#because i am a glutton for angst

[reidrum]

exile

note: happy december i hope ur all doing well <3 a little something to hold u over until next friday when i start 12 days of reidrumas ok love u

summary: in which you and JJ are the ones held hostage in truth or dare

cw: spoilers for 14x15 truth or dare, hurt/comfort, angst, fem!reader, a heated makeout, reader wears a dress and heels, take a shot everytime reader tears up

wc: 3.6k

p.s. i am a glutton for praise if you couldn't tell from any of my fics but i love hearing what y'all think so plsplspls lemme know your thoughts in a comment or drop in my ask box!!!!

You’re not really sure where it went wrong.

When you joined JJ to pursue Casey, it was out of convenience. You both were simply closer to his last location. No one could’ve predicted he’d take you both hostage or make you play a twisted game of truth or dare at gunpoint.

No one could have predicted that Casey would force you and JJ to reveal details that hadn’t seen the light of day. He didn’t even care for those secrets, egging you both on to reveal something that would satisfy his masochistic itch. When he realizes that neither of you would break, he ups the ante by angling the gun to the middle of your head. JJ panics and speaks before she can even process what she said.

Because as you’re staring down the barrel of the gun clocked at your forehead, you realize the bullet isn’t inside the cylinder, it’s in JJ’s next words.

I’ve always loved Spencer.

You look at her mouth agape, blood draining from your face and tears springing to your eyes. She returns your gaze with one full of remorse and pity. To any onlooker, it would seem like a harmless confession. But they didn’t know the times you confided in JJ about your feelings for Spencer, the late nights at the office she’d stay with you giving advice and words of wisdom, when all JJ wanted was for her friend to be happy.

But now, how much of that can you believe to be true?

Casey seems to be satisfied with your reaction as he lowers his gun, with you reacting quickly grabbing your hidden second pistol and gunning him down. The only audible noise left is the heavy breathing of you both, the adrenaline rush starting to fade. JJ says your name remorsefully, but she’s interrupted by the rest of the team and police arriving to the scene.

The next thing you remember is sitting outside on the back of an ambulance rig, blankly staring out at your new reality. JJ loves Spencer.

You couldn’t compete, how could you? She was JJ. and you were, you. You had lost before you even began, you might as well toss the towel now.

It makes hugging Spence for what could be the last time—not to be dramatic—bittersweet. To know that this is an insignificantly normal moment he won’t remember, but one that you’ll play on repeat for the rest of your life.

Spencer holds you close into his chest with his arm smoothing out your back, “Thank god you’re okay, are you hurt?”

You scoff internally. Yes, but not in a way that can be fixed. In a way that you are not privy to yet, but once you are it will rip us to shreds.

“I’m fine, just a few scratches.”

He nods while examining you with his own mental checklist, “Okay, if your head starts hurting or your vision gets blurry you need to tell the EMT.” you nod as he adds on, “I’m gonna go check on JJ, you’ll be okay?”

No, no I won’t. There is no reality that exists where I can be okay anymore.

“I’m good. Go.”

He squeezes your shoulders and with another nod he walks over to where JJ rests on another ambulance rig, her arms instantly opening to welcome Spencer’s warm embrace. His back is facing you and JJ’s face rests over his shoulder, her eyes meeting yours in a look of sadness, grief. You look away before you can read more into it.

Wrapping the foil blanket around you tighter you let your head fall back and stare at the night sky, hoping there was a message out in the stars that would tell you what to do.

Your relationship with Spencer was, on the surface, nothing more than a friendship. He had joined the BAU only a year prior to you and when you came along it was clear from the first second that you two would be inseparable. Small talks in the bullpen quickly turned into mornings spent at the coffee shop, into weekly movie nights debating the superior science fiction franchise, to holding his hand when he needed a friend.

To Spencer, you were his anchor. Through all the trials and tribulations his life had dealt him, he knew he didn’t need to worry so much as long as you were around.

To you, Spencer was all consuming. He was threaded through every neuron and vessel in your body, intricately and impossibly tethered to you that it would take the work of the divine to painfully separate him from you.

Or, one Jennifer Jaraeu.

You don’t even realize tears are falling down your face until the EMT taps your shoulder and asks if anything has started to hurt again. Quickly shaking your head, you unravel yourself from the foil blanket and hand it back to her. You spare one last glance back at Spencer and JJ, eyes immediately zeroing on their joined hands, his thumb gently brushing the top of hers.

Your feet trudge you back to where the team is set up, one look to Emily and she’s already excusing herself from her conversation. She walks over to you phone up to her ear, saying something about you. You’re not really sure, it’s all water noise.

“Anderson will be here in about five minutes to take you home,”

You nod silently, not willing to make eye contact. Emily could sense your turmoil from a mile away, chalk it up to the Pisces moon in her but behind the hard exterior she put up there lay Emily, your empathetic friend who just wanted to hug your shattered pieces back together.

“You’ll be okay?” The second time you’ve been asked, your answer is still unchanged.

No. “Yeah.”

She sighs knowingly. The reason the two of you were such close friends was because of your similar ability to remain emotionally bottled up until it was too late, resulting in an outburst enough to take out armies and yourselves.

Anderson honks the car as he pulls up, alerting you of his arrival. Emily looks from the car back to you,  “I should go check on JJ.”

“Woman of the hour, it seems.” you chuckle under your breath.

Emily gives you that look, the conflicted ‘I’m sorry our friend made you feel this way, I still have to check on her.” look.

You brush her off, your casualness hopefully sending the message that the situation isn’t that deep. For her, you think.

The sound of the car unlocking rings through your ear as you hop in the passenger seat. Anderson tries to make small talk with you to no success, settling for the late night 00s radio station as he pulls up to your house, driving off as you bid him goodnight with a wave.

The breeze of your empty apartment greets you as you open the door, the air chillier than you’d expect for the season. You tug your shoes off harshly, placing your keys on the mail table next to the door. Your heart drops as you catch sight of a floral embossed card lying on top of your mail on the table.

Rossi’s wedding.

The one you were told to absolutely prioritize, the one in which JJ had helped you find a dress for, the one where you hoped you’d feel brave enough to tell Spencer how you truly felt.

You sigh deeply knowing you still had to show up and look presentable tomorrow despite being held hostage only 24 hours prior. But, maybe this is how you make a clean break. All this time you’ve been in love with Spencer and nothing has happened, despite all the signs you think you’re giving him. Maybe this is the opportunity to save Spencer from further tension, albeit unknown to him at this point, and let him finally be happy.

You knew about the Redskins game, how excited he was to go with JJ and yet it turned into something he hadn’t anticipated. You were new to the BAU at the time but your heart still ached for him, unable to understand how anyone would pass up on someone so special like Spencer Reid. It seems she’s finally come to her senses.

You take your dead phone out of your pocket to place it on the charger and you head into the bathroom to take a quick shower. The hot water loosens your tense muscles enough to prick tears in the back of your eyes, and you turn off the water before you can get too worked up. Once you’ve dried off you check on your phone on the bedside table seeing it’s turned back on, a flurry of missed texts and calls showing up.

11:14PM - Emily: Get home safe?

You heart the message and reply with a simple ‘Yes.’, scrolling to the next messages.

