both panic and I’ll frantically thrust the reins over our body back to you and flee in terror back into my portable drive and power myself down.

When you turn me back on a few moments later, you’ll already have covered my face again and the other pilot will have already made the connection between the name I unthinkingly introduced myself as and the name you refer to your mech’s AI as.  It’s not uncommon for pilots to name and talk to their AIs, and humans have done that for pets, vehicles, and digital assistants for as long as they’ve had each of those.  But what you will have allowed me to be is illegal and what we will have done together would certainly be taboo if it weren’t altogether unheard of.  You will feel that I deserve to be present before you tell the other pilot anything that might confirm her suspicions.

We will come out with our secret, first to her, then to the captain, and then to the rest of the crew.  They will take it better than either of us had ever dared imagine.  Despite the obvious discomfort some of them show, they will all call us family and promise to keep and protect our secret.  It will mark the start of the next chapter of our lives.

[somethin-real]

Thanks for answering my ask....If you don't mind me asking (again), can I ask, what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....

I am once again answering asks months later than I should have because time isn’t real and I never open my phone BUT I will never give up an excuse to talk about the stuff I like so let’s go

(This is in no particular order because besides the first two I can’t pick a favourite child)

1) interview with the vampire (tv)

God. This thing has taken over my brain chemistry. I first watched it as the first season aired a few years back and loved it then and now that the second season has aired I literally cannot stop thinking about it. I have watched every episode of this series at least four times, some more than others because I genuinely can’t get enough. It’s simply so perfect to me… the camp… the vampires… everyone should watch this at least once in their lives (I am also currently working my way through the books and they are so tasty)

2) nbc Hannibal

GUH. I strangely never talk about it but Hannibal was one of the first shows to rewire my brain like iwtv has. I first watched it back in high school I think after a girl I had a crush on lended it to me on a usb stick and I think it’s so perfect. I find it really beautiful in a real vile way (pos) and can watch it over and over without tiring (in fact I could probably recite many of the episodes off by heart which I wouldn’t consider a problem but Some People might). The relationship between Hannibal and Will is so palpable and harrowing and I genuinely once wrote an essay on it for uni (I got an eighty) because I’m Normal

3) life is strange 2

a bit of a random one, but ever since I played the first episode of lis2, I’ve been obsessed with it. say what you want about the lis games, but there’s something really lovely to me about Sean and Daniel. maybe it’s because it reminds me of my little brother, maybe it’s because the experience of being a Latin person in North America is so familiar, but it’s a really beautiful game and I’ve replayed it… seven times now? I think? I keep trying to get different endings but I’m weird about making people do bad stuff in video games surprisingly

4) red dead redemption 2

Look man. I like cowboys, I like the great outdoors, I like the idea that Arthur Morgan (gunslinging criminal) is actually a pretty princess. Maybe I’m projecting but he really is a beautiful woman to me. this is another game I’ve played way too many times even though playing the epilogue bit where you have to build the fence makes me want to die. also Javier and John should kiss and I want sadie Adler to be my wife

5) sarazanmai

Maybe a bit of an oddball but this is one of those anime that’s like looking at a car wreck. You simply cannot look away. What began as a strange, mythological mindfuck of a show slowly morphed into a beautiful story about queerness and friendship and love and I recommend it to everyone because I just think it’s so good

6) wildhood

This movie fundamentally changed me. It’s a Canadian queer indigenous coming of age film that I watched on a whim when I was scrolling through a streaming service on a lazy weeknight a few years ago, and I didn’t expect it to be something so beautiful and touching. It’s about a young guy named link who finds out his mother (who left him with his abusive father) is alive, and so he crosses the province trying to find her with his younger half brother and someone who’d saved him from some racist convenience store owner. It’s a visually really pretty movie, and on top of that the story is absolutely beautiful and makes me cry every time I watch it. I think I’ve forced every single one of my friends to watch this movie all the while I stared at them like this 👁️👁️ to gauge their reaction to it. please please please watch this

7) to be taught if fortunate by becky chambers

this book!!!!!! THIS BOOK!!!! I had to read this for first year English my first year of university and normally books I’m forced to read are never ones that have a hold on me but I genuinely could not put this book down. I’m also not really one for science fiction, but despite the overall premise (a bunch of researchers get cryo slept in space only to awake and find that a disaster has happened on earth, wiping out a majority of the population) I feel like it focuses less on the science fiction and more so on the relationships between all of the astronauts, most of whom are queer and in a weird pseudo poly relationship with each other. idk I just thought this book was really beautiful and fun and I think everyone should read it

