#because someone (i) still has a thesis to write

[tailorofdeath13]

You are part of the problem.

This was and still somewhat is a safe place for all. Fandom, in general, should be a safe space for all. It's fiction. It is made up.

The only part of your little speech I can agree with is where you talk about showing fanfics to persons who are related to the fandom.

I think you just hate creativity. These stories you refer to kept me mostly sane and literally alive when I was at my lowest. You don't get to shame me for that. You don't get to tell me that I am the problem because I love reading people falling in love or finding/building a family or, or, or.... the list goes on and on.

While oversexualization is an issue, saying that the entire fandom now is just pwp is really an overkill. I don't really know any other fandom besides this one, but I think every other fanfom has pwp. Hell, some published books are literally just pwp.

And I think you have missed some chapters on fandom etiquette. Read and let read. You don't see me coming on here bashing on headcanons or ships or stories I don't like. I scroll past them, or I close the ao3 tab when I encounter something I don't like. That's it. No one forces me to read something I don't find entertaining for my tastes. Or if I find something out of my comfort zone. I just stop consuming that piece of media, whether it be a fanfic or anything, really.

And it is rather vile of you to come here and say we shouldn't touch these "well written" characters. I could write my thesis on all the ways JKR's world building and character writing are not good and actually are really problematic. At this point, I think the goal is to stray as far away as we can from the source material.

And by the way, "just using the names" is so incorrect. We all characterise these characters differently because we are different people. I know, shocking.

You can't expect an entire fandom to have one mind. We think differently. We live differently. We have different experiences, so that's going to show up in our fanfictions. And that is the beauty of it. Reading the thousandth Drarry fic and watching them fall in love in every single one of them in different ways with different characterisations is beautiful every time.

And I don't even want to comment on your apparent queerphobia. But I have to.

You not liking queer characterisations is absolutely fine. But a lot of us are queer. And we want queer representation. The real world out there is getting more awful each day, so yes, we are going to queer the shit out of these characters. And we are going to give them stories. We are going to give them a voice some of us don't have. We give them the happy ending we need. There are a million different ways a person can deal with real-life problems, and one of them is escaping to fiction. Yes, sometimes it reaches an unhealthy level, but I am not talking about that.

And then let us get back to the beginning: this is fanfiction. Fictional. If I want to ship Walburga and Euphemia then I sure as fuck will do. If someone headcanons Sirius as genderfluid, then fuck yeah. If someone says their James Potter is desi and gay as fuck, then hallelujah, amen, who are we to say otherwise? It is their headcannon.

And if you have a problem with diversity, well, that sounds like a you problem. And it is your job to work through that.

I could go on and on until the Sun sets and the Moon rises, but I don't have the brain today to do a more in-depth post.

MY TAKE ON THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE HP FANDOM AND WHY I STRONGLY DISLIKE IT

The Hary Potter franchise became a popculture phenomenon in the past two and a half decades. The most popular books of the century, whatever you want to call it. It has great value as a fiction and I can't help but to say that I'm extremely disappointed in the fandom that I've been apart of for approximately half my life. Every good fiction that is as widely available is turned to a massive perversion and I hate it with all my heart and soul. Can you just write and draw your disgusting porn using another names, it doesn'tmake any sense to use well-written characters that have nothing to do with your porn story for your pedophilia fantasies? Can't you just use (sigh but I have to say her name) Rowling's universe, credit her for that, and use another names? Why on Earth would you show an ACTOR (A REAL PERSON?) a fanfic about the character that he played many years ago being the MASTER OF A YOUNG GIRL WHO HAPPENS TO BE PLAYED BY A FRIEND OF HIS? Can we stop normalizing that because it's not and it shouldn't be normal?

I don't even want to start with the marauders fandom (at least in tiktok) and what it turned into. It started with snupin, jily, blackinnon. Why the fuck would Barty be with Rosier? Why on Earth would Sirius and Snape date ever? I know y'all want representation but you really think Regulus is trans? There's absolutely ZERO indication he ever felt uncomfortable in his body. You really think Sirius, borderline insane Sirius, bitter and bad ass as fuck, riding motorcycles, bullying and humiliating racists, biggest rebel in the series, has naked women on the wall Sirius would be the cutie patootie, dresses in a skirt overfeminine guy? Headcanons are cool when you don't have enough information and decide to fill the gaps on your own, not to absolutely dismiss everything. At this point you are not trying to develop their story but you are making up absolutely different people. You just use the names. You abounded the idea you started for - that you love the characters and would like to know more about them, that you see qualities you admire or find interesting in them. It ruins the whole concept. Years ago, it was fun to fill the gaps, to write what you think'd happen in their era but not it feels like it's out of control and not in a good way.

I'm with open hands for discussion.

[regentzephyr]

i cited the still very good, probably 20-year old piece on Earthbound by Tim Rogers in my thesis because to me, it illustrates the game’s (and internet-era consumerism’s) individualist internal logic of the Manchild and the System qua Mother

[prosebushpatch]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like). 

I was tagged by the wonderful @rebrandedbard!

This is actually the last line in a chapter for an og story in which a poor guy goes on vacation with his friends only to wake up one morning on the beach transformed into a siren! Of course, he has no memory of how he got there!

"He lunged underneath the railing and dove into the sea."

I shall tag the lovely @lemonadesoda, @thewiltingdaisy, @nerdy-aroace, and @damianwho! As always, no worries if you'd rather not but if you do, I can't wait to see your sentences! :D

[captain-huggy-bear]

could i request “this is the end of your all-nighters, you hear me?” with quinn hughes but it’s quinn taking care of reader 🩷💕💞💗 ty, congrats on 1000, you deserve it all and more

Thank you, lovely! Actually love this idea because Quinn is first and foremost a provider. Quinn is soft dom in this and if the idea of a guy making you do stuff (aka you need to eat) isn't your cuppa then probably not for you. Meanwhile I would love someone to take all the decisions from my hands lol

Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

He's done. He's reached the end of his patience with you. Quinn has been watching you slowly wear yourself down, grind yourself into the ground with how hard you're working. It's your goddamn Masters' thesis that's done it combined with him being on a roadie and unable to keep a proper eye on you.

You've been pulling all-nighters almost every night for the past week, only really getting away with it because Quinn's been away on a roadie. But every time you face time it's clear to him you're not looking after yourself. You're tired, exhausted, hair a bird's nest, dark bags under your eyes. You're skin is ashy, your focus is shot, you can barely walk in a straight line and he knows that you need someone to direct you, guide you, get you back to looking after yourself. Usually he's there to do that, usually he takes those decisions out of your hands, makes life simple...but he's been gone.

It's the final face time that has him deciding he's going in guns blazing when he finally gets home to Vancouver because you look like you're going to pass out at any second, struggling to hold a conversation with him, blinking in and out of focus even while you're still typing that goddamn thesis on your laptop. Whether any of it is legible is doubtful.

You barely get a hello when he storms into the apartment, a whirlwind of authority as he tugs the laptop from your lap and shoves it in a drawer where you can't look at it. The way you blink up at him is sleepy, confused, so tired that you're not even able to express joy at seeing him back after a week of being separated. You can barely process that he's there, that he's taken your thesis away.

“This is the end of your all-nighters, you hear me, baby?”

"My thesis..." You're mumbling from your spot on the bed, surrounded by rumpled blankets. There are empty glasses covering your bedside table, the bin is full of cereal bar wrappers where you've clearly not been cooking or eating proper food. He's neglected you, Quinn decides, if he'd been here you wouldn't have gotten to this point. He's mad at himself.

"Baby, you're not going to be able to write a good thesis if you keep running yourself into the ground."

"Bu-"

"You're going to get in the shower, you're going wash, brush your teeth and hair and then you're going to get your cute ass in this bed and we're sleeping for the rest of the day."

"Okay..." There's no argument from you, submitting to his will because he's giving orders not requests and it's so easy, so easy to just let Quinn think for you right now.

You let him tug you to your feet, let him guide you gently by the shoulders to the bathroom. You don't complain when he stays in the room, scared you'll pass out in the shower. You accept it when he brushes your teeth for you, your arms like lead, and when he runs a comb through your hair. It's so easy to just let him look after you, to let him rub your moisturiser into your skin and pull a t-shirt over your head and panties up your legs.

It's so easy to let him guide you back to bed, your legs like weights and its so easy to let Quinn lay you down with him. So easy to curl up against his side, face pressed firmly into his neck, nuzzling into him, breathing him in.

You curl against him without even really thinking about it, an instinct to just get as close as possible like you want to crawl inside his skin. Face flush with his neck, hands gripping his t-shirt tightly until one slips under to feel the warmth of his skin. Your legs tangle with his and Quinn takes it in his stride, his arms are solid, firm, protective as they wrap around you, one hand falling to cup your ass to pull you closer, the other running through your hair and cupping the back of your neck. His lips press kisses to your hair, gentle but soothing and he doesn't talk just holds you.

Even when you're asleep, which really doesn't take long with how exhausted you are, even when his arms and legs start to grow tired of the position you're in. He doesn't move because you need this, you've let yourself get run ragged, you've not been taking good care of yourself while he's been away and it's his job to look after you.

You clearly need more guidance, you clearly need him to tell you what you need and he can do that, he can make sure you look after yourself.

One thing is certain you're never pulling an all-nighter again.

[nelle-y]

A love story told through voicelines (Alhaitham ver.) I

C/W: alhaitham x gn!reader, not that slow of a burn, characters find the other annoying, reader is a teacher at the akademiya (Vahumana), they have history (iykyk), one nsfw innuendo, not proofread

Note: my humiliating attempt at writing Alhaitham’s smart ahh attitude >A< anw, lmk how you guys want this story to go! (comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated)

Part 2

—

(You) About Alhaitham

Scribe Alhaitham? He’s… intelligent. That’s all I have to say.

(Alhaitham) About you

Hm.

(You) About Alhaitham: History I

He and I partnered up in a thesis which, thankfully, got approved by our professors. Working with him was challenging, to be honest. Every idea I had, he’d shut it down with some counter argument—“they’d never approve of that,” or “it has too many defects.” A conversation with him may as well be a debate! Frustrating and infuriating.

(Alhaitham) About you: History I

They are competent, I’ll admit that much. But their ideas? Flawed. Reckless. It’s as if they refuse to consider consequences before leaping into action. Every discussion turned into an exhausting debate—because, naturally, I had to be the one to explain why their half-formed theories wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny.

