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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 4 months ago

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chapter one: the briefing

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of murder, dead parents, scars, trauma, implied slutshaming, mentions of guns and shooting and bombs, mentions of wanting to die, dark content, reader is implied to be bisexual (I cannot fathom not being attracted to women SORRY NOT SORRY), reader is implicitly stated to be NOT A MAN

word count: 3.4k

A/N: omg it's here! had so much fun writing this, hope you all enjoy it too! im still working out a schedule for this, as ive currently written 3 chapters and am already at about 10k words! and im currently very inspired for my own, non-fanfic WIP, so im split! hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know if you liked it! comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3

Human attraction can be sorted into three little boxes: Sexual, romantic, platonic. It is somewhat of a threeway Venn diagram, and people find themselves travelling in between the perfectly drawn circles all the time. It is a marvel to some, to be able to gauge the section in which one stands with a simple glance. It’s a gift, you’ve found, having the knack to discern between the three attractions. Which means you’ve cracked the code on people, and know exactly how to assess and engage accordingly.

It’s how you find yourself in such a predicament as the following, quite often:

“You’re Butterscotch, aren’t you?” The voice is meek, quiet, and comes from directly behind you. You’ve just put down the weights at the gym, and have paused to take a drink from your water bottle, when you turn to assess the situation.

Long brown hair, blue eyes. Gorgeously shy smile as she tucks a strand behind her ear. Your whole body moves, reacting to the incarnation of Aphrodite herself in front of you. You suppose you’ve always seen women that way, to be wholly more beautiful on average compared to men. It’s how you often find yourself in bed with a woman not unlike the one before you.

She stands, slyly pushing her breasts together and leaning into you, whether it be subconscious or not, batting her long eyelashes. Sexual attraction, then. You smile, deciding to play it cool, taking another long sip of water, silently reveling in the way her eyes stick on your wet lips.

“Yeah, that’s me. And you, you’re Hazel, aren’t you?” You tip your head to one side in faux innocence, honing you eyes in on her in a way you know sends shivers down her spine, completely hypnotised by the way you silently call to her. She nods, surprised that you’ve remembered her from her initiation training 6 months ago. She was one of the older recruits, only two or three years younger than you, but valuable just the same.

“I’ve been following your career for a while now, and I must say I really look up to you.” Her lips twist into a grin, showing off her perfect teeth. Your own face darkens as you inject lust into it, and you watch as she tries to discreetly squeeze her thighs together. She’ll be eating right out of your hand in no time.

If she’d come to you 13 years ago, when you were just starting out, you would’ve wanted to tell her that all you are interested in is a promise of casualty. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less, but the absence of such a discussion did land you in hot water all that time ago. Now, your reputation precedes you, and you doubt there is a single soul in this building who doesn’t know your one-and-done policy. Of course, some of the agents surprise you and you have them on a staggered rotation, a new criteria you’ve introduced into your sex life once the gap between you and fresh faces widened to an immoral degree.

You open your mouth to give her a reply that will make her leave here with sticky thighs, when the most agitating, grating voice you’ve been almost tortured with for the past eight years echoes across the gym, calling to you.

“Let’s go Butterface, Fury had a brief for us twenty minutes ago. You can fuck around later.” You roll your eyes at the words of none other than James Buchanan Barnes, huffing out a breath. He’s done this to embarrass you, for sure, because you know for a fact that Fury’s briefing for the next mission is actually in ten minutes from right now. But you know if you showed up on time, he gets the upper hand for coming in earlier.

That’s the other reason you’re so famous around the building — your long-term feud with Bucky. Whenever the two of you end up in a meeting room, there are more insults hurled around than facts. You two love to spar together, finding any excuse to leave bruises on the other’s body. But the most damning thing? There is no better team than the both of you out on the field, your missions always resulting in the lowest casualties and highest success rates SHIELD has ever seen. It’s an eternal mystery, but to the two of you, it is clear enough. You are enemies, holding the dagger of sharp-edged insults to each other’s throats, but on a mission? It must all be put aside for the greater good, for the safety of others. The remarks are snarky but non-distracting, and you’ve jumped in front of a bullet for him more times than you would like to admit. But it doesn’t matter, because he has endured several injuries for you in turn as well.

You redirect your attention back to your self-sacrificial prey for tonight. “Well, if you need me, I’ll be available at my room on floor 13 at around ten.” You lean in to whisper into her ear, and drag a less-than-innocent finger down the side of her neck. “I can give you a few more ways to look up to me, if you’d like.” The lower octave does something to her, and you watch her eyes flutter shut as she realises you’ve gladly accepted the silent offer she was handing you on a silver platter.

You chuckle, at how easy it all is. And then spin on your heel, marching back to begrudgingly follow behind the tall brunette who seems to have a permanent scowl on his face whenever he’s in the same room as you.