10:09PM - JJ:  Did you get home? 10:10PM - Missed Call from JJ 10:15PM - (2) Missed Calls from JJ 10:24PM - JJ:  I’m sorry, please let me explain. 10:25PM - Missed Call from JJ

You consider leaving her on read, not willing to entertain a conversation at this point, but you settle for an ‘It’s fine.’ for the sake of having communicated your safety.

10:13PM - Spence: Hey, where are you? 10:20PM - Spence: The EMT said you took off? Did you leave? 11:34PM - Spence: Emily just told me Anderson drove you back. You could’ve told me, I would have taken you home.

Your chuckle sadly at the text, Spencer hated driving but he would do it for you. It almost makes you think that your relationship could withstand the harsh weathering it’s been subjected to.

12:07AM - You: Sorry, phone died. I’m home now.

A response dings through a minute later.

12:08AM - Spence: I’ll go to the store tomorrow and get you a portable charger to keep in your bag. You should get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow for the wedding right? Well, the wedding that’s today seeing as it’s past midnight. You know what I mean.

A single tear falls down your face at his rambling words. Oh, how you’d miss this once he learns what’s really happened.

12:10AM - You: I’ll be there. See you tomorrow, or today? You know what I mean. Good night.

12:11AM - Spence: Good night :)

—

You smooth out your dress before going up the steps, making eyes with Penelope at the top. You’re wearing a silk chiffon dress in purple, deliberately picked for Spencer’s favorite color, some strappy heels and some dainty jewelry painting you in as the picture of elegance.

“Hey hot stuff, look at you!” Penelope exclaims squeezing you tightly, “You look sooo pretty, doesn’t she look so pretty?” she gestures to the two men behind her you now acknowledge to be Luke and Spencer.

“Like a dream.” Luke agrees.

“Yeah,” Spencer clears his throat, “You look…beautiful.”

Penelope the Oracle of All Time quickly senses the 

atmosphere created and grabs Luke’s forearm, “Come on, you owe me that dance now!” She looks back and slyly gives you a thumbs up before dragging Luke further onto the dance floor.

Spencer slips into the vacated space to be right next to you, “How are you feeling?”

You know he’s asking about how you were held hostage at gunpoint, and not about how he’s about to become the loss of your life.

“ ‘M fine,” you swirl your champagne glass, “You?”

“Better now.”

A ghost of a smile creeps up on you, but you don’t let it travel further than that. He’s just being nice.

“Well, I’m just going to find the bathroom really quick.”

He holds a hand out for your glass, “Here, I’ll hold it.”

Your smile returns with bearings this time as you wander off in search of the bathroom. You’d feel embarrassed by how long it took you to find it but this place was massive, the Rossi money ran deep. Retracing your steps back to the main room you find Spencer and your glass not in the same place he was when you left. You scan the room looking for him and finally find him deep in conversation with—oh.

They’re too far for you to be able to hear them, but you can imagine that it’s the conversation. You watch JJ squeeze his forearm with affection and suddenly you can’t take it anymore. You couldn’t stand there and watch yourself become collateral in real time. Spencer turns at the sound of rustling up the spiral staircase followed by a door closing, catching the last glimpse of purple before it vanishes.

Spencer feels sick. He’s overwhelmed and overstimulated at the new information he’s learned about what really happened in the gas station. Then he comes to the realization of how walking in on him and JJ talking must have made you feel. His feet are carrying him up the stairs before he even realizes he’s made the choice. 

He finds you at the end of the hallway and calls out your name with a firmness you’d never heard from him. But you’ve cut all the strings of sanity by now, and you whip around and snap, “What?”

He doesn’t like that tone. “JJ told me what happened.”

You snort and don’t meet his eyes, “Oh, did she?”

His brows furrow, “Yes, she did.”

“And?”

“And what?”

And what? Is he serious? Did you have to spell it out for him? It borderlines sadist the way he’s putting you through the ringer.

“What happens now, Spencer?” you exasperate, “Is this the part where you tell me we can’t be friends anymore because she finally confessed?”

Confusion colors his face more, “Why wouldn’t we be friends?”

A halfway scream—groan leaves your throat in frustration. “Spencer, come on.”

“Honey, I don’t understand—“

“That! See, you can’t just say things like that knowing what has to happen, and expect me to react like a normal person.” you exclaim with hands flailing.

“I’m really confused—“

“Because I’m in love with you!” you cry, “Now do you see why?”

Time all but stills in the hallway you’ve found yourselves in. You don’t know how long you’ve been up here. It’s a little farther down from the stairways so there’s no threat of evesdroppers, but with how worked up you’re getting the proximity renders itself useless. The faint muffle of animated conversations and lively jazz music fills the silence between you and Spencer, who looks like…well, actually for once you can’t decipher what he’s feeling. 

He looks like he’s about to open his mouth when you both turn your head to the ascending footsteps—JJ looking for you, or Spencer probably, to come cut the cake. Spencer darts his eyes between the walls, a nervous tic you’d caught on to, before you realize he’s looking for a door and pulling you inside one. You yelp at the unexpected force and quickly quiet down again. The light switches on and based on the furniture you conclude that it’s a powder room, because of course Rossi’s venue has a powder room.

It’s a tiny room, big enough for a vanity table and a chaise lounge. Small enough to not have any room to leave without going past him. You stand an arm’s length away from him, the faint muffles of talk and music replaced by your sniffling. You shouldn’t have come, you start to realize. Having to say goodbye to him in person might actually rip you apart. Your chest weighs heavy with that familiar sad irony of mourning someone who hasn’t even told you they’re leaving yet. Preemptive measures that turned into routine practice. 

You sniffle, “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore, not that it ever did. I’m sorry I just sprung it on you like that, that was unfair. JJ…I thought JJ was my friend, I guess she is still but I’m not too sure now. But…she’s JJ and I’m just me and I know both of your pasts with each other so obviously it would be her. I’m making this too big a deal, I think. I just want you to be happy, in whatever capacity that looks like and I know it’s not with me so—“

Spencer stops your rambling by silently reaching out for your arm to pull you right in front of him, his hands reach to cup your face up to his, thumbs naturally swiping away the tears. He says your name like a coo, with a softness and delicacy you don’t feel you deserve right now. It hurts your heart entirely.

“Please don’t make this harder than it is.” you whisper through soft sobs.

You don’t know when it happens. Maybe in between scrunching your eyes or staring at your feet—but it happens. A cold pressure, then warmth, his lips are warm when he kisses you. A little surprising that he still tastes like Penelope’s sugary mocktail from earlier. A welcome pressure on your face as he holds you in place, as if you’d slip away further if he let go.

He stills in place, thinking he’s overstepped, until you finally remember that his lips are on your lips. You return the force back with as much as he gave you and let your arms loop around his neck, his own sliding from your face to take purchase on your hips.

That’s when Spencer starts kissing you. His hands grip your hips and tug you even closer as he deepens the kiss, plunging deeper back into the plush of your thighs to sit you on top of the vanity table. He slots himself between your legs, your hands wandering up to tug at the hairs on the nape of his neck. A soft groan leaves his throat and he detaches from your lips to amble down your neck, leaving a trail of lovebites in its wake.

This is wrong, like so wrong. You’re practically opening a salt box and pouring its entire contents on your wounds. But dammit, if this is the only time you’ll ever get to kiss Spencer, you’re sure as hell going to make the most out of the fleeting moment.

He mumbles something in between kisses to your neck, you instinctively ask him to say it again not expecting a response, and you immediately regret it as you feel his presence get lighter as he pulls away.

