#I’ll do wip Thursday this week. sorry not ready for today sorry.

[compacflt]

HEY NOW YOU BETTER POST SOMETHING SWEET AND HAPPY NOW CAUSE THAT PROMPT HAS ME ON THE LEDGE

you come into my blog… on the day my daughter is to be married… and you ask me for icemav angst… and you expect me not to deliver….

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Devout Worshipper: Dark! Peter Parker x Professor!Reader

A/N: So this girl here tried something else. I’ve been wanting to upload since long but this got delayed a lot and now I have several WIPs but finished this first. Sorry not proofread. I’m still discovering my writing style and my forte and thank you for staying and witnessing my experiments! Wear safety goggles please.

Summary: The best of all the educators yet, both smart and stunning, became Peter’s mentor in university. Peter grew too much of a liking for her, from a clingy scholar to her devout worshipper.

WARNING: STORY AHEAD HAS NON-CON, KIDNAPPING, POSSIBLE DRUGGING, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOUR, OBSESSION. DNI IF TRIGGERED.

You sat on the teacher’s desk, going through the latest thesis published by Dr. Banner last week. He had given you one of the several copies and asked you to go through it and your judgement on it. The classroom was slowly filling in as the scholars stacked in, their buzzes growing loud with each passing trice.

You were on the last paragraph of your current page when a slight thump made you break out of your stupor, you tilted your head up to find a brawny youngster leaning in front of you, with his hand planted beside your ass on the ebony desk. He had blonde locks with grey eyes and was definitely a sports’ team captain, basketball you believed, who had his own posse of wannabes behind him.

You kept the paper down in your lap and met his eyes again with an inquiring look. “Yes?”

“You seem new. Me and my guys will save you a seat at the back, so come there when your little reading session is over, babe.” He said smugly, his eyes brimming with mischievousness as they dipped to your cleavage not-so-subtly and stood there gawking while he awaited your response.

You paused to see the whole class had gone quiet watching your encounter with the jock. You gave him a sickly-sweet smile as you nodded shyly for show and he tapped your knee with his other hand before leaving. As soon as his back faced you, you rolled your eyes so hard at his antics you heard the first-benchers gasp. You could still hear him talking to his ‘friends’, “I love myself a badass girl like her.”

You returned to your thesis but before you could finish the last few sentences, the bell rung and you had to stop. Thanks blondie.

You got down from the desk, jumping on your black heels as you made your way over to the door, closing it as lock clicked into place.

The entire class was watching you with quizzical glances as you stood in front of your desk this time and wrung your hands together, “Good morning class and congratulation on making it to your second year in college, I will be your mentor and also your lecturer for biology for this semester and for those who pass, also their next one.” The entire class’ jaw slackened and you giggled lightly as waited for them to digest the news, and then told them your name.

“I know a lot of you see science itself as a chore but since you’ve already taken it, I suggest you try to pay attention as you will have to study it anyways. However, because I can relate to your struggles, I will try my best to be a companion or advisor, whichever way you prefer it, and help you get through the class with flying colours hopefully. So, ask me anything, no matter how stupid or absurd you believe your doubt or query is. I’ll answer as many times as you ask and trust me when I say that I am a woman of my word. You have any questions for the semester?” You finished with a bright smile on your face as you saw the students in the front relax slightly. At least you had their approval.

“Ma’am” The blonde kid started without raising his hand, stressing the word unnecessarily as he and his horde sniggered at some stupid inside joke, and continued, “Can I have your number?”

Some of the students gulped while the others leaned forward interested in your response. That kid thought he could fluster you by putting you in a weird spot. He smirked arrogantly, leaning back in his chair as you raised your eyebrows.

“That, Mr.?” You paused as you lingered for his answer, which came almost immediately.

“Flash Thompson, but you can call me whatever you want baby.”

His friends hooted at his pickup line, some praising his smoothness while some high-fived him.

“That, Mr. Thompson, is an excellent example of the stupid questions I mentioned formerly. Thank you for helping me make it clearer to the rest of the class, an extra point for you in the first grading assignment.”

His face fell as his jaw ticked and you turned to face the rest of the class again, “Though I suppose I will give you my number but for emergency purposes only, you can contact me on my e-mail though which I will be using most frequently. You are supposed to mail me majority of your papers this semester and the grading pattern is expected to change this time around but I will inform you of that when the time for the first assignment comes around. Any other questions, and if possible, a bit wiser ones?”

Peter knew he liked you that day. You were attractive and stunning, yes, that too in the natural way, without make-up and tight clothes. But of course, there was more to you than that, you were smart and witty, hence a young lecturer in this esteemed college and you being a science enthusiast as well was like chocolate chips on top of a well baked dessert. You were spirited and jaunty and your sardonic and sassy replies were never degrading or humiliating. The five-year difference between you and the class made you their elder sibling rather than professor.

The first benchers worshipped your intellect while the last benchers adored your sarcasm. Everyone could see how you gave your all to teach, every trick for learning, showing real skeletons and organs in formalin, easily becoming the favourite mentor ever. You could easily be labelled as the university’s crush of the year.

But Peter soon began to despise that. The perverted comments by the students and jealous, snarky remarks by the plastics irked him. He was enraged by the geeks admiring you but baffled all the more by the strange palette of emotions he had never suffered before.

The sheer envy he was sinking in had never even surfaced while he dated Liz or MJ. For him you were a Goddess, tons divine than his exes or any other female for that matter, who should be properly worshipped and treasured.