He leans back against the cool metal of the elevator that will send the both of you to the top, arms crossed across his broad chest. If you didn’t hate his guts, you’d absolutely suck him dry, right here right now. It’s no surprise that he is the most beautiful man in the building, but his attitude and mannerisms have long turned you off from him.

You poke the bear.

“What happened, Barnes? You mad nobody’ll fuck you?” He turns to you then, blue eyes blazing. And it only makes your shit-eating grin widen.

“Why would I ever be mad at that? I’m mad because we have to go on a mission, and when I come to get you, you’re busy planning on how to… spend your night. Again. At this point, if they’ve got a pulse they probably meet your standards, don’t they?” He smiles cruelly, and you don’t miss the implications. But you don’t care. If you were a man, they’d be singing your praises in the streets. So why is it different now?

“If they have a pulse? Well, if that were the case, then you…” You let your eyes wander up and down, and you notice his hard shell cracking when you meet his eyes again. You smile widens and you feign a blush, and he begins to smile, thinking he’s got you. And then you throw a grenade into whatever fantasy he’s spinning in his head. “Would be dead.” Your voice has never been more cold, observing the way his shoulders slouch in something akin to disappointment.

This is his kryptonite that you love exploiting, so much. The man is wickedly attracted to you, and is equally as horrid at hiding it. You have no idea what kind, though. Which box he fits into. You’re certain it’s not platonic given the way he talks to you. The longing glances and delicate touches after missions where you end up injured had turned you towards romantic, but you know there is no denying the way his eyes drift to your cleavage when you spar, or the way his hands immediately find your hips when you best him in the ring and end up straddling him. There is no box you can put him in, and it drives you up the damn wall.

You briefly wonder what the two of you would be doing in this elevator right now if you were as attracted to him and either of you had made it known.

The elevator pings and the both of you break the burning, seething eye contact as you file into Meeting Room 17B.

“Right, before Barnes’ dick explodes at the thought of me fucking a woman, what’s the mission chief.” Barnes has the nerve to blush, sitting in the chair opposite yours, both facing the head of the table with a monitor where Fury and Stark both stand.

“Did your mother never teach you the difference between professional and casual?” He fires back, and you grin sadistically, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back.

“She’s dead, Barnes. Have some decorum, and maybe a modicum of respect?” His face falls, knowing he’s crossed a line, but if God Himself came down and told Bucky to apologise, he’d shake hands with the Devil. “What about your father then?” He is frantically searching you for any sign of hurt or discomfort that he can exploit, you can tell by the way his eyes stick to your every feature.

“Hard to when you’re in prison for murdering your wife and attempting to murder your child.” You turn to Stark, knowing you’ve rendered him absolutely speechless. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his mouth close and open like a fish, gasping for some air. Pathetic, really, but well-deserved. In all these years, you’re surprised it took him this long to blame your upbringing, often opting to attack you as a person directly. But you finally got to play the cards you’ve kept close to your chest, a sick and twisted punishment. That means that you win, today.

“Thats 236 for Butterscotch, and Barnes is still on 220,” Tony mutters, and you can’t hide your competitive side that comes out.

You turn to him, tutting. “Keep up, Barnes. I thought you were better competition than this. Pathetic.” You’re shaking your head in mock disappointment. A blood-tinged vignette passes around in the back of your mind, but you try your best to not let it show.

The arguments between you and Bucky as so well-known to get out of hand, the Avengers started keeping score, refreshing each year, of who won the argument. This is strictly judged based on how the final retort leaves the other unable to think of a comeback. You’ve bested him 236 times already, and it’s only February.

“You didn’t tell me about your parents,” he grumbles, cheeks pink in humiliation. Why is he backing down so easily today?

“I don’t owe you shit, Barnes. Especially not about my life before I got here. Sorry, Fury, should we start the briefing?” You divert the attention back to the matter at hand, feeling like maybe you went a tiny bit too far by calling him pathetic to his face.

Since when have you ever nurtured a soft spot for him? Well, you are certainly not going to be starting today.

With both of your mouths shut and eyes attentive, Fury begins to speak.

“We need the two of you to go undercover. We have intel that Senator Parker may be dealing with copious amounts of methamphetamines, involving using his house as a lab and distribution centre. He often targets teens of ethnic backgrounds to carry the drugs and deal them in exchange for cuts — he chooses them this way so they would almost immediately go to prison, and nobody would be let off scot-free to rat him out.” Tony flashes up several holograms of the Senator, the teens caught pressing white packets into palms, and even those who ended up behind bars, and have continued to distribute the drugs from within.

“So…why do we need to go undercover?” You ask, leaning forward in your seat so you could see the graphics better.

