#i already have so many wips that need my attention and anything new that comes to my mind that i want to write about just stresses me out

[gojoest]

Hiii were u the one who made that lil story about Satoru having that fake girlfriend to make the reader jealous? And she caught feelings for him I think????

hello nonnie, yes that was me! i briefly talked about it here and here. but now that you brought it up i think it would make a good plot for a fic 👀 should i give it a try . . . little bit drama and little bit crack, it’s going to be so fun to write about in fact

[dustofthedailylife]

You were not supposed to hear that...yet

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Pairing: Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader

Summary: Alhaitham reveals a secret about the inner workings of his heart to his friends over a cup of wine and in between some banter. However, he did not expect it would go this wrong...

Tags: Fluff, crack, comfort, teasing, consumption of alcohol (by characters), the whole 4ggravate crew is here, friendly banter between friends, a small sprinkle of angst because reader is insecure (but it's unjustified)

A/N: Dust posting a new fic?! Not an April Fool's joke, despite the date! Finally felt inspired and well enough again to finish this fic that has been rotting in my WIPs forever. I hope you like it. And feel free to hit me up with asks and reblogs - it'd motivate me greatly after my long break 🥺

The usual friend group of Cyno, Kaveh, Tighnari, and him - Alhaitham, was sitting at the Tavern. A gathering like it happened almost every weekend at this point.

The wine bottle on the table had been emptied around two or three times already when Kaveh ordered a new one yet again. At this point, Alhaitham had actually lost count of how many glasses of wine he'd already had, too. But one thing was for certain, he could feel the alcohol in his system and the warm blood that was rushing to his cheeks. All things considered though, despite feeling a little tipsy from the intoxication, he was still able to think clearly.

"Let me guess I'm the one who will have to end up covering your bill again?" He took sarcastic a jab at Kaveh. 

The man in question just squinted his eyes and glared daggers at him before opening his mouth in an attempt to protest before it was quickly shot down by Tighnari's hand covering it.

Alhaitham leisurely leaned back in his chair smirking to himself, training his focus back onto the TCG cards in his hands and considering his next turn of action in the game he was playing against Cyno.

"What, am I just supposed to take it all the time and be quiet?!" Kaveh retorted, directed at Tighnari. The fox's ears were beginning to droop lower and lower as his expression became more and more deadpan.

"You all know as well as I do that if [Y/N] was here he wouldn't be acting like this. He would be on his best behavior and pay for the drinks without so much as complaining or being so cocky."

"By the way," Tighnari attempted to divert the attention away from Kaveh's ranting. "Where are they? Didn't you say they wanted to stop by the Tavern as well today, Alhaitham?"

Alhaitham played his round, throwing his card Cyno's way before looking up at Tighnari again.

"They mentioned it but I suppose something must've come up instead. I will ask tomorrow."

"Isn't it strange?" Kaveh addressed the others. "Whenever it involves [Y/N] he graciously offers himself up to talk to them and seek them out but whenever someone else is looking for him he is nowhere to be found."

"Maybe you just can't find me because I simply don't have anything to discuss with you." Alhaitham threw another jab at Kaveh with a smirk, which was promptly followed by a light punch against his bicep by the blonde architect.

"What? I constantly have to talk to you already when we're at ho-"

"SHHH! Don't say that out loud." Kaveh hissed, quickly covering Alhaitham's mouth in panic, since he didn’t want him to spell out that they were currently living together. “It's embarrassing enough that I currently have no other choice, no need to add to my misery.”

A witty quip was burning at the tip of Alhaitham's tongue after Kaveh's remark yet again, but he decided to swallow it. He didn't want to upset him too much, especially since he knew he'd had it rough lately. Even if it would've been said in jest, there was no need to add insult to injury. Instead, he simply resorted to taking another sip of his wine with a low chuckle and a glance in the blonde architect’s direction.

“Aaaaanyway…”, Tighnari cleared his throat, addressing Alhaitham once more. “What is it between [Y/N] and you anyway? You've become quite close haven't you?”

“That's an understatement.” Kaveh groaned, dropping his head on his folded arms on the table dramatically. “He can't stop talking about them. Day in and day out it’s [Y/N]-this, [Y/N]-that.”

“We started working on a project about six months ago. Things are progressing quite smoothly if I do say so myself. Certainly makes things easier if you're working with someone who is both hardworking and intelligent in every way. I’ve been lucky to have been assigned to the project with them.” Alhaitham answered Tighnari’s question rationally while ignoring Kaveh’s dramatic display.

“Here he goes again.” Kaveh huffed, directing his comment at Cyno and Tighnari. “Whenever he talks about them you hear nothing but praises.”

“If someone is doing a great job, is it not logical to give them the credit they deserve?” Alhaitham added matter of factly.

“No… I mean yes, but no. It's just not something I'd see you doing. It’s so out of character.” Kaveh huffed. “And before you say anything, yes, maybe I just don't know that side of you because I don't give you any reason to praise me. No need to add that, thank you.”

Kaveh poked his tongue out at Alhaitham before taking a big sip from his wine.

“Why, if you want to be praised you just need to say so, Kaveh. I think you're quite brilliant - your shortcomings aside.” He just had to add that last bit. Kaveh was just way too easy to tease. And what would this friend group be without the playful banter and jabs at each other?

Kaveh choked on the drink immediately and slammed his cup down onto the table with a loud clang. A fire burned behind his crimson eyes when he spoke next.

“This is exactly what I meant, thanks for proving my point!”

Kaveh looked at Cyno and Tighnari gesturing in the direction of Alhaitham with a move that said “Do you see what I mean now?”.

Tighnari just facepalmed and shook his head.

“And what is your point exactly?” Cyno inquired, playing a card from his hand.

“Did you not listen to what he said?” Kaveh gasped.

“Not really,” Cyno admitted honestly, his eyes trained back on the cards in his hands.

“It's the fact that he can praise others too, but never without also pointing out their faults in the same sentence. Did no one ever notice that? However, he never does that when it's [Y/N].” Kaveh explained.

“And?” Tighnari and Cyno replied in unison, looking puzzled as to where Kaveh wanted to go with this.

Kaveh put his head in his hand and groaned in frustration. “Sometimes you all make me feel like I am surrounded by idiots.”

Now everyone raised their eyebrows at him.

“You're all so clueless… anyway.” He sighed dramatically and accusingly pointed a finger at Alhaitham. “This guy. This admittedly handsome but blockheaded, know-it-all, stoic, annoying-”

“Get to the point.” Alhaitham chided, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine, fine." Kaveh spread his arms like he was holding a presentation and Alhaitham his canvas.

“This guy's right here, as alien as it may sound – has fallen in love.” 

“You're in love?!” Cyno exclaimed his eyes widening. “With who?!”

Tighnari rolled his eyes, knowing full well Cyno hadn't listed at all the past ten minutes because he had been so absorbed in his cards, and gently slapped the back of his head.

“[Y/N], of course!” The Forest Ranger exclaimed with a huff.

Cyno, now rubbing the back of his head just ushered a “Wait really?” while Kaveh and Tighnari just curiously began eyeing Alhaitham in the hope of seeing any type of confirmation on his face. However, it stayed as unreadable as ever.

He nonchalantly took another sip of wine from his cup while leisurely looking back and forth between the cards on the table and the ones in his hand before playing another turn as if this conversation just now hadn't happened.

“So!?” Kaveh asked, almost hysterically at this point. “Do you intend to enlighten us?”

Just how had he gotten into this situation now? Alhaitham suppressed a sigh before turning to Cyno: “Your turn. Two of your cards are down.”

“Archons!” Cyno cussed, immediately attempting to go back to study his cards but a fist slammed the table harshly, drawing all attention to it.

Tighnari flinched in shock and Cyno, too seemed to be pulled back to reality. Kaveh’s hand was trembling slightly, visibly agitated.

“Stop changing the subject, Alhaitham. The more you keep avoiding answering the question the more I think I am right in my assumptions.”

Alhaitham pinched the bridge of his nose beginning to truly feel a little stressed by Kaveh’s insistance. The man was truly too nosy for his good.

“Kaveh, just let it be if he doesn’t-” Tighnari began before being cut off by Alhaitham.

“And what if you are right? What then, Kaveh?”

Everyone at the table fell silent and everyone was staring at him with a mix of disbelief and shock.