He knew these sentiments weren’t right, but in this twisted world where he had combatted with unnatural beings and seen unimaginable horrors, he began to believe morality is just fiction used by the herd of inferior men to hold back the few superior men.

It was the last day before spring break and no matter how much your pupils loved you, it wasn’t enough for them to not get distracted and murmur around. Only half of your entire class’s strength came and that half somehow managed to create more ruckus than usual. Even you were minutes late, not in the mood to teach this aloof and uninterested batch of youngsters.

You sat on the table and crossed your legs, which was somewhat your habit that you weren’t really proud of but continued to indulge in nonetheless, and cleared your throat times to catch the attention of the unmindfully fantasizing students.

The baritone of the males and shrieky pitches of the females made you clutch your head. You were sure going to end with disprin at the end of day. You clapped loudly and effectively so, gathered the class’s attention, but by the roll of their eyes and glares on their faces, you deduced they weren’t happy. Who would have thought?

“Okay, before you all slaughter me to the netherworld with your lethal gazes, let me make it clear that no teaching will commence today.” The class hollered appreciatively and whistled, while you paused to let them do so. Teaching on the last day before a vacation was like speaking to yourself only but with the consequence of your name being added to several hitlists.

“I’ll distribute the graded assignments submitted last Thursday and then, since I’m required to clock thirty minutes of educating at the bare minimum, we can play something, maybe you have some talents to show, principles to mock or some gossip to attend to.” The college kids laughed at your poor joke, perhaps too thrilled for their break that nothing could make their mood sour. “We’ll see accordingly, but first, raise your hand when I say your name, I want to learn at least the names of the students who bothered to come to uni on the concluding day.”

You distributed the papers back, making sure to associate each name with a face and the students took them stuffing it straight inside, not bothering to check their scoring and possibly wreck their mood.

“Peter Parker?” A hand raised in the second last row shyly, a flustered boy with glasses on his nose and a hoodie covering his head. He barely made eye contact and you smiled at his nervy, edgy form hoping to ease him a bit. Your heels sounded heavy against the few stairs as you made your way to the back, the class buzzing with laughs as students barely paid you any heed.

The draught of epinephrine Peter felt was unlike anything he had ever felt before, nothing like the anxiety on the battlefield or the excessive sweating while impressing Mr. Stark. The apprehension he felt was decuple that.

It’s not like he had never talked to you afore, he constantly asked clever doubts, which he knew the answer to already, of course, to make an impression on you, but that was with a two feet and 7.5 inches of teacher’s desk in between. Yes, he measured. He had even made sure a couple times, let’s be honest, more than several times that his Goddess had arrived her fascinating abode safely.

But this time, they’d be hardly half a foot apart and the anticipation was tearing him apart. He did want her close, in all ways possible, but was he ready enough to not make a fool of himself? All his previous conversations were thought out meticulously and beforehand but was ready for a spontaneous interaction?

“Good job, Smart Cookie.” You mused at Peter with a wink and dropped the paper on his desk as he looked at you with those innocent, doe-eyes of his, his cheeks and nose a tad bit rouge.

Peter’s hearing ability got lost as the sound of his heart pumping blood filled his tympanum. He could only watch you retreat back to the front of the class, your hips swaying invitingly in that damned black pencil skirt as you called another person’s name.

Smart Cookie was his favourite nickname now.

It was pretty late when you left the university premises, finishing up all you had to and even preparing for your first week of teaching after vacation because you knew how procrastinating errands went.

You couldn’t almost believe how you were on the adult end of things, making sure and guiding other people. With the job, came a lot of obligations that you had to fulfil and being responsible was hard, really demanding. You suddenly had a lot of reverence for all the teachers in your life, from kindergarten to your degrees.

You were on a sabbatical from research temporarily, signing a teaching contract for three years minimum and you were satisfies with the refreshment. Interacting young, curious minds was almost like a recreational activity you indulged in free time and the various angles they approached science at even taught you something. The scholars found it in themselves to even question well-established biology.

Slightly humming, you made a mental checklist of what all was left to do for your solo, self-discovering trip the next week. All that you should pack, clothes according to the weather in the hills and enough emergency eatables. Maybe you could revisit the work-in-progress papers of yours or maybe it would be a leisure excursion only.

Only you never made it to your flight.

 The pounding of your head made a thrumming noise in your head, increasing its tempo and volume with each passing instant. Your eyelids felt heavy and opening them felt like a chore, which even more difficult considering the light that flooded your vision with every bit they opened. Your senses felt overwhelmed being burdened and strained with their everyday tasks after what you assumed to be at least hours of inactivity.

The sudden spike of pain shooting in your head made you jerk your hand to clutch your throbbing forehead, only to fail and find your hands bounded to something. They weren’t cuffed or shackled, nothing dug in your wrist either. Maybe a rope but the texture wasn’t rough enough. After what felt like minutes, you opened your eyes and sat up, as straight as your confined self could, and looked around.

The room was shades of grey and blue, a giant bed was where you were sitting. The giant ceiling to floor windows beside you, cast enough moonlight in the bedroom for you to see the entire bedroom. The view outside was so picturesque, that you had been gawking were you not afraid of your surroundings. You could discern you were high up, with how small the vehicles looked and another wave terror ran through you.

A white desk with a blue chair had a laptop atop it, also sitting beside several books. You would have noticed them being your subject and recommendation but you were scanning your brain as to how you landed here. With your vision now clearer, you saw your restraints to be like silk but no matter how hard you pulled, they didn’t snap.

