#and also a google docs where all of this will be written down if you want to copy the text on mobile
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sharenalovemail · 7 months ago
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[A transcription of all the text from the images will be under the cut at the end of this post]
It's been a while, but it's finally here! #SharenaWeek will be real (or i'll die trying)
After some back and forth, we settled on June for this event - giving us nearly two months to work with as of posting this!
If you have any questions about anything in this post feel free to send an ask here or to @sharenaweek ! (For example if you need a prompt explained, or if I missed something)
#SharenaWeek / #SharenaWeek2024 will be held from June 9th 2024 to June 15th of the same year
RULES
Make sure to use the #SharenaWeek and/or ⁠⁠#SharenaWeek2024 tags when you post your work.
You can also @ either this blog (@sharenalovemail) or the one made especially for this event (@sharenaweek) or even both if you wish so. Tagged posts will be shared on both blogs, but the one dedicated to the event will work best as an archive!
While the main event will be during the week of June 9th to June 15th 2024, you can take as long as you need and post late if needed. Just make sure to follow the above two rules so we can find them and share them then!
You don't have to post for every day if you can't — remember that this event is first and foremost to have fun.
Anyone can participate! Any and all posts are welcomed: fanfiction, drawing, painting, sprite editing, poetry, headcanon/analysis posts, AMVs — literally anything, as long as you made it (or commissioned it, if that's the case) counts!
Prompts can be interpreted in any way you want.
Have fun, and remember to tag your works accordingly, especially if they feature NSFW content (gore, nudity, etc) or heavy topics (remember to not censor your tags, otherwise people who don't want to see that content won't be able to avoid it!).
PROMPTS
(6/09) Day 1: Past and Future
(Childhood memories, time post wars - anything before and after FE:H)
(6/10) Day 2: Resplendent
(Design a new Alt for her - be it an existing banner or a new theme!)
(6/11) Day 3: Celebration
(Outfits, Scenes, Dialogue - anything you love most about her!)
(6/12) Day 4: Forging Bonds
(Relationships - familial, platonic, romantic, any kind!)
(6/13) Day 5: Change of Fate
(AUs, her situation with Peony, crossovers - you name it!)
(6/14) Day 6: Meet The Heroes
(Sharena's goal is to befriend all of the Heroes - help her do it!)
(6/15) Day 7: Free Day
(Anything goes - including repeats of above prompts!)
EXTRA PROMPTS
You can use as many or as little of these as you want, either to replace the main 7 prompts or to add to them!
One Word Prompts:
Nature
Fairies
Family
Summer
Birthday
Surprise
Picnic
Flowers
Yearning
Hugs/Cuddles
Outfit Prompts:
Brave Alt
Attuned Alt
Modern
Fancy
Frilly
Winter
Beach
Cosplay/Costume
Party
Sleepwear
Alternate Universes:
Modern Setting
High School/College/University
Character Swap
Cyberpunk
Book/Realm Swap
Animals
Actors
Reincarnation
Daemons
Dungeons & Dragons
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inkedhorror · 4 months ago
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oh when did that happen...
#THANKS GANG! i dont know when or why this happened but im glad u like my silly once in a blue moon art posts#i need to completely redo my personal tags Ugh my blog is a mess#um I want to post more art eventually but A) i havent made a solid drawing in a month and B) ivr finished writing 2 fanfics in my life Total#and they were oneshots.... For Sam & Max. looks away#executive dysfunction sux Boo i wld lovr to be able to finish writing smth else literally Ever. i have so many cool fic and au ideas#and i get so embarrassed or straight up forget abt stuff i do finish. like... shivers. Freakyverse#aka an abandoned utmv project between a friend group that kinda fell apart but Hey what can u do#namedropping varyswap simply bc i want to have it somewhere public that it does exist and im not crazy when i inevitably lose the google doc#sighs wistfully at the dozens to hundreds of google doc wips i have#i have so much i want to share but i dont even have enough written down for a full chapter of smth...#i would be fine posting abandoned wips if there was Enough for me to be satisfied with#its all messy drafts and half finished plot lines and i barely ever end up completing an entire scene#and. i dont like posting unorganized ideas in public spaces. i guess. idk#screams into a pillow#edit i have 3 finished fanfics total. wrote that 3rd one when i was 9-10. it was a utmv s/i fic abt her and her friends dying. head in hands#shoves my su fic ideas doc behind my back#so like... kicks the floor. anyone else insanely attached to concepts where characters are split into Pieces of themselves etc because#yeah im that person and i also like time travel and undead characters so you can imagine what my su ideas doc looks like rn#sorry i forgot this was a post abt how i have 150 followers#I WLD DO SOMETHING SPECIAL BUT ALAS#yall arent getting shit. Sorry. havent even gotten to the simple doodle requests in my inbox yet#love u xo#rabbit squeaks
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nikkeora · 10 months ago
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High Enough (Without the Mary Jane)
summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. you don't want to be a mary jane anymore.
or, in which you were the mindy s. mcpherson to miles's prowler
pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x fem!reader, e-42! Miles Morales x fem!reader (r is referred to with she/her pronouns, no physical description.)
warning(s); fem spanish terms are used ('hermosa' etc.), reader’s hand is smaller than Miles’. author can’t write action sequences for shit.
may be ooc but we haven't seen a whole lot of p!miles yet so there isn’t really much to go off of
implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours
a/n; according to google the sinister 6 of e42 are doc oc, vulture, electro, rhino, sandman and scorpion, although i've seen some other ppl say that the eastereggs are vulture, rhino, scorpion, sandman, shocker, kraven and electro. i'm going w the google one, maybe kraven and shocker are their own thing. also they're prolly rich aholes since their signs are on buildings n stuff, so that's what i went with.
also reader was sent to earth 42, but like, a few days before 1610 miles arrives, kind of like how gwen was sent to 1610 a week before she found miles
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Miles — or, who you assumed was Miles, anyway — took you back to his place, going out of his way to avoid alleys where there weren't many people around and sticking to the bigger streets. You found it kind of weird. Back home, you and Miles used to cut through backstreets and even some sketchy buildings all the time to make it home before curfew.
You felt him steal glances at you the whole walk, and you’d be lying if you didn’t do the same.
This version of him just felt so.. different.
Once the two of you reached your destination, he let you up the stairs first before quietly calling for you to stop once you reached his floor. You hesitated for a moment on the steps. It was a higher level than Miles’s flat back home, and the building had looked a lot different from what you’d seen just half an hour ago, even if it still felt familiar. You’d chalked it up to the multiverse doing multiverse things at first, but he was starting to act a little off.
Having been around your Miles for years, you knew all his tells. You could see how his weight shifted on his feet as he unlocked the door. You could see he was overall standing straighter and more tense. You could see the hesitation before he turned the key.
Miles was lying to you. And he felt guilty.
But what were you going to do?
This universe was new to you. Sure, everything seemed just about the same, but it was all so foreign at the same time. There where skyscrapers you’d never seen before, new graffiti on the streets of the same couple people over and over again - all of whom you were sure you’d seen somewhere before but couldn’t quite grasp where. The sight of buildings blocked by yellow tape and more in the process of repair after seemingly being burned down or blown up were common in this world, like it was an active war zone or something.
You really didn’t have a choice but to follow along.
He opened the door and waved you in, closing the door rather hastily after the both of you.
You took a glance around the room. There were metal bars on the windows, to keep people out or trap them in you couldn't quite figure. There was a DJ setup near them that looked awfully familiar. Hooks hung down from the unfinished ceiling, some holding chains and others oddly shaped items haphazardly wrapped with what looked like brown lunchbag paper. Wires and ventilation just about everywhere, most of the wires leading to either monitors or gadgets you assumed were in the progress of being built. An old, beat up couch and some gym gear by the wall, an open kitchen-slash-workshop area straight ahead.
The only source of light was the neon red from the signs outside the window, and even then the farther bits of the apartment remained a dark purple hue.
Then someone came out of the other room.
“What's this?”
The hell—?
From the shadows, Aaron Davis emerged.
His beard was more grown out then you'd ever seen, and his features looked sharper, almost rougher. His shoulders seemed more broad, though maybe that was the heavy jacket he wore making him look bigger than he actually was.
“¿Tío?”
Miles had taken you around to his uncle's a couple of times, which you now realized was why you recognized this place. Aaron raised an eyebrow at you, surprise flashing across his face before it was quickly wiped out. He looked over you, taling in your appearance.
“Miles.” He asked again.
“I dunno,” the boy replied, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and avoiding his uncle's gaze. “Just found her on the way home.”
“Found her?”
Aaron glanced at you, then back to Miles, then back to you, his eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or frustration. He finally looked back at his nephew, the two of them having a silent conversation you couldn’t read.
“…Fine.” Aaron sighed, turning around—
You felt like you were dying, or being born, or possibly both at the same time. For a split second, you were nothing but particles, your skin and bones and just about everything being ripped apart then sewn back together. Your vision was a mix between TV static and rapid fire neon colors, and it was about the same deal with your hearing (which was concerning, since you couldn't usually hear colors).
Miles had taken a step forward, letting you grab his arms to keep you from falling over as he said something you couldn’t quite hear. Aaron had whipped around so fast you wondered how it didn’t give him whiplash, fists at the ready in case he needed them.
“What was that?” Miles’s voice finally got through to you, the high-pitched screaming in your ears dying down. You blinked at him as your mind went blank.
“I don’t—” You cut yourself off. Wait, was it..? Had you just..?
“Complete cellular decay.” You recalled Miles’s countless retellings of the multiversal mess that had happened just about two years ago. “I’m glitching, aren’t I?”
“Right, and you know this because..?” Aaron asked, his hands now at his sides but not eased yet. He eyed your face as if he was expecting you to grow a third eye or something. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him.
“Okay, so, this might sound crazy,” You started, “but I’m from another dimension.
“We had something like this happen back home a while back — except, y’know, people came into our dimension rather than people from ours going somewhere else.
“The people that came, they were glitching, too. Their atoms were displaced and decaying.”
“So you’re saying,” Miles spoke up, his grip tightening around your forearms just slightly. “If you stay here too long—”
“I’ll die, yeah.” You said, the reality of the situation hitting you like a KTX. “Disintegrate, to be more accurate.”
Silence filled the flat as all three of you processed the information. Miles was frozen, his gaze fixated on the spot where your hands grabbed onto him as if he was scared you’d disappear if he looked away. Aaron crossed his arms, his eyes darting from left to right like he was reading some invisible text.
As for you, you felt unreal. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore, your vision more like looking at the screen of a first-person shooter. Were you going to die here? You didn’t want to die yet. What would your dad think? Would he file a police report? Would Miles’s dad send out a search party to look for you? And Miles—
You hadn’t even said goodbye to him at the party.
You hadn’t said goodbye to anyone.
I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t—
“Hey,” Miles says, his voice softer than earlier, snapping you out of your spiral. His hands slide down your forearms and slip into your own, giving them a firm squeeze. “No vas a morir.”
You’re not gonna die.
“Te llevaré a casa.” The boy said, his deep brown eyes bore into yours, slowly bringing you back from feeling like you’re looking at a video game to feeling more like you’re lucid dreaming. It wasn’t a total fix, but it’s a start. “I’ll get you home, I promise.”
You took a deep breath, trying and failing to ground yourself more.
“What’s five things you hear?” Miles asked gently, tilting his head and leaning ever so slightly closer to you. You just blinked, overwhelmed with everything.
“Mi vida,” he said again. “Five things.”
You paused for a moment.
Sirens outside.
Yelling from the streets.
Chains clinking in the breeze from the open window.
Aaron shuffling around in the other room. When had he left?
The buzzing of the lights overhead.
“Good.” Miles said encouragingly. “Now, four things you see.”
Miles.
A pan on the kitchen stove.
The DJ table by the windows.
Tio Aaron pulling out the couch to make a sofa bed.
“Three things you can touch here.”
Miles.
The ground if you bent down, you guessed.
Some trinkets on the table just over there, but you’re not gonna touch that.
“Two you can smell?”
Rusted metal. There’s tons of it around; on the walls, the ceiling, tables, even on the shelves. What was that chest plate doing back there, anyway?
That pool smell, which is kinda gross since it came from the chlorine in pool water mixed with all the gross stuff that came from human bodies.
Miles smiled as you said that. “Vuelves a mí, mi sol.” He squeezed your hands again. “One thing you can taste.”
“I dunno, soda? We had a ton of it at the party.” You wiggled your fingers. It was like you were stepping into your body for the first time — nothing was a perfect fit just yet, like a pair of knitted gloves with too much room at the ends of the fingers. You’d have to get used to it again.
It’s then that Aaron called Miles over, the boy reluctantly leaving your side and following his uncle to the other room. He told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch before he went, though, so that’s exactly what you did. The spring cushions feel oddly comforting under you, the familiarity of home twisted just slightly out of proportion.
There’s really nothing to do alone here. You tapped your fingers on your leg. Thankfully, Miles and Aaron came back after just a few minutes.
The first thing the boy said to you, “I’m gonna get you home.” A firmer, more certain repetition of his promise from a minute ago, albeit there’s a bit of a strain in his voice as if it physically hurt him to say it. In a clumsy yet swift motion, he quickly leaned down and kissed your cheek before making his exit rather hurriedly.
You felt the heat rush to your face, your hand coming up almost immediately to touch the spot.
Aaron chuckled and shook his head.
“So,” he said. “You as smart as she was, too?”
-
You tinkered with the gauntlet of a prototype suit that Aaron had dug out of storage somewhere, the man himself working on the main body. The helmet — or was it more of a mask? It was a bit bulkier than Miles's Spider-Man mask, a bit more tech-y. Probably more similar to an Iron Man helmet, now that you think about it, albeit lower in its level of advancement — was plugged into one of the many monitors strewn about the flat.
You'd managed to pry a couple bits of information out of him for the past few hours (during which you hadn't glitched again, thankfully) in exchange for some of your own. So far you knew that this universe’s Jefferson Morales had passed away a few years ago, prompting Miles to take on the mantle of the Prowler to avenge his father’s death — the details of which he stayed frustratingly vague on — and, later on, to keep the city as safe as he could.
“Wait, wait, who’s your Spider-Man, then?”