“Well…here is Parker’s dating history…” Why does Tony sound so reluctant as he pulls up the dating history? Why is that relevant? These are just some of the questions that swirl around your mind, and are evident in your scrunched up face.

Bucky is watching you, quietly. Observing your features, observing you. He can’t help it — the grace with which you walk, the crudeness with which you speak…it’s entrancing. And you know it. He hates it.

Then, slowly, the pictures begin to appear — there are 17 women. Every single one of them looks like you — the same colour hair, the same colour eyes. Similar face shapes and similar body types. It’s like there’s 18 of you in the room.

“I’m a honeytrap?”

Fury is quick to speak, to protest the misunderstanding that the mission is an objectification of you. “No….well yes. We have carefully constructed a plan that essentially is built on the fact that you happen to be—“

“Exactly his type?” Bucky asks, feeling shame crawl up his spine at the realisation that he has something in common with a drug lord. You look at him as he speaks, and feel more and more confused by the second.

“Yes.” Tony continues. “We’ve planned to plant you in the same cul-de-sac that Parker’s house resides on, and Butterscotch can use the fact that she’s his type to sway him, win his trust. You’ll have to play the long game with him, he’s known to barely let anyone in his house unless he wants to fuck them.”

You feel a sickness coat your stomach. “Will I have to fuck him? Because I’d rather shoot Barnes and then myself and blow up this building.” You chew your lip nervously, all the confidence can your body momentarily evaporating. The old man might just be one of the worst people you’ve ever heard of when it comes to drug trafficking. Not to mention any sexual gratification is just you stepping into a stereotype of what he wants, that you are just another woman with the similar face that he wants to put his dick in. It makes your skin crawl, and you run your fingernails harshly along your forearm.

“No.” To your surprise, it’s Bucky who speaks up. He meets your eyes for a brief moment, before turning to Fury and Tony. “No, right? She clearly doesn’t want to, don’t tell me you’re gonna make her.” He sounds oddly protective over you here, which he has no right to be. But you can’t fight him, not over this.

“No, no, of course not. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to. At most you’ll have to flirt with him, make him think he’s going to….y’know, with you. And use that advantage to sneak into his house. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Butterscotch. You know we’d never do that to you, that it’s against our ethics and values.” You nod, relaxing in your seat while Bucky stares at the red, raw skin of your forearm. He wants to soothe it, he wants to soothe you—

“And if I’m going, obviously you’re gonna send the Sergeant with me, aren’t you?” They nod in unison. You take a deep breath, knowing you have to take it. There will be no mission more satisfying. And Bucky is much more bearable when the both of you have a common goal.

“So what exactly is our cover?” Bucky perks up. The both of you wear the suit of civility so quickly when you have to do your jobs.

Fury scratches his neck, exchanging a nervous glance with Tony. You anticipate the answer, knowing it will not be to your liking.

“We’ve planned to plant you in the Acorn suburb in Claremont, just across the street from Parker’s residence, for around six months. It’s a nice, quaint little city, I think the both of you would like it. It’s a lot more green, and less noisy and polluted than New York—.”

“Tony,” you warn, glaring at him. He is omitting the information. Why?

“Fine! The suburbs are conservative as shit, so you’re going as husband and wife!” Your eyes widen, and you swear you lose hearing for a second as the world goes in and out of focus. You have to pretend to be married. Pretending to be in love, you could do — in fact, you could probably pass off most intel exchanges with him as lovers’ private conversations if you smile and laugh on the right cues.

But marriage? The sanctity of which has been so thoroughly, irrevocably spoiled for you? The very reason you have only ever wanted casual in your entire life, as opposed to commitment? You can’t breathe.

You try to hide your shaky hands as you reach for the glass of water, downing it and gasping for breath. All that runs through your mind is the only instance of a married man you’ve ever known, and how it ended. How you ended, body mutilated in enough scars to rival Bucky’s left shoulder, crying out for a bloodied corpse in the back of an ambulance while the paramedics did their best to save you. How you wish they would’ve failed sometimes.

It’s too much.

“I need time to think.” You all but run out of the door, and you think the chair falls with the force of your escape, but your heart is beating too fast for you to be certain. Sweat that had dried reappears at your hairline, beading and dripping down your face. You sit on the floor, clutching at your chest as you’re bombarded by the most horrifying images that not even the strongest of sleeping pills can shake. Your eyes squeeze shut and someone is calling your name. Not Butterscotch, but the name that heinous monster chose for you when you were still in your mother’s womb.

But even that turns out to be a hallucination, your head in your hands as you hear a familiar voice call to you.

“Butterface…is the idea of being married to me that bad?” You freeze. Bucky is here, why is Bucky here? You look up to be met with him crouching by your side, Tony on the other with a hand on your shoulder, and Fury standing tall. There is not a single hint of disappointment on his face, and you’re glad.