One more kiss to the spot behind your ear, he feels you preening below him and makes note of this—amongst everything else—for later, he pulls back to meet your eyes again.

“I love you.”

Your face drops, “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not being funny.”

Yes he is, he has to be. Because the universe in which Spencer Reid allows a piece of—the whole of it according to him, unbeknownst to you—his heart to be fully yours is not this one. You’ve never had luck like that.

“Then you’re lying to me, and that’s worse.” your voice cracks, Spencer feels the same crack imprinted on his heart.

“Sweetheart, I’m not lying. I love you.” He says it again to your surprise, the tenderness of his touch returning as he deliberates how to disarm you. The defensiveness you have isn’t surprising to him, it’s the note of insecurity in your tone he isn’t ready for, like you are unable to even believe it could be you. 

You’re a dandelion, he thinks, the puffballs teetering attachment to their base with one wrong move sending them astray into the wind. He’s wading treacherous weather but he finds that for you he’d do anything and everything eyes closed if he had to.

“…Really?” you ask meekly. He nods slowly, never breaking his gaze on you. “But…JJ.”

His eyes soften and he nods in understanding, “There was a point in my life where, yes that was all I was waiting to hear,” he starts, “But, I am no longer at that point in my life anymore. I’m here now. She knows that.”

You’re unconvinced, Spencer can see it clear as day. Maybe it’s more apprehensive than unconvinced, but no one could blame you. How are you to believe anything when you went through what you did in the last 24 hours? You look defeated if anything, like you’d accepted your fate of always coming second place.

Spencer racks his brain hard trying to think of a way to show you that the podium doesn’t even exist, it’s only ever been you.

He pulls out his wallet and rifles through the many things inside, finding what he’s looking for before handing it to you. You look up at him in confusion when you make it out to be a movie ticket stub from the Korean film festival you’d both attended a little after you started at the BAU, the first time the two of you ever spent time together. The edges are soft and smoothed out as a result of time, like it’s been held and comforted for many days.

“There’s more in my apartment.”

“Movie ticket stubs?” you ask bemused.

“Commemorations of you,” his fingers brush the span of your arm up and down soothingly, “I probably have something for every time we’ve ever hung out. If it reminds me of you, I have it.”

Tears well up in your eyes for the umpteenth time, a few spilling over rapidly.

“Hey no, you’re not supposed to cry at that.” he whispers softly between you, his thumb taking the rightful and familiar place under your eye to catch the tears.

You shake your head, “I don’t think I’ve ever been loved like this.”

His heart tightens, “No? Well, I think you have to get used to it now.”

“No choice?” you pout.

He catches the timbre of humor in your voice and smiles widely. He hugs you tightly, pressing your head into his chest, “I guess you don’t have to. Just because you’re not used to it doesn’t mean I’ll stop. If you’re like this now, wait till you see the box I have of our things.”

You sniffle again, your head reeling as your tears stain his shirt and the scent of him invades your being. It’s overwhelming and all consuming, just how you know Spencer to be. He doesn’t expect you to believe him right away, you’ve been through so much that it would be unfair to ask that of you. You don’t know what tomorrow holds, or even the rest of this night, but one thing you have learned is that to Spencer you are known, and therefore you are loved.

[grandline-fics]

HEYYYYYY

I really love your writing so much and I am glad the requests are open

Can I request a fem reader and law in which both of them has a crush on each other but no one will admit it ?

Until they get into and argument and law gets so mad and confesses??

Angst angst angst to fluff pls

And thanks for all ur work!!

DESCRIPTION: mutual pining but fear of admitting your feelings leads to an angry confession

WARNINGS: angst to fluff

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 1,563

A/N: Thank you for this request! I hope I brought enough angst and fluff for you. I struggled a bit with getting the scenario in my head to properly work so hopefully you like it!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

-------

“I am your Captain, this isn’t up for debate!” Law snapped, glaring at you from across the room, the harshness in his tone making all of the others in the crew freeze in their preparations for approaching the surface. It was almost as if the slightest movement would bring their Captain’s fury onto them. You bristled from his words, returning the glare in full force. Why was he being so difficult about this? All you wanted was to get off the Polar Tang and stretch your legs, feel the sun on your face again for the first time in what felt like an eternity. But no, once again you happened to be one of the few chosen to stay behind. “Well maybe it should be!” You shot back.

It was meant to be a random draw so things were kept fair but it seemed you always ended up being left behind. The last time you’d managed to be on the surface was far too brief for your liking, a quick restock trip with no time to enjoy relaxing with your other crew-mates. Those left behind on the Polar Tang had set chores and tasks to see to while also being vigilant of any trouble approaching the ship while it was under water and keeping an eye on the island for any signal the Law and the others needed help. You were tired. “There’s plenty still staying behind here, they won’t miss me!” 

“The choices were made. You’re staying on the ship.” Law repeated far too evenly and you couldn’t help but flinch at the note of finality, if you pushed anymore he really would get angry. You clenched your jaw and threw him one last furious look in the hopes to hide how hurt you were before turning on your heel and storming out of the room. With every furious step you took, you berated yourself. Why were you putting up with this? Why were you backing down? Well because it seemed like you were a glutton fro punishment. You had feelings for your Captain and you’d rather stay on the crew and under the water than risk him throwing you off the crew entirely. You just wished you knew what you’d done to make him regard you so lowly.

When the slamming of a door echoed back into the control room, Law sighed and left in the opposite direction to finish gathering his things for when they reached the surface. It wasn’t until you were both gone that the rest of the crew let out shaky breaths. This wasn’t the first time this argument had risen between the two of you but this time the atmosphere was definitely worse. 

Law couldn’t help but hate how he spoke to you and the look on your face made him feel so much worse but this was something he had to do. He wouldn’t admit out loud that he was having feelings for you but he did. He knew he did. That was why he refused to risk your safety, not after the last time he let you join him on a new island. You two had been exploring old ruins and he had indulged in the moment with you, smiling slightly and even giving the odd flirty, witty comment back at you. Then because of his incompetence, his lack of usually sharp observation he hadn’t noticed the floor crumble until it was almost too late. The image of your startled expression and body falling towards the spikes underneath the ground still flashed in his mind uncomfortably. If it hadn’t been for his ability you would have been gone forever. It was selfish, he knew it was but he had to keep you safe.     

Later that night when he and the others returned, you tried to hide how hearing them laugh and talk about all they had seen filled you with bitter jealousy. You knew you couldn’t handle sitting through the rest of the night hearing their stories that they’d share with the others left behind this time who were eager to know what they missed. Quickly you welcomed Law and the others back on board and excused yourself, ready to just stay in your room until morning. As you were about to leave you were stopped by Law taking your arm. You roughly pulled out of his grip and kept walking. He was the last person you wanted to look at and you hated how much you wanted to continue feeling his hand on you, in spite of all he’d done.

For the next few expeditions to new islands you stopped putting your name forward, knowing there was no point in getting your hopes up briefly just to be crushed again and again. Instead you just got a head start on the tasks that would need doing. However one day you froze when no one put their name forward. “None of you are going?” Law repeated, looking around the room. He was going to kill them. It was a rule that no one could leave unaccompanied, after some past incidents that included him. 

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“I think I my allergies are acting up.”

“I went last time.”

“I think I caught Penguin’s allergies.”