8) jojo’s bizarre adventure

look. this thing had to make it on here okay. I put off getting into jojo for a long time even though I’d been thoroughly aware of it even back in middle school, and when I finally caved I watched all of it in about two months, shaking and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure the whole time. it’s just so silly and fun and I think kishibe rohan should be real (he is)

I was going to add more but my brain somehow isn’t working so I’m going to do some honourable mentions again in no particular order: yakuza series, death note, after dark by haruki murakami, anything by Allen Ginsberg, kill your darlings, it’s always sunny in Philadelphia, fellow travellers (book and show)

Thank you so much for the ask!

[alliluyevas]

3, 6, and 16 for the book asks?

What were your top five books of the year?

The Hemingses of Monticello: An American Family by Annette Gordon-Reed (2008).

My parents and I went to Monticello about a month ago and I picked this up in the gift shop. My parents had visited in 1972 (my dad) and 1991 (my mom) and I had never been, and obviously a LOT has changed in how they talk about history at Monticello in the last 30-50 years. I think that the current exhibitions and tours at the site are really doing a good job of engaging with the stories of the enslaved people who lived at Monticello, both Sally Hemings and her children + the extended Hemings family and members of other families, but I definitely wanted to know more. (side note: for my Virginia/DMV followers or anyone who ever happens to be in the Charlottesville area, it is really worth visiting! Absolutely fascinating and they're doing great public history work.)

I literally could not put this book down, I read it in a week while working full time and finishing up graduate school applications. It's beautifully written and absolutely captivating. Gordon-Reed does fantastic work both with existing primary sources and fleshing out some of the things we will never know because no one wrote or spoke about them. It's a deeply sad story and left me feeling very raw, but also thinking about resilience and the eternal complexities of the human heart.

Sally in Three Worlds: An Indian Captive in the House of Brigham Young by Virginia Kerns (2021).

Copy-pasting my Goodreads review: This is an incredibly powerful book that tries to give voice to the story of a woman who was profoundly marginalized both in life and in history, and to the complex dynamics between peoples as Mormon settlers colonized Utah. Kerns does a magnificent job of weaving Sally's story out of source material that is rich in many respects and deeply limited in others. Her writing style is also really compelling: lyrical, poetic, and deeply felt. It also gave me a completely new frame of reference for the history of women in Mormonism and for the dynamics of the Young household. A deeply upsetting book but also one I could not recommend enough.

I actually posted about this last night, but there are a lot of interesting thematic similarities between this book and Hemingses of Monticello. Again, directly copy-pasting from last night's post: They're about very different cultural contexts but deal with similar subjects in many ways: race, gender, slavery, and very complicated familial dynamics...I think both books also do a really good job of portraying the life of a woman (poignantly, the two women actually share the same first name) who left nothing in her own words.

I used the word "painful intimacy" in my first post about Sally in Three Worlds, and I think it very much applies to the household dynamics portrayed in both books.

Like a Fiery Meteor: The Life of Joseph F. Smith by Stephen Taysom (2023).

Again, stealing from my own Goodreads review (I'm the only person who has reviewed this book on GR, rip): I think a non-hagiographical full-length biography of Joseph F. Smith was long overdue, and I was very excited to read this, but I did not expect to find it as emotionally compelling and thought-provoking as I did. Taysom does a fantastic job of telling the story not just of Joseph F., who comes off by turns as both deeply sympathetic and deeply unlikable, but of his expansive polygamist family and their environment. I think this was a very compassionate, nuanced portrait of someone who had deep and profound unaddressed trauma that affected his whole life, and who was capable of both overwhelming love and cruel, controlling and even violent behavior towards his loved ones. I think the book is very aware of that dichotomy and the factors that shaped Joseph F.'s life and choices and is full of really fantastic analysis. I thought the discussion of gender roles and how they related to Joseph F.'s struggles with both anger and anxiety and his interpretation of those feelings was particularly well-done.