You turn to Tony. “You know…you know what…I can’t. You know why….Tony…” His face morphs into one of intense melancholia, pulling you into him. Ever since you started working more closely together with Bucky, he’s become something of a big brother to you — overly protective and affectionately annoying.

“I know, kid. You know what? Screw this, I’ll find some other agent who looks close to you to take over with Barnes.” His voice finally calms you down, and you take in deep breaths.

You can’t win them all. You’ll have to make some sacrifices. You pull away from Tony’s arms, not even daring to glance at Bucky. He doesn’t need to see what you look like when you’re vulnerable, because you know he will do everything in his power to bring you to such a state once again, just to hurt you.

You take several deep breaths.

“No. You and Fury have said it yourself, so many times. Nobody works better with James than I do, at least not in the field. My burning hatred for him is completely personal. I— I can do it. It’s just…I probably would’ve been fine but it got brought up and it was all I could really think about and then…it just sent me over the edge. But if Barnes promises to not be as big of an asshole as he usually is, I can make it work.” You don’t even risk a glance at him.

“I won’t be. I’ll behave. Plus, you are a lot more tolerable out on the field, so it shouldn’t be so hard. Promise, it’ll all be okay.” His tone sounds so…sincere? What on earth is up with him today? You spare him a glance, and his eyes shine brilliantly blue. And you believe him.

Bucky Barnes may be an asshole, but he would never lie to you. Especially when it concerns a mission, where miscommunications and secrets have consequences for people outside the both of you. He has at least this sense of loyalty about him.

“Alright. Guess I better get packing for Claremont, then.”

NEXT PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #x plus size reader #marvel #k's writing corner #bucky barnes fanfiction

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sinnamongirls · 1 month ago

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ALL NATURAL, CHAPTER ONE: drop the game.

a 2016 college au patrick zweig x f!reader fic

you’re a reporter for the stanford daily forced to cover a speech and debate tournament. lucky for you, there’s a really hot nerd there.

author notes: this is literally the first time I’ve published fanfic since middle school eek! but im really proud of this one heheh even though it is incredibly long (the next chapter will be shorter I swear)

contains: mentions of alcohol, suggestive language, dual pov’s (patrick and reader), reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, but no physical traits are described.

“Speech and debate? Seriously? Kendall, come on.”

Kendall just rolled their eyes at you. It was 10 am, and you, the Stanford Daily’s head general coverage reporter, were already pissed.

It was Kendall’s fault, really.

If they’d given you the co-executive editor position, they wouldn't be dealing with your smart ass complaining about assignments every time you got one.

Last year, you were quiet as a church mouse, never complaining with the previous editor about your assignments.

But the last editor wasn’t your childhood best friend, turned roommate and coworker. The last editor was a bitch, frankly. And you both were a year closer to graduating. So you really cared about what you were writing.

And you weren’t a sports person, or an editorial person. You liked campus, the hustle and bustle of it all. And that meant covering it all, even the lame ass stuff like speech and debate.

“Don’t complain. I won’t give you anything if you keep it up.” It was a lie. You both knew it.

“But.. speech and debate? Seriously?”

“It needs coverage, and it’s too far off campus for me or the advisors to feel comfortable sending an underclassman. You have that much of an issue, take it up with Nadine or Lucas.”

You huffed.

“Fine.” Walking out of the editor’s office of the Stanford Daily, letting the door slam behind you, you sighed. First issue of junior year, and your article’s on fucking speech and debate. At least it wasn’t Model UN.

You looked at your phone. Class was in 20 minutes, and the building you needed to be in was 10 minutes away. Time to hustle.

“Okay, remember: first exam next Monday, you all are gonna crush it if you study!” Dr. Abernathy’s voice was so high, most times she sounded like a chipmunk, especially when you were walking out of the lecture hall after hearing her voice for almost two hours twice a week. But, she was the only one who taught media psychology, so there wasn’t much of a choice. The midterm, however, had you worried. There was a saying in the Stanford journalism program: pass any of Phoebe Abernathy’s exams, buy a Powerball ticket immediately.

That mantra had found its home on a sticky note on your bedroom mirror for the whole summer. Preparing you. Kendall thought it was stupid, but Kendall also considered themselves president of the Dr. Phoebe Abernathy fan club. It was a stupid club, with one member: Kendall Jefferson-Mcall.

Walking back to your car, you checked your texts. There were about 10 from Kendall. Your assignment for tonight: where it was, what needed to be photographed, and who needed to be interviewed. You skimmed it while walking, making sure not to walk straight into traffic.

One of the interviewees' names rang a bell in your head. It was a distant one, though, because you couldn’t tell where you knew it from:

Patrick Zweig, co-captain. Junior. Pre-law. You’ll know him when you see him.