Really, for someone who specializes in history, you’d think they’d have learned from past mistakes. And yet, they persist.

(You) About Alhaitham: History II

Talking about this in my place of work is not really appropriate. … Fine! Yes, we were in… amorous congress. But it happened a long time ago—when we were still students. Just once. A drunken mistake, that’s all it was!

… Keep this between us, though. I love my job.

(Alhaitham) About you: History II

I’d rather this particular detail remain in the past where it belongs. It was years ago, an irrelevant event. I fail to see why anyone would find it worth discussing now.

Though, knowing them, they’d likely frame it as some dramatic mistake rather than what it was—an ill-advised but ultimately inconsequential decision. Either way, I don’t intend to entertain the conversation.

… You think I should drop by? Hm, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to evaluate their current methodology.

(You) About Alhaitham: Work

It’s inevitable that we cross paths—he’s the Akademiya’s Scribe, after all. I can handle brief interactions, but when he lingers, it’s… bothersome. Always with that unreadable expression, listening too intently to everything I say. I know he’s just waiting to poke holes in my arguments. Ugh. Some things never change.

(Alhaitham) About you: Work

They have an irritating tendency to be vague, as if I won’t immediately notice the gaps in their reasoning. Do they think that being imprecise will make me less inclined to argue? If anything, it has the opposite effect.

I don’t intend to debate them at every opportunity, but when they make it so easy, I see no reason to hold back.

(You) About Alhaitham: Annoyance

Do you know how aggravating it is to give a lecture, only to see him sitting there in the back, arms crossed, silently judging every word that comes out of my mouth? He doesn’t even work in my Darshan! What is he doing there?! “It was on my way,” he says. “I had time to spare,” he says. Liar.

Having the Scribe in my classroom is distracting—both for me and my students. I’d appreciate it if he found a different way to pass the time. Preferably far away from my lectures.

(Alhaitham) About you: Observation

I fail to understand how they manage to get results. Their lectures lack structure, their methods are inconsistent, and yet… their students actually retain information. It goes against all logic.

Still, I suppose there’s something to be said about efficacy, no matter how unorthodox. Not that I’ll be admitting that to them. They’re insufferable enough as it is.

(You) About Alhaitham: A Final Thought

I swear, he only comes to my lectures to irritate me. He just sits there, arms crossed, waiting for me to say something he can nitpick. It’s distracting. The other day, I caught myself scanning the room to see if he was there before I even started teaching. Ridiculous.

…No, that doesn’t mean anything! It’s just easier to prepare for battle when you know the enemy is near!

(Alhaitham) About you: A Final Thought

They’ve developed an odd habit of pausing mid-lecture, glancing toward the back of the room—toward me. If I were to be charitable, I’d say they’re checking whether I have any objections.

But that would imply they value my opinion. Which, of course, is absurd.

(Your student) About you and the Scribe

… So, uh. Are those two dating or something?

[fluentmoviequoter]

Still Find You

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You're abducted from your coffee shop and Tim has to trust his instincts to find you before it's too late.

Warnings: abduction, torture (not graphic), violence and threats of violence, angst, mention of drug distribution and overdose, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 3.6k+ words

A/N: I ended this with lines from Still Find You by Granger Smith because it fit (and I have no control when I write).

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

Soft jazz fills the coffee shop as you lock the door one minute after closing. You wave at the young woman walking down the sidewalk who just left after finishing her thesis in your shop.

She brought you a small gift with a note and said, “I couldn’t have finished this without you and your café.”

You haven’t opened the gift yet, but you smile because you made a difference in someone’s life. Your coffee shop resulted from chasing your dreams and hard work, and you want people to feel both comfortable and inspired when they come in. Today, you accomplished that.

After you turn off the lights in the front seating area, you pull your phone from your apron pocket and change the music playing through the speakers behind the counter to something more upbeat. You sing along with the first song as you wipe down the counter and dismantle the coffee machines to make tomorrow easier.

A loud sound makes you flinch as you prepare to enter the walk-in freezer. Turning quickly, you expect to see someone knocking on the door or a bird flying away from the glass. But there’s nothing to see. Shaking your head, you continue your nightly closing checklist and think about what you should make for dinner.

Fifteen minutes later, your shop is clean and prepped for the morning, and your apron hangs on its dedicated hook. You pull your bag over your shoulder, slide your phone into your pocket, and open the back door.

Before you step out into the small parking area you share with a few nearby business owners, a hand wraps cruelly around your upper arm. Whoever it is pulls you harshly away from your car and slams you against the brick wall behind you.

“Here,” you say, offering your bag. “That’s all I have.”

You glance up and see that it’s undoubtedly a man, large, tall, and terrifying. He’s wearing a mask, but you can hear his deep and rough voice clearly when he chuckles. He knocks your arms down, and your bag falls to the cement with a thud. The man says your full name, and you can’t stop from flinching away from him.

“That was easy,” he murmurs. “Where’s the bag?”

You shake your head, afraid but honest.

“Where is the bag?” he repeats, slow and low as he steps closer to you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply.

“That’s a shame.”

He raises his right hand and signals to someone or something. You take the opportunity while he’s distracted to slip your phone from your pocket. Holding it behind your back, you take a screenshot, hoping to capture the time. You then attempt to unlock it without looking and navigate to what you hope is the camera. Tilting the phone in several directions, you tap the screen and don’t think about what will happen if you’re not getting information to pass along to the police.

A blue van approaches quickly and then stops behind your car. The man wraps his hand around your arm again, and you drop your phone to bring your other hand up to fight. You know how to defend yourself, but he’s bigger than you, you were ambushed, and you’re outnumbered. He directs you past your car, and you drop the one belonging you don’t want to lose onto the hood. As you’re pushed into the backseat and thrown back against the seat when the van begins moving again, you hope that someone finds your phone and does the right thing. If you took any pictures, they might save your life.

Tim stretches his neck to the side after he parks in his driveway. He looks around while he turns the ignition off and frowns. Pulling his phone from the center console, he presses your contact. It goes to voicemail, and he has no missed calls or messages to explain your absence. You’ve been off work for nearly an hour, and even if you stayed to clean up – because you’re too nice to your employees and let them leave early, he thinks – you should still be here by now.

Tim opens his tracking app and sees that the blue dot showing your phone’s location is steady at your shop. He tenses his jaw and restarts his truck. As he pulls back onto the road, he calls your shop, but it just rings and rings. Tim clenches his jaw, throws his phone into the passenger seat, and speeds up. He thinks something is wrong, and if it’s not, he’s going to start an argument because you know better than to worry him like this or forget your phone. You know better. And that’s why Tim reaches for his phone to call dispatch and find out if you called 911 for any reason.

Tim leaves his truck running after he parks, blocking your car in. You’re not in the car, and the lights are off in your coffee shop. He walks to the back door, ready to pound on it and hope you open it. He stops on the sidewalk when he sees something out of place. Your phone case is something he’s familiar with, and he lowers to reach for it. There’s a new crack down the middle of the screen, and the edge of your case has been scuffed. This wasn’t simply dropped.

Tim holds your phone in his left hand as he calls Angela. He gives her the facts of what he knows, letting her come to her own conclusions. She says she and Nyla will be at your shop right away, and Tim stands in place after the call disconnects. As he looks around, he doesn’t see anything else worth noting.

He leans against the brick wall, keenly aware of every breeze which moves around him. He unlocks your phone and opens the messages. No half-typed or emergency notes. No phone calls or a dialed number. Whatever happened, you didn’t have time to react in a typical way. Tim returns to the home screen and then taps the photos app. You took a picture of Kojo laying on Tim yesterday, but nearly a dozen new photos are displayed beneath it. Not the kind of photos you would take, Tim realizes as he stands straighter.

There’s a screenshot of your lock screen taken 45 minutes ago, a blurry image of the back of your legs and a pair of boots in front of you, a seconds-long video that Tim can’t bring himself to play yet, and a picture of a gloved hand wrapped around your arm. Tim locks your phone again and exhales deeply, attempting to remain calm. Based on those images, he’s convinced that his worst fear is coming true. You’ve been abducted. He sees Angela’s unmarked car pull in and steps off the sidewalk to meet her and walk her through his movements. As he passes your car, something glints in the light, and he steps back.

“Tim,” Angela says as she exits her car after parking behind Tim’s truck. “Tell me everything.”

Tim doesn’t reply as he lifts something off your car. Your engagement ring wouldn’t just fall off; you left it.

“Tim,” Angela repeats when she sees the ring and your phone. “What happened?”

Tim clears his throat before explaining that you weren’t home, so he called and came here. He passes her your unlocked phone and mentions that he couldn’t watch the video. And the ring.

“What’s her name?” Nyla asks.

Tim answers, realizing that Nyla probably doesn’t know who you are. “My wife.”

Her eyes widen as she looks at Angela. They meet at the back of your car to watch the video, and Tim stares at your ring lying on his palm instead of around your finger.

“We need to find her,” he says, looking up. “Now.”

“Tim, I know you’re worried,” Nyla begins.

“Of course I am,” he replies. “But I’m also angry, and you can use that.”

“We’re not going to ask you to sit this out,” Angela assures him. “She’s smart, and if anyone can pick up the clues she’ll leave, it’s you.”

“I know it’s probably a stupid question, but any idea who would do this?” Nyla asks.

“She doesn’t have any enemies,” Tim answers. “But this wasn’t random.”

“No,” Angela agrees. “She got the vehicle on camera. Unfortunately, we can only make out that it’s a blue minivan.”

“Easy to find in LA,” Tim grumbles.

“Right. I’ll get the phone to cyber, see what they can find.”

Tim walks down the length of your car and looks to his right. “If they went east, I know where she’d try to leave the next clue.”

Nyla takes your phone and gets in Angela’s car to return to the station while Angela climbs into Tim’s passenger seat.

“Are you prepared to deal with this if she didn’t leave any more clues?” she asks softly.

“I’m ready to finish this,” Tim answers. “Whatever it takes.”

Angela nods as he turns out of the parking lot and heads east. They both know that targeted abductions rarely end well, but neither of them says it aloud. You’re smart, but that doesn’t make you infallible. Or indestructible.