You were full on panicking and staring wide eyed when the laptop entered your vision again. There was no other electronic except it and you calmed yourself to think rationally. Deep breaths, in and out. Your best bet right now was to hope that the laptop was connected to someone’s wifi.

You slid off the edge of the bed and tried to cut the weird silk ropes with bedside table’s corner. It took some time but you succeeded, your hands freed from the poster of the bed as you made your way towards the laptop, after checking the locked door of course.

Another wave of panic ran through you when the laptop wasn’t connected to anything and all available connections were password protected. You noticed the laptop to be brand new, and of a very expensive company that was out of your budget. You also noticed the OS was very different, not the usual Windows you ran. Your AI Cortana in this overpriced gadget, was named Karen.

You still refused to wait for your captor to show up and snooped to find something on the laptop, anything. There was no profile of the owner but you did manage to find at least three GB of videos and images.

Your hands froze and eyes widened when you saw the security footage of your building’s outside, the little bakery’s neon sign confirming the location. The videos were the same, of you entering and exiting every day, just the dates on the videos varied.

Another folder had clips with the same dates, but they were in the lobby of your apartment, your potted plants outside your door the affirmation again. It showed you getting milks and newspaper every morning, ordering take out several days and placing the garbage bags outside.

The earliest date in each folder was after your first month of moving here, second week of teaching probably.

When you opened the third folder, as the video started your hands covered your mouth as you tried your best to hold back the sob and making a noise. The screen showed two camera screens, both inside your apartment. The first showed the living room clearly and your kitchen and you concluded it to be behind some article on the bookshelf.

The other screen showed your bedroom.

You could still see the floral bedsheet with the white quilt atop it. Your red suitcase that you took out from the storage for your trip this morning, resting beside the wall. Your lamp switched on from when you mayhap left it on, already late for the last day of work. As the time hit 12 AM at the bottom of the screen, the video ended and played again. There were even more folders and you wondered how far would the surveillance go, till your bathroom?

Your abductor had live footage of your house being sent to his laptop and that scared you shitless. This was not a random crime, that ransom could end. You were here for something, some sick purpose you didn’t even know. Was this a hate crime? Would you even make it-

“I really wish you hadn’t looked there.”

The deep, familiar voice amplified your fear and you turned your head slowly, almost comically to look at him. Another gasp escaped your lips as you found warm eyes of your student and brows furrowed in confusion and fear when you saw the deranged lust in his eyes. Was this some sick prank?

“What am I doing here and what is this?” You gestured to the screen playing footages of the inside of your house. Seeing someone familiar and the probability of this being a prank should have calmed you somewhat but the revolting trick and the strange darkness in the boy’s eyes made you even more wary.

As he took a step closer, you hastily climbed out of the chair and backed away, nearing the bed again as he locked the door and closed in on you. He made a move to snatch you and you jumped to the other side of the bed barely missing him by an inch. You reached for the door hoping to find it unlocked but it didn’t even budge.

You pulled even harder while being painfully aware of how that kid from your class just sat on the bed and observed, having the utmost confidence in the door. Your frenzied state got a jump-scare when a female voice broke the silence, “Authorization to access locked doors is granted to Mr. Parker only, please refrain from damaging the property, Mam.”

So some tech-boy with a rich background is set on you?

“Please sit on the bed and I’ll explain, please.”

His doe eyes would have fooled you were you not extremely aware of your environment due to the adrenaline coursing through your arteries. He was an exceptionally good actor, you had to give him that. You prided yourself to be an excellent judge of character and here this guy had deceived you for three months.

The AI called him Parker, what was his name again?

Patrick? Peyton? Peter? Yes, Peter Parker.

“Peter?” You softly called out and his eyes widened as a blush crept up to his cheeks as he relished the fact that you remembered his name. You sighed internally, praying that this was a case of a harmless crush gone wrong and he was just innocently hopeful. The image of his dark, lust covered eyes crossed your mind to make an argument but you pushed it aside to calm your nerves and stay as relaxed as you possibly could with all that was happening.

“I know that this is all a big misunderstanding but you are really scaring me here. Can you please at least let me out of this room to somewhere open?” You looked at him, hoping to talk him down and get out. You didn’t think he would hurt you but you weren’t willing to take any chances with this maniacal youngster either.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that, you’ll run.”

Of course, you’ll run, who wouldn’t?

“Peter, boy, listen to me-”

“No, you listen to me! I admit the situation isn’t ideal and you’re probably terrified because of your meddling but this is all for you! I’m here to protect you! The world out there isn’t safe and your heavenly self needs to be resuscitated.”

“Peter, you’re not making any sense. I’m an adult, older than you and you need to understand boundaries-”

“I’ve seen the way of the world, trust me, in fact, far more than you have! Did you know that raping and murdering women on Asgard is considered a common crime? How Hydra is kidnapping young, bright women to exploit them for breeding projects? How the Red Skull resurfaced and his ideals now include eradicating women from Earth as well?”

“Pete-”

“No, you don’t know! You are just blissfully unaware of this world, so oblivious you don’t even how know the perverted and debauched comments your own class makes?”

His outburst frightened you as you felt yourself losing control of the situation, maybe you never were in control. But now the unleashed fury on Peter’s face told you that had triggered an irrevocable topic.