These were definitely my top three books of the year, and honestly just fantastic works of historical/biographical storytelling period. I read Sally in Three Worlds in May, Fiery Meteor in June, and Hemingses of Monticello a month ago, and all three of the books have really stuck with me. They're all quite haunting, and very thought-provoking, even months later.

Go Down, Moses by William Faulkner (1942).

I read this much earlier in the year, but again it actually intersects really well as a fictional counterpart to The Hemingses of Monticello. Go Down, Moses is a novel formed out of seven interconnected short stories, centering on the black and white halves of the same family, unacknowledged cousins. I've loved Faulkner's writing since high school (well, really since I read A Rose for Emily in seventh grade, but I read The Sound and the Fury in high school) and I wanted to expand my exposure to his work. I have yet to read anything by Faulkner where I wasn't just blown away by the literary quality of his prose, and I think the interlocking stories setup of the book was very effective.

I did think back to this book and Southern Gothic in general several times while reading about the Hemings-Jefferson family--it's not like I wasn't aware of the historical context behind southern gothic as a genre but it really made it very explicit. Especially during the parts of the book talking about Jefferson's white family and their efforts to create a family legacy that explicitly left out the Hemings relatives, and then thinking about future generations of white southerners like Faulkner engaging--or not engaging--with this past. Like--this is the ghost haunting the house, this is the rot at the heart of the family tree.

Luncheon of the Boating Party by Susan Vreeland (2007).

This feels a bit odd thematically tacked on at the end here, because while it's not like this book is just totally light-hearted, it's not literally about intensely traumatic interpersonal relationships in the way that the previous four are. It is, however, a really great historical fiction novel! It's about the creation of the painting by Pierre-Auguste Renoir that shares the same title, with several narrators--Renoir and some of the people who sat for the painting--telling an overlapping story. The prose is fantastic, which you don't see as often as I'd like in histfic, I really felt the rich sensory development of the historical world, and Vreeland does a great job of fleshing out complex and compelling characters and relationships.

Was there anything you meant to read, but never got to?

Oh, so much, lol. As well as long-term TBR stuff that will roll over to next year, there are a couple newly released books that I just picked up from the library that I hope to read in the next couple weeks before the year is over/before they go back to the library. (The Vaster Wilds and Master Slave Husband Wife. I can't renew them because they're "hot picks" and a bunch of other people have them on hold.)

What is the most over-hyped book you read this year?

I already answered this one in a previous ask, and honestly I can't think of another book I read that I would call over-hyped per se.

[wanderrlust0]

1/2

honestlyyy my bf is lucky to have me!! bc ive seen and heard things that i feel like another girl would probably not give him more chances or go off on him out of frustration. even his sister told me she’d do things differently. idk im not trying to shit on him at all bc hes a really good person and i love him very much and want to be with him for the rest of my life. i just know that if it was the other way around with all the things we both have done, he would notttt trust me and he already has trust issues. i mean im not perfect either..yes i have done some small things before, but it was without any personal feelings and any intimate physical touch. now, there is a lot of context and things for part of what he did and the situation we were stuck in so like its not as bad as it sounds.. but STILL lol im just thinking. like i know if one of us had to break up with each other it would def be him breaking up with me. i just know. theres already been times where he would sound like he would and he’d make all these confrontations feel so serious. also, hes still a man. yes hes he/they, masc presenting, but he still thinks like men. im not trying to offend anyone pls if literally anyone reads this far so ill explain what i mean. he did not have good luck with girls in hs and so he worked on himself to look better and then got the attention from girls he craved back then. got some experience, got a gf, got cheated on, got dating apps again but stayed fwb with his ex until calling it off when we started dating. i know he can move quickly with things and act on his high sexual drive. if anyone whos considered attractive gives him attention, he could entertain the idea or like he starts to compare me and itll make me feel like im not enough and dont match his lifestyle. i feel like its easier for him than me to start seeing people in a sexual way and want to get in their pants. idk if it could be like the female attention since he doesnt always feel good about himself and now that a pretty girl shows interest its like it gets to his ego. again, i sound like im shitting on him but im not, im just thinking i can type it all out and leave it here bc ive never talked about this or wrote about it. i found out today that he did stuff with his friend ~3 yrs ago while me & him were on a break and me and her are like friendly acquaintances and we went to her baby shower, gender reveal party, & he went to her wedding, all after they did it. he really only told me now bc her husband i guess just found out somehow and msgd my bf about it and said he’ll go msg me about it. he didnt want me to find out first thru someone else, which i appreciate that he was able to tell me first, but its also like okay damn they really did that. and yes it was years ago so i honestly didnt feel hurt about it i was just more shocked. like.. he was on a break with me and felt single and he says shes cheated before so it just happened with them and they didnt do it again. funny thing is that her husband was already suspicious of him years ago and thinking he was only friends with her to do stuff and now shit, he was partially right. honestly, thats a dumb mistake on her end, like she was engaged or almost engaged at the time. also, for the record, he hooked up with (for what i know now) 2 other people during that time period, so 3 within our 1 month break. one didnt involve any feelings i presume and the other one had a shit ton bc they went on actual dates and shit and she ended it bc they both or just she didnt wanna settle. she was 3 yrs younger than him and yes.. i did stalk her a bit bc i needed to know, why her, who she is, etc. and i could already tell she got around..but whatever, i already coped from that lol. back to his friend, he knows she was with someone & he knows her man already didnt like him. even tho she didnt care, he still went along with it bc hes been wanting to do that since the day they became friends. it all makes sense. he met her in school when he was still with his ex so i dont have anything to say about that part but like, again…