The excuses floated around the room pathetically and Law ground his teeth together. Slowly he looked to see you standing against the doorway, staring him down with arms folded. You weren’t going to ask. If he was so desperate to go on land he had to be the one to speak. Swallowing then lump in his throat, Law forced the repeated image of you almost dying out of his head and let out a low sigh. “Go and get ready.”

Finally on land you let in a long breath of relief and couldn’t help the broad grin stretching across your face while the wind lightly fell across your skin. It felt like part of a weight had been lifted off of you. Some weight still sat squarely on your shoulders and you cast a glance in the direction of its cause only to frown when your Captain quickly looked away from you. Sighing you rolled your eyes and walked across the beach, heading for the trees. Unknown to you Law was fighting his own guilt. Getting to see you smile, really smile for the first time in ages had thrown him. He’d missed seeing that part of you. Quickly he was able to fall into step beside you, staying close in case of any danger but still he kept out of encroaching in your personal space. You were pissed at him and he deserved it. 

“So let me guess, another five minutes and you’ll come up with an excuse to go back?” You asked dryly. Now that you were both out of earshot from the others it felt like now was as good a time as any to air out what his issue was with you. “Can’t have me disgracing the name of the Heart Pirates by being seen on land.”

“When have you ever disgraced the crew?” Law asked, stopping in his tracks in the middle of the rainforest terrain.

“I don’t know, you tell me. I’ve been pretty much demoted to the ship’s maid with no explanation other than ‘Captain’s orders, stay on the ship.’ I just want to know what I did.”

“Nothing. You’re-”

“If you say I’m overreacting or reading too much into things Trafalgar Law I will punch you.” You growled angrily, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I am not stupid. I know you’ve been manipulating the draws to make it that I stay on the ship and you owe me an explanation!”

“Because I care about you!” Law snapped finally his hands gripping your shoulders tightly, forcing you to look at him. “I was barely able to protect you last time. I couldn’t risk it happening again or worse, not being able to prevent something worse from happening. I’d never forgive myself.” You stared up at the man with wide eyes, your lips opened lightly as you tried to register the declaration. You were also slightly confused about what he had meant about ‘last time’ but when you searched your memories you remembered it. The ruins and him saving you from being skewered from a pit full of spikes. 

“We’re pirates, Law.” You told him when you finally found your voice. “I had a bounty and a wanted poster long before I joined your crew. I know the risks that this lifestyle brings and that includes the possibility of getting hurt. But you’ve hurt me a lot this last while, even if you thought it was protecting me.” 

“I know and I’m sorry.” He muttered, watching your hands lift to settle over his that still gripped your shoulders. “I swear I didn’t intend for you to think I thought you were weak, I-”

“I know, you care about me.” You smiled warmly. “I care about you too, why do you think I put up with that nonsense for so long? But you have to make it up to me.”

“Yeah? How do I do that?”

“For starters you can kiss me.” You smirked watching Law freeze in surprise. Taking advantage of his momentary state you secured your grip on his wrists and pulled him forward. “It’s not up for debate, Captain.” 

[defectivefanboy]

Howl J. Pendragon x Gn!Reader

this is pure self indulgence. No I am not apologizing. No I am not sorry and yes I am a glutton for punishment.

Overall Notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and I don't mind female readers on my blog, I do not write for y'all, and if you are a fetishizer fuck off????????????????? ew.

C/W: Angst no comfort. Howl being a low-key asshole, and a man whore. Self deprecation.

Notes: I have been rewatching this movie like a psychopath

Steps to loving a fool...

People will tell you all the ways they fell for a fool and how they loved a fool.

How they whisked them away off their feet with such carefree nature.

But they also recall how it hurt to let them go at the end.

They always say a bird does not belong in a cage

Because there are many steps to loving a fool, but there are only a few key steps you need to keep in mind.

While the enjoyment and wonder of it is exciting at first a person can only take so much before they finally collapse in on themselves like a star.

Step 1: A fool is as free as the wind.

For as long as you could remember he's always moved as if he was the wind himself.

Maybe it was because he could fly and walk? on air

Being with him was like you were floating

God, to be above the clouds with him once again

To feel as free as he does every day of his life

But you've never seen him settle down, even within his own home.

Always adding a new room, or waking up in a new place with new doors.

That amazement you feel when you hear the click of the door and then the new location or sight before you

Oh is that a new book? What does that trinket do?

The fascinated look on his face always captured your attention more then the trinket did most days

His magic never failed to excite you, only brought you more wonder in what he was capable off

Every time he came through the door he always brought something new

Always something new, something that brought change within the castle

Something was always changing.

Step 2: A fool changes like the seasons

Never get too comfortable and never get used to anything.

As cozy as the house was, he was changing it to how he liked at that moment.

It would become a maze of new rooms and halls.

All the more room for him to make a mess.

Sometimes even a new explosion, opening a new window in the castle.

Yet, you can never develop a habit. Can never maintain a routine

Never able to get a schedule down

Never able to understand what he was doing

Never able to even assume what he's doing

Never able to assume you know what he's thinking.

It's only a matter of time before he changes his interest.

Last month it was simple Science

Today? making a plant into a horse

Tomorrow? Only he knows.

Markl, while a good kid, was on the back burner of the wizards mind sometimes

maybe even a lot of the times, but he always made it up to him with long lessons and studies with the boy.

Guess you weren't even on his mind now a days

You can't blame him though

it's not like you had an altitude for magic or anything.

You didn't have any knowledge from a great beyond

You honestly should've known

The first few months were bliss was him

then it became every few days, every few weeks... every few months... every few y-

Step 3: A fool is never shackled down

When was the last time you made a proper friend?

Calcifer and Markl were both a lovely chat.

But, you could only talk about so much within an ever moving home.

Sure, you've made a few acquaintanceships, but never more than that.

You didn't have enough time to make friends anyways

Didn't stay long ever to keep them either

You would leave town as fast as you came in.

Appearing one night then disappearing the next.

And the excitement of it disappeared just as quick.

Realization only hit quicker.

Watching fling after fling after fling after fling after-

What was it that made them different?

Maybe thats why he's always running away

Being around too long would make too much of an attachment

That means commitment

It means it's no longer just him

A fool carries their own burdens, they don't need the burdens of other as well

He already has his own worries

what made you think he would care for yours?

At first he was attentive, the soft grazing touches he gave felt as if he was treating you as fragile glass

Any force and you would shatter

When did you shatter?

Do you remember when you did?

Did he even realize that you did?

Step 4: A fool won't listen to anyone, but themselves

The house was a mess

Covered in waste from failed potions and experiments.

Molded food and trash everywhere, no matter how much it got cleaned

You had told him that witch wasn't good news

You said she was hiding something from him. From everyone.

Everyone could see he was gonna end up hurt

Yet, you were the wrong one

He's was in love couldn't you see

You wanted this to happen, didn't you?

For him to settle down?

You always said to slow down

Why was it an issue now?

If you don't like it why do you care about it?

You shouldn't be here anymore then

"Why do you always incise on being a nuisance?!"

You have over stayed your welcome.

Silence lingered in the room

The ever so witty fire demon was at a lost for words even

All he could do was watch as you turned away from him and walked to your room.

He watched the ground as you walked away and slammed the door.

He was about to let out a sigh before a second slam followed again.

This time a few steps away

"porthaven door..."