“Calm down, it’s alright.” You said quietly, hoping to ease him again but his steps towards made you back up yourself to the other side of the bed.

“You, You are still scared of me, aren’t you? You still don’t understand, do you? I’ll show you, show you how much I worship you, the true extent of my devotion.” Every ludicrous declaration of his bit away your hope of getting out.

As he approached you again from the foot of the bed, you jumped across the bed again, hoping to reprise your stunt from before. However, your jumping halted midway as something glued your right wrist to the headboard and you jerked due to inertia of movement. As your eyes looked to your hand, the same silky rope met your vision.

You did not have the time or the wits to ponder over the fluid, about how your abductor shot it or how it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard you pulled. A hand on your ankle prompted you to try one last time as you screamed as loud as you could, for as long as your lungs allowed.

“It won’t work, Mr. Stark got me a soundproofed apartment. Pretty cool, right?”

A sob wracked through your entire frame as the tears descended, the frustration and hopelessness and dread, all attacking you at once. Your legs kicked and flexed and when your left fist swung, he restrained all your limbs after dodging, of course.

“I just want to love you, is it too much too ask?” He asked in a quiet whisper, his hands undressing you cloth by cloth; first unzipping the side of your pencil skirt and unwrapping it, then unbuttoning your blouse. When he brought out a pocket knife, your eyes instinctively closed, a ��Please don’t hurt me” falling from your lips.

“Never.” He replied with absolute assurance.

The blade cut through your blouse first, leaving you in your garments while Peter sat back on his knees to admire you. You’ve been flattered with the adoration in his eyes had you not gone through the mayhem that you had.

His hand caressed your curves, feeling the soft skin underneath as he took his time admiring you, committing each feature to memory while your tears poured, your eyes never leaving the knife he held.

The blade invaded your privacy once again as it took away your last pieces of defense, leaving you utterly nude and your cries wreaked havoc in the otherwise quiet room. Your eyes found Peter face and you noticed his eyes twinkling in admiration trailing up and down your body several times. His disciple complex was scaring you, you almost bordered considering his Goddess belief.

“So stunning.” He whispered as he came down to kiss you, his lips meeting yours in this bruising embrace of both your mouths and as he began to undress himself simultaneously, his dramatics became the least of your concerns. The thought of the inevitable future made home in your mind and gave you one last bout of courage to try and fight.

The restraints on your limbs didn’t even budge and every fleck of hope deserted your body when you saw the chiseled abs on his scarred torso, his biceps bulging and silently warning you into staying put. He made quick work of his remaining outfit and his hard, angry member was bigger than you had anticipated.

You had not expected a stereotypical nerd to be packing, with muscles and brawns, hardly to even expect him to be the largest among the ones you had ever experienced.

“Please don’t.” You mumbled, defeated, knowing he would not listen. You closed your eyes expecting the intrusion to get it over with. You were caught off handed when you felt him shift and devour into your pussy. He feasted like a man famished, his tongue leaving no area unlapped. The sparks in your abdomen made you queasy and giddy at the same time, you could barely open your eyes due to the intensity of his actions and when he added two of his shockingly calloused fingers, you let go of the coil in mere seconds.

Your limbs sat limp while your vision whitened, your mind foggy and hazy, deprived of all sensibility. When his thick thighs rested on top of yours, your gaze ascended to meet his already staring pupils, the warm, honey brown orbs now a black abyss. You couldn’t even protest in your blissful state as lined himself and entered your cavern, which was lubricated enough courtesy of him.

The stretch burned but as he rocked himself and thrusted with a rhythm, the pleasure started building from scratch. Each push was sturdier than the last and every spot he hit managed to make your breath hitch. Your hands and legs freed as the fluid perhaps melted but the last of your energy was being used by you to stay conscious. When he descended to kiss you once again and trailed kisses to your collarbone, your hands held onto him for support, his biceps providing anchor to you, made of pure muscle.

His teeth bruised your skin as he lightly bit your neck, reaching his end and releasing his load. The warmth that filled you made you let go, his orgasm encouraging another one from you.

Your eyes drooped, your body filled with exhaustion due to all the struggling as you curled in to your side and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to forget your abductor and the forceful, mind shattering ecstasy you felt. Your refused to think about the guilt and the uncertainty of your impending doom in the hands of this maniacal student of yours. You just wished for sleep, for some peace alone.

The wish of yours was not granted when you felt Peter slide behind you, his hand wrapping around your middle as if you were lover. You still gave into slumber, but not before feeling him peck your shoulder with a promise.

“This devotee of yours will worship you forever and always, Goddess.”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey steph! how long would you say you spent on sorting out fic recs and tagging them and all that stuff? just curious because i really wanna start a fic rec blog too

Hey Nonny!

UGGGHHHH Tumblr deleted my entire response, so I’m going to just jot out what I remember.

Depending upon how long you’re willing to spend, a LONG time. You guys have NO idea how much work it is, and how much off-tumblr time I spend doing it. When I keep saying “it’s a full time job” it really is. The blogging you guys actually see takes about 2 hours, from filing my blog to answering a few asks here and there, but the rest is ALL filing my fics and creating lists. 