“Really helpful, Kendall.” Muttering as you climb into the car, you stare at the text for a while. Then you see the time. The tournament was at Berkeley, so you needed to hustle back to your apartment and get ready.

Berkeley was full of cunts.

Grade A, top tier, cunts.

Patrick would rather die than debate them. They’d been shit since Patrick had joined the speech and debate team. His freshman year was the year Berkeley won the national championship, and they had never let it go. And it got to Stanford pretty bad— they’d lost every time they’d competed against Berkeley since Patrick was a freshman.

It was annoying as hell, and every time they had to travel to Berkeley for a debate, Patrick wanted to die.

Seriously, he’d considered faking sick, or taking a whole bottle of Benadryl before.

But, he’d finally convinced Tashi and Art to make the hour journey to Berkeley to watch him. They supported him when they had tournaments at Stanford, sure, but any tournament that required driving more than 30 minutes? Forget it.

Patrick Zweig was more than Stanford’s men’s tennis star. A whole lot more. Co-captain of the speech and debate team, vice president of his fraternity, Phi Iota Chi, member of the Pre-Law Society, and one of the best students in his class.

But deep down, a part of him hated people knowing that he was smart. He liked being the hot athlete in the top frat on campus. High school was his time to be smart- he was valedictorian, student body president.

College was his time to be the best at tennis, get shit faced, and generally, have fun.

His dad did it, and that’s how he became one of the best real estate lawyers in Upstate New York.

But he still found himself pacing the green room in Wheeler Auditorium, wondering if he should stop dumbing himself down in front of normal people, be more proud of his intelligence, and accomplishments.

But day drinking on the weekends was way more fun, and didn’t require thinking, for the most part.

“Pssst, Zweig,” It was his teammate, Samira. She’d cracked the door open, peeking her head in. Patrick turned to look at her— she had a new hijab on- cardinal red. Samira was Stanford, as far as Patrick was concerned. That girl bled school spirit. She was ready to kick Berkeley’s ass. “We’re on in 5 minutes, you wanna prep with me, or are you good?”

Patrick shook his head. “I’m fine, I think.” He wasn’t, but he couldn’t let Samira know, or she’d flip out, and Samira being emotional would fuck up their entire strategy against Berkeley.

“Good, good, I’m glad. See you in five.” She smiled, and shut the door. Patrick let out a long, exasperated sigh once the door was shut.

“Fuck.” Patrick really, really needed a win. Not just a speech and debate one, but a win in general.

Wheeler auditorium was massive. The biggest auditorium on UC Berkeley’s campus, it was also the oldest, and it was a national historic landmark.

That made up for the hour-long drive across the bay.

You studied the people in the room, trying to spot the best places to get pictures of the action. Good thing you had a press pass, because there were a lot of ugly looks. Surprisingly, the auditorium was pretty full on both sides, and you could’ve sworn you saw Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson sitting on Stanford’s side. But you put that aside, as the action was starting.

4 people took the stage: two from each school- you could tell who was who- the girl and guy from Berkeley both wore outfits with blue and gold. And then Stanford’s team came out: a woman, about 5’5” in a modest black dress with a cardinal red hijab, and a tall, toned man with curly black hair, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. He stood at the right podium, closer to the back of the stage. The woman stood closer to the stage's edge. You could read her name clearly from where you were crouched on the floor: Samira Hadi.

You couldn’t quite tell what his name tag said, though.

The debate was interesting, all things considered. You resisted the urge to scroll on your phone in the middle of it when it got boring.

But at the very least, Stanford won. So it wasn’t a total waste of your Monday night.

Patrick was pretty sure he blacked out when he heard the words “First place, Stanford University!” Come out of the announcer's mouth.

He snapped out of it when he felt Samira bear hug him, the weight of her body (he was pretty sure she did powerlifting or something, she was jacked) and the smell of her vanilla musk perfume brought him down to earth. If Samira drank, Patrick would buy her as many drinks as she wanted tonight.

But as Samira hugged him, jumping up and down from excitement, he noticed someone in the front row. Well, in front of the front row.

Dressed in business casual, she was out of place— usually Patrick saw the same 20 people in the crowd for his tournaments. But then he saw the reason for this, incredibly attractive, outlier: a shiny Stanford Daily press badge dangling from your neck.

Aha. It made sense. He figured you were either a poor freshman forced to trek to Berkeley for their first assignment, or an overworked upperclassman fed up with the paper.

But just as quickly as Patrick saw you, you were gone.

And Samira had drug him back to the green room, where Tashi and Art were waiting, with flowers no less.