“Who’s Spider-Man?”
You blinked in confusion. “What? You don’t have a Spider-Person?”
“What, like, a part-spider guy? Nah. Scorpion’s mostly bug though, that count?”
This dimension didn’t have a Spider-Man. That was why the city was so overrun with bad guys.
You gave him a general rundown of the whole ‘radioactive spider’ thing and moved on.
Your own variant, who was Miles’s best friend and had helped make a lot of his gear, had disappeared a while after the Prowler started taking out some bad guys that were a step above villain-of-the-week, the ones who had all sorts of shady connections. Hearing about your presumed death was a strange experience.
“We know they took her,” The older man had said, jamming his screwdriver into a faulty part of the suit. “But the cops are all in on it ever since the Cartel bought ‘em out. Declared her dead after less than 24 hours.”
Oh, speaking of, apparently there was a team of villains bringing Gotham to life in New York, Brooklyn being the heart of it all. How fun.
The Sinister Six Cartel, as the Bugel had dubbed them, was the one Aaron and Miles believed to be behind your variant’s disappearance. The two were certain that the Cartel had worked out a connection between you and the Prowler. The nail on the coffin was when they sent a body double of you in the Prowler’s direction to mess with his head just a couple months ago, complete with some sort of Face Off style mask that made it possible for the fake to look exactly like you. It was only a day or two before Miles figured out it was a setup, but it had shaken him up pretty bad.
“I thought you were another one.” He’d admitted. “But then you did the whole glitchy thing. Looked horrible, by the way, real nasty. It hurt much?”
“You have no idea.”
In return, you told him about home. You told him how Miles’s dad was up for a promotion, practically Captain already. You told him about your Miles’s art and how he made a mural of him after his death. You didn’t go into too much detail about the ‘death’ part, focusing more on the peaceful aspects since it was so clearly missing from his every day life. You couldn’t really read this Aaron Davis that well since he was more guarded than he had been back home, but you could tell he appreciated it; especially the parts about his brother.
You also told him how Miles and the other Spider-People who were sent to your dimension had worked out a solution to fix their situation, and gave him a brief summary of the whole ordeal, the details of which he texted Miles since he hadn’t given you a chance to tell him about it when he left so hastily. He said something you couldn’t quite make out as he did — you caught the words ‘lab’ and ‘property’, but that was pretty much it. He only waved it off as nothing when you asked him about it.
“How’s my dad?” You asked, pushing your hand into the gauntlet to test if it worked right. It was a near perfect fit, which made you wonder who exactly it was for, since Miles’s hand was bigger than yours. “Is he doing okay? After the whole ‘declared dead’ thing?”
“He’s holding up, just like the rest of us,” Aaron replied, checking on the monitor. “Your mom — her mom’s been sticking around. Grief brings people together and all that. They’re trying therapy.”
A weird feeling bubbled up inside. While it was good to know at least one version of your parents were trying to reconcile, it bothered you that your absence had prompted it. Was that what was happening right now back home? Had your disappearance magically brought your parents back together? Had it even been long enough for that to happen, or did time flow equally throughout the multiverse?
Would it be better for them if you just didn’t go back at all?
“Oh.” You said, nodding slightly as you flexed and wiggled your fingers in the gauntlet, watching the way it moved. It was a lot thinner than the claws that adorned the Prowler’s hands from what you’d spotted here and there in the flat, built to be stealthier in the way it functioned. There were no clunks or clinks, just soft whirring noises that sounded almost like a cat’s purr. “That’s good, I guess.”
It was worse this time around, which you didn’t even know was possible. You felt yourself being split in a billion different directions, parts of you re-atomizing not quite in the right places. You’d never known the feeling of having space between where all your joints were supposed to connect, but now you did, and it honestly made you want to die. Not really. Well…
-
Miles came back sometime before dawn. You heard the door opening slowly, almost like he was trying not to wake his parents up as he was sneaking in past curfew. Not that he used the door ever since he could climb walls, but still.
He crept into his uncle’s flat, even leaving his shoes at the door so he wouldn’t make too much noise. He was making his way to the other room when he looked at you on the couch, only to flinch in surprise when he saw your eyes were open.
“¿Qué haces despierto?” He whispered, his shoulders tenser than earlier from the split second of adrenaline. “It’s late.”
“What are you doing that you have to sneak in?” You whispered back. The boy just shrugged.
“Oh, you know…” He trailed off, looking around to avoid your questioning gaze. “…Stuff.”
You rolled your eyes. “That has gotta be the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”
Miles huffed, shuffling over to you and sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, facing you. “Yeah, well, I asked you first. Why’re you up, hermosa?”
You sighed. “Can’t sleep.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, I don’t know, the thought of my impending doom, maybe.”
A couple beats passed by without a word from either of you, a bit of awkwardness hanging in the air, though it was accompanied by a familiar sense of comfort.
“Do you trust me?” Miles asked, his hand reaching out to gently grab a corner of the blanket draped over you.
“Probably.” You replied. You hadn’t known him long enough to trust him just yet, as much as you wanted to. The corners of his lips tilted up just a bit in an almost smile.
“Then trust that I’ll do whatever it takes to get you home.” He said. “I already lost you once, I’m not letting that happen again.”
-
The next day was pretty uneventful. For the most part, anyway, if you don’t count the random glitching throughout. You were advised heavily against going outside since the Cartel had eyes everywhere, so your area of activity was limited to the flat. Miles had evidently snuck back out after your little talk the night before, which made you feel a tinge disappointed since you wanted to get to know him better. Fortunately, Aaron said you could help with the suit again.
The TV played in the background as you tapped on the keyboard, giving the helmet a few final touch-ups as the sun set outside the window. J. Jonah Jameson jabbered on about this week’s biggest disasters and lamented about how ‘if only there was a hero to save this city’, which made you snort.
“He’s gonna switch up real quick if a hero does show up,” You remarked to Aaron, who looked at you questioningly. “The guy hates Spider-Man back home.”
“What, Jameson?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, he’s the biggest Captain America fanboy out there. Loves heroes an’ all that.”
He thought for a moment. “Pretty sure Miles saw him at Comicon that one time too.”
“What’s a Comicon?”
Unfortunately, you never got the answer as you heard the lock on the door slide open. You spun around in your chair to greet Miles as you knew he was supposed to be coming by sometime in the evening, but your friendly smile quickly faded as his expression turned to one of shock, catching a glimpse of what the two of you were working on.
The boy froze as he stared, wide-eyed, at the suit. “Tio,” He said, looking at Aaron as he clenched his jaw. “What’s that doing out?”
“She needs a suit.” The older man answered simply.
“What?” Both you and Miles asked, though you could tell it was for vastly different reasons.
“We need to get into Alchemax to get her home, and we can’t do that unless she has protection.”
“Which is why I came here to make a plan!” Miles shouted, his hands moving animatedly, the way your Miles's always did when he got upset. “Eso, eso no le pertenece. ¡No es para ella!”
They had a back and forth as the pieces came together as to why Miles was so upset.
The suit was supposed to be for you.
His you.
You were, essentially, fixing up a dead girl's clothes to wear.
“The Cartel isn't stupid, Miles,” Aaron tried to make the boy see his point. “Even if we somehow made a distraction big enough for the big ones to leave base, there's still gonna be someone left to guard it. Would you be able to live with yourself if she got hurt? Or worse—”
“Don't.” Miles's nails dug into his palms, leaving dark cresent moons in their wake. Aaron sighed.
“If she got hurt, you'd feel like that's on you. If you got hurt protecting her 'cause she doesn't have anything to protect herelf with, then I'd feel like that's on me.” He said, his features softening as he reasoned with his nephew. “This is the best bet.”
“We could build her a new suit—”
“And take what? Couple days? A week? Two weeks?”
He glanced at you, Miles following his gaze towards you as well. You knew what was implied. The only people you knew this happened to had gone maybe over a week before the glitching became a real problem, and they were superhuman. Who knew how long you had?
“She can wear mine. We have a ton of old ones, I'll just take one of those—”
“I'm not gonna let you get hurt for her, kid.”
“Don't call me that.”
They went back and forth for a while, and eventually Miles went to the other room to cool off and think things through. Aaron sighed, wiping a hand across his face.
“No offense.” He said to you.
“None taken.” You replied, not really knowing what to do. It felt wrong for you to be tinkering with something that was so clearly not meant for you, even if it was for a variant of yourself.
You could hear Miles pacing the other room, muttering to himself.
“Maybe I could...” You trailed off.
“You could try talking him into it,” He suggested. “He'll listen to you more than me right now.”
“...Should I, though?” You couldn't even begin to imagine what Miles was feeling. All this multiverse shit was too damn complicated.
“Look, kid, I know it's weird.” Aaron said, shoulders sagging just a bit. “But this—” he pointed to the suit— “is the best way to make sure no one gets hurt. Trust me.”
There was something he wasn't telling you, but he didn't have to for you to know what it was. Miles thought you were alive, somewhere out there. You knew it was entirely possible that he blamed himself for your disappearance, as it was your own version of him's go-to for anything and everything that went wrong. The shadows under his eyes, that look whenever he saw you... you wondered how many nights he'd spent outside, looking for some trace of you, a new lead to follow. Especially since your arrival.
Aaron thought this was the best chance Miles would ever get to let go of you. To get some sort of closure by sending you home.
“…I'll try.” You finally agreed, getting up from your seat and shuffling to the other room. You hesitated before going in, but the lack of a door made it awkward to linger, so you just bit the bullet and walked inside.
The room in question was more of a faux-veranda (which explained the no-door thing); a long, narrow space separated from the main living area by a sheet of drywall, with one of the wider walls filled with shelves of CDs and albums and the other decorated sparingly with old band and movie posters along with Miles-brand stickers.
“So...” You said, fiddling with your hands as you took a look around the area. You gestured at one of the stickers on the wall. “Did you make that?”
Slowing to a stop to face you, Miles nodded, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.
“Cool.”
You both stood there in silence for a moment, you working out what to say and Miles trying to come up with some other solution to the problem. The boy had an unhealthy obsession, that much he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to let go of it. Not when you could be out there, just waiting for him to find you.
“I don't want to push you,” You started hesitantly. “But.. I think your tìo may be right.”
“I know that.” He looked at his feet as if the dirt on his shoes was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, the sight of him reminisent of a little kid getting scolded by his mother. “I know that.”
“I can't say I understand.. whatever's going through your head right now,” You said, taking a step towards him. “But he just wants what's best for you.”
“What's best for me is finding—” He cut himself off when his eyes met yours, frustration and confusion and stubbornness and sadness and who knows what else all mixing into a big mish-mash of conflicting thoughts inside of him. He clenched his fists, tilting his head up as he tried to think clearly. To his dismay, his throat closed up, the familiar sting of tears pricking at his eyes.
“I need to find her.” He muttered, putting a hand over his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears from falling. It didn't work. “I need to find you.”
“And you will.” You were sure of it. Aaron and Miles were both so sure that their you was alive... she had to be. “But right now? Right now, I need you to help me out.”
He looked at you, his gaze almost spaced out for a moment. You wondered if he saw her in you — if she had the same haircut, the same eyes, the same accent...
You could tell he was frustrated by the way that the scrunch above his nose wouldn’t go away. Hesitantly, you reached out, wiping away the tracks stray tears had left on his cheeks. He stiffened for a moment.
“...Fine.” He finally muttered, a hand coming up to grab your arm, though he seemed unsure if he wanted to push it away or pull it closer. So he just held it in place, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist, the edge of your palm. His posture relaxed, just a bit. “Okay.”
-
Two days later, it wasn't too dark when the plan set into action.
Security at Alchemax — once belonging to Kingpin, now in posession of the Sinister Six Cartel — was thinnest sometime around six to seven pm, when dinner breaks, shift changes and the checkout of regular scientists were prominent.
Miles and Aaron had each set up time bombs at multiple smaller warehouses the Cartel used for storage, each coordinated to go off within minutes of each other. With little to no heroes or police in the way, the Cartel had no reason to keep their lesser important stocks well-guarded, which made it easy to sneak explosives into some of the shipments, support beams and pipes.
Once the explosions were set off, Aaron would use some rip-off Mysterio tech to make projections of some new vigilante gang, with each fake member leading the forces of the Cartel away from Alchemax. During this went on, Miles would sneak you in and to the Super Collider (which, surprisingly, had not been scrapped since its change of ownership) through the vents—
“Wait, wait, isn’t there like, a tunnel that can get us directly to the Collider?” You’d asked, remembering what Miles had told you when he first told you how he became Spider-Man.
“It got sealed off.” Aaron had said. “Some sort of supercharged electromagnetic thing. They did that with all the major underground entry points. Can’t shut it off without blacking out half of Brooklyn.”
“Or getting fried.” Miles had said. “The generators powering each point are all hooked up together a single system, como una mente colmena. You attack one of ‘em directly, all the others shoot a billion bolts of energy into you. And we don’t have time to hack into and get past the firewall to shut the thing down.”
—which you would navigate by memorizing a blueprint of Alchemax that had been conveniently leaked in a mass Cartel server leak a couple months ago. Miles would then plug in the goober he, Aaron and you had made using information gathered via Aaron's 'friends', and send you home.
It was a simple mission. Maybe a bit too simple, but you didn't really have much a choice when you were on a time crunch with limited information. Besides, Occam's razor.
“Copy?” Aaron's voice asked from your earpiece.
“Copy.” You answered, followed by Miles from his own communicator.
“A-6 is a go in 3.. 2...”
Boom.
A couple blocks away, a cloud of dust shot into the air. The building you and Miles were on the roof of shivered slightly as storage unit A-6 blew up.
“A-27.”
Boom.
“C-15.”
Boom.
From your vantage point, you had a clear view of what was going on at Alchemax without the risk of anyone down there catching a glimpse of you. You could see the non-combat scientists scrambling to get to their cars and the armed guards being led by weirdly dressed villains in the direction of the explosions. Although you supposed you weren't quite qualified to comment on the 'weirdly dressed' part at the moment, since you and Miles weren't much better in your respective suits.
Speaking of, Miles hadn't talked much ever since he first saw you wearing the suit. His responses were short if he even gave one, although you could feel him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking.