He hadn't planned to reveal any of this yet, especially since he feared they would try to become his wingman. Which, admittedly, may be a nice gesture on paper but with them it could only end in disaster. Plus he would prefer to deal with his feelings alone first and think them through thoroughly, before talking about them with anyone. Besides, it should be you, if anyone, who should hear about them first - alas he was too deep into this now to weasel his way out.

“What?!” Kaveh’s mouth hung open in shock.

“So it is true then?” Cyno inquired, putting the card in his hand down on the table, now suddenly fully hooked on the tea that was being spilled.

“Hold on. Pause.” Kaveh sat upright, before quickly gazing over Alhaitham’s shoulder. “So you-”

“For Archon’s sake.” Alhaitham was beginning to get annoyed because he didn't know how much clearer he had to become for them to get it. “Yes - I’ve been in love with them. For a while now-”

“Alhaitham-” Kaveh tried to interject.

“No, don't interrupt me now, you pestered me about it for the past twenty minutes now you'll have to listen. I have never met anyone who is so hardworking, intelligent, and stunning in any way. Of course, I would be infatuated with a person like them. It would be hard not to fall for them.”

“Uhm Alhai–” Kaveh laughed awkwardly before being interrupted by Alhaitham’s ongoing monologue once more.

“At first I wasn't sure about it but I am now. I am thinking about them first thing in the morning and last thing when I go to sleep - unless you're hammering away on some project again that keeps me awake, Kaveh.”

Kaveh waved for him to shut up already but Alhaitham didn't let that bother him. If he wanted the full story with all the details - he'd get it. He hoped that would get this discussion out of the way once and for all.

“And guess what? They even remembered how I liked my coffee just after I told them once and gifted me a book that I had been trying to find for weeks. So yes, Kaveh. I love [Y/N]. There, does that suffice now, or?”

Kaveh let out a squeal as soon as Alhaitham had stopped speaking but upon further inspection of his expression, it hadn't been one of excitement but rather pure terror and awkwardness. 

“Alhaitham…” Cyno and Tighnari said in unison and he only then noticed as well how their gaze was trained on a spot behind him.

“What?” Alhaitham inquired, curling a brow up in confusion before all three men pointed their fingers at something behind him.

When he turned his head around to look at what they were trying to show him, he felt his heart drop to his stomach for the first time in ages.

To his utter shock, you were standing right behind him. Or rather, you were frozen in place, your hand still half lifted in greeting as if you had just been about to greet the lot of them. Your mouth was slightly open in shock still and your pupils were but the size of pinpricks and transfixed on Alhaitham.

And judging by your reaction you must've heard every last word he had said.

“I-I…” You started stammering, clearly confused about what you had just heard. “I uh-, I'll head back home.”

You abruptly turned around on your heel and marched straight out the Tavern door you had just come through as if someone was chasing you.

Alhaitham hadn't moved a muscle ever since he had spotted you standing behind him and he looked like he was frozen in place. Everyone at the table had fallen so silent, one would've been able to hear a needle drop.

Alhaitham's eyes were still fixed on the door you had left through. The little bell that chimed every time the Tavern door hit it on the way in or out was still dangling lightly from the impact. But the movement was dying down slowly but surely - just like Alhaitham, who felt like someone had dropped a boulder on his chest.

You were not supposed to hear that, yet.

“You uh…, Alhaitham you should probably follow them.” Tighnari was the first to speak again. He awkwardly scratched behind his ears. Cyno hummed in agreement while Kaveh just sat there with his mouth wide open.

Alhaitham exhaled in frustration, unable to properly place his emotions. But they were somewhere between unsettled, nervous, and discomforted.

When he got up it felt like someone had tied heavy iron blocks to his ankles that were weighing him down.

“Yeah, I guess I do,”  Alhaitham muttered before marching off.

When you stormed outside the Tavern the cool evening breeze gnawed at your skin and made goosebumps erupt all over. Although you weren't quite sure if it was the temperature or your emotional turmoil at play here.

There was no way Alhaitham had just said that and actually meant it. He wouldn't be the type of man to flat-out admit that he had feelings for anyone. Or would he? He had been talking to his closest friends after all.

You were questioning your sense of reality and thought you must've fabricated it all in your mind. Or maybe you misheard what he said and he was talking about something else entirely.

But no, he said your name, and the others looked panicked when you entered the tavern and approached the table.

As you rushed through the streets of Sumeru City the chilly wind kept whipping in your face. Not even you knew where you were going at this point. You simply went where your feet were carrying you.

But eventually, you realized you had run up the Akademiya and to the blue-green mosaic pavilion that glistened in the last rays of sunlight. The spot at which you and Alhaitham often spent your lunch break together. 

You sunk down on the bench exhaustedly and stared holes in the ground.

No way.

There was just no way.

Alhaitham. The man you had fallen for so hard that he had begun to occupy every waking thought you had. That man was supposed to have feelings for you and had just flat-out admitted it?

No, this simply had to be a dream. A bad joke. Or maybe even a bet between the group that they orchestrated to prank you.

You could feel your heart thumping in your head and it felt like your head was swimming. It was as if you had downed an entire bottle of wine by yourself, but you were as sober as one could be.

Yes, that had to be it. It was a bet between the boys over one too many cups of wine and they had all acted their parts out flawlessly.

You got up again walking to the railing, overlooking Sumeru city that shone majestically in the last remaining rays of sunshine that the day had to offer. Another gush of wind blew your way, making tears well up in your eyes. Although it may have also been your emotions who were to blame for that instead.

You inhaled deeply. Once. Twice. But nothing seemed to help calming the rapidly beating heart in your chest.

In your daze, you completely missed how someone had quietly come up to the pavilion as well.

Alhaitham leaned against the railing himself, looking over the city in silence, too. He was clearly ringing for words. Although you assumed the wrong reason for his struggle.

“Look,” you began, trying your hardest to suppress the tremble in your voice. “If you came here to apologize - please, spare me your words.”

He looked at you opening his mouth before closing it again right after with a silent nod. His cheeks were dusted in a light pink shade - you assumed it was caused by the alcohol he had downed at the tavern with the others.

“I hope that we can go back to normal tomorrow and just finish our project. I’d prefer if we kept our distance after that. I think it’s for the best” The words left your mouth at normal speed, but it felt like you had to force every single one out. They felt tenacious, like old chewing gum that you tried to pull out from in between your teeth.

“I understand.” He stated calmly before retraining his gaze back into the distance. 

You both kept standing next to each other in silence for a long while before you decided to confront him about it directly. You eventually decided it was for the best if you got things off your chest now so that you could get over him quickly. Ripping it off like a band-aid would hopefully give you the relief you so desperately craved right now.

“You know,” you began. “I don’t know who came up with the idea and I also don’t care, no need to tell me. But you guys should never do this to anyone again because you never know how much it might end up hurting someone else’s feelings.”

Alhaitham stood upright and turned to face you directly. He crossed his arms over his chest and slightly cocked his head like he always did when he was thinking about something you said.

After a momentary pause, he asked: “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t toy with someone’s feelings as a prank. It’s never actually funny for anyone but the people who orchestrate such a prank. No matter if the other person reciprocates the feelings or whether they believe the statement, they always end up being the one who is being ridiculed.” You explained as rationally as possible, which was a stark contrast to the tempest that was raging both inside of your heart and mind.

“Especially when the person hoped to hear those exact words for the longest time, too…” You added. It wasn't more than an utterance under your breath - so quietly it was barely audible. But Alhaitham heard nonetheless.

“But I meant everything I said.” He stated matter of factly, seemingly catching on to the fact that you must’ve assumed the wrong things about the whole situation.

“What?! Alhaitham, please, there is no need to add insult to injury. You had your fun now–”

“No.” He gently took your hands in his, exhaling heavily. “Archons, you weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

He rarely swore which made the impact of his words even stronger.

“I wanted to tell you face to face and was waiting for the right moment to do so. But, just know that every word you heard and everything I said back at the tavern was the truth. No bet or scheme made me say it. Not that anyone would be able to make me say these things in the first place.” He sighed once more, giving your hands an emphasizing squeeze. “I meant it.”

“You did?”

“Every word.”

You felt the blood rush to your face and immediately lowered your gaze in an attempt to hide your flusteredness.

“Had I known this would happen, I would’ve told you everything right from the start. I don’t like how this went now but–”, he moved his hands up to cup your face. His beautiful turquoise eyes trained on no one but you. 