You cough before you spit blood from your mouth. Everything hurts, and you have no idea where you are. After you managed to leave Tim another clue in a place he’d think to go – if he’s realized that he needs to look yet – the men who took you decided it would be better for you to not know where you were going. They blindfolded you, covered your mouth, and drove in silence. You tried to keep track of the turns and the time, but they kept you from doing that. The larger man, the one who pinned you to the wall, moved you into the floor of the van and held something that felt suspiciously like a gun against your sternum. It moved every time the driver turned, and you were too distracted to notice which way your body rolled.

“I don’t…” you pant, “know what bag.”

He swings his fist in an arch, holding your shoulder as he punches beneath your diaphragm. Your breath leaves in a painful rush, and you drop to the wooden floor beneath you when he removes his hands from you.

“We’ve got all night,” he says. “You don’t. Start talking, and no more of the don’t know act.”

“Whatever you’re looking for, I am not the person you need to find it.”

“No,” he agrees, bending at his waist to look into your eyes. “You’re the next best thing.”

You take the opportunity to spit into his exposed eyes, and he stumbles back as he wipes at his face. Smiling, you ignore the pain for a moment.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you taunt.

“I don’t have to,” he replies. “I just have to wait until you’re ready to tell me.”

He leaves you alone in the dilapidated bedroom, and you wrap your arms around your stomach and push yourself to stand. The window is barred and it’s dark out, but you can see plenty of lights beneath you. You’re somewhere in the hills, but you might be here forever without a way to get that information to Tim.

“That wasn’t very nice,” the other man says, kicking the door closed behind him.

A rope rests over his shoulder, and he cracks his knuckles as he stalks toward you like a predator. He’s been quiet until now, just the driver, but as he nears you, you begin to think he’s the one you should have been scared of all along.

“Getting anything?” Wade asks, entering the observation area.

“No,” Tim answers.

“She left you clues,” Wade points out. “We’ll find her.”

“There’s not enough to go on!” Tim exclaims, letting his emotions come out in front of someone he trusts. “Her ring and a bracelet left in a restaurant parking lot isn’t going to save her life.”

“Then keep looking,” Wade encourages. “Bradford, you and I both know a trail doesn’t go cold this quick. Something will come up.”

“She said something about a bag,” the man sitting across the table from Angela says. “Then the big guy led her back to the van.”

“A bag?” Angela repeats. “Do you remember what exactly she said?”

“Something about not having the bag, and not knowing where it went.”

“That mean anything to you?” Wade asks.

Tim wracks his brain, thinking of every bag he’s seen, confiscated, or searched over the past weeks. He shakes his head and then remembers something. Not a bag, but a man looking for a bag.

“Aaron stopped a car on Pico,” he tells Wade. “There was a backpack sitting on the top of it. Aaron offered it to the guy, and he refused to take it; insisted it wasn’t his.”

“Right,” Wade agrees, snapping as the memory resurfaces. “It was searched when he brought it in. There was drug residue all over it – all over it. Not enough to charge someone probably, but it could’ve been indicative of possession with intent.”

“I didn’t think about then,” Tim mumbles.

“Think about what?” Angela inquires as she returns. “He didn’t know much, but he did call 911 because he thought the woman was in trouble. Dispatch rerouted him to the Sheriff’s department and they can’t even take themselves seriously, so it’s still showing as active and waiting for response.”

“The same morning Aaron found that bag, Chen and I were trailing one of Metro’s CIs to a meeting and there was a guy looking frantically in a parking lot,” Tim explains. “A parking lot just off Pico. He was looking on top of cars and crawling around on the ground. Chen asked him if he needed help, and he said he was looking for his cat.”

“Get a name? Description?”

“Name, no, but Chen had her body cam on.”

Wade leads them to his office and finds the footage from the encounter. The man captured was large, had a scar across his chin, and looked like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care about a cat.

“Rick Wendell,” Angela says. She shows his most recent mugshot – when he first got the scar on his chin – and swipes through his record. “He’s got two houses. One of them is in the hills.”

“How’d a career criminal afford that?” Wade wonders.

“Bought it in a foreclosure for less than 300 thousand,” she reads. “It’s secluded, falling apart, but he’s up to date on the payments.”

“Good place to take someone if you want privacy.”

“I found out guy,” Nyla announces, rushing into the office.

“So did we,” Angela says, showing her the mugshot.

Nyla’s brows pinch before she replies, “He wasn’t the driver.”

“We have reason to believe they’re at Wendell’s house,” Tim interjected. “What’s the driver have to do with it?”

Nyla shows another mugshot, and Tim feels like he’ll never breathe again.

“Ankou,” Tim says.

“AKA Peter Newman, his given name,” Nyla adds. “Wanted by every three-letter agency and just about everyone on Interpol’s roster.”

“What’s he got against you, Bradford?” Wade inquires.

“I got him extradited on a drug charge. He watched two young girls OD on over-potent heroin, but possession was all I could get him on. While he was overseas, we raided every drug stash we could find. He got out of prison after a few months and came back to nothing but more warrants.”

“Did you happen to take a bag?” Angela asks.

“All but one,” he says. “We could never find the rest of his signature heroin.”

“Which is likely what Aaron stumbled on,” Nyla deduces. “And he’s targeting you rather than Aaron because it’s your fault he had to move what was left.”

“And now he’s trying to get information from my wife,” Tim snaps. “So why are we still standing here?”

“Because we can’t waltz into his house without a plan,” Angela replies. “I have to ask… Does she know about Ankou, or the drugs?”

“No.”

“Really? Not even a mention?” Nyla asks.

“She doesn’t know,” Tim insists roughly. “I keep her away from this. Look where it got her.”

“I hate to bring this up,” Wade begins. “But the bag has been missing for nearly a week. Why now?”

“He’s got a meet,” Angela realizes.

“And if he doesn’t have the drugs, he’ll offer something else,” Tim says. “Or someone.”

“Tim,” Wade says. When he finally has his attention, he asks, “What do we do?”

“You’re not going to agree with what my instincts are telling me to do.”

“If it were Luna, I’d do whatever I had to. You wife trusts you, now trust yourself. Walk us through it.”

Tim glances at the map on Angela’s phone. “He won’t expect us to come down the hill.”

The sun rises over LA, sending scattered light through the dirty window behind you. Your chest rises and falls slowly, every breath painful and shallow. Everything hurts, but you hold the splintered floorboard you pried up between your bloody hands, ready to fight when one of your abductors returns.

A hinge squeals downstairs, and you grip the wood tighter. You can’t hear footsteps, but you know someone is coming. When a gunshot echoes through the house, you push yourself against the wall and wait, letting your eyes close as you listen.

Tim doesn’t hesitate to fire when Wendell comes toward him with a sawed-off shotgun. He keeps his gun up as he walks to Wendell’s side and squats. Wendell doesn’t have a pulse, but Tim notices there is plenty of blood on him. His gloves are worn and stained, and some of the blood coating the outside of the fabric is fresh.

“She’s here,” Tim whispers over his shoulder.

Nyla taps Tim’s shoulder as she and Wade go left. Tim and Angela go right and soon come to a narrow staircase.

Ankou – the henchman of death – is in the house, and Tim must find him before he returns to you. Ankou is an omen of death and, in France, he is death personified as a skeleton with a scythe. This Ankou, however, is just a criminal who got away with too much and got too cocky about it.

Tim has taken down his fair share of monsters and a faux Grim Reaper doesn’t scare him. Especially when Peter Newman is holding his wife hostage.

Stepping over a loose step, Tim nears the top of the staircase. Three closed doors and a dead-end hall greet him. One of the doors has runes drawn on it, and Tim’s instincts tell him it’s a trap.

Angela gestures toward it, and Tim shakes his head. He walks to the door farthest from the steps and lays his hand on the doorknob. Angela covers him as he pushes it open, and Tim doesn’t take a step in before he wraps his hand around someone’s neck and flips them onto the floor.

You drop the broken weapon and let your tears fall as Tim walks into the bedroom, holstering his gun as he nears you. Angela handcuffs your attacker, groaning on the floor after Tim took him down.

“I got you,” Tim murmurs, visually inspecting every mark on you.

“How-” You hiccup as you reach for him, but once your hand is in his, you ask, “How did you find me?”

“I trusted my instincts,” he answers softly.

You nod, leaning toward him. Tim cups your chin in his other hand as you reply, “Thank God you have good instincts.”

“You left me clues,” he points out.

“Not enough.”

Tim shakes his head, then lifts you carefully into his arms to get you out of the house. The ambulance is waiting outside when he carries you out into the sunlight, and you cling to him as he lowers you onto the gurney.

“You must have really good instincts,” you say.

Tim takes your hand, his jaw tightening when he sees the blood and dirt surrounding your nails. You fought, and you endured torture and pain, yet you’re thanking Tim for coming as if he rescued you.

“About one thing, at least,” he replies as he climbs into the ambulance beside you.

“You look so good!” Angela exclaims, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as you enter Tim’s house.

“Thank you,” you reply, laughing. “I think the bandages and the stitches bring out my eyes.”

“If you ever decide to switch careers, the LAPD could use another strong woman,” Nyla adds.

“Absolutely not,” Tim and Wade answer together.

Your brows lift as you look at Wade, and he explains, “I’m not dealing with Bradford like that ever again. Stay safe, all right? That’s an order.”

“Thank you for everything,” you tell them. “When I’m actually looking and feeling good again, you’re all invited to dinner.”

“We’ll be here,” Angela promises. “Call us if you need anything. There’s food in the fridge, more in the freezer, and more gift cards and baskets than I can count all over your dining room.”

You nod, give her and Nyla a hug, and then wave as they leave. Wade is the last to go, giving you another hug and promising to check in often. Once you’re alone, you turn to Tim.

“Did you find a gift bag in the stuff I dropped outside the coffee shop?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’s on the bed,” he answers. “Do you want it now?”

“It can wait,” you reply. “It’s special, so I wanted to make sure it was okay.”

“Not the only special thing that needs to be okay,” he murmurs.

“I’m okay,” you promise, taking Tim’s hand. “Because you found me. And you’ll find me every time.”

Tim nods, running his finger over the silicone wedding ring on your swollen finger. His instincts are good; that’s why he’s such a good cop, but when it comes to you, his instincts are even better. You could be a raindrop in a desert or a snowflake in a blizzard, and Tim Bradford would still find you.