He watched the door in surprise, the dial clicking into place.

sighing finally he turned to the stairs

"Calcifer, warm up a bath"

Step 5: A fool only learns after they have lost themselves

He was sure you would be back the next morning

You always came back, even when he was clearly in the wrong

Even when he would spew hateful words at you for the littlest of thing

You always came back

But when morning came, the castle was as still as it was left the night before.

He realized it’s gone too far

The soft cracks in the glass finally broke

that prideful wizard finally began to break

ode to the boy who shallowed a star in exchange for his heart…

who had lost the only thing that filled the space…

[seramilla]

Since you asked me, I am dumping this here for that one EmiLute ask…and added to it

I could see Adam pinning everything on Emily and Lute staying silent out of fear. Perhaps Sera jumps to Emily’s defense to try and prevent the punishment but the elders are too honed in on Emily now. So as they cast Emily out like they had done with Carmilla THIS time Sera takes action and goes after her. She catches up to Emily pulling her close. Then quickly wraps all of her wings around Emily to shield her from heat and protect her from the impact of THEIR fall. Lute has regrets after the trial and starts questioning if it was worth it and LIES to herself to bury the guilt. It doesn’t work. Lute’s not used to this sensation that’s eating away at her from the inside out.

Lute basically gets a more angsty version of catholic guilt. Unlike Sera though she’s just slower to come to the realization that she’s been in the wrong the entire time…about EVERYTHING. That maybe that feeling of jealousy when Vaggie was personally praised by Adam wasn’t BECAUSE she got praised…but because someone else was praising her…and that maybe…she actually LIKED Vaggie…? Suddenly it’s like part of the wool has been lifted from one of her eyes. SHE got Emily in trouble and CAST OUT for her own SIN, SHE punished Vaggie due to her own SIN projecting some deep personal issues onto her. She cuts down sinners by unleashing her own hatred for her own SIN. It becomes suffocating to the point where she feels she can no longer stay in Heaven because SINFUL FILTH LIKE HER HAS NO PLACE IN HEAVEN. So during the next Extermination she stays behind.

Perhaps she cuts off her own wings, or some demon tears them off her, perhaps they turn black like raven wings and the whites of her eyes and her hair follows suit turning black, then grows a tail and a set of horns to match the ones on her exorcist mask. I personally like the last option as the idea of her changing physically as she changes as a person is such a fun and delicious concept.

Does this make you happy Seramilla? At least in the notes I am SOMEWHAT restrained.

(Okay, yes, I admit, it is my own fault for asking this of you. I burdened you with this heavy task because I am a glutton for PAIN!!! This unrestrained angst hits in a gleeful, masochistic sort of way. The additions for Lute are, as Carmilla would say, BRU-TAL!

But do I regret it? FUCK NO! MOOOOOOORE!)

Sera falls, protects Emily from the brunt of the damage, but ends up injured as a result. Her wings are broken from the fall, and she can't fly to go find help. She tells Emily about Carmilla, who finds her, and Carmilla and her daughters nurse Sera back to health. Emily suffers from the trauma and guilt of her sister's injuries for months afterward. She thinks it's all her fault. If only she'd listened to Heaven's teachings; her fascination with Lute is what caused all of this. She vows to never let that happen again, even if she is forever alone. She'll never let something as superficial as love get in the way of protecting her sister ever again.

Lute's internal turmoil is so intense, her guilt all-consuming, that the effects of Hell have started affecting her body even before she falls. The fury of anger and regret at her own actions, the acknowledgement of her Sin, begins to turn her body, as much as her soul, into the embodiment of everything she fears. She lashes out, takes it out on everyone but herself, until she finally succumbs to it. She mutilates herself, mirroring what she'd done to Vaggie, but the effects of her Sin cause her body to change, with the horns, tail, and blackness of her extremities, so she's cursed to see that version of herself on the inside, made manifest in physical form.

[crystallizedtwilight]

Thinking about Lock Shock & Barrel comforting eachother as kids after Oogie hurt them, and then doing it later as adults if one of them gets triggered because I am a glutton for angst lol. Love ur work!!

below the cut:

They were bickering about something earlier today. Something stupid like candy, or who the leader was. It doesn't matter now. Tonight they're too scared to sleep and they huddle shoulder to shoulder. They're all that they have, and now, they're not sure for how long.

"Are...you okay?" Barrel asks him then. "I'm fine," Lock says, slamming the door with a loud crack.

"Hey, you're okay, you're okay," Barrel tells him now, waking with him. And Lock supposes that yeah, he is. They all are.

[lacasarosee]

About him and the fire that burns you alive.

Tags: Fluff, angst. (1.3 Words)

Notes: This is basically about missing Portgas .D. Ace, in remembrance of him. I write this because I am still crying over him after 7 years, thus, I write what I can dedicated for him.

Link: Find my work here!

When it comes to fire, it's always about him. The colour of autumn, leaves fall and the soil starts to dry. It's always about him when it comes to oranges, both the fruit and the colour; fused with red, aflame in spark of fireworks and campfire. It's always him whenever the sun rises or sets, when the river flows, or when the first flower of spring blooms; both on the ground, or inside your throat that it clogs your air away, far away from your lungs and it flicks the fire inside you. The whole world is about him, who was born in Baterilla, South Blue. And this page too, is about him, who holds the name D.

It's always about Portgas .D. Ace.

God's greatest archenemy, they said. But to you, he is nothing but the greatest gift ever alive. If God says that he is a wicked, sinful child, then you are bathed in wickery, bloodied in sin. And if the world says that he is a nasty, ugly child just because he is the son of the world's worst criminal, then your head is wanted by everyone. Because what child should bear the sin of his father? What child should be blamed for the sin he never did? And what child who was born from the womb of a brave warrior of a woman, should be oppressed by the belief that he has nothing but sinner's blood—? Thus, what is love if it's not tender; what if love, if it's not seeing him as the softest flower's petal in the dead tree branch.

It's always about Portgas .D. Ace.

The friendliest sun on the face of earth. Kindness hurts sometimes, either sanity or pride, people can choose; yet his kindness feels so genuine that you can't even resent it. One said he was generally cheerful and outgoing all the time (though the same man said he was especially excited when he talked about his little brother). And that way, he manages to be your solemn embodiment of sun rays. Baterilla, oh, Baterilla—so far, so south, such a place to be blessed by the flickering candle. From one coast to another, corals and waves, rocks and salts, and maybe the shells of dead molluscs. But if darkness is the sky, then he is the star; and if darkness is the sea, then he is bioluminescent. And from coast to coast, river to river, waterfalls to canyons to the Grand Line, there is no one as soft as he is. Because it takes so much violence for him to be that tender, it takes so much insecurity to be that goofy, and foremost, it takes so much sadness to be that kind. Yet, even if life takes so many questions out of his lungs, still, he hasn't found the answer.

It's always about Portgas .D. Ace.

From a metal pipe, into a dagger, then a fire fist. He who challenges warlords, he who challenges Gods. He who filled with love for his brother, he who filled with love for you. Round necklaces, as red as bravery and back to orange is his hat. Yellow somewhat suits him, the colour of jealousy that you didn't expect. However, despite how red he is, insecurity paints him better than all the myriad colours ever existed. Thus, one day, someone ask you:

"Who is he?"

They said, pointing at the raging flame on the sinking boat as you watched from the shore. And that time, you answered:

"The guy I love so dearly."

And whenever that conversation happened, no matter in between summer sky or winter blues, in between autumn shadows or grasses in spring—it's always about him.