“I’m absolutely certain I like you. You drive me crazy. And I love and hate how much you occupy every waking thought of mine because I can’t focus on anything when you’re around. And when you’re not, you’re still always on my mind. So please – be mine.”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[sstormyskyess]

back on my "too many ideas when i already have enough" shit again... drabble/wip of ex-boyfriend soap x fem!reader [very wip/unfinished btw. also implied stalking? kinda?]

You sigh softly and settle into the couch while you wait for your boyfriend to get done washing up in the bathroom. It was going to be a great night—just you, your boyfriend, and some nice movies to spend your Friday night after a long and arduous week at work. Wrapping your blanket around yourself and tucking it in just so, you then grab the remote to open up the streaming service hosting your favorite movie.

Unfortunately, you’re rudely interrupted by a knock at your door. A bit strange considering how late it was, but you wouldn’t want to be rude, so you reluctantly get up and pad over to the door. You straighten your night clothes—one of your boyfriend’s t-shirts and a pair of shorts that some would deem inappropriate—and take a peek through the peephole.

The sight that greets you is a very unwelcome one. Half of you wants to just ignore the person on the other side and move on, but you just can’t help yourself.

“Johnny, how did you find me? I never gave you this address,” You hiss at him when the door is open enough for him to just see your face. The look on his face is almost pitiful; he looks like a poor little wounded puppy, staring at you with those bright blue eyes.

“We need to talk—”

“We don’t need to ‘talk’ about anything. Go away.” You start to close the door, but his hand sliding between the door and the doorframe halts you. “Johnny, seriously, leave—”

He ignores you and pulls the door open wider, his strength winning out over yours. “I’m not leaving ‘til you hear me out. Just…” His words peter off into a sigh, and he looks at the ground. “Just let me in, yeah? At least for a little while.”

“No. Get out of here, now.” You pull on the door, trying to close it against his grip.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hallway draws your attention away from Johnny and you turn to look at the source, your boyfriend. “Babydoll? Who’s at the door—it’s almost 9 o'clock.” His voice is gravelly, his exhaustion peeking through in his tone. This was the last thing you needed: your boyfriend coming into contact with your asshole ex.

“It’s no one, he was just leaving, actually. Isn’t that right?” Your eyes narrow at the man standing in your front doorway, your frown deepening. Johnny isn’t listening to a word you say, though, his gaze focused on your boyfriend.

“Who the fuck is this?” Johnny almost sounds offended at the very concept of you finding someone new to spend your time with. The hostility is mirrored in your boyfriend as he takes wide steps over to you, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and pulling you to his side, a show of his claim over you.

“I could ask you the same thing,” your boyfriend practically growls, all of his sluggishness gone in an instant. “What are you doing on my doorstep, huh?”Johnny takes a step forward and squares his shoulders. “What are you doing with your hands all over my girlfriend?”

[is this anything. idk if i'm even going anywhere with this but we'll see? more soap on my masterlist]

[evil-feather]

Uhm Perekoo wip that I made like idk 5 years ago?? Uhm I originally wrote this with an OC of mine (because at this point I didn't know Isabel yet...or she hadn't even existed? Idk), so if some things are out of character huh🤷🏼‍♀️ and also keep in mind that this was written by a 16 year old Fay so the phrasing might be... questionable

Szenario:

Okay so I know it sounds pretty weird and it’s probably something that the Ymbrynes would never do that because it would be too dangerous to bring their kids all to the same place and leave their loop for one day plus every Ymbryne has to rest her loop at different times during one day but anyways.

What if the Ymbrynes would do some kind of “festival” every 50 years to mourn the dead but also celebrate the new Ymbrynes who finished their education.

All Ymbrynes are coming and they are taking their kids with them. It’s a day of celebration and making new friends with people from other loops.

Miss Aideen Noa Redkite is my own character. I did a character sheet thingy for her here on Tumblr ages ago but for now, the only information that you need is the obvious one, that she is an Ymbryne.

-----

When they arrived, the room was filled with loud talking and laughter. Music was playing softly in the background.

Right before entering the big hall, Miss Peregrine turned to her children with a stern expression.

“Before we go in, I expect from all of you to behave and be polite. I don’t want any complaints later; did I make myself clear?”

Everyone nodded quickly because they didn’t want to wait any longer. It was their first Ymbryne festival after all and they were very nervous and excited to see it.

“Good, then you can go and have fun,” she said and stepped out of the way.

Alma looked after them when they entered the hall and began to disappear in the crowd of other children and Ymbrynes.

She already felt bad for letting them out of her sign in a room that was mostly filled with strangers and she had to remind herself that there were so many Ymbrynes around and no potential danger.

A female voice pulled her out of her thoughts:

“So are you ready?”

She hadn't even noticed that while all of her kids had flocked inside, Isabel was still hadn't left her side.

But the older woman didn't really wait for an answer and just walked past her to enter the big hall. When she looked back at her Alma nodded slowly and followed her.

It seems that the majority had already arrived but however she couldn’t spot Miss Wren nor Miss Redkite.

She followed Isabel who had started to go through the crowd while she was always looking back to Alma, to make sure that she could follow her.

Isabel stopped when they reached a small table on the other side of the hall.

“Is it okay here? I thought it isn’t completely in the centre of everyone’s attention, but you can still see the stage. I mean if you want to go somewhere else then we can go there too, if you even want my company. I can also leave you alone if you want some space…,” Miss Cuckoo began to stutter, something that was rather untypical for her.

“Izzy,” Miss Peregrine interrupted her, and she looked up to meet Alma’s eyes. To her relief, Alma was smiling at her.

“It is a good place, thank you. Oh, and I quite enjoy your company and you should know that by now."

That made the other woman smile too.

“Okay, good. Do you want something to drink or anything else?” she asked.

Alma looked at her, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Well, I doubt that they have tea here.”

Isabel shrugged and disappeared in the crowd again, leaving Alma to stand at the table alone.

Alma sighed, looking at the place where the older woman just stood some seconds ago.

Something was different with her, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't been at the festival since she was a little kid but on the other hand, it hadn’t bothered her much to be at the festival back then so why should it now?

Her thoughts drifted away so that she didn’t notice an excited redhead who was making her way to the table. She was smiling brightly as the red curls framing her face jumped up and down with every step.

“Heyyy!”the said redhead exclaimed, when she had reached Miss Peregrine.

“Good evening Aideen,” she replied but she seemed to be somewhere in her thoughts.

“Are you alright?” Miss Redkite asked. The excitement that had been in her eyes some seconds ago had turned into worry.

It was when Alma finally looked up and wanted to answer her question when a third woman arrived at the table. Alma's face lit up a bit when she saw the older women and the other ymbrynes eyes seemed to glisten as well.

“Alma, Aideen it is wonderful to see you two here,” the older woman greeted them.

“I’m glad to see you here too, Esmerelda,” Miss Peregrine greeted her, and Miss Redkite nodded in agreement.

“I do hope that you two and your children will have a nice evening today. It is your first Ymbryne festival for years after all.”

“I’m sure it will be lovely, yes,” Aideen replied, and Miss Peregrine was happy that she didn’t have to answer the question.

She had never been a big fan of parties and festivals, but she didn’t want to ruin the fun for the others either.

“Oh, I see Isabel is here too!” Miss Avocet said and smiled into the direction of the silver haired Ymbryne. She was just coming back with two cups in her hands.

“Esmerelda, how lovely to finally see you again!”Isabel smiled, putting the cups down on the table.

“Well then, I’ll leave you three alone again. I just wanted to come and greet you,” Miss Avocet said and with these words, she left to greet the Ymbryne that just arrived.

“Yeah well, I think I will leave you too...and get something to drink,” Aideen said and waved shortly, “see you two around.”

Miss Cuckoo looked after them, then her confused gaze wandered to Alma.

“Uhm…did everyone just leave because of me or?” Alma just raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“Maybe they are jealous that they didn’t get something to drink.”

Isabel rolled her eyes.

“Sure, that’s going to be it...oh, and by the way they did have tea!”she said and held one of the cups out to Alma.

“Really?” she said, surprised,” thank you!”

For a moment they stood there in silence sipping their drinks but only until a little boy caught their attention.

He was standing maybe 5 meters away from them and looked curious up to them until Isabel waved him.

“Hey, don’t worry, we don’t bite,” she laughed slightly because the boy seemed a little scared now that he got caught staring.