[pathologicalreid]

doctor and doctor | S.R.

in which you add a degree to your repertoire

who? spencer reid x fem!reader

category: fluff

content warning: i tried my best and the process described is pretty accurate to my graduate school but there might be some discrepancies. mentions of marriage and anxiety.

word count: 470

a/n: my brain has been rotting this finals week so i just needed some good academic validation fluff to write. i also got in a car accident this morning (I'm fine lol someone hit my car) so fluff was mandatory. hoping to get a lot of writing done over the school break.

There was an old joke that only five people would ever read your dissertation, you, your supervisor, your two examiners, and your unlucky partner or spouse who has to act as an unpaid proofreader for you. It was something you had heard for the past four years.

Of course, in your case, your boyfriend had three PhDs of his own and was more than happy to read through your dissertation, even though it was pushing five hundred pages.

The BAU’s jet had just landed after a three-day case in Georgia, and you had just hung up after talking with Spencer. You complained about feeling like a sitting duck, waiting to hear from your doctoral advisor to see if your thesis was accepted, and he told you he imagined it wouldn’t be long now.

You had been offered a teaching position starting in the new semester, but it was contingent on your dissertation being approved.

That all led to the email sitting in your inbox, you left your laptop open on the kitchen counter, leaving the email unopened, which is how Spencer found you when he got home.

“Angel?” He said, slightly alarmed, you stood still in the kitchen, watching your laptop like it was going to combust.

Pointing at the device, you took a deep breath, “I got the email.”

Hastily, he set his bag on the couch of your shared apartment before joining you in the kitchen. “Did you look at it?” He asked, leaning over and looking at the screen that displayed your still unopened email. You shook your head, “Were you going to?”

“What if they didn’t accept it?” You whispered, not moving your eyes from the screen.

He waited a moment, “Do you want me to open it?”

You shook your head again, “No, I’ll do it.” You told him, in a sudden surge of bravery, you leaned forward and clicked on the email. Automatically, the email popped up with a burst of confetti – an effect from your email browser recognizing the word ‘congratulations.’ You gasped and Spencer wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight.

It all faded away. The nerves from the past four years, because you had done it.

“I’m so proud of you,” Spencer murmured. “So, so proud.”

You twisted in his arms to look at the screen and read the email in its entirety. “My degree will be officially conferred on the next date designated by the university. Oh, my goodness,” you said, overwhelmed. “I really got my PhD!” You said excitedly, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“So, when we get married, we’ll both be Dr. Reid,” Spencer said, glancing over at the email before looking down at you fondly.

Your smile spanned from ear to ear, “Yeah!” You said excitedly, the smile dropping from your face, “Wait, what?”

[scripts4dreamers]

Me and my one (1) friend who has also had their brain corrupted by the blight (dragon age) have been fighting about this for two days but I’m so sure I’m right, so I humbly present my thesis to you lovely people.

1. After the events of the Veilguard, if Rook and Neve ended up together, Neve tries to leave you.

LET ME EXPLAIN! (Spoilers for the Veilguard ending)

I love Neve. She’s my favorite romance from Veilguard, she’s an incredible character and she does not deserve all the hate she gets. Having said that, she does 1000% try and leave Rook.

The one thing we know about Neve, almost from the moment we meet her, is that she is not a believer. She doesn’t believe Solas is a god, at first, she doesn’t believe anyone will have her back, she doesn’t believe Minrathous will improve and she doesn’t believe she’s going to survive this job. But still she fights on, not out of a genuine belief that she can win, but because she has a soft spot for lost causes.

Neve has devoted her life to being the champion of lost causes. She tells Rook that, even if this job doesn’t get her, one of them will. She risks her life, day in and day out, in service of a city that has done nothing but hurt her. Neve believes she’s a dead woman walking, and all she wants to do is go down protecting the people of Dock Town because someone has to. Someone has to.

And then she meets Rook and Harding and now gods are real, and they’re destroying the world and oh well everything was always going to go down in flames, so why not help out? She’s always been a magnet for bad news, for bad luck, for the worst of humanity, so why not spend her last days fighting for what little good is left?

She tries to fight falling for Rook, but they’re everything she wishes the world could be. They’re the lifeline she’s been waiting for since before the world forced her to stop believing. They’re good and kind and full of life and how can she do anything but love them for that? But she’s already dead, they’re both already dead and she can’t survive another loss.

She throws herself into loving them only after she lost them to the Fade. Only after Harding/Davrin died. After her world already ended, because that’s when she really realizes how quickly it can all end and how much time she wasted pushing people away. The goddamn WORLD IS ENDING and the person you love is THERE and they’re REAL and they WANT YOU, so why not? What is there to lose? It’s easy to love someone when the world is ending. It’s easy to love someone when you’re both already doomed.

But then the world doesn’t end. The sun rises on a blighted Minrathous and they’re both still alive, and now she’s faced with rebuilding. There’s so much work to be done, she’s a bloody, scarred mess and the job she was brought in for is over, isn’t it? She’s not a cool noir detective who died saving the world anymore, she’s someone’s partner, someone’s friend and lover and those aren’t jobs she had ever prepared herself to take.

Suddenly, without the haze of panic and the urgency of stopping the gods, things look different. She needs a new apartment. Minrathous needs a detective. Life goes back to normal and Neve still isn’t a believer.

Of course, everyone says they’ll stay in touch. Bonds formed that can never be broken and all that, but Neve knows better. You don’t hang around once the party is over. You don’t give the world more ways to hurt you, more people to take. You don’t give people a chance to leave you.

So she leaves first.

She regrets it. She hates herself for it. She cries herself to sleep wondering how she could be such a coward, but she leaves. She packs a bag, writes a goodbye letter and leaves before morning.

Now, do I think her and Rook get back together? Absolutely I do. I just think that, with all the events of Veilguard happening in such a short time, there’s going to be some major questions for all the companions once the dust settles, and leaving before you can be left is Neve Gallus’ answer to those questions.

[rmstitanics]

* GENERAL OBSERVATIONS, PART THREE.

ASTEROIDS & CELESTIAL BODIES

ASTEROID ORPHEUS (3361) CONJUNCT CHIRON may represent one who looks to their past for creative inspiration. They’ll often use their preferred form of art in an attempt to understand traumatizing events or process any emotions that may still linger.

ASTEROID APOLLO (1862) in the 8H could signify an individual who enjoys creating or consuming media about controversial and dark topics.

When I see ASTEROID PANDORA (55) in the 10H, I immediately wonder whether the individual with this placement has experienced some sort of chaos or crises regarding their public image. Maybe they’ve had traumatic experiences with their main circle of friends, or maybe they’ve even received some level of backlash on social media for a flawed interaction. Whatever these natives have endured, they probably yearn to control public perception of their character in an attempt to prevent misunderstandings.

Check which house ASTEROID ARISTOTELES (6123) is located in within your natal chart to find where you crave the most knowledge and wisdom! As an example, I have my Aristoteles asteroid in the 8H of transformative experiences, death, and “taboo” topics — and I’m now a practicing divination witch who enjoys paranormal investigation.

Due to difficulty with turning intuitive ideas into real achievements, 9H CHIRON individuals might find the process of outlining an essay or project to be particularly challenging. They’re the types of students who change their thesis a bunch of times before a paper’s due date.

PLANETS IN SIGNS & HOUSES

SATURN 1H placements might have people pleasing tendencies at some point in their lives due to a fear of never meeting others’ expectations.

SAGITTARIUS SATURNS likely grew up in households where one or both parents was strict and / or religious. The challenge awaiting these folks in life is to pursue exploration of knowledge outside of what was taught to them in their youth. They probably enjoy philosophy or history, and could possibly grow up to be spiritual but not religious.

LEO MERCURY placements, was your writing style ever described as “flowery” by your teachers or fellow students before? Because this placement TOTALLY gives me the vibes of a flowery and dramatic writing style.

One could theoretically use their JUPITER placement to discover two things: 1) The field of study where they have experienced the most growth throughout their academic career and / or 2) their best academic subject. To do this, look at Jupiter’s degrees and house. I have CANCER JUPITER placed in the 9TH HOUSE in my chart, and I absolutely adore law, history, and philosophy! However, I’ve had to undergo the most growth in Cancerian concepts such as life skills in the home and actively listening to others.

CAPRICORN JUPITERS are prone to having a “the end justifies the means” philosophy when it comes to achieving their goals. They also might struggle with perspective taking / putting themselves in others’ shoes, particularly when they perceive the individual in question as someone outside of what they consider “normal”.

6H MOONS strike me as the type who love being around animals MUCH more than they love being around people, especially if the majority of their personal planets are in a water sign.

ASPECTS

SUN SQUARE URANUS indicates memorable students whose teachers / professors will remember them for many years to come.

Hard MERCURY-PLUTO aspects could struggle with maintaining a consistent routine for studying, especially if Mercury is in retrograde in the chart.

MERCURY TRINE JUPITER placements LOVE yapping in class, but it’ll either be with their peers while the teacher is talking or by frequent class participation. If you’re the class participation type, you’ve probably had a teacher say “does anyone OTHER than (your name) know the answer?” before 😭

Although this placement does make for great activists who are not afraid to call out injustice when they see it, LILITH CONJUNCT MERCURY folks NEED to prioritize being tactful due to a natural tendency to bluntly say whatever’s on their mind with no filter.

SATURN-NEPTUNE aspects need to practice intense discernment when it comes to politics — fact check everything and don’t just believe everything you see / hear on the internet or news without taking the time to research it for yourself!

Hard ASCENDANT-SUN aspects tend to be noticeably different people in public versus private spaces. Your first impression of them will likely be VERY different from the truth of the person that they are behind closed doors.

MIDHEAVEN OPPOSITE VENUS placements are amazingly creative individuals whose art may play a major role in their own identity, but they simultaneously might have a major fear of sharing that art with others. Peer review in class is an absolute NIGHTMARE for them.

[casscainmainly]

"My long-held belief that Duke and Luke should not get along" <- could you please elaborate on this? I'm fond of both and I collect your thoughts and analyses like they're rare trading cards so I'm ready to be all 👀🫳🍿

First of all anon this might be my favourite ask ever, I've been dying to write my thoughts on these two so THANK YOU. Secondly my belief that Duke + Luke wouldn't get along actually stemmed from WFA, I was super annoyed with Luke giving Duke the pep talk in ep 76 because they have no relationship!!! Then I started thinking harder and realised they are a really interesting pair. In case anyone hasn't noticed I'm fond of giving Duke relationships where he's annoyed with the other person so 😭 this is very on brand.