“Guys, really?” Patrick feigned being upset at them. He could never. They were good friends. He didn’t mind being their third wheel. Honestly, he didn’t have a choice: Tashi was Phi Chi’s sweetheart, and Art was the vice president of membership education, so the world of Phi Chi and Patrick’s friend group got a little incestuous. In a good way, though. Tashi sat the flowers down on a table behind her, and hugged Patrick. Tashi was wearing her favorite green satin dress, and like always, it fit her perfectly. Art wore a basic black suit, but it looked good on him, too. That was the thing- Patrick may have been a legacy of Phi Iota Chi, but he used it for good, like making sure every single member has at least one perfectly tailored suit.

Because Patrick, and Patrick’s father, hated a sloppy suit.

“We had to, hell, Tashi was gonna give them to you even if you lost.” Art smiled as he handed Patrick the flowers. They were the high-dollar grocery store ones- a sign it really was Tashi’s idea- she worked part time in the flower department at the Whole Foods by campus. Patrick looked at Tashi.

“You made this bouquet, didn’t you?” Tashi gave him a sly smile in response.

Samira lingered by the door, but a knock, and the muttering of one of their coaches caused her to leave, leaving the green room to just be Patrick, Art, and Tashi.

The dim lighting of the hallway was honestly kind of eerie, but the main auditorium area was filled with loud, butt-hurt Berkeley fans, and that’s no place for an interview.

“Can you say and spell your full name, your class, and your position on the team for me?” The recorder rested in your hand at about chest level for you and Samira.

“Samira, S-A-M-I-R-A, Hadi, H-A-D-I. Senior, Captain of Stanford’s Speech and Debate Team.”

“Thank you. So, this win against Berkeley, I know it’s been a long time coming, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, it has. They won at Nationals back in 2014, and they haven’t let us, or anyone really, live it down. So it’s very fulfilling for the entire team.”

You looked behind Samira’s shoulder at the green room door. You know the guy on Stanford’s team was in there. But when Samira was pulled out of the room by the team’s faculty advisor, you could hear some other voices in there- another male voice, and maybe a female one, too.

She could tell you were looking back there, but didn’t say anything. You continued the interview, and after the recorder clicked off, Samira spoke.

“You need to interview him?” Even though you knew it was coming, the question caught you off guard.

“Huh?” You replied.

“If you need a quote from him, I can go grab him.” She never said his name, which you found odd. But maybe Kendall was right, maybe you’d know ‘him’ when you saw him.

“N-no, I think I’m okay. I got 2 quotes from you and from your faculty advisor. I think I’m good.”

“Okay. If you don’t need anything else, I’m gonna head out before it gets too dark.” Samira smiled, and walked off. You were standing in the hallway, alone.

You looked at your watch. It was around 8:30 now. You needed to head back too. If you didn’t, Kendall would think you’d died.

By the time you got back across the bay and back to your apartment, it was 9:30. You opened the door to your apartment, and there Kendall was, sitting on the couch.

“Hey, how’d it go?” They were sprawled out on the couch in their PJs, a bowl of guacamole on the coffee table and a bag of chips by their side. Some shitty Lifetime movie was playing softly on the TV.

You dropped your keys on the entryway table, bending down to take your kitten heels off. “It was okay.”

“Get good quotes? Good pictures?”

“Yeah, I got good material. You can look at it tomorrow.”

“Okay, good. Did you see him?”

“Who?” You cocked your head to the side, sighing as you stood flat footed on the cold hardwood floor.

“Patrick, dipshit. I figured you’d drool all over him.”

So he was Patrick. That name sounded familiar to you, but you couldn’t place it.

“I mean, I saw him. I got pictures of him, b-but he had friends visiting him after the competition, I think. He was in the green room, I couldn’t get a quote. But I got a quote from Samira and the faculty advisors.”

Kendall nodded, popping a guac covered chip in their mouth. “Good enough, thanks, babe.” The two of you had called each other babe since junior year of high school. It was a great way to piss off anyone who thought the two of you were dating.

“Yeah. What are you watching?” You studied the TV screen. The volume was turned down, but you could see women yelling passionately, and a very scared, blood-covered man behind them.

“Some Lifetime true crime movie, I dunno. I watched Miss Congeniality, and Pretty Woman, then settled on… This. It’s honestly trash.”

“Why not watch Housewives?”

“Didn’t wanna watch it without you. Plus, it was a rerun of DC, so.”

“Oh, ew.”

You walked over to the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water out, and then headed towards the couch, sitting next to Kendall. They switched the channel to Bravo, where you were both greeted by another scene of two women screaming at each other. It was the glorious world of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and the two of you watched at least 2 hours worth of toxic, shitty reality TV, until you checked the time and noticed it was almost midnight.

“I have class at 9 in the morning, I need to head to bed.” You yawned, standing up. Kendall turned the TV off. They looked up at you, their green eyes twinkling in the warm lighting of your shared living room.

“Okay, grandma. You have fun with that.” Kendall turned their phone on, typing rapidly. You envied them, in a way. They didn’t have class until 3pm tomorrow, but they still spent most of the day working on the paper. Busy busy bee.