Miles fixed the gauntlet on his hand one last time before shuffling closer to you. “Ready?”
His voice sounded strange to you, his actual voice coming through your earpiece overlapping with the voice coming through his modulator.
“Mhm.”
“Going in.”
You hooked your arms around his shoulders and his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as a grapple shot out of his gauntlet. He used it almost exactly like how Miles used his webshooters, although his actions were a bit more... forceful? Rougher around the edges, if that made sense.
As your feet left solid concrete, the city sped by underneath the both of you, a pretty blend of neon and gray. Your suit prevented you from actually feeling the air whipping by, but a fraction of the wind managed to seep through the cracks, sending a chill down your spine as your stomach dropped at the sudden decline.
For a moment, gravity seemed to disappear. The laws of physics no longer felt like they effected you in any meaningful way. Anything and everything that had been weighing down on you — this whole situation, Miles, demanding schoolwork at Visions, your parents and their myriad of problems — no longer held you down.
It was exhilarating.
Your 'flight', so to speak, was over almost as soon as it started. You tucked your legs as you reached the roof of the Alchemax building, separating from Miles and rolling to lessen the impact. Surprisingly, the move came quite naturally to you, even without practice. You chalked it off as something you'd learned when you were a toddler, when your mom used to sign you up for all sorts of extracurriculars. You were pretty sure martial arts or something had been one of them; maybe you'd learned it there.
Your heart pounded as the sudden rush of adrenaline faded away, and you found yourself wishing it didn't. The thrill was addicting, as was the freedom that came with it. It was like a rollercoaster, or watching How to Train Your Dragon in 4D for the first time, only a hundred times better.
Miles had never taken you swinging. He'd never exactly told you why, always brushing off your request with something like a 'maybe later' or 'I can't right now', but you knew why.
Swinging together was a him and Gwen thing.
And you were fine with that.
What, like you were gonna be jealous about something as small as that? Pfft. No way. Nope. Nada.
“¿Estás bien?” Miles asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded in confirmation.
The two of you pried open a vent using the gloves of your suit, which was easier than you’d expected it to be. To your surprise, the claws that extended from them were very useful.
“We’re in.” You muttered as you crawled into the duct, hoping Aaron wasn’t having any trouble on his end. He’d been awful quiet… Then again, no news is good news on a mission, right?
Miles crawled in after you. “You remember the way?”
“Yeah.”
Together you made your way to the underground levels of the building, miraculously avoiding any possible dead ends or mouse traps. That musty smell of mold and concrete reached your senses as you reached the deeper parts.
There weren’t many people at the Super Collider, thanks to the diversion and timing. Miles gestured for you to stay put as he swiftly dropped out of the vents, knocking out the few guards there one by one with relative ease. It was strange seeing him fight; so similar to yet completely different from him. You were doing as told and observing from the vents until you saw one of the last three people — a scientist, by the looks of it — sneaking up on Miles from behind while he was preoccupied with the two other guards.
You quickly dropped down from your spot, landing behind the guard and catching him by surprise as he whirled around with his weird-techy-science gun. Dropping to the ground, you swept your leg under his, toppling him over and knocking the weapon out of his hands. You were about to knock him out when—
“Peter Parker?”
Are you kidding me?
You were certain it was him. This Peter was scrawnier, his hair more sandy blond than Peter Parker’s back home (before he passed, anyway), and he wore thick, black-rimmed glasses that perched awkwardly on his slightly crooked nose. But the ID that read ‘Peter Parker’ in big bold letters around his neck was a pretty solid indicator.
“…Yes?” He almost squeaked out.
Meanwhile, Miles had dealt with the two guards, stepping over them to get to the console. “Sácalo y entra ahí.” He called, fumbling a little as he tried to figure out which buttons to push to fire up the Collider.
“We have a bit of a situation..” You said, pulling Peter up by his arm and dragging him to the console as well.
You gave him a hushed explanation of your unwillingness to hurt the guy, and how you believed he was genuinely a good person. After all, this universe was almost the same as yours, right? Peter Parker couldn’t be that different here…
“And besides, he probably knows how to work this thing. It’d be helpful.”
Miles sighed. “…Fine, I won’t knock him out,” He agreed. Turning to Peter, he asked, “How do you start the Collider?”
Peter gulped, everything in his body language screaming ‘I want to run away’. “You- you need codes,” He stammered out. “Approval codes, from—”
“Don’t care.” Miles cut him off, giving him a brief glance at the goober. “Just start it. ¿Lo pilla?”
Peter nodded hastily and got to work, pressing buttons and switching levers as you made your way down to the Super Collider. There was a catwalk that ran from one side of the machine to the other, connecting the two mechanisms. If you got to the middle of it, you could jump off and into the portal once the Collider was at full output. Sure enough, its huge metal plates clinked and clattered as they slowly sprung to life.
This was it. You were finally going home.
Just then, you heard a thunk along with some choice words in Spanish, and looked over to the source to see Peter out cold on the ground.
“He got to the panic button!” Miles said, scowling to himself as he plugged in the goober, praying that this plan would work out in the next minute or so. Bubble-like particles appeared at the two points of the machine that faced each other, the noise it emitted now making it so that you could only properly make out what Miles was saying through your earpiece.
The Collider whirred and sputtered as the bubbles grew bigger and brighter, eventually bursting into two beams of light that met each other in the middle, creating one big sphere with a bunch of little bubbles going in and out of it and surrounding it. The sphere grew larger and larger until it collapsed in on itself, sprouting thin, curvy lines.
The thing grew bigger and bigger until it was about the size of a person, you could feel it starting to pull you in. You just had to wait for Miles’s go ahead—
Ow.
What the hell?
You were suddenly sprawled on the ground, something having tackled you at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. That something — or rather, someone — skid to a halt just a few feet away from you, dragging a hand across the tiled floor and leaving… scratch marks?
Scrambling to your feet, you crouched in a defensive stance as you looked over the newcomer.
There wasn’t a single inch of skin showing, their suit covering the whole of their person. The suit in question was mostly white, with some gray sprinkled in here and there. It reminded you of Eve from Wall-E or a Stormtrooper, maybe a mix of both. Strangely enough, the mask was just a blank slate; a sleek, white panel with no features or details, kind of like one of those LED face masks.
Overall it was kind of… boring? It didn’t inspire fear nor did it seem very imposing or something of the sort, which you’d think would be a priority for a villain organization. If anything it was bland, the only thing that stood out from the suit being its hands which donned gauntlets that looked similar to yours, but slimmer and more polished, more accurately described as gloves rather than gauntlets. They had claws just like yours, albeit they looked sharper, a bit more gnarled.
“Miles?” You called, your heartbeat quickening. “What’s going on?”
You heard a grunt from his end. You didn’t look to see what was happening, not daring to take your eyes off of your attacker, but you guessed that backup from Peter’s panic signal had arrived.
“What’s going on?” Aaron echoed, his voice slightly fuzzy. Before you could answer, your attacker lunged. You managed to doge a full on body slam, but they grabbed your arm instead, using it to flip you over their body and knocking the wind out of you.
You writhed as you hit the ground, managing to rip your arm out of their grasp and landing a kick on their ankle, causing them to stumble. You took the opportunity to get up and put some distance between the two of you, though you didn’t get far before the lunatic started chasing you. They jumped at you again but you turned around at the last second, and as you were pushed back with their claws digging into your shoulders you kicked both of your legs out into their stomach just as your back hit the ground, sending them straight over your head.
“Tìo, get your nephew, now!” You shouted, rolling away just in time to avoid a punch that landed on the floor where your head had been just a second ago. “It all went to shit, get him out!”
The pull from the Collider was getting stronger, tiny scraps like bolts and papers flying through the air and towards the beam of light. You raced back to the catwalk but were once again stopped by the 29th century Stormtrooper. You yelped as you felt something grab the back of your neck, sharp claws piercing through your suit and digging into your skin as your head was thrown harshly against a metal beam.
And just like that, you were on the ground. Again. What was this, like, the third time? Fourth? Great. Just fantastic.
I’m not even supposed to be here, you thought, grabbing at your opponent’s wrists as their hands wrapped around your neck, slowly choking you. They were stronger than you were, faster, clearly more skilled. What were you thinking? You’re not a fighter — you couldn’t beat them, not like this.
Why was the universe so intent on making you miserable? You were just trying to get home, maybe not die. Not dying would be nice. But no. You couldn’t have nice things, could you? Not your own life, not Miles, your own damn parents were happier in a reality where you weren’t in the picture—
A sudden surge of anger made you lash out. The universe could go fuck itself. You weren’t dying like this. Not when your ticket home was right in front of you.
Your gauntlet caught your attacker’s mask, knocking it off.
You knew that face.
It was the same face that looked back at you every time you looked at a mirror.
Well, not exactly, you supposed. There was a certain roughness in her features, the same as how Miles looked different from Miles. But you’d know those eyes anywhere. But they were… what’s the word, fuzzy? Unfocused? It was like her body was on autopilot while her brain was off in Hawaii or something.
The thing you did next could’ve won you the prize for ‘smartest dumb decision of the year’.
In all your oxygen-deprivated brilliance, you retracted your mask.
It might shake her, was your reasoning. It would confuse anyone to see a doppelgänger in a fight.
Or, you know, it could go totally wrong and she could punch your face in. But you were already getting choked, so, what was there to lose?
And it worked.
Her eyes shifted back into focus as her grip slackened, and you quickly shoved her — or is it you? yourself? — off, gasping for air. You could vaguely make out the outline of a giant scorpion-guy going one-on-one with Miles, who seemed to be holding out pretty well. He was favoring his left hand though, when usually he used his right.
“I— wha—? Where—” You heard from your left. Your alternate universe counterpart looked around the lab, her eyes wide and movements jerky like a wild animal on drugs.
You were about to say something when a loud buzzing came through your comm, which had evidently been damaged in the whole head-beam connection thing. Miles’s voice came through in broken pieces.
“Col— get..t— ov-rload—”
The Collider. The goober could only force an incomplete system to run for so long. Your time was up.
Wonderful.
A flash of blinding light came from the machine as it malfunctioned. The goober could only make an incomplete system work for so long. You were just able to get your helmet back on before everyone in the vicinity was pushed back in an explosion. Was that Aaron—?
After your temporary blindness wore off, you made out the aftermath, a high-pitched ringing in your ear as you dazedly looked around. The glass that separated the control area from the Collider had been shattered, the Scorpion twitching as he tried to get to his feet — did he have feet? Now’s really not the time — There was no sign of Miles or Aaron anywhere, which was either very good or very bad. You decided to believe it was the former for your own sake. A short distance away from you was another you, that one unconscious but still breathing, from the looks of it.
Grabbing your variant, you ripped open a vent on the wall before the Scorpion could take notice of either of you, shoving her in before following suit and placing the vent cover back on. You had to get out of here. Fast.
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canon-in-too-deep · 2 months ago
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Free Typesetting Template
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So while I try to get some designs set, I thought I'd clean up and share the template I use for typesetting!
Templates save lots of time, and let me keep 'tools' where I like 'em. Free template here on my google drive ✨.
(As with all my stuff, Personal Use Only!) This file is for Affinity Publisher ONLY. I highly recommend getting Affinity Publisher if you're doing a lot of typesets and want a high degree of control over details. It has most of the features of Indesign, and far more capabilities than Word or Google Docs. There is a learning curve at the start, but overall it is a great program for typesetting and is a one time purchase, versus a subscription like other services. Please note, this template is set for my own personal preferences, and I always adjust it according to the text I'm working on. You can make whatever changes you want to suit it to your needs; I just included the normal settings I tend to use. See below the break for template details! (How to use/notes)*
This template is sized for half letter pages.
140% Leading, 11pt Font Size (Body Text)
The baseline grid is set for these exact preferences. If using a different font size/leading, I change these to match and play with the text boxes for 'Master Body' to make them look nice.
The template has the text boxes set up for where I usually insert text, copy, and headers/footers. I usually fill these out with the relevant details, and adjust the placements and sizes as needed.
I put X down where I usually write my name/imprint. The copyright page has a lot of blank space because I like to include my personal logos on there.
The copyright page also has the Project Gutenburg info I like to include, since I mainly do public domain works from there. If I'm doing a fanfic, I'll replace this with the tags/details from the fic's AO3 page.
Main text gets copied and pasted into page 9, then flows into the rest of the pages.
The paragraph and character styles I use are all included.
Very important, after pasting in your text, go to Find and Replace, and turn all italics to 'Emphasis' character style to preserve them.
'Body Divider' is how I include dinkuses.
'Special' paragraph styles are for when texts have things like letters or songs included.
Typically, I use 'Chapter Heading' + 'Chapter Character' for chapter titles, and set a table of contents on page 7 using these settings.
You'll notice that on page 9 I have a text box that links into the Master Body pages. This is my sort of 'test' page for chapter titles. I can freely change the size and layout on this specific page. I move it around based on what design I come up with, then copy that design into my 'Master Chapter Heading' spread to apply to the rest of the chapter title pages.
At the very end of a file, I'll usually put in a colophon. This is not in the template, but it's just a blank page at the end with my stamp and notes on the size of the typeset and what fonts I used. *I don't have a fully written tutorial at this time, but I recommend joining Renegade Bindery's discord, where a lot of very talented people have shared their tutorials, and provide very helpful live answers. Edit 9/20: Tutorial post here!
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cucumber-icepop · 3 months ago
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Website spoilers under the cut! Every password I could think to try, being updated as I go
If you input the password "Cipher" it takes you to the Wikipedia page for Triangles, and if you put in "Bill" it takes you to a Youtube video of a Sesame Street song about triangles!
"Billcipher" takes you to the Wikipedia page for the eye of providence
"Ford" takes you to a page written by scientists(?) discussing his hands.
"Euclydia" brings up the text "DIMENSION NOT FOUND" :(
"Alex" takes you to the Google search page for flannel. Cool
"Pines" brings up the text "A GOOD FAMILY TREE"
"Stan" brings up an Ebay page for brass knuckles. (This happens with "Stanley" too!)
"Blanchin" brings up a Youtube video on how to "blanch" vegtables.
"Dipper" brings up a slip of paper written by Bill telling him that he needs to stare directly into the sun to crack some of the codes in the book.