But the Ymbrynes words somehow seemed to calm him down and slowly he took some steps forward to their table.

“I know who you are,” the little boy finally said while pointing at Miss Peregrine.

The raven-haired woman raised an eyebrow and tried not to instruct him that polite people did not point at others.

“Yes?” she simply answered.

“Yeah! You are Miss Peregrine, right? Known to be the youngest Ymbryne?” the boy said excitedly.

“I guess that is me, yes,” she then replied after a short while, ”and may I know your name?”

“My name is Ian Franklin.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Alma said and shook his small hand.

The boy's gaze wandered to the other Ymbryne who had stood there without saying a word.

But Ian didn’t bother to ask for for name because his curious mind has already switched to the next topic.

“Are you two married?” he asked, looking from Miss Cuckoo to Miss Peregrine.

Isabel's smile dropped and Alma's eyes widened.

“No, no we are just old friends”, the younger woman managed to get out, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

But Ian didn’t seem to notice because he just shrugged.

“Okayy, well you two seem like you are.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” Isabel said with a slightly forced smile.

She didn’t quite know if she should be happy about the assumption of the boy or embarrassed, but what she knew is that this situation got very awkward and she just hoped that this wouldn’t mean that the conversations between Alma and her were about to be this awkward the whole evening.

----

Uhm yeah, have this I guess?😂😭 I will never finish this but huh🤷🏼‍♀️

It just heavily reminded me of the last story that you posted @peculiar-lesbian :)

[jawanaka]

7, 29, 30 for the writers ask! (Mostly cause I want to make myself feel better about all my ideas that won't see the light of the day 😂)

Hahaha, its all good

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

Counting or not counting WIPs? I think about four that are not down on paper, at least if we count ideas that I'm somewhat serious about.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Have a cut Dandelion cameo from Swallow:

As the princess prepared to face down a queen, Morvran, meanwhile, was facing down a buffoon. He was of course no stranger to buffoons. Nilfgaards nobility, merchant guilds, senate and even military had their fair share: as, had he come to learn, did the northern kingdoms. This particular buffoon was, according to a prodigious intelligence file that Morvran had taken care to peruse beforehand, named Julian Alfred Pankratz and held, or at least had once held, the title of Viscount de Lettenhove. The man was also a graduate of the norths most prestigious university and, apparently, a man of letters and poetry famed in every court of the northern kingdoms. He also styled himself after a pestilent weed and operated Novigrads most (in)famous cabaret. His hat and clothes were of garish purple coloring and his head held the most ridiculous combination of a goatee and puffy bereft that Morvran had ever had the misfortune of setting eyes on. In short, a buffoon. Unfortunately for Morvran, the man known as Dandelion was, on the viceroys personal request mind you, contracted to organize and provide the entertainment for the feast. Which is why the man was currently parked in his office and was already in the process of quaffing a fairly decent wine that Morvran had hoped to save for a better occasion, instead of being thrown into the mud outside the gate were Morvran would have dearly liked to deposit him.

30. Ask anything!

Ya forgot to ask something :P

But because I'm a fair and benevolent writer, and becase its you, have a slice of the Ciri/Cahir WIP I might even finish one day (if you bribe me sufficiently):

He is a strange one, the smallfolk agree, the lord of Darn Dyffra. Younger then most lords, unfailingly polite when you met him riding on the roads between the olive groves and vineyards, attentive to the needs of his people and a fair man all round. Yet he is also distant, if not exactly cold and you may as well catch him daydreaming, sitting in the shade of a plum tree or on one of the walls separating the fields from the rocky lake shores. Curled black locks waving slowly in the wind as his horse happily munching son spring grass, eyes blank as if seeing something else, far beyond the stony and green hills of Vicovaro. Some say he was always like this, those times you saw him after his old father forced his nose out of whatever romantic nonsense he had found in the castle library. Others say it was the war that changed him, the burning and slaughter at Cintra, where he led a the first forlorn hope that breached the gates. Other say no, it was on his way home after the emperor dismissed him. Cahir does not particularly care what they think, or at least so he tells himself. He is too busy, he tells himself, too busy being the man of the household (his mother and sister laughs at him when he claims this) too busy getting to know the intricate runnings of the family holdings. This is fact not true: his father left the estate a well oiled machine, run smoothly by a dedicated team of clerks and lawyers, with his mother being far more capable then him in the running of the affairs. And his siblings does not seem to have caught up to his new and lofty status: mourning their father they may be but surely that is no reason to give their older brother any more respect then he is due? Which, in the way of younger siblings everywhere, is precisely none.

[hxlda-hxlda]

Hi harper, how are you? how’s the weekend treating you? eat anything good lately? anything exciting in the upcoming week or something ur looking forward to? 🩷

ugh my absolute love hello!! the weekend has in fact treated me rather well. i'm exhausted, but good! i'll give you a little run down :)

it was my birthday recently and for the first time i decided i would have an actual birthday party, which was incredibly intimidating to me as someone who usually dislikes their birthday, but my worries were for naught and it turned out so well. lots of family and friends there. i felt so very loved. i probably (definitely) drank too much. it was a lot of fun. i'm only slightly hungover today which is another plus.

i haven't eaten anything particularly good of late, given i work so much and haven't had the time. but i did have many of my cousin's phenomenal homemade martinis last night. i consider it a win all the same.

also!!! kittens!!!

i found these two absolute darling strays under my building at work and we've been checking up on them the last few days but it seems their mum has left them, so now my family has taken them in. given i have a dog who is an attention whore it's looking like we'll foster them until we can give them to someone else (ideally a friend so i can see them), but in the meantime i have two/three week old kittens and god they're the cutest fucking things. we've named them benny and björn after abba, of course.

pictures, of course:

today we learned björn is actually a girl (the little tabby), but it's already stuck so she's keeping it, and benny is the ginger.

i've never really interacted with cats before, but i think i'm in love. i can just hear little mews throughout my day it brings me so much joy.

as for things i'm looking forward to: concerts! who is surprised? i (in a miracle) managed tickets to taylor swift and the week has come!! so i'm thrilled for that. i also have a tiny indie aussie artist the very next night so next weekend should be just as busy and enjoyable, i think.

(also if i can be slightly fan-person-y of you, i'm rather looking forward to when you start releasing your new wip, whenever that may be - no pressure and take all of the time you need but i am also excited!)

this was the loveliest of things to wake up to, a little check up. i appreciate it dearly and you can expect that i'm about to send you the same in your ask box. sending all of the love to you xx

[obstinatecondolement]

Having kind of a post-NaNoWriMo dip in mood re: the fic groove I have been in tbh. (mental illness and insecurity bullshit, mensturation mention cw)

I do still feel Very Strongly about the ideas I have and I do want to write them/continue working on them in the case of the two WIPs I started this week, but without the external structure of the event it's harder to thinking about sustaining that, especially given that I was making so many glaring mistakes that I feel looked very amateurish (I know it's an amateur hobby, but whatever, I expect very ridiculously high standards of myself in almost everything that I would never hold anyone else to and it's always crushing when I inevitably fail to meet them, lol).

The things I was getting wrong were mostly basic spelling errors, using the wrong word in common phrases that turned things into the uncanny valley of that phrase that didn't not make sense but weren't how anyone would say that particular thing naturally, accidentally flipping word order (or not rephrasing the rest of a sentence properly after copying and pasting things around, etc.), and just, like ... random gibberish typos that only became obvious to me after I posted, despite trying really hard to self edit myself carefully.

It's very difficult for me to have the focus to be able to do that sort of detail oriented task when things are in fast-brain mode. And, like, attention to detail is something I am typically very good at, so it's deeply embarrassing to me, especially in a new fandom where I'm creating a first impression.

And like, more generally I also feel like the shine has kind of gone off me and, I know that this is just my literal mental illness distorting my perception of Everything, but it feels like the fandom is already kind of over me because I'm too much. This is all very much a me problem and I don't think it's true or that anyone has treated me badly or done anything that would reasonably create this impression to a person who was not Going Through It (hence the read-more and, like, also: if you are a recent Ghosts follower you have done nothing wrong and have been nothing but nice to me and I don't want you to reassure me*, I'm just insane and I need to get a grip/have serious mental health issues and need to be better at distress tolerance and not being so insecure in how I'm perceived and prone to assuming that people are sick of me.