Now, mine is “perfected to my liking” after two years of trial and error and headaches, but yeah, if you’re serious about becoming strictly a fic rec blog, prepare to put in a lot of time and effort. BUT to be fair, I’m ridiculous in my sorting and organizing... I have a weird OCD thing where I need stuff sorted in a certain way, and it takes longer than it probably should. But it works for me and it has become very streamlined now that almost all of my Ao3 bookmarks are finally sorted. In the beginning, when I decided I would start reccing fics, it was only meant to be a here and there thing, but then people kept coming to me more and more and that’s when I decided I needed to keep an offline list. So here’s some tips from me to you:

Keep offline lists. Tumblr fucks up enough that you WILL lose interest in redoing a big 50-fic list if tumblr decides that nope, today I don’t feel like posting your file because you didn’t refresh your page BEFORE typing it out.

Going along with the above, keep an offline masterlist of your read-and-tagged fics. All the recs I give you guys? They’re all on one of three list masterlists I have offline: GO Recs, FFNet Recs, and Ao3 Recs. This will be SO much easier for searching for topics when making new lists.

Do the lists WAY ahead of time. This has given me back many-a-Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights because I prep my lists ahead of time.

Develop the “public” system of filing for your things, and use that for your Masterlist, so you don’t have to redo it every time (so like don’t have just Ficname by author if that’s not what you want to do for your recs). For example, my system is this, emphasis included: Fic Name by Author (Rating, wordcount, Chapter count || WIP/AU if applicable || PODFIC LINK if applicable || list of personal and/or author tags here, even if they spoil the story; i’ve found some people with triggers appreciate that I tag EVERYTHING I find in the stories) – Author’s description or personal description if there isn’t one. Series link if it’s part of one. This way, all I have to do is copy-paste it into new documents for each list, and then copy-paste the whole list into the Tumblr doc. 

Also, re: the above, do the layout in Tumblr if you’re doing a Tumblr rec blog. It keeps the formatting consistent and I don’t have to fix it between Ao3 and FFnet if I just copy-paste everything into a blank Tumblr doc, and then copy paste THAT onto the masterlist. Trust me on this one. 

Draft everything. This goes along with all the above. I always “start” a list and put a big header so that I can find it in my drafts (that’s why they have the big bold H1 headers on them) and then hit “draft”. Then keep a list of your drafted fics in your preferred method of organization. I keep everything in Text Edit RTF files. I believe Alexx told me once she did spreadsheets. Either way, develop a system BEFORE jumping into this thing, because you will EASILY get overwhelmed if you aren’t used to high-stress levels.

Tag fics as you read them. Trust me on this one. Because it will save you MONTHS of re-reading every single bookmark so you can properly file fics. I do this on my Notes App with the story title, and then all the tags I know are popular requests or are for lists I know Nonnies have asked for.

Keep CONSISTENT in your tags. Don’t tag one thing O!verse but another Omegaverse. I had to redo a lot of my older tags because CMD+F was pointless on a document I purposely made to streamline the process.

USE Ao3′s TAGGING FEATURE for your bookmarks. Just make sure that if any of your tags are spoilerific, make sure you keep the rec private.

File EVERYTHING as soon as you bookmark it. It will save you a LOT of hours of going through all your recent bookmarks to file them. 

That said, HAVE A FILING SYSTEM if you’re keeping everything offline. Keep separate documents for each list... Trust me on this. I used to just have one document each for Fluff fics, for example, and put subheaders in them, and it just got messy and annoying as my fic reccing became more common and plentiful. Instead, have a nice list like this, for instance:

The grey dots next to some of them are old filing methods that I need to fix and pull out. Also, as you can see, every time I finish a list, I file it into Posted and start a new list appended with a Pt number. It just keeps the system moving smoothly. I also have a system for the coloured dots; Grey is Old and refile, Orange is drafted on Tumblr, and Orange and Green means it’s drafted and ready-to-post.

I also have an offline “drafted posts document”:

That also has a system as you can see, but it keeps me knowing what I’ve already got drafted on Tumblr if I forget to tag the files with the colour dots.

It looks tedious and complicated, but I promise you, it’s really simple once you’re familiar with my method. Which is why I’m saying, you need to develop this kind of system REALLY early rather than 2 years later like I did. This drafted posts list is only recent as of... February I believe is when I started it.

Hmmm. Ah, yeah, so you can see it’s a lot of work, and this is why I absolutely dislike HateAnons negatively criticizing my lists, because it IS a lot of MY free time, between 8 and 48 hours a week. But if you truly enjoy sorting and organizing like I do, it’s a bit easier to cope with. So, yeah, whenever I tell you guys “I need some time away” this is why, and usually I switch to playing video games or doing art, both of which I miss doing on the weekends. I’m trying to keep the Tumblr stuff to mostly Weeknights these days, so that it’s an extension of my day job. Funny how I have less free time working at home than I did when I wasn’t; because I feel obligated to always be on my computer now, and I hate that. Like right now, I just bought 2 new games to play and I haven’t tried them yet because I’m always working both day-job stuff AND Tumblr stuff on weekends. 

So yes, that’s another tip: Don’t let it consume you, and set a schedule. Don’t feel obligated to answer every request. When I am tired and I just genuinely don’t have the energy to dig through 1000+ fics to find 2 or three for an obscure ask, I usually make it an interactive ask – not only does it encourage community involvement and a sense of belonging for everyone, but I also discover new fics to read too! I am IMMENSELY proud and happy that my fic lists have essentially become “fic exchange” grounds. Before it was only on one or two lists, some timid new authors added their fics to my big lists, but now, since people SEE that I add their fics hidden in the notes to the main post, now everyone is happy to share their faves on the main lists AS WELL AS the smaller single asks. I like to think of myself of a “curator of happy things” so that’s what I like to do with these. 