"Mabel" puts star stickers all over the webpage!
"McGucket" brings up the Cotton Eye Joe song on Youtube.
"Soos" brings up a few pages written by Soos about what it's like being the new Mr. Mystery. There's pudding on the page
"Pinata" (a code suggested in Soos' letter) pulls up a video of a Bill pinata being beaten, Alex is voicing him in the video. Get him!!!!
"Baby" pulls up a Bill ultrasound????????????
"Blindeye" pulls up an image WITH CODES!!!!!!!! LET'S GOOOOO
"Prism" doesn't work, but corrupts the prism on the screen.
"Gideon" pulls up audio of Gideon singing.
"Pacifica" brings up a letter written by Pacifica (and Mabel!!)
"Season 1" brings up text about "Season -1" of "Antigravity Falls"
"Season 2" brings up "Season 1", and "Season 3" brings up "Season 2". There is no easter bunny there is no tooth fairy
"Divorce" brings up the O'Sadley's logo (the beer Bill drinks) and a zip file???????? The zip file is just the png of the logo
"Wendy" pulls up a page where Wendy tricks the viewer.
"Robbie" brings up a chatlog between him and Thompson, they summon Bill
"Reality" brings up the text "IS AN ILLUSION"
"Universe" brings up the text "HOLOGRAM"
"Rat" brings up text saying "THURBURTS' NUMBER?"
"Weird" brings up A VIDEO OF WEIRD AL?????
"Gravityfalls" brings up text saying "NEVER HEARD OF IT"
"Waddles" brings up a website called "Pig Placement Network". It's a pig adoption website!
"Death" brings up text saying "LIFE'S GOTH COUSIN"
"Life" brings up text saying "LIFE: 72% COMPLETE. NOW LOADING: DEATH"
"Axolotl" brings up text reading "YOU ASK ALOTL QUESTIONS"
"Fuck" brings up a picture reading: NOT S&P APPROVED! WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP" and a picture of soap lmaooooo. This also happens if you type in "Shit"
"Thebookofbill" pulls up text reading "HIDE IT UNDER SHIRT DURING PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE" ??????
"Mason" (I can't believe it took me this long to try that) brings up a page written by Dipper where he writes some anagrams. Ford has written something about a Cryptogram Codex on the bottom of the page.
"Cryptogram Codex" causes another zip file to be instantly downloaded. It contains different fonts for some of the codes used in TBoB!
"Theraprism" brings up this image
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Very cool
"Love" brings up an image of Bill's stupid romance novel
"Journal3" pulls up text reading "THE JOURNAL FOR ME"
"Journal2" pulls up text reading "THE JOURNAL FOR YOU"
"Journal1" brings up text reading "THE JOURNAL OF FUN". Journal is looking less and less like a word to me
"Sorry" brings up the full picture of Ford and McGucket in college. What if I cried
"God" pulls up a video of a Bill statue in an aquarium with an Axolotl
"Lies" brings up a long page written by Bill, where he talks about lying and reality. It ends with a short video of flickering text reading "LIE UNTIL YOU AREN'T LYING ANYMORE".
"Scalene" and "Euclid" both bring up text saying "LIFE FORM NOT FOUND" I'm in shambles
I'm going to end the post here, I've been doing this for an hour, and the people running the main codes Google doc already have most of the results down. Aohurz av hufvul dov ylhkz aopz, zahf dlpyk, huk kypur dhaly!
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storm-angel989 · 6 months ago
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can i request headcanons for being Valentino and Vox's daughter ? Thank you and stay hydrated ♡
GREAT Request!
I’ve never actually written something like this before, so forgive me. I’ve spent much more time thinking about Valentino’s daughter than Vox’s daughter and have written more for the former, so obviously Val’s daughter is much more developed. This is more of a sketched out list, so forgive any tense issues or grammar errors! Also disclaimer: these can change, evolve and adapt with each passing story <3 
If any of these headcanons catch your eye, feel free to drop a request! I’m always taking them- this month has just been incredibly busy. I appreciate the reminder to stay hydrated, I needed it!!
Looking forward to the summer when I have a bit more time for all of the writing things! In the meantime, keep them coming. Whenever I get a request, it goes right into a google doc. Most of the time when inspiration hits, content gets scribbled into that google doc until I have time to edit and sort it out…so just because there is a delay, doesn���t mean it won’t get done! And inspiration hits in the most random of places <3
Headcanons for being Valentino’s daughter (whose mom is half angel wife from OTO)
-For the most part you grew up normal (well as much as you can with a living in the V tower)
-There was always someone there to snuggle or play with, and always someone willing to put a bandaid on a boo boo
-Your Daddy gave the best snuggles and hugs and you took over your parents bedroom until you were six
-Even after, you insisted at least one adult lay down with you until you feel asleep until you hit your teenage years 
-When you’re sick you go to Valentino first, which is a good thing because of all the gross things little kids do, he handles it the best. You once overheard him compare a sick toddler to a drunk adult.  
-When you’re little little, you love listening to your family’s heartbeat. That feeling of safety along with a warm bottle usually puts you right to sleep. 
-Vox was your primary babysitter, and it wasn’t unusual to fall asleep in his arms, under his desk or even in his chair while he worked. He often conducted meetings and held you while you slept. 
-You’re known for sneaking out of bed and more than once you’ve been found asleep on the couch and carried back to bed. 
-You secretly think your Dad makes the best pancakes but you don’t want to hurt your Uncle Vox’s feelings
-Neither Mommy nor Daddy let you in their studios 
-You were always welcome in Velvette or Vox’s studio as long as you followed directions and kept away from Vark and the rest of your Uncles sharks
-Your Dad gave you no shortage of love and affection 
-Though it was really your Uncle Vox that spoiled you 
-You were never allowed to visit Valentino at work, and on the rare occasions you did end up on the fourth floor, he quickly escorted you away
- it wasn’t until you were in your teens that you made a connection between your fathers job and his role in the porn and drug industry 
-You never questioned where babies came from, and all four of your guardians insisted on calling body parts by their proper names. All of these things were fact and nothing more.  
-The doctors office was never scary, and all appointments were handled either at home or in Valentino’s studio well after hours. 
-The first time you got your period, you freaked until your father calmed you down. 
-Annoyingly, you had to wear a location tracker at all times. Valentino refused to put one under your skin without your consent, even for your own safety, so when you started to leave the tower to go to school, Vox created a special tracking watch just for you 
-One time you got fed up with your teacher and called Uncle Vox on your watch to tell him to come get you. He does. 
-Being Vox’s niece, you learned to hack that watch when you turned thirteen. After all you never could go anywhere without someone being on your ass. All you wanted was privacy. 
-When you did eventually start dating, Valentino insisted on meeting each date when they came to pick you up, regardless of their gender. If he didn’t like them, you didn’t go out. You suspected he showed his gun on more than one occasion. 
-And there were more than a few times you didn’t get to go out.  
-You tried to get a fake ID at sixteen when you started to rebel. Unfortunately for you between your father and your uncle every single bar and club was controlled by them and the first time you tried to use it was your last time. And you got grounded. Big time. 
-Once you turned twenty one though, all bets were off. As much as you didn’t like that your family knew all, it was sort of comforting to know that wherever you were, you were protected. And by that point, you were doing pretty okay. 
-The first time you intentionally tried one of Valentino’s drugs was the last time.
-You still went to school every day, but Valentino had no issue with you taking a mental health day when needed
-You had your appendix out when you were younger
-Homework needed to be done before anything else, every single night. Your usual routine was to come in, go right to Uncle Vox’s office and do your homework with him. He keeps a stash of kid friendly snacks in his bottom drawer, and promises to keep the cheese itz coming if you don’t tell your dad.
-You hate that Vox makes you try each problem three times before asking for help, but you respect his method because you respect him
-The food kept in the house was generally high quality and healthy. Not to say there isn’t junk food, but the adults eat pretty healthily and by default as such so do you. 
-When you stop eating however, in a desperate effort to look like one of the model’s in your Aunt Velvette’s magazine, your father catches you very, very quickly. 
-You struggle with balancing the angelic and demonic parts of you. This shows up hard in the teenage years with instances of ED’s, Depression, Anxiety, self harm, poor decision making etc. 
-Valentino definitely brought you home from his clubs on more than one occasion. 
-You got alcohol poisoning/overdosed a few times. Thankfully, Valentino was always there to rescue you. The final time it happened, the expression on your father’s face ensured you never crossed that line again. 
-When you self harm for the first time, it’s Vox who catches you. 
-They will not allow you to hurt yourself, but they do their best to support and love you through every single mistake
-You demand perfection of yourself far, far more than they expect of you 
Headcanons for being Vox’s daughter 
-Vox tried to put a chip in your arm the day you were born, but Valentino took it out. 
-Intelligent? You could hack any device by the time you were ten. It was a struggled for Vox to keep ahead of your nonsense. 
-Stubborn as all heck. If you want something you’re gonna get it. Period.
-You had coffee in your hand by the time you were thirteen. As much as it freaked your father out, your Uncle Valentino helped you figure out the right cream/sugar/coffee ratio 
-Vox shooed all questions about womanhood to Velvette/Valentino/Wife and although he tries hard to understand and learn about the female body, you’re well aware he’s uncomfortable with it. Thankfully, your Uncle Valentino reassures you it's alright. 
-You are not at all into sports, though Valentino does force you to play on a team after catching you in one of his clubs. You were not terrible, and he does not have mercy on you. 
-Your Dad keeps a careful eye on your grades, and forces you to try each problem three times before asking for help
-The day your Uncle Valentino caught you working in his club was the most embarrassing moment of your life
-You definitely went through an emo phase
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kaygee-doodles · 3 months ago
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So I am trying to get into writing and have been really inspired by gloom and doom and am wondering what you use or if it is ao3 or just a google doc. I would also reeaallly appreciate any tips as I have no idea where to start
I am really loving your work and can’t wait for the next chapter (as well as your gifs and funny/cheeky responses to any potential spoilers)
Well hello there!
I write in a google doc, but it's one google doc per 'arc' in the story, so if I have an idea that needs to happen later, I can open up THAT part of the story and write up an outline for me to forget about and find later.
To start, I guess I would advise to write the part you really want to write, and then fill in the rest.
A lot of my writing is done in scenes, like, Just This Event, open, middle, end. Sometimes the following bits come naturally, the consequences, the wind down, the exit stage left. Sometimes they don't want to get written at all, and I have to move on to the next thing that's interesting happens, and come back to the inbetween.
Sometimes I just do a time jump, because time has to pass between events, but it's not very interesting time. Reader...went to work, ate shitty fast food, took a poop, and brushed her teeth. Not super interesting, and not very plot relevant unless being used to say, emphasize something about her life.
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fettuccin-e · 2 years ago
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The Encore Performance
hello gang,, i wrote this so fucking long ago,, and it is not my greatest work but every time i open up my google docs this piece stares at me judgementally, yelling and screaming to be released to the world (it was written during peak eddie munson era in a fit of horniness, so maybe july 2022) pls enjoy the pwp
Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, oral sex (f!recieving), fem!reader, exhibitionism, eddie is kind of a perv in this sorry
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Eddie’s eyes have been on you all night, fingers moving absentmindedly across the frets of his guitar. It’s like you want to drive him completely insane, your tits bouncing in your tiny little dress as you bang your head to the music, your glistening body bathed in the purple light of the club. 
The air feels electric, charged and volatile; so different from the dingy yellow lighting of the Hideout. A new venue, a new crowd, and they’re fucking loving it. Eddie should be pandering to these new fans, trying to keep the band’s spot and maybe make these gigs a regular thing. Instead, his eyes are trained unwaveringly on you, his pretty, pretty girlfriend, supporting him and dancing to his music.
He has to spend the entire set rock hard under his jeans, grateful for the presence of his guitar over the obvious bulge of his cock.
The crowd still goes nuts after their last song, pleading for another encore, but Eddie’s frantic in trying to discreetly adjust himself before helping the guys put the stage equipment away. He knows how he must look, face sweaty and flushed, hair frazzled around his face. He hopes he can blame it on the adrenaline from the show and not how fucking horny he is.
He turns from placing an amp in Gareth’s truck to see you; giggling as you talk to one of the bartenders, your skin straining against the tight fabric of your dress. And though Eddie knows that you probably aren’t flirting, and that you’d definitely never cheat on him, he also sees how the bartender’s eyes are staring much lower on your body than where your eyes are, wiping off a glass slowly and deliberately. Eddie knows that you’d lay this guy out before he could try anything, but he also can’t help how his vision goes red as he stalks over.
“Eddie!” You smile when he finally gets to you, snuggling into his side while he puts a strong arm around your waist. “Jake,” you say, looking back at the bartender, “this is Eddie, my boyfriend. Eddie,” you look up at him with those big eyes he loves so much, “this is Jake.”
Eddie smiles at Jake, or tries to smile, it may come out more like a grimace, but doesn’t offer any kind of reply.  Jake’s eyes widen minutely at the sight of him, and Eddie loves how he takes a small step back. Perks of being the Hawkins "devil worshipper" he guesses.
Jake’s eyes are suddenly anywhere but you, and Eddie struggles against the urge to snarl at him. He glances down at you to see your eyes furrow slightly in confusion, picking up on the fact that there’s definitely something wrong with your boyfriend.
“Baby,” Eddie says, squeezing the fat of your hip, “I gotta talk to you real quick, ‘s that alright?”
“Yeah, of course, Eds,” you say, and turn back to Jake. “Look, it was really nice meeting you, Jake. You have a good night, okay?” Jake mutters a quiet, "yeah, you too,” before turning away to wipe at a glass a little too harshly to be normal. But Eddie’s already dragging you away with the arm he has around your waist, bypassing the back door of the club to pull you down a long hallway.
“Eddie, what’s going o-” you try to say, but are swiftly cut off by Eddie’s lips on yours, his long body pressing you into the wall. You gasp into his mouth as his big hands slide from your hips down to the backs of your thighs, lifting them up to wrap around his waist.
“Jesus Christ, baby, you tryin’ to drive me insane out there?” he mutters into your mouth, pressing the obscene bulge in his jeans against the heat of your pussy through your thin panties. “Wearing this tight little dress, looking like a fucking whore, got everyone out there looking at you. But you’re mine, aren’t you baby? All fucking mine.”