But, anyway, I think that part of this is just like... also pretty normal? Hypomanic episodes can last up to months, but usually they do fizzle out much sooner than that for most people most of the time, so I think that I just have kind of run out of steam and now I'm going low again having been pretty high for a sustained two-ish weeks and the very obvious external end of the line signal given by NaNo ending has kind of naturally triggered that downturn.

And I am like, speaking pretty approximately here? I think I probably have mixed episodes more than pure hypomanic episodes, for the most part? But, yeah, I don't know. I think the rollercoaster is coming out of a corkscrew and it's just going down now. Which, you know, does suck but it also won't last forever, so that is some comfort. I also still think I might be premenstrual, which does fuck with my head a lot, so, y'know. TL;DR, I'll be fine, but I am having a hard time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

*Like, genuinely, please don't. This is a Me problem and I think it would be bad both for me and for my relationships with others if I were to make the people around me feel that they had to constantly protect my feelings by showering me with attention and reassurance, or whatever. And also, like, I'd feel Very Bad if I thought other people felt guilted into doing that because I made a vent post about my irrational feelings that I know full well on an intellectual level are not reflecting an objective reality, because other people do not deserve to feel personally responsible for the bullshit my brain pulls on me.

[chevvy-yates]

Alright, I thought about it last night a bit.

I may just stop forcing myself to do the usual 'male v monday' 'shippy saturday' 'thirsty thursday' 'wip wednesday' stuff (I mean I can't even manage to keep up with that either) and instead post whenever I want, like I do on Friday already when everyone is posting their gorgeous females but I (if I post) do post my boys since I do not have any female oc.

I don't know if I'll completely abandon the tags for it or not. it's gonna be more: if I manage to post on that day, I'll add it, if not, I'll reblog and then tag it with the tag or sth like that.

I will still try and take my at least 30min of time a day (mostly after work around 6pm German time) to browse tblr. Queue often makes noe sense to me, sometimes I use ib when I feel I've reblogged to much in a row already but I do not tage anything that will come from my queue so you won#t even notice that it was queued.

I've also set a few blogs on receive notifications so I do not miss any new posts. I love that feature! But sometimes I have to stop using it if a blog keeps posting like every 1h through the day which will give me 24 notes a day on my phone - forcing me to look and I can't do that. I need to find some balance somehow. Still a thing to figure out to have it healthy.

I do not want to abandon looking at content because you all create so many cool things, but in this fandom, as I already said it so many times: it is just so hard to keep up with it. So please do not be mad about me or think I do not like your stuff (anymore) because I've not liked/reblogged a thing lately of your content. I often feel very 'unmenschlich' (inhuman?) when I can't find time to give some love to others work bc I receive so much from all of you, therefore I want to give it back as well.

Idk how you manage having 4+ ocs btw. I with my 4 boys feel like I abandon at least one for too long (rn it is Vijay - and it makes me so incredibly sad, no one will probably understand). But I have to keep telling myself, he will receive a whole lot of attention and love again. However, this month is for Thyjs, because he's having his birthday soon (13th) and so I will focus on him in the first place.

I decided to slide in Jaysen for something else yesterday (because spontaneous things still happen) and I'll hopp in to take a bunch of pic of him as well once my writing here is done, bc he's modeling for some new real cool pants. And then I go back to my soldier boy doing the same (if I can manage bc taking pic … takes time xD).

What elese?

I'll just need to find a balance when I do at least answer roleplay or do story writing because this also I feel very bad about It gets neglected the most, mainly because I've never been a writer. But I find such joy in it and I feel like a bad person that my rp partner always has to wait such long time until I answer. Some days I'd just love to thorw literally everything aside and just do rp 24h nonstop (we all know this doesn't work) because I love love love this story that developed in the past year and when I think about it I'm just so hyped to share it one day but it's a lot of work to do. It's gotten something like a lifetime project by now?

And I need to stop hording my drafts. Its getting ridiculous …

[marjansmarwani]

Non-day Specific WIP Preview

I was tagged by @reyesstrand to make a poll to see which fic I should work on and write as many sentences as there were votes for the top one. I was not shocked by the one that won, but I was surprised by the breakdown of the other votes. There are more secret Midsomer Murders fans out here than I thought.

The winner of the poll was the fic I have been calling "Without a Trace: TK Strand Edition" with 25 votes. So here are 25(ish) new sentences of it:

-----

Carlos stared at the building before him, anxiety bubbling in his gut. The house was not even remotely intimidating in any of the usual senses, but to Carlos it was akin to stepping into a rattlesnake’s lair. He had circled the block twice before finally coming to a stop, and he had been staring at the once-familiar front door as the minutes ticked by. This place had once been home to Carlos, but now the sight of it loomed before him and kept him safely inside his car.  But he needed to do this, a phone call wasn’t enough.   He just had to hope for the best.  He squared his shoulders and stepped out of his car, taking a deep breath as he headed up the front walk. He hesitated for another minute when he reached the front door, only for it to swing open before he could knock.  “Took you long enough,” Nancy said evenly before stepping aside and gesturing for him to enter. Carlos did, even as he fixed her with a dubious look. He hadn’t seen or heard from her in weeks, and not from lack of trying on her part. After everything, he just hadn’t known how he fit. So, he had avoided. His “preferred method of coping,” TK had always called it. Carlos shook the thought away and turned his attention back to the present. Efforts to avoid those memories are why he had avoided Nancy and the rest of the 126 since that day that TK had walked out of the loft and out of his life, but TK was in trouble and his safety was more important to Carlos than anything, even now.  It always would be.  “Sorry.” he responded evenly, “I didn’t realize we had an appointment.”  Nancy shot him a glare before she headed further into the house, Carlos trailing behind her. “I’m going to ignore the attitude and the fact that you’ve spent weeks ignoring my texts because we have bigger fish to fry.”  She led them into the kitchen, which Carlos was startled to find contained the entirety of the former 126 crew, papers spread across the table. He had the distinct impression of stepping into a war room. The occupants of the room were split between papers and laptops and phone calls, but it all came to a halt when he entered the room.  “Uh,” he started uncertainly, “hi.” Silence filled the room but Carlos didn’t know what else to say. A part of him marveled at the fact that just a few weeks ago these people had been like a second family to him. But now it felt like he was the intruder, an outsider walking in and not sure of the welcome he would receive.

This fic is already 5k and nowhere near done, please send help.

It's been a while so I'll just no pressure tag some people in case you want to do something or because you might have tagged me too, idk it's been a while @justaswampdemon, @moviegeek03 @welcometololaland @sunshinestrand @kiras-sunshine @terramous

[lady-a-stuff]

I have 6 WIPs that are gathering dust on my docs, but I went and did this

5 oneshots of Kaz Brekker being in love with Inej Ghafa

You can read the first under the cut

Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason. That was what the streets said anyways. And for the better. His reputation was more ruthless than ever and he needed it this way. He had a lot to lose now. If any gang thought they could have the best over the Barrel King then he was as good as lost. So he did everything he could to help keep this reputation.

If someone crossed his path he would beat them badly. He would be ruthless with every member of the Dregs, but he would be twice as bad with members of rival gangs. If someone tried to trick him, or any of his crew, he would come for them, leaving only shreds of someone to tell the tale. The day when some old lieutenant tried to become the new leader of the Dime Lions, after the fall of their last boss, by trying to steal from Dirtyhands - in the most imbecilic way - he broke all his fingers, one by one, in the slowest way he could. The Dime Lions had to find another stupid brave man to fill the gap. They wouldn’t be a problem for a long time.

But this wasn't anything like that. And if he wasn't surrounded by the comfortable walls of his room he wouldn't be doing whatever he was intending to do: look for a reason to caress the long black hair on the top of her head.

Inej was finally back to Ketterdam after what seemed like ages but probably was some months. A part of him, the part that kept him and her alive all those years, hated the eagerness he felt for her, how he missed her when she was away and how all he wanted was to spend a little more time with her when she was back. She had fallen asleep while rereading a piece of paper about the murder of a new rich, she probably was more tired than she looked.

He had been a little fascinated by the mystery, everything indicated a crime motivated by money, like many others, it was how that kept him intrigued and he knew it would draw Inej's attention too, so he kept all the papers about the case to show her when she was back, to discuss it with her. And she was really invested in understanding the case, she shared her ideas and discussed the points he made, she even wanted to go with him to the house to fully understand the place and the things described in the papers. This enthusiasm had left him wonderstruck, feeling like an infatuated teenager boy.