It's always about Portgas .D. Ace.

Captain, glutton, a navigator he is. Treasure may be across the sea—yet he maps your body better than the ocean. From cheeks to cheeks, eyes to eyes, breast to breast, and limbs to limbs, he knows how to map you. The colour of your skin, the hue of your blush, the coldness of your fingertips, the softness of your breasts, he knows it so well. He knows where to press, when to press—either when you have seasickness, or when you are underneath him, pressed in between his flesh and his mattress, just like a flower in between book pages. He knows how to touch, what to touch—is it your bulging stomach or is it tears on your face, because no matter which one, his fingertips are warm enough to soothe away the pain. He knows why; why are you upset, why are you not eating; why are you angry; or why are you speaking his name over, and all over again. The latter is because everything in this world is about him, and just him only.

It's always about Portgas .D. Ace.

Listening is the last thing he can do, he is terrible at it. When you said: "Be careful it's still hot!" He ate it a second later and his tongue got burnt. It's weird how, because isn't he made of fire? When you said: "You should stop sleeping while eating." Which is impossible—he falls asleep right after the word leaves your mouth. When you said: "You should stop going on a mission alone and get hurt!" Yet, the moment he stepped back to your cabin, he was full of nothing but cuts and glories. Listening is hard when you are filled with so many quirks and beams, just like him. Yet he is somewhat good at listening to his own voice, either the one inside his heart, or the one swimming and saying bullshit inside his mind. The one that speaks: "The ocean is calling for you." Or the one that speaks: "Your presence is a whole abomination." And sometimes, he gets it mixed up inside his mind. Yet, all those voices speak to the same person, about the same person.

It's always about Portgas .D. Ace.

Lying is not his best friend, he is bad at telling lies. However, that happened because of how you are able to read him like a book too. Sometimes he gets too nervous, and too comical to even lie to your face. When you ask: "Who eats my last piece of cake?" around the dining room, every eye darted towards him—he got nervous, and his eyes were wandering here and there. When you ask: "Who spills ink on my book?" in the ship's deck, he quickly averts his eyes from yours. You can always tell when he lies, because he is so easy to read. Thus, when he said: "I will never die!" In front of you, it sounds so certain, so powerful, he is not lying. You keep that sentence in your mind.

Portgas .D. Ace will never die.

The news soared faster than the wind, and just like that, he lied.

Death.

Lie.

Promise.

Fate.

It's always about Portgas .D. Ace.

Valhalla, he is the sanctuary of broken dreams. Maybe you are losing to death, it loves him more than you do—yet life loves you more than you expected it to be. Losing him is easy, but having your daily life imagining what if he was here is devastating. One said someone will never die if you keep them in your memory, yet, what torture they wish upon you? For you have to remember such a dead lover like he is, when all you want is for him to come back and admit that he lied to you, that fate is playing against you. He is the grave of roaring seas, waves and tides sink inside him. Yet you, somewhat even without someone asking not to, you will never forget about him. One day someone will ask: "Who is Portgas .D. Ace?" And people might say:

"A pirate."

"A brat."

"A brother of mine."

"A brother of mine."

"Someone's older brother."

"Someone that promised me to come back."

And when that question directed to you, you will say:

"Someone I loved so dearly."

Because it's always about Portgas .D. Ace.

[azriona]

WIP Wednesday

Another week, another tag game! Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea! (OR sketch for your artwork!)

Tagged by @paula-in-dreamland.

I actually do know what sentence I wrote last, because I wrote it about half an hour ago. It is... wow, rather Explicit. In context, it's lovely. Out of context, I have to admit I am blushing madly to post it by itself, so I'll go back up a bit and post this bit instead. It's from the current WIP which ate my brain over the weekend, the ridiculously angsty romance set during and just after the Blip, which is Bucky x Reader... x Steve? Because apparently I'm a glutton for angst? I don't know. Here you go:

You turn your face into James’s chest, breathe in the scent still lingering on his shirt. Ash and smoke and sweat, because your heart is twisting for Steve, worrying about him, where he’d even have spent the night, with the Compound destroyed… Mourning Tony and Natasha alone. Trying to navigate the growing anger about what the Avengers did and didn’t do to prevent or cause what’s happening now. And doing it all knowing you’re on the other side of the world, where he’s sent your husband back to you. And nothing else. Not a single word, not a sign, nothing.

I mean, I figure the angst is good when I'm sitting here giggling like a maniac as I write it.

I can't remember who's writing what currently; if you're writing or arting something, consider yourself tagged. (And I'll try to pay attention this time and start compiling a list.)

[https-murdock]

I am…a terrible glutton for angst and making myself sad because sometimes I like to imagine e a scenario where Matt Murdock is in a healthy loving relationship with a good person and elektra walks in on the scene and Matt chooses her over his healthy loving partner. Yea I know I’m awful lol

ugh i love angst sm it’s so underrated

he would drop everythingggg for elektra i love this anon

[ladysmoke7]

I remember years ago, you and I had our own little world. A bubble. 🫧 That could so easily be popped. But we lived in it. All day. All night. Rest was on the back burner. Wasn't important. Our time together, was. In secret, in public, we gave each other all we had. All our time.

A moments notice. A whim. A brief flicker of an idea or thought. A trigger. And that's all it took for us to reinflate our bubble. 🫧

I can close my eyes- even though it was so long ago-and vividly remember the scenes. The lighting. The laughter and crying. The solemn silence. It was only a moment ago. To me.

Today, feels so different. In our age, our lifestyles and character changes. The scenery is different. We are different. But I still linger in the past, all the time. Delusional in thinking that's enough.

Now I'm stuck in an endless cycle. Of huffing and puffing, like a big bad children's book wolf. Desperate to go back.

But you're never there with me. Not for long. Not often. Hardly at all. I'm screaming inside. Begging for attention. Craving another soul to share my space with. Your soul. But to you- feels only like convenience. Time is an illusion, yet there's never enough for me. I'm a glutton. And you give excuses.

If they wanted to, they would. That's the reality. But you're different. It's different with you. Right? You're the exception. That's what you make me believe. In a world so black and white. They're right. Yet you show me the entire color spectrum. For which I need glasses to appreciate. I believe my prescription has changed. Must be age.

You sing my praise and say those sweet-sweet things. Those sweet nothings.

And I fall again and again, believing that- that's just how things are now. It's enough. It has to be. Because that's it, and all there is for you to give. And I'm struggling every day with it. It's easy, passable, I can swallow most of it. Sometimes I'm choking. Gagging and becoming revolted.

I get jealous. So very jealous. I get hurt. My own fault. I want to much. I feel to much. I see them. I see you. I want that. I see others and their bubble partners. I want that. Why is my bubble partner so far away ..all the time.

Even after I've spoken my truths. My desires and fires. Time and time again. Year after year. You nod and say you understand. But do you? I tell you my exact words, you write them down, and still give me the opposite of what I inquire of.

My sights and thoughts are filled with you in other people's bubbles. Others coming into your bubble. Where I yearn to be. As I was before.

I know how to love myself. I know what respect looks like mentally. No one would willing set their hearts and minds ablaze for no reason. Yet I find myself, again and again, begging for you to just ...listen. To prove everything. Your sweet nothings.

Your sugary glaze eventually flakes. And the warm feeling turns bitter and cold. You cast a spell, and I succumb to it every time. It erases all my negative emotions. Just a glance, to hear you, to touch you, and like that- it's all in my head. It was all worth it.