All you can do is whimper softly in response, barely having the presence of mind to remember that there are people barely twenty feet away, people who could easily walk down this hallway and see what Eddie has reduced you to. Eddie pulls back from your plush lips to look at you, and then smirks like the bastard he is. 
“You think you could stay quiet for me, pretty girl?” Eddie whispers, and doesn’t wait for a response before he’s gripping your thighs again while he drops to his knees, eye-level with your clothed cunt. He sets one of your feet on the ground to keep you standing while he hooks your other thigh over his shoulder, leaving you open and exposed, just for him.
“Eddie, I don’t-” you cut yourself off with a gasp when Eddie pulls your panties to the side and licks a long stripe up your dripping pussy. You clap a hand over your mouth as your eyes clench shut and your thighs tremble.
Eddie smiles up at you, his pretty girl, already wrecked from just the touch of his mouth. He keeps his fingers hooked into your panties, and finally allows himself to dive in, just like he’s been imagining since you walked out in your little dress.
You can’t hold back the whines echoing in the back of your throat as Eddie plunges his tongue deep into your pussy, the hardness of his nose pressing into your clit. Stay quiet stay quiet stay quiet. You’re trying to repeat the command in your head, but it’s so fucking difficult when Eddie shakes his head from side to side, starving for it. The movement makes his nose rub back and forth across your clit, and your hips jerk hard against his face, your free hand winding into Eddie’s thick hair.
“Eddie, Eddie, someone’s gonna hear baby, they’re gonna see, oh god,” you whisper softly, and you can feel the vibrations of Eddie’s quiet groans into your cunt. 
You whimper softly when he pulls away from you to whisper, “then you better make yourself cum, pretty girl. The faster you cum, the faster I can take you home and fuck you properly.”
He dives in once again, this time wrapping his lips around your throbbing clit and sucking. You whine like a fucking animal, hips bucking and swiveling, trying to get away, trying to get closer. Eddie’s hands come up to grip tight onto your hips, his rings digging sharply into your flesh, and you relish in the idea of seeing harsh bruises in the shape of his fingertips tomorrow morning.
You can feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, almost painful with the need to cum. Your head snaps to the end of the hallway, and you see all of the people walking through the club, dancing and drinking. People who have no idea that Eddie’s eating your pussy with your dress hitched up and your panties pulled to the side. People who have no idea that you’re always so desperate for Eddie, that you’d let him fuck you any time, any place. They have no idea that you’re going to cum all over his face, and he’s going to walk out there with his messy hair and pretty eyes and your juices still on his lips, oh god-
You desperately suck air into your lungs to stave off your scream as you cum, pussy clenching and dripping all over Eddie’s face, your hips shaking uncontrollably.
“Eddie, Eddie, oh my god, Eddie, I can’t, I can’t, ‘s too much,” you whisper into the quiet of the hallway, the obscene sounds of Eddie licking at your cunt thundering in your ears. You can tell Eddie doesn’t want to stop, he never does, but you think you’ll start crying if he keeps going. You tug his hair roughly, wrenching him away from your cunt.
“Please, please kiss me, baby,” you whine, and Eddie can only nod at you, his face flushed and his lips puffy and shiny. Your thigh falls off his shoulder as he stands up to capture your lips in a filthy kiss. He tastes like cigarettes, beer and your pussy.
Eddie keeps holding onto your hips as they twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Your eyes feel heavy, your brain mushy and weak.
“My beautiful girl, shit, all mine, y’look so pretty like this baby,” Eddie’s whispering, sneaking little kisses onto your lips in between words. “You wanna get out of here baby? C’mon, let’s get home, yeah?” You nod blearily, going to step forward, but your knees stay locked.
“Eddie,” you whisper, your foggy eyes going wide. “I don’t think I can move my legs.”
You watch Eddie’s brows furrow, and his lips perk up. He stares at your face, all flushed and flustered, and a snort escapes his nose. Soon enough, little giggles are escaping his lips, delirious and endlessly smug.
“Don’t laugh!” You whine, nuzzling your red face into his chest.
Eddie runs a comforting hand down your back as he tamps down his giggles. “Sorry baby, I’m sorry. It’s just, y’know, not many guys can say they’ve literally made their girl cum so hard they couldn’t walk.” You whine again, but Eddie shushes you gently. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you home, sweet pea.”
You don’t have time to wonder what he means by that before Eddie reaches down to cup one hand under your knees, the other staying under your back, and lifts you into his arms with a soft grunt. 
“Eddie!” You squeak, but your boyfriend is already walking out towards the club again, paying no mind to the throngs of people still moving around you both. You tuck your burning face into his neck, giggling nearly hysterically, as Eddie whisks you away. You think you’d let him take you anywhere.
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googleitlol · 1 month ago
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Two questions! Well, one’s more like a prompt/scenario, but I’m still saying it!
Do you have any plans on getting back to your “The Memory of You” fanfic in the future? Because I’m a certified Macaque wimp (right there with Wukong) and I’m dying to know everything that happened between him and Lian!😭
And second:
I just got myself Black Myth Wukong brainrot and I randomly thought of a situation where Dove would wake up from a nightmare about Wukong’s death, and she instinctively places a hand over the Destined One’s heart to hear it beating because of his resemblance and everything. And the Destined One just helps hold her hand to his chest and resting his own hand over hers until she calms down🥲💘💞
1) Omg tbh I didn't realise ppl were still reading that one! I'm focusing on PoM rn so I don't think I'll be getting to it anytime soon unfortunately. I do wanna continue it tho, and rewrite some stuff too! My google doc is so big for TMoY that if you wanted, I could totally answer some asks about it. Since I'm focusing on Dove and Wukong rn, I wouldn't mind sharing some secrets about Lian and Macaque's past (I will yap so much abt them, I love Lian she's my sweetheart).
I also took a break from writing that fic because, uhhhhh… I had only seen part of season 4 when I started writing the backstory for Lian, did some research into chinese mythology and legends I could pull from… then after posting a bunch of chapters, I watched the rest and realised I accidentally made her backstory/creation extremely similar to someone else (if you're caught up on the show, you'll know who I'm talking about). They both involve, uh… similar people?? So I got spooked and decided to wait a bit to see if that character's backstory would be like what I'd written for Lian and… it's starts out very similar 💀
But honestly, I think I'm gonna keep it the same cuz I love Lian, and I love the story I've made for her and Macaque. So if you've got any questions abt them, I'd be happy to answer until I shift my focus back onto TMoY.
2) Oh, and… my god. I love this idea of yours. That dream. Hoo boy, that dream. I love it when people understand the sort of angst I wanna put Dove under. Running to her love, knowing what's about to happen but too far to stop it. Maybe if he saw her, if he knew she was coming, maybe he'd still be there. But no matter how much her throat scratches as she screams, no sound is made. No matter how fast she runs, how far she pushes herself, nothing changes.
The Destined One frowns, he's seen her like this on so many nights. There's something that's plaguing her… he just doesn't know what. She shuts him down at any and all moments he has to inquire about her night-terrors. Still, he's found a subtle way to help in the best way he can. After one night where she reached out for him and he let her hand press against his chest, he noticed how she calmed a bit.
That becomes their nightly ritual. Whenever he notices how she starts to mumble in her sleep, shout and cry, he'll cuddle up next to her and hold her in his arms. He'll keep her head pressed against his chest so she can hear his heart– that always calms her down. As long as she has something, her hand or even an ear pressed to his heart, she'll calm down. Maybe the first few nights he started doing this, she'd cuddle up to him a bit. He'd be awkward about it at first, but eventually grow used to it. After a while, he'd find that he actually really enjoys spending those nights with Dove in his arms.
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maximwtf · 3 months ago
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“No more stunts.”
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Tighnari x Reader
Words: 1340
Google Docs Pages: 2
Warnings: hurt/comfort, injury, but no description of it. Platonic, but if you squint it’s not.
Opening: You’d been on a mission with Tighnari. Though, as much as he trusted your skills, you had somehow gotten yourself hurt at a withering zone. The trip back to Gandharva Ville is bound to be filled with some displeased murmurs and worried gazes, but before that Tighnari has to explain what happened. 
AN// G/N reader :) I know I don’t really write for Tighnari, but aye just this once :”D While my brain is still rotted, have this ! I’ve written this now twice with a slightly different plot each time. Hopefully this turned out okay xd
“No more stunts.”
A fuzzy image played in your mind. The corners of your field of vision a deep red, a pressuring feeling behind your eyes. Exhaustion and an odd sickly feeling spreading all across your body. Everything else that should have made sense around you seemed a mess. So hard to navigate that there was no possibility you could have recognized where you were going. And perhaps for the best, that was where the memory ended. The image of it fading to a deeper red, before taking over fully. 
Your eyes opened, faced with faint daylight. Mostly blocked by the branches of trees. A sense of confusion taking over, causing you to try and force yourself up. Which oddly enough ended up being possible. Ignoring the pounding headache and the remains of that weird sickly feeling from the faint memory you’d just seen. 
But now that your vision had cleared the place you’d found yourself in had started to look far more familiar than before. It was the tent you and Tighnari had set up yesterday, having left it up before heading to the withering zone..today? Was it still the same day? And if it was, how long had you been out?
Outside the tent came silent noises. Focusing your vision to the direction of them, Tighnari appeared to be by the campfire. He’d been packing items up, and by the looks of the smoke coming from the campfire, he’d recently put it out. He was preparing to make the trip back. And what had you done to help him? You thought, feeling a wave of guilt strong enough to almost get you to get up and go help him. But that exhaustion you’d startled awake with weighed you down still, backing down any hope of going to help Tighnari.
Averting your eyes from him, your vision returned to the tent. Noticing some of your own belongings having been piled next to where your head had been resting. Also noting your own coat, which had been folded nicely into layers to support your head higher. No doubt Tighnari’s work as well. If knowing he’d been cleaning up by himself hadn’t made you feel guilty as it was. 
How had you ended up here? The last memories you had, had been exactly the ones that had played before your eyes just moments before waking up. And hopefully the ‘how you had ended up here’ hadn’t been by Tighnari’s hands. Because at that point you would have successfully lost all credibility in the man’s eyes. Or so you thought. 
And you’d soon come to find out. As by the sounds of it, Tighnari had finished whatever he’d been doing outside. The sounds of his shoes against the ground getting closer, soon his gaze landing on your moving form. “Are you feeling better?” He asked almost immediately while making his way towards you. The tone in his voice resembled worry, but was laced with frustration to hide the rest. Making you cringe at the words, but copying the way he hid his worry and nodded. Trying not to show him how bothered you felt. 
But by that point, you weren’t even sure what ‘better’ meant in this context. Sure, your head was still pounding and maybe there was some fatigue mixed with it all. But depending on what had happened, perhaps this state was better? You rubbed your temples, a sigh escaping your lips. “How’d I get here?” You asked. 
Tighnari kept gathering some of the items in the tent before pausing at the question. He seemd to rethink the events back for a moment before taking a seat to explain. “While clearing out the larger withering zone, I lost sight of you. I had no time to go looking, the withering zone had to be taken care of first. Since I had no idea if you’d been injured.” He explained, making your mind tick. His actions seemed to make sense, safety first. Yet, you still felt confused about the first portion of this. Where had you ended up? Getting out of sight like that in withering zones was something you knew through and through to not do. It seemed almost out of character for you to have done willingly. “But what I feared seemed to have been true. You’d gotten injured, and likely due to the mixed state of mind had attempted to get out of the zone. And due to this, walked astray and collapsed to an area out of sight.” Tighnari continued, giving you some time to think every now and then. Attempting to see if any of these points were refreshing your memory yet. But sadly it hadn’t, not yet. 
You raised your gaze to him again, brows furrowed ever so slightly. Waiting for him to continue. Determined to figure this out. “Though, it seems you’d been conscious enough to get yourself a little further, to a more open area.” Tighnari took a breath, his eyes moving to your leg. “As for the bandages, you must have tripped at some point during that. The ankle looked sprained and there was a scrape, which you’d bandaged with a scarf.” He explains as your eyes go over where the makeshift bandage had been. Now replaced by neatly wrapped gauze, Tighnari’s handiwork.You smiled faintly at the sight. Knowing the other would speak of this later as if it was a bother for him, knowing he still cared.
The leg didn’t hurt, at the very least now that you were sitting still. Yet, something of what Tighnari had said started to jog your mind. A faint memory of pain surging from your leg floating in your mind now. 
You took a breath, thinking of informing Tighnari of said memories coming back. But to no avail, him speaking up again, “I’m not done yet.” He says, making you cringe lightly. Not enjoying the sound of that. He looked at you with a slightly more annoyed, bothered expression, though his tone of voice didn’t sound angry. It never did. “You may have acted wisely by finding that open spot, so it was easier to aid you. But you still acted foolishly, endangering the whole mission by getting too far away in the first place.” Tighnari took a breath, giving you another look. “And I know you’re aware of why we stick within sight on these missions.” You cringed again, knowing he was correct. But also very much aware of how deserving of the  scolding you were after pulling such a stunt.
 “Because of this our return will be delayed, and the way back will be harder. A foolish act.” He huffs, at the end sounding a little more concerned than he was trying to let on. Seemingly having a hard time trying to cover that anymore. But he had said nothing but the truth, and you were grateful to him for springing into action when he was needed. “Thank you for aiding me…And eh, apologies for delaying the trip. I know you’re here with a tight schedule.” You squinted your eyes, hoping Tighnari would relent a little with the scolding after hearing that. Not continuing on with the lecture, making you cringe further. So just to be sure, “And- I think I can find something to make me less of a nuisance during the trip back”, you added. Watching as Tighnari shook his head, palm on his forehead as he pushed himself up. “Please, you’re not a nuisance…I’ll help you, of course.” He sighed, pausing. “But don’t go pulling stunts like that again. You know you’re far more experienced than that.” The forest ranger added a hint of a praise at the end, walking past you to the threshold of the tent. Caressing the top of your head on his way. 
Proving that he truly couldn’t stay mad, but couldn’t bring himself to start showing he was concerned. Other than by the way he’d made sure the bandages he’d put on were neatly placed. He needed you to be at your best before starting the walk back.