The thing about Duke + Luke is they are, on the surface, similar - they are Black members of the Batfam who operate mostly independently, 'separate' from a legacy as Signal/Batwing (though I will deconstruct this later), devoted to their family, have a strong sense of justice, and view crime-fighting as a business. But I believe at their cores they are fundamental opposites - and it's this hidden opposition that makes me think they wouldn't vibe with each other. I'm focusing on We Are Robin Duke and Batwing Luke, though I will also refer to Duke's Signal days + Luke in Detective Comics.

(This is going to be a long post because this is lowkey my Luke + Duke thesis 😭)

Introductions

Duke and Luke were both introduced in the New 52, actually in the same year (2013!). What's really cool about their intros is that you already see how different they are. We first meet Duke in Zero Year, where he's fishing in the subway and then attacked by a gang; we then get the famous scene of him solving crosswords by Bruce's unconscious body. When Bruce tells Duke and his family to leave, Duke refuses, telling him they can't leave Duke's grandma and that all it takes is one riddle to free the city from Riddler's influence.

By contrast, we first meet Luke in the spotlight as he's wrestling for MMA in Batwing #19. He's been wrestling to get Batman's attention, refusing all job offers from his dad to do so (and thus creating some juicy father-son tension). In Batwing #20, we see he has two degrees from MIT, lives in a fancy apartment, and is really tech-oriented; his cover story for Batwing is that he's travelling the world.

Already, there are a couple things that already firmly separate them:

Class: Duke is from the Narrows whereas Luke is rich

Connection to Batman: Duke stumbled across Batman and gained his attention quite organically, whereas Luke was actively begging for Batman to notice him

Agency: Duke's actions were motivated by the extreme circumstances of Zero Year and a desire to help rooted in his material environment, whereas Luke's is a more internal, abstract wish to help (pointing to their class differences again)

Gotham: Duke refuses to leave his city, whereas Luke immediately packs up and travels the world

Intelligence: Both of them are fiercely intelligent, but in different ways - Duke loves puzzles and riddles whereas Luke is more inclined towards engineering and technology

And these differences only grow as they get older!!

Maturity

Duke is 16 (in my head, canonically it's vague but he's between Damian and Tim so 14-17) and Luke is 23. This age gap is honestly not that big, but I think it would feel big to both of them. And what's worse is that Duke is quite mature, but Luke is said to be immature:

Batwing #23

I don't think Luke is actually immature, but it's a recurring theme that other characters perceive him as unwilling to grow up; and I genuinely do think Batwing, for him, is kind of an adventure at first. Now compare this to Duke, whose circumstances disallowed him being childish. He had to grow up because his parents weren't around anymore, and he became quite jaded as a result. Even after he's mellowed out in his Signal days, I still don't think he could tolerate working with someone who comes off as light-hearted as Luke does. Duke would be annoyed by how he perceives Luke doesn't take things seriously, and Luke in turn would be annoyed when Duke inevitably criticises him for it.

Arc

Following on from above, their arcs are actually in total opposite directions. We first meet Duke alone and disillusioned with everything, putting his whole being into finding his parents. Then, through We Are Robin and Robin War, he begins to understand what Robin means as a symbol and finds community, leading to his brighter personality in Signal comics. Luke, however, begins very light-hearted (as seen above), with a huge respect for Batman and the Bat symbol. Once his family starts being torn apart, though, he becomes increasingly aggressive, more isolated, and in a much darker place. Compare a narration box from the last issues of both:

Batwing #34 / We Are Robin #12

These encapsulate their journeys: Duke learns that he doesn't have to act alone, whereas Luke struggles with accepting all that has happened since he put on his suit. Being a vigilante improves Duke's life, whereas it essentially ruins Luke's. This is why I don't think that WFA ep made sense!!! They have nothing in common in terms of the vigilante experience, and I think they would frustrate each other because they have such different conceptions of what the vigilante life is!!!!!!!

Batman and Robin

Okay so I said that Luke + Duke aren't legacies; even though Batwing is one, Luke doesn't actually talk to David Zavimbe, and his Batwing is not spiritually connected to David's really. But Luke and Duke both do take inspiration from other Batfam members - Batman and Robin, respectively.

Batwing #25 / Batman (2011) #45

Luke is the rare Batfam member whose motivations don't spring from tragedy - he's inspired one night when Batman saves him and he jumps in to help. Luke's love for Batman is wrapped up in Bruce himself, as a person rather than a symbol; he genuinely thinks Batman is awesome and wants to help people under his name.

Duke is the exact opposite - Robin is not a person for him but a symbol, and a symbol that can be spread to many people. It's also intimately tied with Duke's relationship to Gotham, because Batman is "on the gargoyle" and Robin is "on the street". Importantly, Duke says to Darryl that "I know you work for him, but you're us". Working for a singular person is in opposition to this 'us' that Duke believes in.

Luke, though not exactly an employee, literally wanted to work for Batman, Inc. Batwing is in many ways a 'job', an alternative to the corporate life Lucius wanted for him. Duke would, I think, take huge problems with Luke's philosophy as a whole. Separated from Gotham, attached to Batman as a person rather than as a symbol, Duke just literally wouldn't understand where Luke is coming from. And Luke, too, doesn't seem to respect Robin as a mantle (this is after someone mistakes him for Batman in Batwing #34):

I think Luke views Robin as firmly a kids' role, a sidekick for Batman; that would annoy the STUFFING out of Duke. I actually could write a whole post in itself about this incident and Luke being mistaken for Batman but that's for another day. The point is they are attached to the Batman and Robin legacies which in themselves are already vastly different, but Duke is kind of anti-Batman and Luke is a little anti-Robin, so they would not mix.

Family

One thing they do have in common is a deep love for family. But even then, their familial relationships are extremely different: Duke has a wonderful relationship with his parents, bolstered by the fact he lost them for a while, whereas Luke has a contentious relationship with his. Duke in some ways idealises his mom and dad, while Luke is sharply aware of his parents' shortcomings.

Batwing #20

Now this wouldn't be an issue normally, but Duke canonically has, like, a problem with judging other people's families. It's a really consistent (and somewhat hilarious) trait of his:

We Are Robin #5 / We Are Robin #5 / Gotham Nights #8

The Dre comment ("you're a mob kid?") is particularly telling. Because Duke has such a good relationship with his parents, and because he's shaped so much by them, I think he sees children as reflections of their parents/families. It's hard for him to see someone completely divorced from their family - you even see this a bit in Batman & The Outsiders, where although Duke understood Cass' disagreements with Shiva, I don't think he really got the nuances of what that felt like for Cass.

Luke's relationship with his father is complex and contentious. They love each other, but Lucius' desires for Luke just don't match what Luke wants, and Luke can't tell him about Batwing either so it's a constant back-and-forth. This secrecy is another thing Duke wouldn't get - I've made posts before about Duke and honesty, and it's a huge value of his. It's significant that as soon as his mom is healed she finds out about Signal; dishonesty is not really a factor in Duke's life, whereas it is Luke's central conflict. Luke's entire thing with his dad and his alter ego is something Duke has never had to deal with, and I think Duke would just be like 'tell him?? and make up??' and Luke would sigh so loud and hard.

Personality and Authority

But all of that aside, I just think their personalities wouldn't mix! Duke is a jaded teenager whose overt honesty and resistance to authority often give off a bad first impression (see his first encounters with Black Lightning, We Are Robin, Damian, even the Bruce train scene...). People do warm up to Duke quick, and once you love him you adore him, but there's a hurdle to becoming close to him that you have to leap first.

Luke, on the other hand, is affable and immediately likable. He's popular in school (as Russell mentions in #25), has experienced college social life, and is open and friendly. I think in an initial meeting Luke would find Duke off-putting and rude, while Duke would find Luke shallow and annoying. Luke is an extremely confident person, as shown in both Batwing and Detective Comics (particularly the latter). I think Duke would take this confidence as him being stuck-up, especially because Luke is rich.

Their class differences also separate their reactions to authority. Luke doesn't take authority at face value - he disobeys Bruce basically as much as Duke does. However, given his upbringing he isn't that anti-authority. Compare Luke and Duke's attitudes to cops:

Batwing #25 / We Are Robin #2

The Luke narration box is after the cops shoot him and accidentally make him kill his best friend 😭😭😭 like if that had happened to Duke his inner voice would NOT say that. This is another example of how their different upbringings and personalities cause them to have DRASTICALLY different outlooks on things. Batwing also sides with Batwoman when she kills Clayface in Detective Comics, something I think Duke would not do (he would've sided with Cass) so their ideologies often put them on opposite sides.

FINALLY, and least importantly, Luke is not a reader. This is a recurring thing and it's so funny:

Batwing #21

That's Tam telling Luke to "read a book". I think this exact interaction would happen with Duke taking the place of Tam, where he'd just be super annoyed that Luke doesn't enjoy literature. Honestly I think Duke might remind Luke of Tam in a lot of ways, since Duke is Bruce's golden child just like Tam is Lucius'. And that would annoy Luke, like he can't escape annoying younger siblings even as Batwing?? Bruce liking Duke more than Luke, even when Duke doesn't even care for Bruce's approval, would send Luke's blood pressure through the ROOF.

Conclusion

Um anyway I'm so so sorry this was so long but that's why I think Luke and Duke wouldn't get along!! It's mostly that they have such different outlooks on literally everything and their personalities clash. Anyway, if anyone bothered to read til the end here's your reward!! A little edit of what SHOULD have happened in WFA ep 76:

[gingiesworld]

It’s The Simple Things

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff and a happy ending

18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count:3778

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

AN: As per my girlfriend’s request as I apparently write too much angst and sad fics, here is one with a happy ending. Hope you guys enjoy

Y/N grew up being the awkward one, only having a small friend group in high school, which had only consisted of Pietro Maximoff, Monica Rambeau and Darcy Lewis. The four of them all had the same hobbies which were mostly gaming. The four spent most of their time at the Maximoff residence whenever they weren’t in school, which also meant that they would also see Wanda, Pietro’s twin who was also one of the popular girls, also on the cheer squad. It broke Y/N’s heart the moment they watched how excited she was in their junior year to start dating Jarvis Stark. But what they also noticed was when they had left school and headed to college was how she started to fall apart whenever Jarvis would stand her up. Coming up with stupid excuses as to why he had to cancel their dates and even the weekends they had planned together.