“Goodnight, Kendall,” you called out as you walked into your bedroom.

“Night, bitch.” They replied from the couch. You shut your bedroom door, sighing.

You resisted the urge to stalk Patrick on instagram. He definitely had a girlfriend. He was good looking.

But why did you know his name?

Your phone lit up with a notification. A reminder of an assignment due tomorrow. It was your sign to go to bed.

You could stalk Patrick tomorrow. Consider it research while you write your article tomorrow.

Tonight, you needed to rest.

So you changed into your pajamas, crawled into bed, and fell asleep. And dreamt of him.

When Samira left the green room, Tashi broke her silence.

“Wanna go out?”

“Fuck yes.” Art and Patrick replied.

So the three musketeers drove back across the bay, went to some bar on the edge of Stanford’s campus, and got royally shitfaced, resulting in Art getting a pledge to drive the three back to the Phi Chi house.

Being a fraternity executive team member had it's perks. Living in the house was one of them.

Patrick told Tashi and Art goodnight, and headed down the hall to his room.

The whole time they were out, he couldn’t shake the face of the reporter from the Daily out of his head.

And to make matters worse, he didn’t have a name to go with a face.

Shit.

His head started throbbing, and he took that as his sign to go to bed.

He wondered if Tashi knew her.

Tashi knew everyone.

But he fell asleep before he could think about asking Tashi about you.

He may or may not have woken up the next morning, dealing with the aftermath of a wet dream and a next-level hangover. You woke up perfectly fine, ready to face the day.

Some would say that’s a match made in heaven. But we’re not there yet.

#challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #challengers fanfic #josh o'connor #patrick zweig x you #challengers x reader #challengers 2024

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mochinomnoms · 5 months ago

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Thinking about PTM where Jade gets Yuu's mind reading powers but instead of listening in on Yuu's thoughts he is making a hit list of people who like/dislike you more than he deems acceptable. People who think things like "I'd hit that" or "they can't even use magic why are they here".

I'm so excited for the next chapter of PTM it's made me appreciate Jade so much (not to rush you) it's easily my favorite fanfic series.

Jade has a few lists when it comes to people interacting with Yuu:

Friends and Family: self-explanatory, mostly consists of people who you have a familial and close friendship with. This includes some of the main cast, with special mention to Ace, Deuce, Grim, Crewel, Goethel, and Riddle. No threat to him and his love to Yuu, but they have significant influence in their life so he should keep on friendly terms with them.

Acquaintances and Casual Friends: this consists of the people who you are relatively friendly with, but aren't super close to. Their opinions to you don't really matter, but some of them do still care for you. Most of the student body fits into this, but the main cast here includes most of the Ramshackle freshmen (James, Silas, Marion, Yakub)

Strangely close but no one is sure why and Azul why won't you tell me your secrets: this includes the 7 overblot boys, who all have a strange relationship with Yuu. Some of them speak of Yuu very fondly (Azul and Vil), some of them are rather neutral (Leona, Jamil, and Idia), and the rest are very overprotective. The last is almost exclusive to Malleus with Riddle as a close second. Why do they get to be so close to Yuu, it's not fair. What secrets did you all share, spill it to him Azul or he's gonna break that stupid NDA out of spite.

I hate that bitch in a way that is concerning to law enforcement: I feel that this is pretty obvious, but anyone that has any sort of romantic affection to Yuu fits here. Wynfred is here at this time, but a handful of other freshmen who only know stories about the magicless Prefect and their astounding abilities to tame the blot monsters are here. There are a few older students too, one who knew Yuu during their first year, but not as many as their charm sort of melted into more of a "huh, they're cool" over time.

(also don't worry bb, i like talking about ptm. i usually like to get on a call with friends and talk out loud about the chapter im writing to help with flow but i havent been able to do that lately so i think thats why im stuck sldjalskjljskajd)

#mochi asks #a-small-tyrant

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lokorum · 4 months ago

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what would you say is your favorite jonmichael fic..... im very curious and love to reread anything in that tag

oh but how can i pick only one when they all are so good??? (,,•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ,,)?

aaaaaa can i make the several honorable mentions of the fics that made me scream and roll on the floor?????? pretty please???

scheherazade was one of the first jonmichael fics that i found while going through all of the cher's works because, evidently, they have no fics that are not worth reading!! (i'm sorry if and forty feet down only confirming it!!!)

sleep inertia has one of the best dialogues i ever read!!! the way cruelzy writes michael's lines??? aaaaaaaaa its so delicious and believable and never for a second i thought i'm reading something out of canon?? its just that good.