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alexawynters · 9 months ago
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Scarlet Whispers pt 10
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Gif not mine, as always
Trigger Warnings: Some gore and violence.
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader
Rating: M. Minors DNI
Masterlist with parts 1-9 here
Chapter Ten
A/N: I Googled the recipe for authentic Hungarian Chicken Paprikash in order to see how difficult it might actually be to make, and as someone who can’t cook but three things, I have to say it looks hella complicated. I’m giving Reader far more credit than I would ever give myself with regards to kitchen skills.. That said it sounds delicious and now I want it :’(  Someone pls feed me. Also I felt super bad that I went so long without posting when I had this just… sitting in my Google Docs, so uh… have another chapter. I only have 12 written so far though so I guess I better get to steppin’. sweats nervously
The pair of you had elected on a movie marathon today, watching the Hobbit series together on the couch when Wanda felt it. That telltale tingle in the back of her mind, signaling that her wards had been tripped. This wasn’t the alarm for a breach, but rather letting her know that someone was at the perimeter attempting to get in. Pearly teeth grit in rage - how dare someone ruin her perfectly good afternoon with you? Everything was coming together, and now someone had the audacity to try and intrude, possibly to try and take you away from her? Wanda couldn’t have that.
Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, the redhead informed you she needed to check on one of her projects and it might be a while. Your pout was quickly kissed away, Wanda directing you to play the new video game she had gotten you last month. Unintentionally, you had been putting it off - between spending time with Wanda and trying to play all the other video games you had, there hadn’t been much time for it. Excitedly, you agreed, getting the disc ready before putting it in the console, as Wanda stepped away. Sure it would be better with the woman by your side, but you could be patient while she worked on her projects. 
Or at least, you would try to be. Healthy relationships and all, you had to be able to spend time apart, and you certainly spent enough time together even if secretly your selfish heart thought not enough.
Out of your view and satisfied you were preoccupied for the foreseeable future, the witch conjured her battle regalia, and stepped through a portal to the ground's perimeter. From the moment she stepped through, the cause of the alarm became readily apparent - Stephen Strange stood just beyond the barrier looking smarmy as ever.
Wanda was getting really sick of that stupid goatee.
“Stephen,” Wanda said, calmly, “How did you find me?” She asked, but she didn’t truly care, the how didn’t really matter.
”America didn’t sell you out, if that’s what you’re asking. The trail of death and destruction you’d left pointed me in the right direction. It took a while but eventually I found where you've been hiding, as you had to know I would.”
The witch hummed noncommittally. “I’m just trying to get my family back, Stephen. You of all people should understand that. I’ve seen what you have done to try and reunite with Christine. Can you blame me for wanting to be happy? Why do you get to choose the reality we all must live in, but when I try to make a life for myself, I’m labeled a villain?”
Strange knew there was some truth to her words, but he was never one to back down. “The family you had wasn’t real, Wanda. They never wer-”
“They were real to me!” The witch seethed, cutting him off.
“In almost every other universe, we are together and happy. If I have to go through you to make that happen, I will. To you they aren’t real, but to me they are my family, and I would burn every universe for them.” Red eyes blazed in rage, and Stephen had no doubt the Scarlet Witch meant her words.
Nevertheless, the sorcerer had no patience for empathizing with his former colleague. There was an innocent person in her grasp and it was his duty to save them. “You have to let her go, Wanda. You can’t hold her against her will like this.”
A sinister chuckle. “Against her will? Does she look like she’s being held against her will?”
With a flick of her stained fingers, and a hazy one-way portal appeared off to the side of them, showing where you were currently engrossed in playing your new video game: Baldur’s Gate 3. From there the scene changed to the recent dates you both had been going on, and how happy you were spending time together, focusing on just how enamored you looked gazing up at Wanda. Another twitch of ink-tinged digits, and the images were gone.
The sorcerer had to admit you didn’t look unhappy, but that didn’t mean all was as it seemed. He knew there was no way she had come clean to you about everything she had done to get you here. If she had, surely you would have run for the hills by now, or at least attempted to. Things wouldn’t be so rosy for you if he left you in her care, Stephen was certain.
“Be that as it may, this Y/N doesn’t belong with you. You decimated entire universes in your search for her, leaving countless innocents dead in your wake. Does she know that? Does she know that you murdered her parents in this universe?” He asked, knowing full well the answer.
His words stung, Wanda knowing that some part of him was right in this instance. No, she hadn’t told you, and initially she had never intended to. As she had gotten closer to you though, Wanda realized she wanted you to know. Not to hurt you, but to solidify that she would always keep you safe from any harm, no matter who it was. She loved you, truly, and wanted you to know everything about her. However, she couldn’t risk that until she was sure your heart wouldn’t turn away from her with the knowledge she revealed.
“They were abusing her, Stephen! In your infinite wisdom, did you know that? Do you know the life she led before me? I’m not her captor, Strange, I saved her! Here she is happy, and I provide her with everything she could ever want or need. Taking that away from her for the sake of your pitiful morality and duty, that would be the real crime. Y/N deserves to be loved, to be happy, and so do I. Don’t take that from us.”
Strange knew he couldn’t win on logic alone. This would undoubtedly end in another showdown, but he was hoping he could reason with the witch. “It’s not just about rescuing her from your clutches, Wanda. You have caused real harm to the multiverse. Untold suffering, trillions annihilated for your selfish obsession. You have to be stopped, Wanda. What’s to prevent you from killing Y/N when she doesn’t fall in line like you want? What will you do then, toss her body aside like so many other innocent people, tearing through countless more universes to find another copy? When will it stop?”
“I would never hurt her!” the redhead snaps, her magic flaring out in warning. She was blatantly ignoring the fact that not long ago she was chasing you through a forest in the fear and anger that you were leaving her. Even then though, she had never planned to hurt you, certainly not kill you. Only to teach you a lesson. Wanda deeply resented that Stephen thought she would ever purposely hurt you. Not to any lasting degree at any rate. She loved you. You were her everything, the key to her happiness.
The witch took a steadying breath, calming herself. She had to think of you first, and she didn’t want to risk a battle so close to her home with you in it. “I have no intention of leaving this universe ever again, Stephen. I can’t say that I am sorry for what I did - it has brought me here with Y/N. But we are happy here, and unless someone comes along to threaten my family, I otherwise have no need to ever harm anyone ever again.”
She paused to look Strange in the eyes, trying to convey her sincerity. “Please Stephen, just go. Leave us in peace. This doesn’t have to be a fight. I’m so… tired… of fighting, Strange, but I want to be clear: I will never give up what is mine. I will neutralize any threat to her, or her happiness, and that includes you.”
The sorcerer couldn’t deny that Wanda looked every bit as exhausted as she suggested at this moment. Unfortunately, he still couldn’t allow the greatest threat to the multiverse that’s ever existed to continue free. Stephen believed that Wanda believed she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but that didn’t mean that he trusted her temper. Having already proven volatile at best, and if he left her alone with you, there was nothing stopping Wanda from going on the rampage he expected her to, should you step one toe out of line.
With a deep sigh, he looked at the ground, pondering his options, wishing there was another way. “I’m sorry, Wanda. I can’t take that risk. Not with someone as powerful as you. I’ll ask you one last time, let Y/N go, and surrender. This doesn’t have to end in blood.”
The witch tilted her head, studying him. “I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, Stephen.”
Purposefully she strode through the barrier to her home, no longer protected by it, able to engage if necessary. “I won’t let you take her from me. I won’t allow anyone to take her from me, ever again. I have grown so much stronger since we last fought. If you insist on your foolish crusade, this will end with your blood.
By now Wanda was mere feet in front of the sorcerer, refusing to back down. “Like you said, Strange. Last chance.” She tilted her head again, and a chill ran down Stephen’s spine at her determined, if slightly unhinged visage.
Strange sighed, moving to take a defensive stance, when suddenly the witch’s arm was protruding from his chest. He let out a surprised grunt. He hadn’t even seen her move, but he could feel the agony radiating throughout his body, proof enough that she had.
With a disgusting squelch, Wanda withdrew her hand, his heart clutched firmly within, still beating. Horror darkened the man’s face as he stared in shock. He hadn’t even seen her move, much less been able to react. How had she gotten so fast? Pain and shock prevented him from even speaking.
“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Stephen, but I told you. If you continued to come for me, it would be the Scarlet Witch you would be dealing with.” With an almost regretful look at his flabbergasted expression, Wanda crushed his heart in her hand before dropping it. What was left of the ruined organ thudded onto the ground at almost the same time his body did.
Wanda turned and began walking back towards the cottage, not looking back as she waved her hand. Red phosphenes surrounded Stephen Strange’s body as it disintegrated into ash. She neglected to take a portal this time, electing instead to take the long way to the house in the hopes the night air would steady her. It didn’t.
Eventually setting foot in your shared home, Wanda cast a glance towards the living room and was relieved to see you were clearly still enthralled with your new game. So engrossed were you, that you failed to notice Wanda, hand and arm covered in blood, as she headed towards the bathroom for a shower. Though she could have cleaned herself instantly with magic, she knew she was in no state of mind to return to you just yet. Despite how unaffected Wanda had made an effort to appear to Strange, her sins were weighing heavily on her heart. Killing someone she had once fought beside was not something she relished. Another death she was going to have to explain to you one day. Since the walk hadn’t done anything to ease her troubled heart and mind, the witch set about taking a shower. It stood to reason you would hear it and not question her continued delay, buying her time to not only clean up but hopefully also clear her head. 
Her shower was longer than usual, with less time spent cleaning than simply existing. Rivulets of water ran down her face as the redhead stood beneath the showerhead, staring sight unseeing at the shower wall. A necessary evil, she told herself. That didn’t make the weight of his death any less burdensome. What was she supposed to have done? Even if she had let him go, eventually he would have come back, the insufferable pest that he was. Likely then with numbers that even the Scarlet Witch might struggle with. She couldn’t have risked that. Risked you. Never again.
Why couldn’t he have just left her well enough alone? Wanda had meant what she said: she had no intention of universe hopping anymore. All she had ever wanted was her family. Now that she had you, she could begin rebuilding that, and you were making such good progress for her. Why would she want to start over with another variant of you, when you were just… so perfect for her? She still missed your Avenger variant, but every day that hole in her heart hurt just a little less. Besides, something about you specifically had a hold on her heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
Maybe in the beginning Wanda might.. have gone searching for another if you had not panned out as she expected. Terrible as that was to admit. Instead, from the moment she laid eyes on you before even entering into this universe, she was gripped by you. It was Fate, she was sure of it. And now? She couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Of ever even trying to find another. Out of the vast multiverse, there was only this version of you. She wanted you as you were, and she refused to let you go or allow any harm to come to you. Even if it meant protecting you from herself.
A shuddering breath was exhaled, and Wanda began slowly rinsing the blood off of her face and out of her hair. She may have left you with a video game to keep yourself entertained, but Wanda knew from experience if she wasn’t there, it wouldn’t be too long before you would come looking. Wanda had become your rock, your favorite person. You could be playing your favorite game of all time, but if Wanda was not present, you wouldn’t have nearly as much fun. It was sort of cute how you would look for her at every opportunity, unable to stand being without her for too long. She felt similarly, and hoped you knew that now.
Finally clean, and deeming herself capable of functioning again, the witch changed into her most comfortable pajamas before mindlessly making her way back to the living room where you were. Absorbed in your game as you were, you only vaguely registered Wanda’s presence returning. You scooted slightly on the couch to make room for her, without ever taking your eyes away from the screen.
“Hey, Wands!” you said, enthusiastically. “How is your project coming along?”
The former hero was not ready to speak just yet, so she simply hummed instead, and leaned against you. She took comfort in your familiar warmth, even if your arms weren’t around her just now, your presence was enough to be soothing.
The lack of a proper response caught your attention. You almost didn’t turn to look at her, being in the midst of a pivotal battle, but you were glad you did. Hazel eyes puffy and tinted pink from crying met yours. Alarmed, you immediately stopped playing, controller forgotten in your lap, the game not even paused. Turning to the older woman, you placed one hand on her arm, the other to her cheek which she leaned in to.
“Wanda? What’s wrong? Has something happened?” 
Oh her precious detka, thought the witch. Always such a big heart, eager to provide comfort and aid. Perhaps if she were to tell you, maybe you would understand. Maybe you would forgive her. As she took in your concerned gaze though, she knew she wasn’t ready to risk it. Not right now. Instead, she shook her head to your question, unwilling to answer it.
“Can we not talk about it right now?” Her Sokovian accent was slightly more pronounced.
Though you were dying of curiosity as to what could bring someone so mighty to tears, you didn’t press. It’s not as if there would be something someone as powerless as you could do anything about whatever it was anyway. All you could do was ask and offer comfort. Wanda would tell you when she was ready. Until then, this was your opportunity to return some of the love and support she had provided you with, and you positively ached to bring that to her. Wordlessly, you pulled her into your arms, leaning back on the couch until she was laying atop your body. Murmuring gentle words of reassurance, you held her close, occasionally running your fingers through her auburn locks.
After a while, you grabbed the remote nearby and turned the tv from your video game to the DVD player. The Dick Van Dyke show began playing softly in the background, and Wanda’s chest bloomed with love for you at your thoughtfulness. She nuzzled further into your embrace, staying that way for the better part of the rest of the day as you both dozed intermittently.
Hours later Wanda slipped into a proper sleep, and once evening had rolled around, you took it upon yourself to cook dinner. Though you hadn’t wanted to part from the witch, she clearly needed the rest, and you wanted to surprise her by making dinner for her. Carefully you rolled her away from your chest and onto the couch instead, placing one of the pillows beneath her head. The only indication she registered any change was the slight, adorable scrunching of her nose. Why was this woman so damn cute?!
The kitchen had never been your chosen domain. Before Wanda, you were more likely to burn a pot of water than actually cook something successfully. Now you were hoping some of her lessons had rubbed off on you as you rummaged through the pantry and fridge trying to locate ingredients. With any luck you would be able to throw together and create something vaguely resembling an edible meal.