“I got you your favorite tea.” Y/N told her as they knocked on her bedroom door, their heart breaking as they saw her tear stained cheeks.

“Thank you.” She smiled as she took the hot beverage from their hands.

“Are you ok?” They asked her as they moved to sit on the edge of her bed awkwardly.

“It’s stupid really.” She waved them off as she sat up against her headboard.

“If it’s got you upset, it isn’t stupid.” They told her softly. “So talk to me, I’m not going anywhere.” Wanda smiled slightly at their words as she took a sip of her tea.

“He canceled again.” She stated, Y/N started to fill up with anger but thought it best not to act on it, knowing that Wanda needed someone since most of her friends had left to go to different colleges. “We were supposed to have a date tonight and he said he can’t drive back because he has another thesis to work on.”

“I’m sorry Wanda.” They spoke tenderly, placing their hand on her lower leg. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Maybe I do.” She admitted. “I was terrible in school. I was mean to everyone who didn’t fit in with us. I was mean to you.”

“That was high school.” They shrugged as Wanda shook her head no. “We were all children back then.”

“But that still doesn’t excuse my actions.” She told them as they rose to their feet, looking at her.

“Get dressed.” They told her, confusing her. “Just because your date was canceled doesn’t mean that you need to be stuck here all night alone. We can go have fun.”

“What about Piet?” She questioned as they just smirked at her.

“He has a date.” They told her. “With Monica.”

“I knew it!” She squealed as she jumped excitedly on her bed. “Okay, I’ll be down in a few minutes.” Y/N smiled as they exited her room, closing the door behind them and headed towards the living room to see Pietro finishing getting ready.

“Is Wanda okay?” He questioned as he spotted Y/N entering the room.

“She’ll be okay, she’s just getting ready.” They told him.

“Why don’t you tell her?” He questioned as Y/N shook their head, not daring to answer in fear of Wanda overhearing them. “Y/N?” He pushed as Y/N decided to change the subject.

“So where are you taking Monica?” They asked him, hoping he would just drop it.

“We’re going to the movies to watch that new romcom she keeps banging on about.” He told them. “Then we’re going to that diner we all used to hang out at for dinner.”

“Who knew my brother could be a gentleman.” Wanda teased as she appeared behind Y/N.

“Shut up.” He told her, making the two laugh before he walked out of the room.

“Ready then?” Y/N questioned once they turned to face Wanda.

“Where are we going?” She asked as the two exited the house, the two walking towards Y/N’s car.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe from falling in love with me.” They joked as they opened the door for her.

“You know, whoever you end up with will be one very lucky girl.” Wanda told them softly before they closed the door. Y/N’s smile fading as they made their way towards the driver’s side, knowing that they would never truly be with the one person they love. “So, where are we going?” Wanda asked again, watching as Y/N concentrated on the road.

“Just somewhere that I think would be good for you right now.” They told her honestly.

“Can we listen to some music?” She questioned as Y/N chuckled as they nodded, their ears perking up as they heard their dad’s old mixtape which was still in the stereo. “Seriously Y/N?” Wanda questioned.

“What? Asia’s good.” They defended as Wanda shook her head.

“It’s old people's music.” She told them as they shook their head.

“It’s classic rock.” They told her.

“It’s old.” Wanda started as Y/N turned up the volume.

“I’M SORRY, I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” They yelled over the music, making Wanda chuckle as they sang out of tune to the mixtape. A warm feeling spread through her as she realized she was having fun with one of the people she used to pick on, realizing that she had never really got to know the incredible person they truly are.

“A batting cage?” She questioned as they smiled, placing the helmet on her head before handing her the bat.

“My dad used to bring me here when I was a kid.” They started as Wanda listened to them. “It was a healthy way to get out any anger or frustrations I had, and I figured that with what happened tonight you might enjoy it yourself.”

“I have never played baseball in my life.” She told them, making them smirk.

“And why doesn’t that surprise me, Princess.” They teased, making her slap their arm slightly causing them to laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me.” She tried to sound stern but failed as she joined in with their laughter.

“I’m not!!” They tried in between laughs, trying to calm themselves down. “I’ll show you.” They said before they led her into the batting cage. That being the start of the friendship that neither of them knew they needed.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re stealing my best friend.” Pietro teased as he leaned on Wanda’s doorframe.

“We’re just friends, you can have your partner back when we come home.” Wanda told him before she walked past him. The two had planned to go to the mall, Y/N needing new clothes for the internship interview they had at Stark Industries. As soon as there was a knock on the door, Wanda was fast enough to open it and drag Y/N back towards their car.

“I guess I’ll see you later then.” Y/N yelled back to Pietro before they opened the passenger door for Wanda, once the two had pulled away, Darcy and Monica had arrived.

“What’s going on with them two?” Darcy questioned as the three sat down and started up their laptops.

“I think they’re friends.” Pietro told them honestly.

“You’re worried about them.” Monica stated as Pietro just nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister but I also know how Y/N feels about her and I just don’t want them to get hurt.” He told them honestly. “She’s going through a rough patch with her boyfriend and Y/N has been there every time to pick up the pieces but I’m afraid that they’re going to lose themselves.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Monica tried as Pietro just sighed.

“Let’s just play.” He spoke tiredly as the three soon started up the game.

“What about this?” Wanda spoke excitedly as she held up a pale blue shirt against Y/N.

“I don’t know.” They shrugged as she smirked.

“I’m the one who has the fashion sense, so we shall get this.” She stated as she started to pick out more shirts for them. “You need to look the part for the internship.” Y/N just shook their head at her as they watched her pick out their clothes before leading them towards the fitting rooms.

“They’re my size, why do I need to try them on?” They asked her as she ushered them towards a cubicle.

“They may be your size but they might not actually fit you right. It depends on the fabric and the style.” She told them before she closed the door behind them, before heading towards the chairs and scrolling through her phone. All of the time she has spent with Y/N has made her slowly forget how Jarvis has been making her feel, it’s like she had truly forgotten what it was like to have fun.

“I feel like a monkey.” She looked up from her phone to find them dressed in one of the shirts and trousers that she had picked out. “Why can’t I wear what I usually wear?” They questioned making her chuckle.

“Because it isn’t customary to go to work for one of the most prestigious companies in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt and worn out jeans.” She told them as she moved to straighten out the shirt. “You actually look really smart.”

“Thank you, I guess.” They said unsurely, making her chuckle before they went to try on the rest of the clothes. “Should we get some food?” They asked her as they exited the store, Wanda humming in thought before she grabbed their hand and dragged them towards a small cafe, barely anyone was sitting inside.

“You will love this place.” She told them, the smell of different spices and cooked meats filling their senses as she led them to a table. “This is the only Sokovian Cafe in New Jersey, they even do your favorite.”

“You know what my favorite food is?” They questioned, butterflies going wild in their stomach as she nodded.

“You always get excited whenever my mom cooks her famous paprikash.” She told them before the two decided to order.

“You’ve been watching me?” They questioned teasingly, making Wanda chuckle as she shook her head.

“You have been my brother’s best friend since we moved here when we were in middle school.” She reminded them. “You were the first person who spoke to him.”

“I remember that day.” Y/N spoke with a smile. “I also remember how you used to be very very shy and quiet.”

“I never was.” Wanda tried as Y/N shook their head no, a slight chuckle leaving their lips.

“You were, you even wore that power rangers t-shirt all the time, even though it had holes in it.” Y/N reminded her. “You used to be one of us.”

“Then I actually grew up.” She told them, making their smile falter. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She tried as they shook their head no.

“Let’s just finish here and I’ll drop you off at home.” They told her.

“I thought you were hanging out with Piet?” She questioned as they shook their head.

“I’m getting tired and I have to get ready for my first day next week.” They told her, taking the cheque and paying for it before leading Wanda back towards their car, still performing the small minor gestures even though she had insulted them. The drive back was silent, Y/N keeping their eyes on the road as Wanda observed them, feeling terrible for what she had said. Once Wanda entered the house, she found the three gamers still in their spots from earlier.

“Where’s Y/N?” Pietro questioned once Wanda entered the room and sat beside Darcy.

“They went home.” She told him, her mind still on the events that had just occurred between herself and Y/N. “They said they had to prepare for their first day on Monday.”

“They still could have hung out with us.” Darcy stated as Pietro watched Wanda, seeing how she sunk in her seat.

“What did you do?” He questioned, his eyes never leaving her.

“I just, I said something I shouldn’t have.” She told him. “I didn’t mean for it to come out but it did and I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.” He told her firmly. “They have done nothing but be good to you, even when you constantly tore them down in high school.”

“I know.” She whispered before she covered her face with her hands. “I need to apologize.” She soon got to her feet and grabbed Pietro’s car keys and headed straight out of the door, racing towards Y/N’s in hopes to make things right. Knocking on their door frantically, waiting impatiently for someone to answer it.

“Wanda?” Y/N questioned once they opened the door.

“I’m sorry.” She started, not giving them time to say anything else. “I shouldn’t have said what I said and it was completely out of line, especially since you have been nothing but good to me and I don’t want to lose one of my best friends.”

“Best friends huh?” They smirked as she nodded.

“You are and I guess I am kind of stuck in high school, but you are one of my best friends and I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you in my life.” She told them. “You’re important to me Y/N, I just didn’t realise that until now.”

“It’s ok.” They spoke as they opened the door wider, allowing her inside as she soon followed them towards the kitchen. “Coffee?” They offered her as she just nodded. “Don’t dwell on it Wanda.” They told her. “I guess what you said kind of caught me off guard, but it’s not childish to love the things you truly love.” The two moved to sit down in the living room. “I guess I still love what I do because it takes me back to a time when things seemed so much better than they truly are right now. I guess it’s my way of running away from my problems and just pushing them away to try and forget them.”

“Why don’t you talk to Pietro or someone?” Wanda questioned as they shook their head no.

“They don’t need to know just how messed up my head really is.” They told her. “Besides, I have a pretty good coping strategy.”

“It’s not coping if you’re hiding away from the problems.” She told them. “You can always come to me if you ever need someone to talk to. You’ve been there for me so please let me be there for you.”

“Thank you.” They smiled as they picked up the TV remote. “How about a show?” They asked her as she nodded excitedly. The two being fans of The Dick Van Dyke show, and finally able to watch it without Pietro complaining all the way through the episode.