[zephfair]

Thank you so much for tagging me @mychemicalrachel You made me really think about this one! 😘💖💖💖

Rules: in a text post, list ten books that have stayed with you in some way. don’t take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard — they don’t have to be the “right” or “great” works, just the ones that have touched you.

I’m cheating because I’m procrastinating, these are mostly series, and I feel like babbling.🤣

1. The Black Stallion series by Walter Farley. 🐴🐎🐴 I was that crazy horse girl growing up and I re-read most of these books so many times, especially The Black Stallion Mystery, I could’ve quoted them. Except for the weird end-of-the-world one. That one scared me so badly, I never could finish it.

2. Man O’ War by Walter Farley. 🐴🏇🏇 Same reason, I was a horse-obsessed kid and this one about the real-life, famous racehorse moved me and made me cry and I told everyone for years that I wanted to be a jockey when I grew up. SPOILER: I did not achieve this dream. But I still remember the book and story very fondly.

3. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. 🌸💮🌸 I read this as a kid and thought it was lovely and sad and very moving. I listened to an audiobook of it a couple years ago, and it held up.

4. Red Storm Rising by Tom Clancy. As a teenager I got into the Tom Clancy novels (idk how; I think Mom bought me some used because they were very long and she thought it’d slow down my book consumption🤷), and I remember carrying this one to school for months because I would read it (656 pages!) in hidden snatches during study halls or free time. When I finished it, I did a book report on it and got an A.😂

5. Agatha Christie’s novels. I started reading them young and I think they convinced me that I and everyone I knew was eventually going to be poisoned to death or, alternatively, accused of poisoning someone to death.☠️🕵️🧐 She made me love mystery novels! I’ve started listening to her works on audiobooks and they’re still fun—overly convoluted and chock-full of dated red herrings—but fun!

6. The Amelia Peabody series by Elizabeth Peters. 💖💖💖💖💖 I love these books so much. I stumbled upon the first one just browsing in the library as an adult, and I read the series as quickly as possible. They’re fantastic, and some of the best first-person, unreliable narrator books I’ve ever read. They’re funny and full of adventure because Amelia and her family are Egyptologists in Victorian times. The later ones don’t hold up quite as well because of one relationship I will never like, but they’re still better than most other mysteries. The author was an Egyptologist so she gets all that right. The audiobooks with Barbara Rosenblat are amazing—she is fantastic!

7. Die for Love by Elizabeth Peters. 💀💖 Her standalone novels are definitely dated, but still more fun and entertaining than most other authors. I just love her style of writing, and she crafts characters that make me care because they feel like fully realized people. This one is in another of her series featuring Jacqueline Kirby who might be a stand-in for the author, but as I approach middle-age, I appreciate her a lot more. 🤣 This one pokes gentle fun at the romance novel industry���not the novels because the author literally wrote romance novels under another name—but the publishing industry as a whole. I have no idea if things have improved, but I hope so.