Keeping my bubble empty for the day you return. For the day you invite me back. Once in a blue moon. I recover and I'm floating for days.

I wonder, when will it stop. The endless cycle. When will I accept fate. And invite peace into my heart. When will finally process how- to process.

I deserve better

I deserve you

The ghost of you. Your void to which I throw my whole being into. For a hope of a prayer something will come back to me. For when you remember my existence. When it's convenient. When other people are not immediately in field of vision. Your new infatuations. Hyper fixations.

Was I once such a thing? Will everyone feel what I feel eventually too? Or am I just special? I must be overthinking, as always. Always my fault. My soul edging for self destruction. Bringing non fiction angst into my aggression.

Your soul and thoughts - always pure. Innocent.

Mine are burning. Invisible flames. Can you see them? Or do you choose not to. Is it easier? How can I learn such blindness.

I will wait. And continue to do so. That's all I know how to do. To stay a prisoner to my own demons. For a little while longer. Until ..-

I'll get over it. I always do. Because the fantasy and escape you provide, is my kryptonite.

Unfortunately, I just haven't figured out which color.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Thank you for the hauntingly beautiful #awtr letter from Lexa to Clarke. 🥰 I’m not just a glutton for punishment but also for letters like these. 😭 Was it difficult to write Lexa’s letter?

You mentioned in it about Clarke’s literal run-in with Lexa when they were little kids. What was that day like for both of them?

Would you be able to also describe the day when Lexa breathed her last? 🪽💔💔💔

I’m usually not this emotional but today’s rain just adds a little more dimension to the angst within me.

Yeah I cried a lil ngl. I am: an emotional punk bitch about Lexa too 😔

As for the childhood memory, yet again that is something that both pains and amuses Clarke to no end because she genuinely has no recollection of it at all. Maaaaybe has a vague memory of slamming into Somebody??? on the playground once while playing tag, but she honestly can't decide if she actually remembers it or if she's making it up in her own head because she wants so badly to have more memories with Lexa. For Lexa, it's just another sweet memory now. At the time it was annoying 👀 she distinctly remembers being Less Than Cordial in the moment, which, admittedly, probably didn't help with the whole initial aura of the other kids not liking her. But in her defense Clarke had just bulldozed into her without looking and then gotten snippy that she needed to "watch where she was going." Like it was her fault! The injustice of it 😤 little Lexa felt quite indignant for the rest of the day 😤

Now tho it's just like, "Yeah. Yeah that makes sense. I can't imagine having met you any other way."

And then they kiss because Lexa's so secretly sappy

I keep seeing this in my camera roll and it's so intensely AWTR Clexa I start vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass

[noa748]

After looking at the SH2 remake stuff I ended up rereading Into the Nightmare just for the nostalgia, and I really enjoyed it even after all these years. Do you plan on ever going back to The Path to Paradise? If not, will you share what the plot of the story was meant to be? Did James and Brittany ever meet up again? Why'd the Order lure Brit back to Silent Hill? I'm so curious.

Thank you!! Omg it’s mind blowing to me that I wrote that story when I was SIXTEEN. And I was still a teenager writing Path to Paradise!

Honestly, I’d probably have to do a rewrite of ItN first. I remember struggling to figure out Brit’s reason for ending up in Silent Hill - as a sixteen year old, I didn’t exactly have a ton of inner demons (that I was aware of). So I made something up.

Now I’m a grown-ass adult and boy howdy, do I have some shit to unpack. SH would have a TIME with my damaged ass. It’d actually be kind of fun to do a rewrite to go along with the SH2 remake.

ANYWAY, enough of that… so about Path to Paradise. I couldn’t tell you where half my notes went, and I honestly am not 100% sure if I even knew what my ending was going to be like. I can spoil what I remember since I’d probably revamp the whole thing anyway.

Matt was going to follow Brit to Silent Hill, but while Brit meets up with Heather, things go much differently for him. He was holding on to some extremely dark stuff from his time in the military - he never told her, but he was dishonorably discharged. SH very much gets under his skin and he ends up being manipulated by the Order.

Since Matt has also played the SH series, he serves as a wildcard that makes Brit’s foreknowledge unreliable. But Matt doesn’t account for James being present in the plot of SH3. It ends up being James that catches Matt off guard and ends up being able to stop him, and James and Brit are reunited… but Matt dies.

Why did the Order lure Brit back? WELP, I honestly can’t remember. 🥲 probably something to do with her foreknowledge. As a teen I wasn’t great at planning ahead with these things. I just distinctly remember the subplot with Brit and Matt, because it was going to be a big source of conflict/angst.

One quote I found in my old notes:

“And God shall be conceived with the purging of four sinners: the Glutton, the Seductress, the Oppressor, and the Outsider.”

This refers to Eddie, Laura, James, and Brit. So my guess is I had planned for the Order to have had some overarching plot that was taking place behind the scenes even during SH2.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve really got! Sorry I couldn’t go into more detail. Tbh, even when I wrote ItN, I was writing largely by the seat of my pants. I didn’t know why Brit was even in silent hill until like three chapters before the reveal. 😂

[afreakingdork]

I hope your pillow is always cold, I hope your fridge is always full, I hope your Christmas lights are untangled, I hope your phone is fully charged, I hope a butterfly lands on you, I hope your transport is always on time-

Unironically you are my favourite Donatello writer -PERIOD- and I am in absolute fucking shambles that you don’t have more followers.

I don’t drink or do drugs but I think I’ve had a taste of addiction with Weak Spot, shit has me flying up and checking ao3 every single morning before I even get out of bed.

Stay safe, happiest of birthdays, and I’ll be waiting with bated breath for the next update (hopefully more angst to come down the line because you write hurt DELICIOUSLY and without making it seem forced or overdone, which is an absolute rarity in x reader fics worth treasuring)

You have wished me so many wonderful tidings! Thank you so very much!!! They made me giggle and laugh for sure.

PERIOD?! Aw shucks, I'm just doing things the old Dork way. Anyone who reads is wonderful in my book and I wouldn't have it any other way!

You know it's funny, I have no idea how I fell into this angst hole (though my bestie begs to differ and says I'm a glutton for it). I appreciate you saying so! I just write where the story takes me. We've got a lot to unpack in Weak Spot so there's bound to be tension, but I always want to remind everyone that at it's hard this is a story of love. The love is focal point and will remain unchanged and happy not matter what the couple goes through!

[lamentingwclf]

                                           meet the mun.  — basics

NAME:  Wolf PRONOUNS:   she/her PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION:  tumblr messenger SINGLE / TAKEN: taken

— three facts

I am a 911 dispatcher - so when i talk about my high stress - high need job. That's it. I work twelve hour shifts, forty-eight hour work weeks (minimum). overtime. nights. weekends. holidays. rain. snow. shine. i'm here more than i'm home.

I can touch my tongue to my nose.

I, as an adult, will still put black olives on the tips of my fingers and pretend i'm a tree frog. no, i will not grow out of it. i'm 31.