He felt like a fool. He hated that.

But when he was there, watching her sleep in his bed, comfortable and safe, he didn't hate that at all. Because the opposite was Inej being away, maybe in danger. He hated it more when he didn’t know where and how she was, so if feeling like a stupid boy was the price to pay to see Inej safe he could and he would pay it.

It was a weird thing, being able to offer someone comfort and safety.

Though, sometimes he still didn't think he could actually offer those things. Sometimes, when she was away or when some of their many enemies attacked her, he was sure he couldn't offer those things. But she was here now. And she looked at peace in her sleep. And he was here now. Stupidly watching her and trying to think of a reason to caress her silk black hair.

The thing was that he had none. In fact, he had thousands of reasons why he shouldn't. He would only startle her. She would wake up when she was in obvious need of sleep. He could bring bad memories. He would cross a line he didn't know he was ready to cross. If she was ready.

And this was the stupidity of it all.

She already knew all of his weaknesses and he wasn't sure if caressing her hair was okay.

This was what they were. They shared every secret and intimate information about each other. They were those twin leaders sharing the weight of being in charge, of being responsible for so many people, so many things. They could understand each other and yet he wasn't sure he could touch her hair. He wasn't sure he could even ask her this.

What a ridiculous position for Dirtyhands to be in. Not being able to ask the girl he wanted if he could caress her beautiful hair. He was lucky he could count on his careful build reputation to deny that such a situation could ever be possible.

So he got up. And went back to his business. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep, so he tried to be as quiet as Inej when he put on his Dirtyhands facade and left his room. The night was ahead of him. He had pigeons to swindle. Money to make. Some scores to settle.

Inej was safe now. Sleeping in the Slat. On his bed. She soon would go away, back to her lost causes. He had to make sure his reputation was as dirty as always and that she would have everything she needed when she needed to leave him again. And even though there was an ache in him, an itch on his hands, that wouldn't leave and would keep half of his mind focused on Inej, it was easy to work on this knowing she was safe for now.

[gaiaseyes451]

New WIP Tag Game!

thank you @malachitegrey !

Give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you love [fiction, non-fiction, from different works or the same, from completed stories or poems or WIPs, from yesterday or ten years ago]. If that seems hard, even one will do. It doesn't have to be perfect. It can just be something silly that gives you joy.

And give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you dislike and find shitty. Anything at all as long as you wrote it. If you think it's ridiculous or absolute fucking garbage, even better! That's the point of this game. To see that we all write good things and bad things. Yeah? You can do this. And remember that both these categories are subjective.

Ok, let's start with the ones I don't love. These aren't polished, they haven't come out right yet (2 WIPs and bloody hard to pick without giving major spoilers):

When the alarm buzzed at 10 a.m. on 25-May Ezra was already awake; thankfully Anthony had awoken naturally a bit before the alarm. That boded well for the day, it was always easier when Anthony woke of his own volition and today would be challenging enough. The hope was to keep their routine at home as consistent today as possible until they had to get ready for Adam’s wedding. It was one of the reasons Evelyn had suggested setting the ceremony for 3 p.m., an unhurried morning for Anthony to give him the best possible opportunity to be able to attend and enjoy the wedding. They would miss getting ready at the hotel with Adam and the rest of the wedding party, they would miss the photographs before the ceremony and getting to spend the last few hours with their son before he embarked on married life, they would miss the last chance to give fatherly advice.

“Get out of there! I don’t need you mixing things up. If you can’t keep track of your own things I’d thank you stay out of my personal effects!” He shoos Anthony away from his desk as his phone in his trousers rings. He checks the name on the screen - Tracy - probably looking for Anthony.

Heaven largely didn’t concern itself with Hell’s organogram, but Aziraphale knew even Hell followed the idea that the punishment must fit the crime. A demon found to intentionally have aided and abetted in Good would be severely reprimanded. Crowley’s role in saving Elspeth’s life must have had dire consequences. What did they do to you? He wanted to demand an answer, to know what his role had been in this change in his companion’s countenance. But he remembered the withering glare, the venom in Crowley’s voice earlier in the evening. Careful. Don’t push, don’t demand. Careful.

The ones I do love (3 different WIPs):

It was the sorrow that overwhelmed Aziraphale, that drew the air from his lungs and forced his eyes open. He had felt others’ sorrow many times before, he knew the way it spread like oil over water, leaving a film on everything it touched. The surge and swell before it receded again to the edges of consciousness, not always demanding attention but omnipresent nonetheless. That was not this sorrow. This wasn’t an insidious oil slowly coating every surface. It was an inferno consuming every molecule of oxygen, stoked by every breath taken in vain attempts to smother it. It was keen and blinding and new and it needed to be contained before it reduced everything else to smoke and ash.

“’Magine my surprise, seeing a streak of black and red flash past my office door. No ‘hi Tracy’, no stopping by to complain like you usually would on a Friday, not even frustrated mutterings!” She affects an air of obviously feigned concern. “I’da been worried ‘bout ya if I weren’t so stunned by the peaches ‘n’ cream flash that wasn’t two steps behind ya.”

[This is technically in verse, formatting be damned] He is my after life and my liturgy. I seek not Heaven nor Hell. Valhalla nor the Elysian Fields. I worship him alone and he sanctifies me. He exalts in me as I debauch him. I am his salvation and he my damnation. Together we are Balance. Look away, heavenly hosts, for you cast him aside as wicked. Look away, legions of Hell, you sought to destroy him as righteous. You shall never know a love such as ours.

@hakunahistata, @kotias, @paperclipninja, @the-literal-kj and anyone else who wants to, come play!

[cowandcalf]

McDanno WIP

Still going strong and writing for my McDanno WIP ‘Be Your Very Best At The Darkest Time’ (Soul Swap AU). By the way, I changed my mind about parting the story. I’ll pack everything into one long, wonderful story. My amazing friend with whom I survived three NaNos already, still reads my daily part I’m writing, and she said, how would the story end if I wanted to get my story out for the boys and not what I think should happen because it’s more according what people read? I was so surprised by that question but it’s the best advice I could get.

And by the way, I love how the H50 fandom and the love for McDanno is reviving! So many new posts are floating around, so many new fans are head over heels in love with McDanno. This is so fantastic!

A snipet of my WIP:

"Jesus, Mary. You didn't do anything wrong." Steve chokes out in shock. He has reached his limits of holding it together. Danny can tell. He breaks silently in Mary's arms. His shoulder shook with the pain he tries to push down again. Steve fights to stay strong for Mary. "I'm so sorry, Mary. I never meant to hurt you." He is about to pull back. "Not this time, Punk, you don't pull away when it gets difficult. Cry with me." Mary moves closer to Steve, face buried in his shoulder. She doesn't let Steve pull away and Danny watches how Mary shuffles on her knees closer to Steve. She clambers awkwardly into her brother's lap without taking her arms off his neck. Steve holds her like an injured bird. "What are you doing?" He looks completely taken aback. His arms are full of a tired Mary and it looks like she wants to crawl inside him. She doesn't care if she knees him in the thigh. She shifts around on Steve's legs ignoring his silent 'oofs' and grunts when her pointy elbows poke him in the chest and her scrawny butt, parked now on Steve's sore muscles, makes him twitch. "You haven't – haven't done that since you were a little girl, not more than five years old. It's a little bit . . . you know, you're so much bigger now." "Just let me. I need this." Mary sighs exhaustedly but is also more at peace with the situation. "You have it. I'm here, Mare, okay? I mean it when I say it." Steve's eyes drift over to Danny and with a pleading look, he begs for advice. He looks like he has no clue how to feel about a grown Mary in his lap. Danny signs him to wrap his arms all around Mary and rock her gently. Steve talks with his eyebrows and signals Danny to step closer but he does as told and circles his arms around Mary's fragile body. Danny bites back the grin that threatens to bloom on his lips. Steve is not yet super comfortable with the closeness but Mary doesn't pay zero attention to his discomfort. She forces tenderness and physical contact on him, tearing through any defense technic her brother has developed over the years. For Danny, she means a little wonder how she doesn't fuss over Steve's strict policy to keep the game face on even when emotions threaten to bring him down. She's in need of the protection and power her older brother stands for. And she desperately needs tender human contact. Danny comes to sit on the edge of the mattress. "Mary, don't get spooked, I'm sitting right behind you, okay? It's me, Danny. Can you remember me?" He asks in a soft voice while his eyes are trained on Steve and mouths at him 'hug her – hold her'. He sees the tear tracks on Steve's face and as difficult as the background of this reunion is, Danny sees the love almost as a golden light blossoming between Mary and Steve. Something deep that has been stored away for far too long is unfolding.