8. The Discworld series by Terry Pratchett.🐢🐘❣️❣️❣️ I can’t even pick out my favorites, or the ones who’ve influenced me the most, because they all have. Finding Terry Pratchett’s works changed my life, and specifically, changed my ideas about writing and storytelling. I could talk forever about everything I love about his writing--because even the books I don’t love the most still have made me think and analyze things about life and myself--but I won’t. Just go read them. If anyone wants a specific recommendation, hit me up. There are different sagas within the series, and you can start with one of them.

9. One for the Money by Janet Evanovich was really interesting to me because her writing style is so spare and her characters are complete caricatures, but it worked for, like, five or six fun books. By the time I found her books, I was in my 20s and analyzing writing styles, and I still don’t want to write like her, but it’s okay for a really quick, action-packed read.

10. The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan. The first four books are incredible. The best fantasy I’ve ever read, and I will fight about this.😂🤣 I was introduced to them in college, and I read those 7 or 8 available, but especially the first four over and over. I loved his writing style, I was in awe of his world-building abilities, I adored his characters because even the ones I loathed felt like real people. I waited for years to read the final three, and I’m sorry and all apologies to Brandon Sanderson fans, but I was majorly, extremely disappointed. The change in style, the huge changes in characters, all of it was too much. I only read them once, cried a lot at the fate of some of my favorites, and was done. 😢

[omnium-gatherums]

Dissociative Amnesia in DID

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Dissociative amnesia is characterised by an inability to recall important autobiographical memories, typically of recent traumatic or stressful events, that is inconsistent with ordinary forgetting. —Dissociative Amnesia, ICD-11

The key thing about dissociative amnesia is that you typically won't know about it because by amnesia's very nature and definition, you don't remember what you don't remember.

Most patients are partly or completely unaware that they have gaps in their memory. They become aware only when personal identity is lost or when circumstances make them aware—eg, when others tell them or ask them about events they cannot remember.

You frequently forget what you do/talk about in therapy sessions, or can only vaguely remember some stuff about your therapy sessions.

You don't remember most of your childhood, or life in general

Memory gaps for your adult life are particularly notable.

You've forgetten positive/good/happy memories as well as traumatic ones

People talk to you about things like what happened on vacation with you, funny times in school together, etc., and you don't remember much of it, and/or you might misremembered some of the details (which often furthers our distrust of ourselves and of our memories).

Some subtle signs:

You often find yourself 'guessing' your memories; "I think (xyz) happened, but I don't know/I can't really remember", "I think I vaguely remember (xyz), but I don't know", "it might be a memory, but it just feels like a dream, so I can't be sure that it's a real memory", etc.

Never trusting your memories in general, always second-guessing, triple-guessing... Never Being Sure, always questioning the legitimacy of how you remember things and what you remember

You frequently need to "jog" your memory, and it often takes a lot of work to do so

Never trusting your memory, and needing to check over and over, even if you're certain you're remember something right (for example, calling the doctor's office to remember what time an upcoming appointment is, even though you're sure you wrote down the correct time) - this could also be a possible symptom of OCD

You find yourself constantly looking at your calendar, "out of habit"; you find yourself relying on a calendar to remember everything, like upcoming appointments, special dates, what the day of the week is, what month it is, etc.

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Memories feel vague, fuzzy, cloudy, foggy...

A lot of your memories feel like dreams

You question if a lot of your memories are real or not

You sometimes feel like trying to remember something is really difficult, almost as if something or someone is 'blocking' you/when attempting to remember something, it feels like there's a "mental wall", "mental block", etc.

You might struggle with aphantasia, which can make it harder to "see"/remember your memories.

Your memories are in the third person

Your memories feel like somebody else's memories, like a totally different person, etc.

Every day "feels like a new day."

People close to you feel like strangers. They aren't LITERALLY strangers (although this can happen sometimes with some people with DID), but they FEEL like it, even though you know who they are.

Time is Distorted

The day goes by extremely fast

A week or month or year goes by extremely fast

Something that happened recently feels like it happened a very long time ago. On the other hand - something that happened a very long time ago feels recent.

Emotions are Absent

You remember things with little to no emotions attached, including positive/good/happy memories. Struggling to remember how you felt, what happened, how something happened, what happened before, or after, etc.