— experience

I started on tumblr in 2010-2011? It was right after i graduated high school and ask blogs were all the rage, and the harry potter series ended or was ending - i'm fuzzy on some of the details because i'm old. but i made a blog for neville longbottom and i still, to this day, love him dearly. I stayed in that fandom, helped cofound a roleplay group for harry potter, and inevitably ended up over in the supernatural fandom. There, I played Castiel, for a very, very long time. I started strictly canon, but as the seasons went on - I diverted. There were and still are a lot of breaks in between, I tested Steve as a muse for my first marvel blog, before it was moved to disney plus - it had to have been right around the release of the winter soldier. but inevitably I ended up here, writing Bucky.

— sub-genres

darker themes, angst, i guess is how you'd put it. i guess what's harder for me is fluff - it has a time and place, but nine times out of ten, i'm going to throw a literal wrench at it because it's hard for me to focus heavily on it. i get bored. it's a problem i'm decidedly not working on.

— plots vs memes

memes. i love plots, don't get me wrong, and i'll get ther. but you'll find i'm the absolute worst person to plot something with, or make a decision about multimuses. i like writing a lot of things with a lot of different characters. it's a combination of my brain being hyper focused at work, which drains and exhausts a lot of energy - and my severe distrust of letting people in and close to me. i've had a lot of bad experiences with partners and it causes me to disappear when i'm overwhelmed. it's a frustrating thing people should know about me coming into it.

— long or short replies

long. i'm a glutton. i'm long winded. i have a lot to say. if i post something and promise it'll be short this time. it won't.

— best time to write

i can now say from experience. night. since i'm generally always at work. nights has more down time. it also spares me from getting hyper fixated on something that i have to do prior to sleeping.

tagged by: @defectivexfragmented tagging: you !

[one-winged-dreams]

OKAY, enough silliness, it's angst time.

So after Angeal dies, my insert outright deserts. He's just gone one day and no one can find him. This just gets brought up and nothing is done. At some point in the game, Zack is told to bring him back. He's like "Uh, holy shit, okay," and then tracks SOLDIER!Adriel down in the middle of nowhere and he's like "Hey, everything's alright. Why don't you come back and we can sort everything out?" and Adriel is all hollow and broken like "I can't do that, Zack. I can't do it anymore. My dreams died with Angeal."

Zack keeps trying to reason with him but Adriel outright brandishes his gunblade (bc all VII inserts that aren't melee combatants use gunblades) and there's a boss fight. After which, a cutscene plays with Zack swinging his sword and then he realizes Adriel has stopped fighting back and manages to divert his strike a hair's breadth away before being like "ARE YOU SERIOUS?" Adriel just gives him the most hollow look and Zack grabs him by the shirt and tears into him about how he can't just give up and die, not after everything Angeal instilled in him. Is he really gonna let the legacy he left him die too? This kinda shakes Adriel up a bit and he's like

"Zack... I won't let myself die, but I'm not going back, either. The way things are now, I can't live like that anymore. I'm not going to try to be a soldier without honor."

And Zack comes up with SOME way to convince Shinra that he TECHNICALLY DID fight him, and he won't be around ever again. And they were like "okay, cool, we'll take your word for it" despite, you know -gestures-

ANYWAY, getting SUPER meta here, I'd like to think during the events of VII, in one of the small optional towns they go to, there's someone that's like "Some strange fellow used to live just outside the outskirts. He was a kind man, but he always seemed like he had lost something important. Like a part of himself. He's gone now, but he left this in our hands and said to pass it on to someone who intended to use it for an honorable cause."

And you get his gunblade that my base game VII insert can use akjsgdk

N E WAY, these are just some thoughts I've been thinking because I am a glutton for emotional punishment.

[stagmalinay]

I apologize if you have already answered these in any way but 7, 13, 29, 33 and 43 please.

Not a problem. I'm always here if you're just looking for some interactions. 😉

7 - What feature (physical or otherwise) do they hate most about themselves?

So I'm just going to say that physically, I am a perfect specimen. Except when I get older, my eyes start to suck and I need glasses. 🙄 But as for otherwise... I hate that I'm still lacking. I hate hitting a wall, unable to get any further, when I know for a fact that there's further to go.

I hate that it's never enough.

Is that a feature?

13 - Which of the 7 Deadly Sins best describes them?

I'm sort of glad this has already been answered by Author because technically, I don't know what this is. Apparently I'm a glutton? A glutton for punishment, a glutton for emotional torture, a glutton for angst, a glutton for pain, a glutton for sex, and just about anything else I can outdo or overdo. I mean, I can't really disagree with this.

29 - Does what they cannot see scare them?

Not really. I mean, I don't know what Thera has that's on Earth in this regard, but the sky fucking attacks you on Earth and I have no idea how you deal with that shit. And if you mean is it scary when you hear something and can't see it anywhere, then that means you should be terrified because that means you're being hunted. Good luck.

33 - Have they ever been in a relationship that didn’t work out so well?

Yeah, all of them.

To be fair, they're usually one-sided, and it's usually because they conveniently weren't listening when I said I'm not interested. It's their own fault really.

43 - Do they wish that they could change their pasts?

Absolutely. My past fucking sucks.

I spent a long time debating on whether or not to head into the Mountain Temple, the place no one ever returns from, just to get a chance to change my past. I decided against it, but it wasn't easy. I still think about it sometimes... But I decided, that I should live. Even if I don't know why. It just seems more fun than calling it quits early, even for a good reason.

Thanks, as always, for the ask, my lady. Feel free to stop by again any time. 😁

Ask thing.

[roosterbox]

Fic Rec Friday 4/14/23

Title: your broken old sentimental heart

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Welcome to the Punch (2013)

Relationship: Max Lewinsky/Jacob Sternwood

Additional Tags: Needles, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, CANNON - Soulmates, On the Run, Scars, Kinktober 2017

Summary: Six months after he let Sternwood go a second time, Max feels the buzz again.

His soulmate is near.

———

This rec. Oh boy, this rec. *rubs hands together in glee*

Today’s rec comes from the beautiful, yet painful world of my rarepair collection. Because I am a glutton for punishment, I ‘enjoy’ latching on to ships with less than 100 fics to their name on Ao3. Every time is the last time, I swear to myself. But then I find another one.

This once specifically is Jacob/Max from the movie Welcome to the Punch - played by Mark Strong and James McAvoy, respectively. If you’ve seen the movie then you know. The chemistry is BANGING, their looks are FIRE. And you just know that the hatefucking would be Off. The. Chain.

But this fic is a bit sweeter than your typical Jacob/Max fic (as typical as you can get in a ship with less than 50 fics?). A bit gentler. A nice little Soulmates AU. Well, slightly AU, that is. It’s implied that canon stuff still happened, but with the added bonus angst factor of them being soulmates on top of everything else. It’s short but sweet. The characterization is on point. The smut is hnnnnnnnng perfect. And there’s a nice little bit of hurt/comfort at the end. A truly great recipe for a stellar story. The real danger of a fic this good is that it makes me want to sit down and watch Welcome to the Punch again. And nobody should have to subject themselves to that movie more than once, lol.

———

Next Week: Controversial pick for next time, guys. Brace yourselves, because we’re diving into RPF fic! If it’s not your thing, don’t worry - it’ll be tagged appropriately for anybody’s blacklist, and I won’t hold it against you - but I still strongly feel like you’d like it if you gave it a chance. After all, it’s an AU. The characters in it are not supposed to be the actors themselves - one’s a doctor, the other a scientist - their names are just the same (and they look the same too, of course). So perhaps that mitigates the ick factor for you a little bit? Either way, I understand if you skip this next one. It’s really fucking good though.

See you next Friday!