As the time went on, things seemed to have gotten better between Y/N and Wanda, that was until Stark Industries held a Gala, Y/N being invited but also Jarvis asking Wanda to be his plus one. The party was quite loud, Jarvis keeping Wanda on his hip as Pietro joined Y/N, the two of them watching the party from a quiet corner.

“Why do we have to be here again?” He questioned as Y/N placed their drink down.

“Unfortunately Mr Stark made it mandatory for every employee and intern to attend.” They told him.

“So now we have to watch Jarvis be all over my sister.” He stated with disgust, the two turning away from the couple as Jarvis started to kiss her. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“I just don’t understand it.” Y/N spoke up, gaining Pietro’s attention. “He has done nothing since we all started college but make her feel like shit and that she’s worthless and now they’re both acting like they have never been apart.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He spoke sincerely as they shook their head.

“I’m gonna get some air.” They told him, heading towards the exit and ignoring a set of green eyes that had followed them.

“Are you okay?” Wanda’s voice sounded as she approached them.

“Where’s Jarvis?” They questioned as she shrugged.

“I’m worried about you, and I want to be here for you.” She told them.

“I just needed some air.” They told her, hoping she would take it as an answer and leave them alone.

“I know there’s more.” She pointed out as she moved to stand beside them. “Please just talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say Wanda?” They questioned as they turned to face her. “Do you want me to tell you what I am really feeling?”

“I do. I want to be able to be here for you but I can’t do that if you won’t talk to me.” She told them, watching as they stepped away from her, shaking their head.

“I am in love with you!” They yelled. “There, I finally said it.”

“What?” She whispered as she shook her head no. “You can’t be.”

“I am, I love you Wanda. I love everything about you, I love your freckles, I love your laugh and your smile is something that I just can’t get out of my mind. I love your eyes, I love that no matter how high I have my walls up, you always see right through them. I love how safe you make me feel and how I always feel light when I’m around you. Like there isn’t a thing that could ever tear me down, not as long as I have you in my life.” They took a deep breath as they glanced over at her. “But I know that you don’t feel the same way.” They started to walk away as she spoke up.

“I love you.” She spoke softly, almost impossible to hear but making Y/N turn back around to face her. “I do, I don’t know when it became clear to me but I love you. I guess it’s all of the simple things that you do for me, like how you always go out of your way to make me smile, even if you’re having a bad day. The small gestures like opening the door for me or bringing me a hot drink without me asking for it. The way you always take the time out to ask how I’m doing even though you’re only supposed to be hanging out with Pietro.” She took a deep breath. “You bring a comfort to me that I have never known before, like I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not when I’m around you. I just, I should have told you sooner but I didn’t want to tell you until I had ended things with Jarvis.”

“You have no idea how much I want to kiss you.” They told her as they stepped closer, their hand reaching up to caress her cheek as they gazed into her eyes. “But I’m not going to just yet.”

“Why not?” She questioned as they gave her a small smile.

“You’re still with him, as much as I have always hated him, I will not make you a cheater.” They told her honestly. “I’m going to head home. Would you be able to make sure that Piet gets home safe? He’s got my car keys.”

“Of course.” She told them before they disappeared into the night, turning back towards the building, only one mission in her mind as she looked around for Jarvis, finding him standing with his parents, laughing and joking with them. “We need to talk.” Wanda spoke firmly as she approached them.

“It can wait.” Jarvis told her before going back to his previous conversation.

“No, it can’t.” Wanda spoke loudly. “We’re done.”

“What?” He questioned as he turned to face her. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am.” She told him. “I’m sick of constantly being a second thought to you. I’m always last and I know I just don’t love you. I never really did.”

“Where is this coming from? This is some prank right?” He questioned as she shook her head no. “You know, no one will ever love you the way I did.” He seethed as she just smiled.

“I know they won’t, because you never truly loved me, and Y/N made me realise that.” She told him. “I am in love with Y/N.”

“That’s bullshit!” He yelled as she shook her head.

“No, you just loved the idea of having a girlfriend here for whenever you were finished fucking whoever you spent your nights with.” She told him. “And I am done being your little plaything.” With that she walked away, a smiling Pietro waiting for her. “Can you drop me off at Y/N’s please?” She asked him as the two made their way to Y/N’s car.

“Of course.” He told her with a smile. As they made their way towards Y/N’s, she spotted them still walking, before she could say anything, Pietro stopped the car. “Go on.” She didn’t hesitate to get out of the car, calling their name causing them to turn and face her.

“What are you doing here?” They questioned as she stepped closer to them.

“I broke it off.” Was all she said before she kissed their lips softly, Y/N’s arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer as the kiss slowed, breaking it with a smile as they rested their foreheads together. “It’s always going to be you Y/N. I just never realised it sooner because it was the simple things that made me fall for you.” With that Y/N kissed her once more before the two were rudely broken apart by the sound of a car horn.

“As moving as all of this is and all, I want to go home so either get in or get lost.” Pietro yelled, making the two laugh at him.

“Forever a classy man.” Y/N teased as they opened the door for Wanda, making her smile as she got in the back seat, the two of them with wide smiles on their faces.

“As much as I do ship you guys, I want to go home and sleep for a month because I have done enough peopling for a lifetime.” He told them before they made their way home.

[inkskinned]

i know some of the poets outside of their books, like cameron awkward-rich; who was my seminar teacher for a semester in grad school. you know him, he wrote about keeping his hand on the walls of his stupid heart. he gave us a journal without lines in it, so the pages were all blank and naked. we had to write down 3 words every day, ruminations on our own lives.

in pink glitter pen, i watched my handwriting cramp and spill from pristine and well-meaning to the slant of someone deeply suffering. the words stopped being lyrical over the course of february. bad, it said. bad and bad and bad. each day carving out a little bit of marrow, the sparrow of my heart acting as roadkill. that winter i was only allowed to eat apples, like a horse. my ocd had decided i could only touch food if it was red. i was sleeping on the floor and a spider bit me.

i wanted him to be my thesis advisor, but it was covid the next year, and we never spoke again, and i'm worried that i embarrassed myself by asking him repeatedly. for my final project in his class, i wrote about my disability. i called myself a rat, fondly.

his most famous poem is titled Meditations in an Emergency. i didn't know it until three weeks after i had graduated from that university.

at one point, he sat me down after class just to discuss some of my work. it was a night class, and we were all a little drowsy. he blinked up at me. i think sometimes the way you see the world is a little bit alarming. i wonder about that, in hindsight. i wonder if all of us who are walking on thumbtacks always recognize when someone else's spine is the undulating form of a siren. i could see it in him and you can see it in me, if you're looking.

yesterday nat said some of this is worrying.

i told cameron i was fine and i told nat i was fine, but i think maybe all of us had learned a long time ago how to be fine the way a poem is fine - because it happens outside of you. it can be honest, the confession, but it cannot be spelled out across your ribs. we make our art so that the sorrow can hang, limbless, trembling on the fetid walls beside us.

you learn to turn the ugliness into some kind of work, because you must smash the entire human experience of your stupid bones and teeth and tongue into something, so that you have anything to show for it. otherwise, what is the fucking point. why were you suffering, if not to polish the runoff and say - the melancholy is the signature of my art. i took the splinters out of my gums and filed them down into a thesis. the thesis has been turned into a book which is getting published.

cameron, to my knowledge, still has not read it.

i hope he has found his way out of the maze. i hope you and i one day write our own lanterns. i hope we are able to find some kind of peace without viscera. without having to fight for it. i hope we are able to stumble without falling. i hope one day the sky is empty of vultures and we can cross the desert of our memories without starving.

in the meantime we get up and leave the circled shadow in the writing.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I have observed several types of fic writers, and so for kicks and giggles, here they all are. Each of them scares me for different reasons.

The Prepared And Ready To Publish™:

Several documents dedicated to worldbuilding, planning, cross referencing, character lists & traits, plot twists, and then the actual fic document.

Dedicated to the max to creating a rich world. Probably knows more about the niche thing than you ever will. 100% could have written a thesis and chose to do fic instead (or did both at the same time).

Created a masterpiece and promptly vanished off the face of creation before coming back in with another banger to crush souls and save fandoms.

Their arrival is akin to the birth of a new era because they never fail to somehow make a niche ship popular, make a headcanon fanon, or otherwise give so much depth and interest to a character or setting that whatever they have devised is largely accepted as gospel by their readers.

They either use a high end writing program or wordpad. There is no in-between.

Mysterious. Very mysterious. Reasons for this mysteriousness vary between fics and authors.

100000/10 would be friends with them if I could. Legendary writers. But also they scare me because ??? What void offered you such power ?????

The Baby Writer:

All vibes and loosely strung plots.

It may not make the most sense, but good gracious the dedication is there.

Notable lack of comprehension when it comes to characters and places, but it's bad form to not leave a kudo because it takes guts to post anything in fandom.

They are still figuring things out and their grammar or formatting (possibly both) is probably a mess, but they've put heart into their work.

Sweetest rays of sunshine who want to be involved and are eager to learn the ropes.

The fandom's young ward or despised new arrival (depends entirely on fandom popularity and age).

8/10 would happily offer advice to them. Just can't read their work for too long without wanting to throw it into grammarly. The fear factor comes in the form of the miraculous misuse of fandom terminology. (Yeah it's tough bud, the fanon is wild. But goodness that term/canon word does NOT mean what you think it does.)

The Smut For Your Soul:

Meticulously plans the smut with all the loving care of a sculptor.

Somehow plot got involved.

Miraculously, they managed to not include an iota of plot and it has somehow managed to work.

Headcanons abound and cuteness and or angst lurks merrily behind every corner.

The tags mean everything and nothing at the same time. They are but faint guides to the fae wilds ahead. Tread lightly.

Has a mountain of unfinished WIPs that will follow them to the grave or emerge ten years after conception to grace whatever fandom spawned the idea.

The fandom thanks them for their service, although often that praise is late or hits like a freight train.

???/10 I personally avoid smut but I have friends who write it so it really depends. Terrifying because you never know who falls into this role of writer. It could be anyone. Normalcy is a mask poorly adorned for the sake of conforming to The Great Machine.

The Angst Lord:

Has a million slightly different ways to hurt their blorbo. Each are somehow more horrifying than the next.