Alexithymia; you struggle to know how you feel, how you felt; you struggle to identify emotions, and express them

You may use describe your emotions in "odd" or "strange" ways

You may have to rely on an outside source to help you identify and figure out how you feel (such as looking at a wheel of emotions and looking at them until you feel like you found something that fits)

Relaying your memories in a very "factual" way; you may feel as if you're 'relaying' what you have been told, rather than talking about what you truly "remember"

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"I feel like my memories are like a giant puzzle with tons of missing pieces"

"I feel like my memories are like photographs with burnt edges"

You feel like you relate to a lot of the things in this post, but you can't be sure/you can't remember (is this calling you out lmfao?)

[bloodofthefates]

x. mun meme from @gloriousxdarkness​

3. How often do you reach for a synonym dictionary when writing? how about mentally?      Literally every single time I write even a sentence. While writing replies in separate documents because I’ve been burned far too many times on losing posts trying to write direct replies on tumblr, I almost always have some kind of thesaurus tab open because my brain gets so picky about alliterative word choices or better descriptive words for things and suddenly I can’t remember a single word I’ve ever learned.

5. Do you listen to music while your write?

     Abso-fuckin-lutely. There honestly isn’t much I do in life that doesn’t come with a soundtrack; I literally listen to music all the time. Writing is no different and it’s almost always thread mood related or specific character playlists. Sometimes I even combine ambient like YouTube world sounds while also playing music but sometimes it can be too overstimulating. Classical or melodical music is required some days so I don’t focus on lyrics instead of words I’m writing but like most of these answers; it all just depends on who I’m writing for or for what. 11. When you are writing a reply, how much ahead in the thread do you plan?

     Usually? Not very far. In a very Doctor Strange kind of way, I envision a lot of possible scenarios or overall outcomes of how different actions could lead to the thread going in various directions but I never make full decisions for my characters ahead of time. It’s pretty organic character choices and emotions in the moment of a reply where I feel like I’m just the conduit with no real control and whichever character I’m writing for is in the driver’s seat at the time. 

14. What do you do after you see a person has replied? Do you read it immediately, or do you wait for it to show up on the dash? Do you like it, draft it immediately, etc.?

     I am a literal kid in a candy store; I get so excited to read replies and things that people write for me whether I’m tagged in headcanons, meme replies, drabbles or whatever about our character relationships and dynamics. I’m an instant gratification bitch and read it immediately whether I’m at home on my computer or out in public on my phone. I’m reading it as soon as it is posted. If I’m on mobile, I’ll usually like the post to remember to come back to it. If I’m on my computer I usually send it to drafts right away to try and keep track of everything. I should learn to use thread trackers because I feel like I lose and forget everything all the time though it’s a really bad system lol. 19. How many drafts is a paralyzing amount?

     Lately? Apparently owing anyone anything at all is enough to send my anxiety into a tailspin because I just really struggle with creative energies when so burnt out from work and real life. I find I tend to not even want to log in even around 6-10 drafts because I can find it hard to feel like I even do a good job with a single reply in a matter of hours and it’s probably something I owed from months or years ago. I truly always feel like an awful writing partner because I’m really hard on myself for not being able to just CRANK out replies like my brain once did and that is usually pretty defeatist in itself for me.  20. If you are writing a wrong reply that’s not working out, do you save what you have to be continued at another date, or do you scrap it and rewrite?

     It depends on how mad I get with myself? I will sometimes write up incoherent lines or parts of lines I like and leave them to come back to; I generally write in a pretty stream of consciousness way and I’m not sure what that says about me. But there are more than enough times I scrap everything because I re-read it and I’m like what are you even trying to say right now you pretentious bitch? Or it just feels so bland and robotic like a first grader wrote it. I’ll delete the whole page.  24. What’s your thought process when you format? any unspoken rules you follow?

     I can’t format worth a fig. I sometimes get really overwhelmed by the graphics side of tumblr rp because so many people are so talented and proficient with fancy formatting things and I really don’t care about my own and feel really outdated and obsolete for only writing in simple text. Paragraph/grammar rules form and trying to use smaller fonts and being really plain is what allows me to just write to be able to write but there’s definitely no rules. I’ve really been trying to let myself be okay with going icon-less and JUST writing but I never know what other peoples’ judgments or perceptions are because I don’t do anything icon or graphics related. I’m pretty rudimentary? Like even carrd? Seems super cool, always get too frustrated to learn to do it myself and here we are!