Share your WIPs guys. I’d love to read some of your works in progress. If you like of course and feel free to skip it. McDanno is eternal.

@goneahead @stephmcx @mcdannoangelwolf @merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale @murphyhatesme @too-much-in-my-brain and for sure I forgot some of you guys, but feel free to share too!

[amaretto-mp4]

It’s already August - Just some thoughts, a quick update and my appreciation 💐

Gonna be adding the ‘read more’ feature on my longer posts from now on!

O.K, I stopped thinking about backs and shoulders and anguished redheads and how to effectively clean my piercing for a good 2 minutes to think that eventually I’ll finish watching the books and shows I’ve left off or have been meaning to get to but never do — this also goes for all the games I’ve stopped playing partway through like BOTW and Hades//

This is going to take… a while but it’s okay.

Also, to my art mutual who also spurred me on through all their wonderfully drawn mp100 art and comics (I see u) *shakes hand firmly*

The largest thing that stands in my way is my flip-flop attention span that affects anything I do, even things I enjoy or want to do badly, but I’m determined even with uni and my final year project coming up. I think we could achieve a lot of what we want to do if we make the time to do it. Mindfully, of course, and to our own needs and mental capacity.

Lately I’ve been embracing slow productivity when it comes to personal art, and it’s helped me. The initial anxious feelings subsided after a while too, which I’m grateful about. I wanted badly to step away from the instant gratification I used to chase back a few years ago; posting on Instagram sometimes daily for the sake of getting stuff out there, thinking that my mutuals will forget me, or from feeling insecure about my art skills and constant worry/ frustration about not growing an audience.

I shared things immediately, even when I knew I could refine it or correct mistakes if I had waited. Though I might take many days, even weeks to share something now, that payoff of knowing that the art I make this time is what I’m truly happy with! :’ to anyone struggling with the same thing, it’s really difficult to break the cycle, but I believe in you.

It’s wonderful to be in the moment, and it doesn’t just apply to creating art. Today I spent the whole afternoon drawing + putting down new comic panel ideas, which hasn’t happened in a while. ⛅️

Also, I just wanted to say a huge thank you to anyone that’s shown love on my art and supported me on this platform (and my other socials if you’re there too). I read the tags all the time and feel so touched, and grateful. Even if it’s just my staple OC works, and I take forever to share stuff, but it truly means so much if you follow my art journey and support the pace of which I work ♥️♥️ I’ll soon be sharing a few WIP crops of things I’ve been working on, if I can format it better on the web version.

[h-worksrambles]

Well, I got caught up with Remember the Flowers. And considering that doing so left me an emotional wreck at 4 in the morning. I don’t think it’s a surprise that I have a lot to say.

Now before I get into my spoiler heavy thoughts I want to say one thing: Play Remember the Flowers. I don’t care if you’re not a furry. Just do it. I cannot recommend it enough. If you want a genuinely good and refreshing isekai story with memorable characters, gorgeous art and music, an excellent sense of mystery and incredibly emotional payoffs, you will get all of that and more here, even in its current WIP state. The 13 chapters currently available are worth the experience alone (and it’s free by the way).

Now with that said, allow me talk about just why this game made such an impression on me. FULL SPOILERS FOR UP TO CHAPTER 13 BELOW. DO NOT READ ON IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED.

First and foremost, the structure and delivery of the story is fantastic. You experience the plot over the course of story arcs of about 4-5 chapters each, and every single one does incredible work escalating upon it itself. The pacing is something of a slow burn but every chapter still provides plenty of interesting character interactions and new things to learn about the world. And the payoff comes with the finale of each arc, all of which somehow managed to one up each other in their dramatic weight. The first arc already managed to end on the emotional gut punch of Cooper’s betrayal. The second arc took great advantage of Cyrus dealing with that emotional fallout and trying to adjust to the new status quo despite being more afraid and distrusting than ever, before the devastating revelations of his own past. The third arc has an absolute beautiful exploration of the characters’ relationship, seeing Cyrus becoming truly comfortable around this found family, many of them starting to heal from their own traumas in the fight against Resoom, before leading to an emotional tour de force that completes Cyrus’ character growth beautifully. While I think the dystopian world is interesting, I think it’s this execution and craft of of this story that really elevates it to something special.

Speaking of the characters, they’re also a delight. It’s honestly impressive that most of the actual main cast are as compelling as they are when none of them actually show up until roughly 5 hours in. Pretty much every character with prominent screentime in the first few hours is a red herring. Diana and Damion, who are first introduced as lovable supporting figures in Cyrus’ life who he longs to reunite with, turn out to be long gone given the game’s twist about its timespan. And Cooper, who is effectively the second main character when the story starts is…well we’ll get to that.

Making the player care about the resistance team when they effectively replace the people you thought were the main cast promised to be a tricky business. Fortunately, the game pulls it off marvellously as these guys are a joy. Aaron is an absolutely precious character, and if you follow my blog you’ll know I’ve gushed about him (and what absolute husband material he is) already. It’s very easy to warm to Aaron very quickly. He’s attentive and affectionate as a friend to Cyrus, especially at a point where Cyrus really needs that kind of friend, consistently selfless, a good leader. He almost feels like Mr. Perfect when you meet him. And that’s because he’s trying so SO hard to be. Learning the truth in Chapter 13 of his journey from an impoverished orphan, to a bitter thug hell-bent on violence, to a man genuinely inspired to fight for what he loves recontextualises his past kindness, but not in a bad way. He acts this way because he’s determined to prove to himself and to others that he’s not the killer he used to be. And he’s clearly holding himself to a high standard, afraid that anything less than his best would be enough to make Cyrus see him as the monster he still believes he is. Even now knowing little about his history with his lover Xavier and the role that played in redeeming him, there’s something powerful in just how much of an inspiration he was to Aaron. We don’t know fully who Xavier was. But we can definitely see who Aaron is now and that is an unequivocally good person. By the time it really becomes apparent that Aaron as being set up as the actual love interest, it’s very easy to already fall for him.

And the rest of the cast is also excellent. Canto’s standoffish nature is contrasted by the fact that he’s just genuinely a funny and entertaining presence in the narrative. Karin’s boundless enthusiasm and energy, mixed with a punch first, ask questions latter attitude but also a genuine love for her friends is consistently endearing. Vita’s quiet, business like manner conceals a character who ends up becoming a kindred spirit, one of the few who can really understand what Cyrus is going through. And their own steady growth to overcome the damage done to them physically and emotionally by Resoom leads to some truly poignant payoffs. Silver, despite being the last character to be introduced properly, more than makes up for it with a strong first impression. His quickly blooming friendship with Cyrus is a pleasant contrast that prevents him feeling the ‘edgy dude with a sad backstory’ trope. In fact, watching Cyrus and Silver empathise with each other over their experiences in one scene, and comfortably joke around each other as roomies in the next, feels natural and cathartic.

These guys genuinely feel like a found family before long. Cyrus’ steadily growing attachment to them feels earned. And seeing him heal from the terrible things he’s endured with a group of people who love and support him is incredibly heartwarming.

But I want to focus my discussion on two characters who particularly stuck with me. The first is the resident bastion of controversy, Cooper, or Lance I guess I should say. Suffice to say my earlier post about how I knew he was a polarising character but was liking him so far aged…interestingly to say the least. Seeing Cooper’s early impression of a rough around the edges bad boy with moments of emotional sincerity quickly come crashing down as he’s revealed to be a selfish merc willing to sacrifice innocent lives for a quick buck was a horrible shock to be sure. The story succeeds at making you genuinely like Cooper and his seeming budding friendship with Cyrus. Which makes the reveal all the more heartwrenching. Any kind of ‘I can fix him’ charm is utterly dismantled. Because even if that was real, even if there was a connection here, Lance still chose to throw that away. And we know now it’s not the first time he’s thrown away people he cares for out of selfishness. Still, piece of scum though he is, I was hoping Lance would make a reappearance eventually as I was genuinely curious where they were planning to take his character next. Especially as Cyrus meets and tries to bond with Lance’s former teammates who themselves have been hurt by the guy in the past.