That said, you have to also decide if you’re going to be this interactive as well. Because that adds an ADDITIONAL hour or so as you make a separate “MFL” document and file those too. It’s time consuming, but totally worth it because if I’ve read the fic, all I have to do to that post in my MFL list is add my tags and file that block of text :)

I hope I helped you out a bit, Nonny, and I hope you guys enjoyed seeing a bit of my process. If I can get OBS to work on my laptop, maybe I’ll do a short video so you guys can see me doing it live. 

Anyway, sorry this got long. :P

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Hi! Can you tell us a little about the next update? I’m literally checking everyday to see if you posted.

Hey there! 

I suppose, since you didn’t specify a fic, that you mean in general? I posted that fluffy BruJay thing Tuesday night I’ll be posting a one-shot I’ve written as a birthday gift later today. 

I know I’ve been bad about the Thursday/Sunday posting schedule but I am still trying to post twice a week.

As for updates on current fics...

The next chapter of Therapy is mostly done and will go up sometime this upcoming week.

The next chapter of WAtGP is also pretty much complete but I’m holding off until I post a couple more one-shots that give insight into Nightwing’s and Deathstroke’s feelings about things. One of those one-shots is half done and will probably go up this week too (depending on work and my DCU Bang fic).

As for all my other stories, Therapy and WAtGP are so close to being finished, and I’m starting to feel a little overwhelmed by all my wips, so I’m trying a new policy. Therapy and WAtGP are the priority, they each have two chapters left and I know exactly where they’re going. Opportunity Knocks also only has one chapter left and the ask that inspired it has been gathering dust in my drafts for months so I’m hoping to finish that before the month is over.

Once those are finished, I’ll be able to focus on completing some of the smaller ones (and on figuring out what the hell I want to do with Nightmares). 

When I’ve finished up a couple of the smaller ones, I’ll start on the Laid Bare verse, the sequel to Beautiful and Good, and the the next part of the Mutually Beneficial story (if my self control holds, that is... I’m itching to write this one so it may come sooner).

But when all this happens is kind of up in the air. I’m still writing one-shots for ideas that I love, my DCU Mini Bang fic is way bigger than I intended and the draft is due in the next few days so I’m rushing to get it done. I have a lot of work to do on the worst omegaverse to get ready for Omega Jason Week. JayTim MONTH is coming up and, while I’ve already accepted that I won’t be able to take the ambitious track and do something everyday, I still want to do a big chunk of it (I’m hoping it can help me get past this weird self-consciousness I have about writing Tim). I hit 400 followers recently and I’ve been putting off another celebratory prompt thing even though you guys deserve something (especially since I skipped 300) because I know it’s going to take up so much time that I don’t really have at the moment.

On top of all that, while I’m not worried about the JayDick Summer Exchange fic at all because I feel like my recipient wrote their prompts with me in mind, I still have to take time to write it out :D

And that’s my biggest problem really, is time. Because it’s not just my fics that take time and energy. It’s hard for me to just bang out headcanons. For every ask in my inbox that’s more complex than “what’s your favorite cereal” I have to mentally prep to answer, work out an answer, write the answer. I hit 300 followers right after I finished the last of the 200 followers prompt-a-thon and was too exhausted to do anything for it.

I feel bad when it takes forever but, as much as I wish this was my full time job, it isn’t and between asks, fics, responding to comments, events, work, my worryingly codependent family, and the little bit of a social life I have irl... I just occasionally have to take a day or two to veg with my dogs, you know?

My point is, I know I’ve been frustrating the last couple of months (I really missed my word count goal in May... by a lot, which means you got a lot less content than usual) and I’m so sorry. But I AM working on everything, trying to sort out solutions to the way my brain reacts to all these uncompleted works/unanswered asks, and trying to figure out a system of time management that works for me (which has absolutely never been a strength of mine).

Right now it’s the DCU Bang thing that’s stressing me out... I’m good with deadlines but not check in’s. I’m hoping after I’ve got the draft submitted (probably last minute on the 26th) that it will take a lot of the pressure off.

So I’m sorry and please bare with me <3

[awkward-radar-tech]

McTavish in the Kitchen

Summary: After being paired with you in his cooking class so you could get extra help, William finds out that you play Fortnite. When he realizes he learns through his experiences, he invites you over to teach him in exchange for a homemade dinner.

A/N: First fic of the new year!!! 1 wip down 5 more to go. This fic is written more from William’s perspective because I found it hard to write a reader that doesn’t know how to cook since I do. If it flows funky, I’m sorry, my brain is stupid and don’t always notice, or think it is but it actually isn’t.

Prompt, from the lovely uni-anon 🦄: The reader could be at the same cooking class and not be very good at it as well so she gets paired with William. She finds out he’s trying to learn Fornite for his son, which she is an expert at! He asks her to teach him exchanged for a home cooked meal. When there at his place she hears him muttering to himself out of habit like he’s on a cook show and then he gets all embarrassed!

Every Thursday night for the past 3 months, William McTavish has been at the same place, the local community college. He saw a flyer posted around town that they were beginning to hold cooking classes in the culinary institute kitchens for adults who wanted to learn to cook full meals. For only $40 you could attend a month of classes where you would learn to make a different meal each week, and that each month had a different cuisine theme so the dishes weren’t repeated month to month, and it didn’t matter how skilled you were in the kitchen, you just had to bring your own knives.