It was a pleasant surprise for you to discover that you currently had all the ingredients available to make Chicken Paprikash - Wanda’s favorite meal from her home in Sokovia. Going through her recipe note cards, it didn’t take you long to find it, and soon you were throwing seasonings in a pot along with some onions, tomatoes, peppers, and the chicken. While that was cooking, you prepared the noodles. A little under an hour later, and everything was coming together. You just hoped it wasn’t trash.
The aromatic and savory fragrance must have awoken the redhead because she sleepily padded her way into the kitchen to find her sweet surprise. You couldn’t see her yet, your back to her as you stirred the food while it simmered. Though unable to carry a tune to save your life, you were humming quietly to yourself with your earbuds firmly in place as you focused on making the delicious meal. Precious.
“Are you cooking, detka?” Wanda asked just loud enough to be heard over your music, and you jumped, startled. Blushing you turned to face the witch and grinned sheepishly.
“Uhh.. if you could call it that?” you chuckled, pulling out an earbud. “I just thought since you’re always taking such good care of me, maybe I could return the favor?” Voice lilting upwards almost in a question, hoping you hadn’t overstepped.
Moving to stand next to you and see what you had made, Wanda’s eyes widened as she took in the familiar dish. “Is this chicken paprikash?”
“Haha, yeah uhh.. my attempt at it at least?” You absentmindedly rubbed the back of your neck  - a nervous tick you’re pretty sure you didn’t have as a child until you started watching anime to learn the nuances of facial expressions better. It wasn’t until well into adulthood you learned most people don’t actually do that. Embarrassed, you fought not to slap your own arm, and instead simply lower it like a normal person.
“I hope I didn’t butcher it too badly. I tried to follow the recipe you had on the card since we had all the ingredients, but I can’t speak to the integrity of the dish as I haven’t tasted it yet. Besides, you're the true connoisseur here, so even if it seems okay to me, your superior palate might be able to tell the difference.” The joke rolls easily off your tongue, followed by a quick wink.
To you this was no big deal, you were just trying to be kind. But to Wanda? This was the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for her, and it reminded her almost of when she taught your Avenger variant how to make the dish. The other you had never tried to make it for her in return however, opting simply to learn about the meal while Wanda cooked. Now, looking at the beautiful dinner you had created for her, simply because it was her favorite and might cheer her up, Wanda felt her heart about to burst with affection for you.
Unable to hold back, deft fingers gripped your neck softly, quickly pulling you in for a searing kiss. Pouring all her love, affection, and appreciation into the kiss. You were surprised, but not unhappy with this turn of events. It hadn’t been your goal, per se, a kiss from the woman you were coming to love. However, if she wasn’t melancholic anymore, then you considered your goal accomplished. Your arms came to wrap around her neck, though you were careful to keep the spoon from making contact with her clothing or hair, you had heard her take a shower earlier and didn’t want to ruin that for her.
The kiss simmered into something soft and sweet. Meanwhile your food, unfortunately, was starting to bubble over. Hearing it, the pair of you sprung apart, with you frantically pulling the pot off the eye of the stove, stirring it to return to the intended consistency. Embarrassed and amused, you both burst into giggles at the almost mishap.
“Thank you, Y/N. This is incredibly sweet of you, I-” The redhead pauses, unable to eloquently convey everything she felt in that moment. “Just, thank you.”
The wattage of your smile could have been seen from space; you were so happy. “Of course, Wands! Any time.”
While you turned off the stove, Wanda set the table so you could begin plating your dinner. Jokes and laughter flowed easily between you as you both enjoyed your meal. Wanda, who never doubted your cooking skills, though you are pleasantly surprised, enjoyed that the paprikash is not only edible but rather delicious.
As you and Wanda settled into the domesticity of it all, the witch found her heart becoming light once again. So incredibly kind and thoughtful, you brought her joy, and filled her with hope. She resolved then and there to tell you everything one day. Deserving of that much at the very least, Wanda prayed, hoping, with all her being, that you would forgive her when the truth was finally revealed. For now though she sank into the warmth and comfort you provided, falling for you just a little more with each grin you flashed her way.
A/N 2: I’m not proud of what I had Wanda do in this, but I still have some left-over rage for how Stephen treated Wanda. All she needed was a little empathy, especially from the man who made the call to allow the events with Thanos and the Mind stone to play out as they did, basically letting Vision die. For no good reason. No you can’t convince me he was right. Its lazy plot writing that out of thousands and thousands of possibilities, none of them could have involved sparing Vision, or at least making his death mean something. I’m a Wanda apologist first and foremost, and I will die on this hill. Wanda deserved better, especially from those she called “friends”. Also, I stan women’s wrongs 😛
Taglist: I remembered this time!! @dorabledewdroop
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ominus-potato · 27 days ago
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Hi, just wanted some advice about fanfics on ao3, how do you write them? and how can I make my one shot fic impactful for the readers. I'm planning on making a fic but since it's my first time making I kinda don't know where to start.. It's fine if you don't know though! just thought of asking cause you're writing's really good imo.
Sneak peak of the next part of the Pining Mario series at the end!
Well when I write, I don’t do it on AO3. I draft my work on Wattpad and then cross-post it to AO3. This is because AO3 is a bit more complicated, can be dodgy with saving works and only work when I have Wi-Fi. With Wattpad, I can write offline which is very helpful. Some people also draft on google docs so there’s that as well.
In terms of ACTUAL writing, there are two ways to leave an impression on the reader. There’s the way liked with angst, pain and maybe a bit of comfort; and there’s the way of making a story so sickeningly sweet that the reader is gushing over every cute moment. The length of the story also plays a factor. If it’s under 4000 I’d recommend avoiding angst bc you don’t have much time to set it up and at it off effectively.
Personally, I pretty much never write angst unless I genuinely believe it’ll make a story better. I’ve read fics before where the author will just throw in a shit ton of angst for no reason other than to make the reader feel bad for the mc and it just feels really cheap. It’s hard to do angst right and it’s really tempting to just give everyone a super fucked up backstory and make them depressed or something but imo it’s just overdone to the point of exhaustion. It can make a story depressing and no longer a fun read.
Whenever I write angst, it’s a small part of a mostly fluff-filled story. Take the pining Mario series for example. 19,000 words of silly pining hyjinx with a few small drops of angst. Then have the angst bubble over a little in Shots and Cowboys, Mario has a small breakdown since we’ve been keeping up with the story from his perspective mostly. That then allows me to forward the story and give character a new motivation.
If youre going to use angst to get an emotional reaction, you MUST have good set up and pay off. Especially if it’s a longer story. Also, you don’t have to do this, but I’d recommend against adding angst unless it’s necessary. Don’t just throw it in there Willy nilly yk?
If you wanna know how I do my stories, I really enjoy making them sweet and adorable with a little bit of drama and comedy. Like “Love is not a foreign language” where it’s just Mario and Mr Puzzles being adorable as hell for 6000 words. Then the drama comes when Puzzles reveals he can understand Mario and that only leads to more cutesy love.
A lot of it comes down to the story you’re trying to tell and how you want your reader to react. When I write a story, I want my readers to be invested in the drama and rising tensions, enjoying the little spurts of comedy here and there and ultimately, finding the main ship really cute in the end. I try to make people happy with my work bc I write the kinda stuff I would love to read! Because if I would read it, someone else definitely would.
Also, I feel like I must add that I have only ever written ship stories. If you wanted advice on stories in general with no shipping then I wouldn’t really know how to advise you on that. I love relationships between characters. Whether it’s ships or friendships. It’s my favourite part of any fandom so it’s where I specialise in my work.
Sorry I don’t really have like a plan or anything. I just keep it all in my head, know a few plot points I want to hit, and write to them. I try to get around 3-5 plot points for my longer stories and then just 1 or maybe 2 for the shorter ones. I sometimes add them as I go if I think it’ll make the story better!
For example, my plot points in Shots and Cowboys were:
•Mario tries to buy Puzzles a drink
•Mario and Mr Puzzles are interrupted by Wren and Mario is jealous
•Mario and Wren do something to fight for Puzzles’ affection (IE, play pool)
•Mario looses Puzzles to Wren, sees them kiss and is devastated.
•Mr Puzzles thinks that Mario is heartbroken over SMG4 and promises to help him move on.
Then if I get any smaller points like certain ships, lines, dynamics or interactions I wanna add I just sprinkle them in where I can.
I don’t really have much advice outside of that. I tend to just think of a scene or an idea I’d love to write and then more ideas pop up around it. It’s just one major point that gets built around. IE, Mario being jealous was the premise of SAC purely just because there were a few jealous Puzzles stories and I wanted to see if I could switch the dynamic.
Sorry for the long wall of text. I just wanna make sure it’s detailed enough for you. Just make it up as you go along and write what you wanna read. I re-read my stuff all the time because I genuinely enjoy what I write and it gives me exactly what I want. Have fun with it!
And if you’re worried about it being terrible, I’d advise you to read my old Lego Ninjago fanfiction that I wrote when I was 13. My god it was awful. But it shows development!
First story:
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Latest story:
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Enjoy that sneak peak of the next part of the Pining Mario series :D
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darligvane · 1 month ago
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Gage headcanons
I have these all written down in a google doc (plus way more) so I figured I might as well throw some here now that I'm getting more comfortable using tumblr lol. I'm very open to discussion about these! I might post more in the future if someone finds it interesting.
CW for: Minor mentions of addiction and some general trauma stuff. Nothing too bad I don't think but don't hold me to that.
A lot of these mention The Harvester by the way, sorry. Lore makes my brain itch.
● While he is a part of a minority of raiders who can actually read and write‐ (as evidenced by him leaving messages to Colter on his terminal) -he is dyslexic. It takes him a while to write things out coherently, and reading anything more than a few short sentences is often frustrating.
● ^ because of this, he prefers / genuinely enjoys comic books. They're light on reading and he can usually tell whats going on even without dialogue. He had a small collection of comic books back when he lived with The Harvester, and still gets kind of pissed he never got those back.
• Regarding comics, his least favorite character is the Silver Shroud. He just pisses him off.
● His eyepatch being so large is actually functional! (Somewhat) I like to think he lost his eye by getting shot in the face with a plasma round, which corroded and destroyed a large area of skin around his eye and down his cheek. So the large metal plating on his eyepatch covers the large scar.
● He actually lost his eye when he first joined The Harvesters gang when he was younger. One of Harvests gang members pulled the trigger on him when he initially approached them, thinking he had ill intentions. It sucked- but hey, at least they let him in.
● He made his own cage armor and designed it particularly around his needs rather than protection. He uses the cage to hold tools, parts, a rag, etc. while he works on things like Colters power armor or other mechanical things he fiddled with. Definitely doesn't make him very bulletproof, but following the boss around keeps him away from most combat situations anyway.
● Colter had a tendency to use Gages armor like a big handle to drag him around a lot, which he didn't particularly enjoy.
● His favorite colour is yellow, which is why his cage armor is the colour it is. He painted it himself :')
● Has the most horrific trust issues in all of mankind. (Thanks for betraying him Harvest, he will absolutely not recover from that.) He won't eat anything he doesn't see prepared himself, won't set down his drink unless he's alone, he can't sleep around other people, etc. When Colter dies and the new Overboss takes over, he doesn't even tell them where he sleeps until he trusts them entirely. He'll just dissappear at night unless you call out for him.
● These trust issues leak into his behaviors during relationships also. Down to the more simple things. He prefers to hug his partner from behind or be big spoon, he prepares food for them both, takes the night guard when camping, etc. Anything that puts him in the more advantageous position, even if its subconscious.
● The Harvester haunts him. He still sees and hears him in the shadows or corners after however many years its been. Has nightmares of him coming back and finally finishing the job, killing him. Feels the cold metal of a scythe against his throat when it isn't there... its endless. Even something as common as the sounds of distant gunfire make him paranoid, since it reminds him of the betrayal. Absolutely ruined him.
● Has tattoos inspired by / centered around The Harvesters. Covers them with his armor though. Hes got some trauma to unpack man, idk. (Should I do a tattoo tour for him?)
● One of the reasons he hates chems is from a previous addiction. He doesn't like to talk about it, but he made a few of his worst life decisions on chems and it just put a bad taste in his mouth. He'd prefer it if his Overboss / partner was in a rational state of mind, thank you.
● He is surprisingly good with animals for the most part. Particularly cats. Does the old man / dad thing where he says he doesn't like them or calls them mean names while secretly petting them or letting them hop in his lap when he's alone.
● Not usually a big fan of the more "exotic" wasteland animals though. Totally got jumpy one day and shot a Pack molerat on accident.
Thats probably enough for now. I'm happy to answer questions or expand on these more if asked, and I'll probably share more in the future. (Maybe some 18+ ones too? We'll see.)
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thehereticdiaries · 6 days ago
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Into the Wonderland: Chapter One
Chapter Summary: You were just trying to enjoy lunch and get some school work done. Unfortunately, a classmate interrupted in the worst way possible and you turn to two of the other patrons for help.
Warnings: Assault, attempted force bond, asshole alpha classmate, idk let me know if I missed anything
A/N: the google doc for this series is called "mingi's squaring up" and i find that very funny also i promise i'm gonna add more to each series!! i just want to get all of the first chapters out with some one-shots in between :3
Series Masterlist
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(“Korean dialogue” / “English dialogue”)
Your afternoon class for the day was canceled last-minute. The hastily-written email came in less than 15 minutes before it was supposed to start, something about a family emergency. For you, this meant you had time to go to your favorite restaurant for lunch. You were well-known among the staff, considering one of your family friends was the owner.
“Hey, Y/N! Don’t you normally have a class right now?” The host greeted you as you approached the counter.
“It was canceled today. I’m gonna use the time to eat and work on a project for bioinformatics,” you explained. The host hummed in understanding.
“You want to sit in Minali’s section?” You nodded eagerly. Minali was your favorite server. Whenever you came in on her shift, you sat with her. The host gestured for you to follow. She led you back to a small booth in the back corner (you loved this booth because it had an outlet). You thanked the host and got your laptop set up. Minali waved at you with a bright smile. You smiled back and opened R to begin a new coding page.
“Oh, hi Y/N.” You barely started on your code when you were interrupted. You looked up and stared at the guy next to your table for a second.
“Hey! Marcus, right?” 