What really fascinated me was when we started changing perspective to follow what happened to Lance after he sold out Cyrus. It was definitely interesting to see him at such a low point. Having all his actions bite him in the ass seemed to make him briefly realise how much he’s screwed himself and everyone around him. While spiralling in self loathing he’s forced to admit what a despicable person he’s been and even expresses regret for what he did to Cyrus. It’s clear that there’s a lot of anger, bitterness at his life, grief over his lost friend and pure simple selfishness that’s brought him to this point. But maybe, just maybe, spending time with Cyrus, did make him start to remember what it’s like to actually give a damn about someone else and to be cared about in turn. Reminded him of everything he’s thrown away. For one moment, you think he might be starting to get it. Might be taking that first step to be a better man like you’ve seen hints he’s capable of being…

And then when Artemis brings his old team up, and all those feelings of anger, jealousy, grief and resentment, that thickheaded belief that he’s the victim in all this, comes back full force. And before you know it, he’s in too deep, utterly in Resoom’s pocket and unable to get out of it if he even wanted to, It reminds me of that one scene from Bojack. ‘You can’t keep doing shitty things and then feel bad about it like that makes it ok.’ Much like that show, there’s something so maddening about seeing someone who has the potential to be better being so close to a breakthrough only to slide right back into the same self destructive impulses and be right back where they started.

This man is a fascinating trainwreck of character and I want to study him with a microscope like a cockroach but he also makes me want to rip my hair out. Despite being one of the most despicable members of the cast, he’s probably the one I’m most interested to see where his character goes. As a foil to a cast who all have baggage and have all done bad stuff in the past, but all ultimately make the effort to be better and work for something other than themselves, Lance makes a very effective counterpart. While they collectively heal, he is continuing to spiral, and I can’t wait for the inevitable confrontation, however it turns out.

And last of all I want to talk about our protagonist, Cyrus Cantwell, who might be my favourite member of the entire cast. The first few chapters do a good job establishing Cyrus as a protagonist with a refreshing amount of backbone and spirit given his situation. His back and forth with Lance (pre-reveal) establishes him as someone determined to get home, but increasingly frustrated over his powerlessness in this new setting. He’s inquisitive, intelligent and empathetic but he doesn’t put up with people’s crap, all of which makes him pretty immediately likable. But it’s the second arc where he really comes into his own as a character. Having been sold out by the one person he’d formed any attachment to in this strange new world, Cyrus’ dynamic to the resistance team is very different. He’s much more guarded. Much more jaded, dead set on getting away from his apparent rescuers pretty much from the word ‘go.’ But he slowly starts to respond to their unconditional warmth and kindness, the kind he hasn’t experienced in a very, very long time. And he’s gonna need it because this leads directly into the emotional turmoil that is Chapter 9.

This is probably ‘that one moment’ for people who’ve played the game. The truth finally comes out. Cyrus’ history as a test subject of Resoom for 300 years. Centuries of traumatic suffering locked away in his lost memories. And worst of all, the earth shattering revelation that Damion, Diana, his parents, all the loved ones in his scraps of memory he’s been trying to get back to, are all long since dead and gone. The life Cyrus once had is gone and he can never get it back. The delivery of this scene is phenomenal and Cyrus’ reaction over the next few days, from sheer emotional numbness until he finally lets himself feel it with Aaron’s help, is agonising.

…And yet. Despite everything, Cyrus slowly recovers. Over the third arc we see him carve out a new routine at the resistance base. His new friends support him in that process, and he in turn does what he can to help them. All of which builds up to one more emotional tour de force, yes, even more than the last two.

Cyrus’ return to his old home, after centuries of decay, is a devastating moment of grief, but it’s also one of genuine catharthis. Cyrus is able to say goodbye to the life he left behind and let go. But not before he finds one last gift (and this is what had me almost sobbing at my computer). A final set of messages and parting gifts left buried as a time capsule by his loved ones, knowing they’ll never see him again. Throughout this story, Cyrus has been asking himself who he is in this new reality, with or without his memories. He’s been pulled into a resistance against a despicable organisation who ruined his life, but he’s not sure what he’s fighting for. Seeing these last messages reminds of what kind of person he was and is. The empathy and concern for others and dedication he’s always had. And now he’s ready to fight for both the family he’s lost and the one he’s gained. So they can all live the life they deserved. It’s a beautiful resolution to an arc of self actualisation and identity that we’ve seen play out over all 13 chapters. And I for one can’t wait to see where we go next.

There’s a lot to love about Remember the Flowers: Its beautiful art, with every character design full of striking personality. The deliberate, excellent pacing of its story and reveals. Or the emotional, poignant journey of self discovery and healing at its core. And I have faith that it’s only going to get even more remarkable from here.

[if-confessions]

Hey :) aspiring author here… or hopefully some day. So i posted a demoless intro before i really started writing and the reception has been really nonexistent. I don’t get any asks and i’m sadly a person that needs at least a little validation for motivation. But i have been writing even though there’s not much encouragement but it’s been a slog to get through. I just wanted to ask, do you think once my demo is out i’ll be able to get more people interested or excited? Kind of like a catapult? I’ve been really annoyed at myself for posting this intro cause maybe more people would have been interested if i structured it differently. I hope this doesn’t sound conceited or anything but it’s really affecting me seeing all these other demoless intros blow up with 1000< likes and constant interaction and asks. I’m getting sad just thinking about it right now… I know i can’t force anyone to like my stuff and maybe my story is just bad i don’t know… It just feels like everyone is starting their wip at a massive advantage with an audience that’s already there and excited and i’m right at the bottom looking up. Was this how it used to be a few years ago? Did everyone start at the bottom? I’m trying to tell myself once people see my world they’ll fall in love with it just like me but seeing new intros come out left right and centre, all achieving things within days that i’ve been trying to do for many months makes me want to cry.

Hey Anon,

I don't want to give you any false hope or promise you that when you do publish your demo your blog will be catapulted into stardom. It could, but it also might not... Honestly, I really don't know what combo of action makes a popular project (see demo/no demo debate). Maybe your intro post is the issue, maybe it is not. Maybe your story is bad, or maybe it's just fine and the people who would click with it just hasn't seen it yet. I tried listing things that could affect a project becoming popular (and it's not even an exhaustive list), but even then it doesn't ensure results. There really are a lot of factors at play... and luck and timing.

I'm not even sure whether it was easier a few years ago or if everyone started at the bottom. There were less people working on/starting massive/epic IF projects, so it was easier to stand out from the crowd. But there were also less people in the community, so less readers, which might mean less interaction overall compared to now. But maybe it was the same as now, with a few project blowing up overnight and many staying at the bottoms for a while, and the difference is much striking than it used to be. Also, the IF Tumblr Scene in the early 2010s looked very different to now... But to get a clear answer on that, it would be easier to ask long-term IF creators whether they've seen stark differences. I wonder if COG creators opening Tumblr blogs had an effect on this too...

So what now?

Well, you really are not alone feeling this way (author tag).

But I don't also have a magic answer either to wash away those worries (if I did, I would probably be also in the super popular group of author). Here are some options?

Join a writer's group or an IF author one

Interact with other authors outside of those groups (asks, comments, regular conversation...)

Post your project on directory blogs and IF communities (discorgs, forums, other social media)

Join jams and competitions to get your name out there and receive some feedbacks

Or my favourite one that's been working for me personally:

Write for yourself, because it's fun as a hobby by itself; find the reason why you are doing this (it was learning new stuff for me); stop putting the numbers centre stage (because they are meaningless); take breaks from the internet...

That one is not easy. You are kind of forced to look inward for motivation and pushing yourself to continue. Do I slip up sometimes? Yeah, I get a but envious of other creators getting more attention that me, and I still check my stats often. I still get frustrated when only one person react to an update I worked so hard on, or even get absolutely nothing about the stuff I really enjoyed doing (sorry Detective Rye...).

But it's been less frustrating and stressful overall. I get to share the stuff I want to share when I want, and have grown a lot more over the past 6-8months than I did since I started working on it*. I feel like I've done my best writing because I'm just having fun. *I did start with an I don't care attitude when I got into IF, but when CRWL got some momentum, that didn't last...

Sidenote: the massive advantage of getting a lot of notes/followers also often comes with a lot of expectations and pressure.

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.