His skills had improved over the time he took the class, his food finally tasted delicious to go along with the technical excellence that he had before. This lead to him being paired with a truly beginner cook on the first Thursday of his fourth month by the instructors. William felt great pride that the instructors felt he was adept enough to provide extra help to a novice, he just hoped he could actually help her.

When you signed up for cooking classes, there was a questionnaire asking about your skills and experience cooking, and being honest you put that the most you were capable of was warming up premade foods. At the first class you weren’t expecting to be paired with a veteran of the class so he could help you when an instructor couldn’t. You took it in stride and told yourself getting help from 4 people will surely improve your talent in the kitchen.

You walked over to the front, left station and introduced yourself to your partner, “Uhh, hi, I’m (y/n). They told me I am to work with you so you can help me since I really don’t know what I’m doing.”

He looked up from the recipe card and turned to face you, “Hello, (y/n), I’m William. I’m not sure the quality of my teaching skills, but I will do my best.”

You set your stuff down and looked over the recipe while waiting for the instruction to begin. You were happy you chose to start this month with Italian than next month with Mexican, boiling pasta and making a sauce is simple enough. While you were using dried pasta, you were making the sauce and rolls from scratch.

The class still hadn’t begun when William spoke to you again, “I know you said you didn’t really know anything, but you do know how to turn on an oven and a stove, and how to boil water along with pasta, right? I want to know where I need to begin.”

“I know how to turn things on, and how to boil water, but when I make pasta it is either too mushy or uncooked in the center.”

“Alright. Figuring out when pasta is al dente takes a bit of practice.”

“I hope I won’t be too much of a bother to you, William.”

“Don’t worry about it. When I started these classes I could make things well technically, but they tasted bland or out right horrid. I’ve gotten better these past few months.”

Then the instructors were moving to the front of the room to begin the class. William did in fact show you how to test the doneness of your pasta, and you were proud that you were able to chop garlic by yourself after the instructor taught the class. At the end of the class you were surprised at how well your meal tasted, and that you helped make it. After packing away your things you pulled out your keys, putting your pinky through the keyring like normal, and waved goodbye to William.

“Thank you so much for your help, William. Have a good night and see you next week.”

He was ready to respond but then had to take a pause when he saw your keychain, “Uh, yeah, no problem. Good night. See you next week.”

He was pretty sure that you had a Fortnite character on your keychain, but he wasn’t sure and didn’t want to keep you any longer by asking, but he told himself he would ask next week.

The next week when William walked in his usual 30 minutes early to help set up he was surprised to see you already at the station speaking with one of the instructors.

You turned when you heard footsteps and immediately perked up and waved to William, “Hi William! It looks like you have a lot more to help me with this week, we’re making chicken parm. How was your week?”

He couldn’t help but smile a bit at your excitement, “Hello, (y/n). My week was alright, nothing out of the norm happened. How was your’s?”

“It was good. I had my best friend over and made him the recipe from last week. He liked it and was surprised I was learning to cook.”

“That is great. Hey, I have a quick question. Last week when you said goodbye, you had your keys in your hand, and I thought your keychain was familiar. Was that a character from Fortnite?”

“Oh, yeah, it is. Do you play?”

“Kind of. I’m trying to learn so I can play with my son Miles when he is over. He plays it a lot with his stepdad Rick so I figured I could too. I’ve been playing for a couple of weeks off and on, but I can’t seem to get the hang of it, and I don’t want to play with Miles until I’m good at it.”

“That is sweet. I’m practically pro, I can give you some tips on what to do.”

“That sounds great. Thank you.”

“It only seems fair since you are helping me with this.”

The rest of the night went by with each taking turns to explain their specialty, although William struggled to grasp the tips he was getting since he wasn’t in front of the game. By the end of the night he had conceded to his inability to understand the help he was given.

“Hey, (y/n), thank you for all the information tonight. There is just one problem, I can’t remember a thing you said since I wasn’t playing the game at the same time.” He paused for a moment in embarrassment and shyness, “Do you think you could maybe, if you’re comfortable with it, I understand if you say no, could you maybe come over to my apartment to reteach me everything while playing? I’ll make dinner.”

You were shocked by the question and took a moment to process what he said before answering, “Uhh, yeah, I can come over one night to show you what to do. I’m free Tuesday night. What time do you want me to be there?”

“How about 6?” He grabbed your copy of the recipe and a nearby pencil and wrote in the notes section, “Here is my number and address. Text me if something comes up. Also there are guest spots in the back of the building if there is no parking out front.”

“6 works great, William. See you on Tuesday, have a nice weekend.”

“You too.”

William spent the next few days worrying every time his phone vibrated from an incoming text that it was you texting to cancel, and deciding what to cook. You didn’t tell him about any dietary restrictions so he decided a simple steak dinner would suffice. On Monday night after work he went shopping for what he needed.

Roaming through the store he was a bit on auto-pilot and not completely paying attention to what he was doing, so his internal monologue became whispered to himself. “For a nice, juicy steak you want a good ratio of fat to meat. These right here seem perfect.” “A nice garlic butter is a must. I like to make my own but store bought is fine.” “I like to cook fresh broccoli but you can use frozen in the recipe too.” “To add variety to my roast potatoes, I’m grabbing a few purple ones. It will add a little pop of color.” “I would normally make my own salad, dressing, and croutons, but I’m lazy today so a premade bag of greens and store bought croutons and dressing will do just fine.” “And for dessert I think cookies, ice cream, and all the toppings will be great. Nothing too complicated. I’m getting premade dough so I can just pop them right in the oven when we are ready for them and have nice fresh cookies without much effort.”