“You remember, that’s good. It would’ve been awkward if you didn’t.” Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. Your nose scrunched up at his scent, as he wasn’t wearing any scent blockers. It was common courtesy to wear blockers when at a restaurant. You had put on patches before you even stepped in the building. The blockers made sure everyone would be able to enjoy their food without distraction. Marcus was an exchange student, so maybe he just didn’t know. You decided to let it slide.
“As if I could forget your name with how often Dr. Byeon sings your praises,” you teased with a shake of your head. 
“Ah, sorry about that,” he winced.
“Don’t apologize for having such good grades. It’ll help you in the long run.” You waved a bit before turning back to your laptop. God, where did you even want to start with this code?
“Do you mind if I sit here for a minute? My friend is meeting me here soon.” Marcus pointed to the bench across from you. 
“Sure, go ahead.” You jumped when he sat down right next to you. “Uh, you wanna move to the other side?”
“Nah, I don’t. I want to talk to you omega.” You glared at his use of your presentation. He smirked at you, snaking an arm around the back of the booth.
“Well that sucks for you. I’m not interested,” you sneered, slightly baring your teeth. Marcus’ face dropped to annoyance. “I think it’s best for you to leave. Go wait for your friend at the host stand.”
“Yeah? I think it would be best for you to listen when an alpha is speaking.” You rolled your eyes. So he was one of those alphas: pig-headed, easily agitated, and couldn't take no for an answer. “I’ve seen the way you look at me in class. You want me just as bad as I want you.”
“As if! I only ever look at you if you’re presenting your code, you jackass,” you spat and crossed your arms over your chest. 
“I don’t believe that, Y/N. Your scent is always sweeter when you look at me.” And this was why you usually wore scent blockers to class. You could count the number of times you went to class without them on one hand.
“Dude, leave me alone or I will call over the manager.” Marcus scowled at your threat. For a tense moment, he sat in a seething silence. Your glare didn’t falter, which only pissed him off more. Then the hand that was resting on the booth snapped to the back of your neck. You jolted and shoved yourself further into the corner of the booth. Marcus lunged forward, aiming for your neck. You yelped at the feeling of his teeth scraping your scent gland. 
You jabbed your fingers into Marcus’ ribs, loosening his grip on your neck. You quickly ducked under the table and crawled into the aisle. You scoffed in shock. Did this asshole really just try to force a claim on you?!
“What. The. Fuck, Marcus?” You hissed at your classmate. He leapt out of the booth and you stumbled back a few steps. You turned and rushed up to the host stand. She wasn’t there, but two men stood by the stand. They wore masks and scrolled on their phones while they waited for the host to return. The taller of the pair wore a black hoodie, and the other wore a bomber jacket. Without thinking, you wiggled your way between the pair. They looked down at you, eyebrows raised. 
“Hi! Please hide me,” you pleaded. They glanced up at each other before returning to you. You gave a weak smile and puppy eyes.
“Come on, babe. You don’t need to bother these guys just because you’re mad at me,” Marcus lied smoothly. Any indication of anger had disappeared as he pulled the amused boyfriend act. The taller man (that you were currently hiding behind) moved his gaze from you to Marcus. 
“I’m so sorry to bother you-”
“Hey, use English. You know I don’t understand Korean. I don’t want you lying to make yourself look like the victim,” Marcus interrupted. You looked to the man behind you. His eyebrows were furrowed, somewhere between confusion and anger.
“Do you know this guy?” He asked, stepping a tiny bit closer. Marcus glared at the stranger. 
“Yeah, he’s my classmate. He came up to me and asked to sit with me while he waited for a friend,” you began rambling. They listened intently, but didn’t look away from Marcus. The smell of his anger was burning the back of their throats. “Anyway, he didn’t like that I refused a date, so he tried to force a claiming bite on me.” 
“What?!” The shorter of the two exclaimed and turned back to you. The one in front of you stayed locked on Marcus, even though he startled at your admission. 
“Listen, I don’t know what she’s saying to you, but she’s my girlfriend and she’s just pissed I was late,” Marcus cut in. You subconsciously grabbed the sleeve of the man in front of you, just in case Marcus tried to grab you again. 
“I swear, he is just a classmate. We’re not dating. Hell, we aren’t even friends!” You huffed. 
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, let’s go, Y/N. You’ve wasted enough of these guys’ time,” Marcus demanded and stepped forward. You felt a hand on the small of your back. The man in front of you angled his arm to shield you from your approaching classmate. 
“Yea, I don’t think I believe you,” the taller man drawled in a heavy accent. He tilted his head, sizing up the irritated alpha.
“Dude, come on. She’s fucking lying to you!”
“So? Even if her story is fake, you’re still walking around a restaurant angry and with no scent blockers,” the guy behind you spoke up. You sagged in relief. 
“From where I stand, you look like an alpha trying to use his smell as intimidation,” the taller man concluded. Marcus scowled and clenched his fists. The man in the hoodie removed your hand from his sleeve, pushing you toward his friend. He stepped up to Marcus, towering over him. He glowered down at your classmate. He didn’t falter even as the bell above the door jingled. A fourth man paused at the door, surveying the scene in front of him. 
“Seonghwa, Mingi looks like he’s about to throw hands with some guy,” the newcomer turned and shouted behind him. You heard a soft ‘eh?!’ then multiple sets of hurried footsteps. Six men squeezed into the waiting area of the restaurant. 
“Ah, fuck. San, help me get Mingi back. Yunho go get the manager,” a man with dark, chin-length hair instructed. He and two others sprang into action. One disappeared into the restaurant while the other two grabbed Mingi’s arms in an attempt to draw him back.
“Let go.” Mingi shook their hands off of him. “This asshole tried to force a claim bite on that girl!” Half of the group now stood around you, blocking you from Marcus’ sight.
There was a tense silence as Mingi and Marcus stared each other down. That was until Marcus growled and stepped toward you. Mingi swung without hesitation, punching your classmate square on the jaw. Marcus stumbled backwards.
“Motherfucker, you son of a bitch! I’ll fucking kill you,” Marcus snarled. You gasped. You didn’t think things would devolve to violence. Bomber jacket and one of his friends each shielded you with an arm. Mingi just titled his head at the threats, clearly not worried.
“WHAT is going on out here?!” A voice boomed as the group member returned with a middle-aged man marching in front of him.
“Ji-Won!” You called and pushed your way forward. The man turned to you and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder. “Oppa, that guy is one of my classmates and he attacked me. I felt his teeth brush against my neck.” You shuddered. Ji-Won whipped his head around to Marcus.
“Leave my restaurant, you are not welcome here,” the elder snapped. Marcus glared around the room, chest heaving in anger.
“You better watch your fucking back, man.” He growled and cracked his neck before storming out the door. Everyone stared after him for a moment.
“Holy shit.” Ji-Won cast a face of disapproval at your language. “Thank you so, so much for your help.”
“No need to thank us. He was a creep, and I wasn’t about to let him take you,” the guy in the bomber jacket spoke up.
“Hongjoong, I cannot thank you enough. Y/N’s mother is a dear friend of mine. I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to her while under my supervision,” Ji-Won praised the young man. Hongjoong’s eyes crinkled in a hidden smile. 
“Have you had a chance to eat yet, my dear?” Ji-Won turned to you. You shook your head.
“Nah, Marcus showed up before Minali could even bring my drink.”
“Would you want to join us?” Several sets of confused eyes turned to Mingi, who just shrugged. You furrowed your eyebrows.
“Oh, I couldn’t intrude-”
“You wouldn’t be,” Hongjoong spoke up this time. You looked around at the other members of the group. Two of them looked confused, and one looked incredibly bored, but most were nodding in agreement.
“If you’re sure. Let me go grab my stuff,” you hesitantly agreed and turned to go back to the booth you were originally seated in. In your panic, you had abandoned all of your schoolwork and belongings.
Back in the waiting area, Mingi watched as you walked away. He was feeling protective, and he didn’t like letting you go on your own. 
Get a hold of yourself, you can’t be this overprotective to a girl you barely know! She looks cute in that skirt, though. Fuck, don’t look at her thighs. Don’t look at her thighs. Shit I looked, Jesus-
“Mingi, you good?” Wooyoung’s voice snapped him out of his inner ramblings. He sent the younger member a tight-lipped smile. The host informed the group that the private room was ready. They waited until you returned to head into the room. 
Well, this should be interesting, you thought as you sat down.
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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months ago
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WIBTA if I refuse to do anymore work on the group project we already missed the deadline for, but can still submit?
I am extremely tired of being walked over and doing all the work. I'm a 3rd year uni student and multiple times I've been the main person doing group project work. The latest example is what prompted this ask. Our task was to do a discussion and then write an essay based on it, the group consists of 4 people including me. We talked for 10 minutes at the end of last week and a little bit yesterday. We did the majority of the work yesterday as well.
There are 14 points/questions we need to cover. Multiple people not only are advised to, but must cover the same questions so there's substance to be worked with. While the rest of the group covered some, it's insufficient and I did the majority of the work on the first half of the questions and all of the second half. A worked on 4/14 questions (pretty short answers), B also did 4/14 questions (one longer answer, three pretty short answers), C wrote 2.5/14 questions (2 medium length answers, one single sentence answer) and D, me, did 11/14 (mainly long answers with a couple of shorter ones).
After I made a Google Doc to make communication easier, they submitted their answers and basically ghosted me. I asked multiple times for help but was met with silence or jokes about checking the grammar and typos later for me. Again, we don't have enough substances to work with, the essay CANNOT be completed with what we have so far.
And here's where the issues get deeper. I asked for someone to at least look at what I've written down so far multiple times, proofread it if you will. Silence. I know for a fact A and C were FREE and could've continued working on the project, while B might or might not have been at work. Finally C said they'll do it. We were left with less than an hour to wrap it up and submit it before the deadline at this point.
2 minutes after saying that they'll read it, they sent me a "it's great" message. They shameless lied to my face.
I was inside the Doc the whole time and no other users were shown to be viewing the page, let alone reading 3 lengthy paragraphs in 2 minutes.
At some point during the day I was so desperate, I was ready to delete all I've written, comments, intro and first few paragraphs of the essay, everything and beg to join a different group. But a friend managed to calm me down and I didn't go that route.
I can't write to the professor and explain the situation to him, it's just not an option, that's not a practice in my country when the subject only consists of lectures and the professor has to look after 100+ students. My last hope is tomorrow morning those 3 will see the newest messages of me asking for help to finish it and will help me. If that doesn't happen, well...
What I can do is say fuck it and give them the same treatment they've given me – ghost them, don't do additional work on the questions and essay and take all of us down for not finishing and submitting the final project. I don't really want to do it and fuck up our grades (we have no idea how important this homework is for the final grade) but I genuinely see no other way. So WIBTA?
What are these acronyms?
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dk-thrive · 11 months ago
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Writing is thinking, but it’s thinking slowed down — stilled —
... And that’s one of the arguments for writing well — for taking the time and summoning the focus to do so. Good writing burnishes your message. It burnishes the messenger, too.
You may be dazzling on your feet, an extemporaneous ace, thanks to the brilliant thoughts that pinball around your brain. There will nonetheless be times when you must pin them down and put them in a long email. Or a medium-length email. Or a memo. Or, hell, a Slack channel. The clarity, coherence, precision and even verve with which you do that — achieving a polish and personality distinct from most of what A.I. spits out — will have an impact on the recipients of that missive, coloring their estimation of you and advancing or impeding your goals.
If you’re honest with yourself, you know that, because you know your own skeptical reaction when people send you error-clouded dreck. You also know the way you perk up when they send its shining opposite. And while the epigrammatic cleverness or audiovisual genius of a viral TikTok or Instagram post has the potential to shape opinion and motivate behavior, there are organizations and institutions whose internal communications and decision-making aren’t conducted via social media. GIFs, memes and emojis don’t apply.
When my friend Molly Worthen, a history professor at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and a frequent contributor to Times Opinion, took the measure of the influential diplomat Charles Hill for her 2006 book “The Man on Whom Nothing Was Lost,” she noted that a principal reason for his enormous behind-the-scenes influence was his dexterity with the written word. He took great notes. He produced great summaries. He made great arguments — on paper, not just on the fly.
Worthen noted in her book that “transmitting ideas into written words is hard, and people do not like to do it.” As a result, someone who performs that task gladly, quickly and nimbly “in most cases ends up the default author, the quarterback to whom others start to turn, out of habit, for the play.”
Good writing announces your seriousness, establishing you as someone capable of caring and discipline. But it’s not just a matter of show: The act of wrestling your thoughts into logical form, distilling them into comprehensible phrases and presenting them as persuasively and accessibly as possible is arguably the best test of those very thoughts. It either exposes them as flawed or affirms their merit and, in the process, sharpens them.
Writing is thinking, but it’s thinking slowed down — stilled — to a point where dimensions and nuances otherwise invisible to you appear....
I think you can take the “pen and paper” out of the equation — replace them with keystrokes in a Google Doc or Microsoft Word file — and the point largely holds. That kind of writing, too, forces you to concentrate or to elaborate. A tossed-off text message doesn’t. Neither do most social media posts. They have as much to do with spleen as with brain.
What place do the traditional rules of writing and the conventional standards for it have in all this? Does purposeful, ruminative or cathartic writing demand decent grammar, some sense of pace, some glimmer of grace?
Maybe not. You can write in a manner that’s comprehensible and compelling only or mostly to you. You can choose which dictums to follow and which to flout. You’re still writing.
But show me someone who writes correctly and ably — and who knows that — and I’ll show you someone who probably also writes more. Such people’s awareness of their agility and their confidence pave the way. Show me someone who has never been pressed to write well or given the tutelage and tools to do so and I’ll show you someone who more often than not avoids it and, in avoiding it, is deprived of not only its benefits but also its pleasures.
Yes, pleasures. I’ve lost count of the times when I’ve praised a paragraph, sentence or turn of phrase in a student’s paper and that student subsequently let me know that the passage had in fact been a great source of pride, delivering a jolt of excitement upon its creation. We shouldn’t devalue that feeling. We should encourage — and teach — more people to experience it.
— Frank Bruni, from "A.I. or no A.I., it pays to write — and to write well" (NY Times, December 21, 2023)
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