The embodiment of the iceburg videos seen all over the net. Ask one question and you shall unravel and scheme of torment so great you shall regret having dared to speak up.

Has dozens of WIPs or unwritten ideas that they claim they will return to.

They are controlled by passion and emotion and can and will insert their own complicated situation into a fic.

Almost nothing is off limits.

Arrives to the fandom ready to brawl and somehow ends up respected or feared. They often stare in bafflement as they end up unscathed and watch angry comments fly toward the arguably innocent shippers.

Generally some of the nicest people who happen to enjoy inflicting The Horrors upon someone fictional.

'10/10 would befriend and promptly regard like a wild racoon. Offerings of angsty ideas yield delightful commentary. But also I need to prepare myself for anything they say because O U C H my SOUL.

The General Writer:

Fluff, cuteness, possibly a delightful touch of angst and pure unbridled creative simplicity.

They may not have the most brutal or soul wrenching tale, but they always manage to write something that someone, somewhere, desperately needs.

Devastatingly underrated and deserves far more praise for their contributions to the fandom.

Produces some of the softest of scenes and the most touching of interactions between characters in a contained, careful crafted, tale.

Introducing new ships or family dynamics in such a tasteful manner that brain chemistry can easily be altered.

Arrives to the fandom as a lurker and shows their appreciation through their work. Oftentimes, they are very quiet and go unnoticed.

INFINITE/10 Love these writers, honestly a gift to fandom. The sheer level of dedication to producing fluff is astounding and scary all at once.

The OC X Canon:

Has so many ships and headcanons that it's astounding.

The lore development rivals IDW and Lost Light combined. All the kudos to them for putting their souls into their characters.

The dedication is mind boggling.

They put up with so much crap they could be in MMA Wrestling if the verbal assaults translated into physical strength.

Has so many adjustments to lore and whole AUs devoted specifically to creating a perfect world.

Skilled in the extreme (or not) at integrating their ocs into canon.

Arrives to the fandom not intending to make ocs. Leaves with seventeen leashes for their new abominable creations. Is loved or hated by literally everyone, sometimes for no reason.

6/10 perfectly lovely people but very niche in their interest and thus not everyone's cup of tea. Scary because that level of sheer willpower is meant for demi-gods.

There are more types of writers, but these feel like the big overarching ones. Which kind of writer are you? :D

[notdefendingtaylor]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys: an unsettling thesis

Put me back on my shelf But first - Pull the string And I'll tell you that he runs Because he loves me.

Cause he took me out of my box Stole my tortured heart Left all these broken parts Told me I'm better off

I just have to talk about this with someone, because this song is her willful lack of agency literalized. So many of her songs are about lacking agency, someone perpetuating some bad act against her: Kimye hurting her, Joe hurting her, Katy hurting her, Matty hurting her, Joe Jonas hurting her, Harry hurting her, HER FANS hurting her etc etc

She does have some songs that overstate her agency in the memetic 'female manipulator' mold: Blank Space, Getaway Car, I Did Something Bad, Mastermind. But generally I would characterize her narratives as a passive narrator being devastated by someone else's emotional violence against her.

Generally the perceived helplessness in a younger person's mentality and the fantasy power to devastate others in retribution for hurts are things one grows out of. Not always, and certainly not only with women, we see a stunting of that development - men who approach every disagreement with a hairtrigger tendency to insult and verbally abuse are also stuck in a 15 year old mentality. But this post is about Taylor and her writing reinforcing that helpless victimhood role.

Taylor herself has this huge swath of power - monetarily, through influence over other brands and commercial markets, through her rabid fanbase, etc. I think the billionaire benchmark is when a LOT of people fell off as fans. You can't claim to be caged, contained, ineffectual, passive and powerless when you have such incredible resources at your disposal.

Yet, that is still a critical part of her self-perception. Matty picked her up off the shelf, beamed her up and returned her to where she came from. The 'elders'/'saboteurs' and the 'Sarahs and Hannahs' and 'vipers in empaths clothing' ruined her 'true love' with Matty. Joe LET her give HIM her youth for free, curiously passive phrasing to describe her choice to be with him for 6 years. Whoever she's going after in "Who's Afraid...?" 'lured her,' 'hurt her, 'caged her.'

Don't worry, though, it's not just the people in her life she's helpless to - the narrative is also conspiring against her! "The Manuscript," "The Prophecy," and a nebulous 'they' in "Cassandra" ('they set my life in flames' / 'they filled my cell with snakes') all work against her. Her decisions are footnotes in a larger tale of conspiratorial Deux Ex Machina narrative forces. In short, where is Taylor in all of this? Where are her choices, her values, her actions, her behavior?

Nowhere. And it's genuinely chilling.

[ckret2]

I don't know if anyone has asked this already, but I really really need to know if goldilocks is gonna have any romantic development between agent powers and Bill, where Bill does feel a certain thrill for the whole dating scene. I honestly had never thought of them as a pair before, but with your fic I'm genuinely in need of any content at all where there's a certain mutual romantic/sexual tension between the two, and I really wanna know if you plan on expanding a bit on it, because after all Billford is the endgame, but idk if this is gonna be a plot point where Ford experiences jealousy (bc I'd eat up that too, honestly, anything u write makes me a bit insane) or if the manipulation is as far as we're getting with these two. Thank you for writing!!!

I'm gonna stick this one under a read more since this is the kind of plot point I don't mind spoiling, but that some readers might not want to have spoiled.

EDIT: this sure is a hell of a post for tumblr's "move the read more down one paragraph before posting without telling you" bug to kick in. Fixed.

Powers is gonna pop back in and out of the plot for the rest of the fic, the fake dating will continue, and it's possible they might hook up more than once idk yet that's the kind of minor detail that's too far out for me to have plotted yet; but, the emotions are gonna be pretty much one-sided.

Bill does find a few things he actually likes about Powers (he appreciates a human who yearns to Solve The Mysteries), but in the grand scheme of things, it's like finding a gold watch in a parking lot. It doesn't make you wanna buy the whole parking lot. To Bill, Powers has more dealbreakers than positive traits. (Like... working for the government, for starters.)

And he'll be quite happy to hook up with him, but not due to any attraction to Powers himself; Bill's just turned on by other people being attracted to him. Powers is a warm body that offers Bill attention and physical pleasure, and 90% of the time attention & pleasure is all Bill wants out of people. (The other 10% of the time he wants a portal.)

So there's gonna be like... a cold-hearted femme fatale vs naive rival spy type dynamic here. There's some kinda tension, it gets steamy, but plot twist the femme fatale felt nothing for the spy the whole time. Except it's not a plot twist because we're following Bill's POV instead of Powers's so it's not a surprise.

Ford knows Bill too well to be jealous over somebody Bill's manipulating; and he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who gets jealous over physical intimacy. Bill could bang half the town and Ford wouldn't get jealous until he hears that Bill's been helping someone out on their quantum physics doctoral thesis. He maybe gets jealous over emotional intimacy, but he definitely gets jealous over intellectual intimacy.

(Like,, the one time in the fic so far that he's gotten jealous—not even in a romantic sense, just in general!—is when he saw Bill playing chess with Mabel. Bill playing chess with a kid gets Ford more jealous than Bill banging an utterly smitten suitor and that tells you everything you need to know about Ford's priorities.)

If anything, he actually pities Powers because he knows the guy's getting used and doesn't deserve it.

There is someone else later on that Ford might be getting jealous of (depending on what order events end up happening in—i.e., whether it's still going on AND whether Ford knows about it once his emotions start to turn), but that character hasn't been introduced yet.

There's also someone Bill might be getting jealous of depending on whether I find a way to work them into the plot. I hope I do, I've got a couple killer scenes in mind for them.

[mysterycitrus]

I know a lot of ppl ask u abt jason or dick but im wondering now, what do u think about bruce? I find him a very interesting character whose characterization is incredibly feeble, both bc of his 80 years of history and the tendency writers have to project their own male fantasies on him. So i'd definitely love to hear ur own thoughts about him. I personally enjoy depicting him as someone morally grey, although my sympatization for him changes day to day. Wether you think he is a good or a bad person, i believe u need to make him dedicated to gotham and the bat as a symbol, and that comes with all its advantages and drawbacks

bruce wayne is sooooo interesting (derogatory) because like u said, he carries the baggage of every masochismo author that decided batman was too woke and should hurt his kids and that supporting gotham’s infrastructure is for pussies. there’s also the flipside of that, where he’s the perfect father who’s waaaay too emotionally regulated for my taste. both of these interpretations are bad imo, and both functionally miss the point.

i think part of this (in fandom) is an obsession with moral angst — u can either be a good person doing good things, or a bad person doing bad things. think about how some characters are crucified while others are babied. someone always has to be absolutely right, and the other has to be absolutely wrong.

in reality, there are a lot of people who are fundamentally kind and fundamentally want to do good that are really terrible to the people in their lives. bruce wayne being someone who relies on having so much control that it implodes his connections to the people around him is an important part of his character. his profound love for his children, for gotham and her people, for humanity in general and his belief in peoples ability to change, doesn’t circumvent the fact that he’s often an emotionally abusive man who hurts others to achieve his own ends. he contains multitudes.

writing him as a functionally irredeemable, violently abusive person is the anti-thesis to the symbol that he himself created. no, i personally don’t believe he actively beats his kids (even though it’s supported in the text). no, i don’t think he’s an irredeemable sadist (as much as frank miller wants u to believe otherwise). to have people like dick grayson and diana and clark and dinah love and believe in u means that there has to be something there worth caring about, otherwise the whole universe is gonna fall apart.

that’s what makes his relationship to cass so interesting — he sees his neuroticism, his dedication to the cause above all else, and does not find it admirable. he finds it confronting and upsetting. and to be clear, cass (like dick) is very much the moral ideal of what batman should be, but still bruce finds it hard to deal with!!

his abject failures — his treatment of the robins, his crippling guilt about jason, his fears of becoming a killer, the impossible load he gives himself to carry — means that when he’s shown as someone who genuinely cares, it makes him more complex. like yeah, bruce isn’t actually a cold hearted person. he really really gives a shit. too many shits, to be totally honest. he’s a morally grey person that wants to do good, but is so terrified of losing control that he keeps others away and hurts them in the process. there’s a reason why his emotional crutch was a traumatised eight year old fr. nothing is more important than the mission, including bruce wayne himself