When he got home he made the marinade for his steaks and set them in the fridge before attempting to understand Fortnite again. After becoming frustrated he switched over to watching Netflix before going to bed.

William got to work early on Tuesday so he could leave with enough time to get a majority of his cooking completed before you arrived. As he was heading to his car his phone began to ring, it was his ex-wife.

He begrudgingly answered it knowing she would only call if she really needed his help, “Hey, what’s up?”

To his surprise she sounded slightly distressed, “Hi William. Are you able to leave work and get Miles? My car broke down and he needs to be picked up from school before 5. Rick is out of town on a business trip or else he would be getting him. He is fine being home alone for a bit so you can just drop him off.”

“It is your lucky day, I’m actually leaving work now since I got in early. I’ll go get him, and I’ll text you when he has been dropped off.”

“Thank you so much William. You’re a lifesaver.”

And with that she hung up. There went his plans of being almost finished cooking by the time you got there, he wasn’t going to be home until 5:45, 5:30 if he was lucky. He was happy to see Miles, though, so it was worth it.

As he sat watching Miles walk up to and unlock the front door, he pulled out his phone to text that Miles was home safe, and a moment after he sent it he got a text back. He was confused for a moment when there was no new message from his ex, until he checked his notifications and saw it was from a new number, you. He was thankful when your message said you would be at his home a bit after six since you worked a bit later than expected, but you were leaving now. He quickly sent a text in response and then text his ex before safely rushing back home.

He had just put the potatoes in the oven after washing and cutting them when you knocked on his door. As he opened the door to greet you, he froze in shock at how you were dressed. Since he only had seen you twice and in casual clothes, he definitely wasn’t expecting you to be in a skirt suit. He had thought that is what you wore to work, since he didn’t know what you did.

William quickly recovered from his shock and properly welcomed you, “Hello, (y/n). Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you. Sorry for being late, a few programs took a bit longer processing than expected.”

“That is alright, I’m further behind in cooking than I wanted to be. I got out of work at an earlier time, but had to go get my son from school and take him home because his mom’s car broke down and her husband is out of town.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your own response, “Dad to the rescue!”

“Yeah, I guess that is true.”

“So, Chef William, what are we having tonight? And do you need help with any of it.”

“We are having steaks with garlic butter, roasted potatoes, and some perfectly made broccoli. And for dessert, warm cookie sundaes. And no, I got it, you’re here to enjoy food and teach me video games.”

“That sounds delicious. Where is your bathroom? I want to change into some comfy clothes, I can only handle so much time in a suit.”

“It is right over there. And feel free to play any games or watch something while I cook. I’ll be out when possible.”

Soon after you emerged from the bathroom he heard the unmistakable sounds of Fortnite coming from his living room. As he fell into his rhythm while washing, chopping, and then cooking the broccoli, he began his mostly subconscious habit. “Most vegetables actually are amazing side dishes when prepared correctly, especially broccoli. There is no making Brussels sprouts and spinach better for my taste buds, though, and peas must be mixed with other things so I can ignore them.” “My secret weapon in cooking almost anything is garlic. If garlic can’t fix it, nothing can.” “Broccoli has always been one of my favorite vegetables, I feel like a giant eating little tiny trees.” “So now that we have cut up this big broccoli into little broccolis, it is time for the blanching. Remember to have your bowl of ice water ready to stop the cooking.” “After it has had time to cool, remove the broccoli and toss with melted garlic butter, then place on a roasting sheet to roast for a bit in the oven with our beautiful potatoes.” “For this size steak you want to begin cooking them between 15 and 20 minutes before you want to eat so they have time to properly rest.” “Ooh, I just love that sizzle.”

He plated everything once finished and brought it out to his dining table, “Dinner is served mademoiselle.”

You returned to the home screen of the console before heading to the table, “William, this all looks delicious. Thank you so much.”

“It is the least I could do for you helping me.”

“I have just one question.”

A wave of anxiety rushed through his body, what could you be wanting to ask, “And that is?”

“Do you always talk like you’re on a cooking show? I assume you’re too busy helping me in class to do it then, though.”

William blushed in embarrassment, he didn’t think you heard him, “Only when I get in the zone. It happens when shopping for ingredients too. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I thought you couldn’t hear over the game.”

He breathed a sigh of relief when you gave him a kind smile, “Don’t be crazy, William. I found it adorable.”

The meal was a mix of comfortable silence and questions about each other. As the night progressed, William thought a great friendship could be blooming, he was glad since he didn’t have many friends.

When it came time to begin his lesson, he did his best to keep in mind that it is all right to not know what to do and not to get as frustrated as he had in the past. The way you taught helped him really understand what to do, and he improved so much that you decided to have him try a round without help. When he helped his squad win, your excitement got the best of you; you leapt toward him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pecking his cheek.

“Will! You did it! Ahhh! I’m so proud!”

He froze, you just kissed his cheek and hugged him. Maybe it could be more than a friendship, but he wasn’t going to push it.

When you realized what you did you gasped and stood up, “I’m so sorry William. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll, uhh, go now. See you Thursday.”

His senses quickly returned and he stood up too, “Don’t go (y/n), it is all right,” he leaned down to kiss your cheek, “We still have cookies and ice cream to eat.”