carousel is the only one fic (from what i found) that i set in the last season and its adds a lot of layers to that big jonmichael onion that torments my eyes for a while now ldkfjgkdfjg also it's messy?? i mean the whole situation in the fic?? its so humanly complicated and it does not gives you the chance to experience any of the feelings clearly and i love it!! screechfox somehow captured all of the complicated stuff in one fic, blendered it together and for the whole time i just couldn't take my eyes away from it.

five times michael saves jon's life and one time he doesn't have to - is here to sooth our pain and heal our wounds. i reread it so many times!! the dynamic between jon and michael in it is one to live for!!! sometimes you think 5+1 kind of fics can't surprise you anymore and then the coolest author like paisleycowboys enters the room and proves you wrong.

to be like super honest, the 100 ways to say i love you series, when i first saw it, made me think im not gonna like it? i love my fanfics long and scary and bittersweet and with a bad-very-not-good-endings, so the title of this one made me go "hmmmmm HMMMMM hmmmmm hmmmm?" but ive started to read it anyway, theres not that many fics on the ao3 for jonmichael, we cant afford to be capricious and gosh GOSH i was so fucking wrong!!! its sweet AND sad AND scary AND awkward (in a best way!!!) AND it made me giggle so many times!!! NeedsCaffeineRightNow can make even the edgiest of us enjoy the soft kinds of fics (its not hard when they are written with so much care and love.)

POSSESSIVE!! MICHAEL!! COMBING!!! JON'S!! HAIR!!!!!! what else do we need from life?

transition, every time i reread it or think about it, makes me painfully aware of how many things should coincide for something to work. it's not one of those fics that completely encompass you; nor its the one that leaves you with new headcanons or in a good mood, no, i think it's the one that leaves you in dissoray, making you want to argue with author, to ask them what were they thinking about, pointing on your weak sides like this?, giving you something precious and then stealing it away? pushing your old bruises? that is to say, i have nothing but deep respect for indefensibleselfindulgence. to write fic that makes you want to engage in conversation? thats powerful

Our 'Angel' of Static and Bone is written so inexplicably good, that more than once i wondered, how NeverwinterThistle was able to do it? and then i realised they are one of my fave bg3 and dishonored authors phpphp but really, the care, the effort that went into this fic? they are literally visible! you can feel the amount of time and brain juice that went into writing it. and the neighbor character? they appeared like two times?? and still their addition left me speechless with how clever it is, how different!! absolutely amazing work.

adjective noun has jonmichael chapter (11) that destroyed me as a person i swear i laughed so hard i dropped my phone and just kept giggling face-into-the-pillow style!!!!!! its rare for the fics to bring you this childish kind of pure joy; the little in-between moment of forgetting about everything, good and bad, and just have a good time. this chapter is definitely one of those rare things and it also made me wish there would be more jonmichael fics from cuttoth. somehow they nailed everything that should be nailed about this ship and did it in a couple of pages, what a magical work!!

and well, now here's my fave fic, the one that took my head, shaked it like it's a soda can, and then left it open, fountaining at first and then dented and empty.

I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying is the work that made me grateful for the fact that i know how to read in english. its....mmmm, you know that feeling when fic makes you go through literally everything? and then, as a bonus, through all stages of grief as well?

first you get hooked up by the beautiful writing style and so you know the fic is gonna be good and you get comfortable and you turn yourself off from the rest of the world and you read.

you love pov, you love mood shifts, you love pacing, you love when scenes are short and you pause to think about what happened / you love when scenes are long and you get overloaded with the simple things that make you feel complicated emotions, you love it all.

then you start to wish it would never finish; you look at the scrolling bar from time to time, a little bit too aware of how much there's left to read, a little bit too anxious about it. and at the same time, the fic starts to make you feel safe, confident, that at least it's gonna be alright, its gonna be that one work that will replace the canon events for you. it was the

“Oh. Oh, Archivist, no. That’s not right at all,” you say to yourself as you watch him march into artefact storage, both hands clamped around an axe.

On a whim, you decide to save him."

line for me for sure uhhh it still hits as good as the first time too

and then you get to the ending and you just stare at the screen. that hollowing feeling slowly spreading inside you. *sigh* its the best sort of inspiration im sure, but its the worse one too. i have no idea how possessedradios and authors like them are able to write something that kills you, then reanimates you and then makes you sit in front of the tablet drawing hours non stop. ''I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying" is so beautiful its scares and fascinates me, just like the podcast did. hell, better then the podcast did. i know its silly but i even named my fisrt fanart of michael as the title of the fic 👉👈

ahhhh SO i rumbled again SORRY!!!!!!! every time someone asks something from me its either "i'll reply later" (replies 10 years after) or "tolstoy, hold my fucking beer". but i really hope that fic writers, not only those who are mentioned here but like in general? know how much they affect other people!! how their work creates safe spaces for others!! how they make readers smile or cry, even if those readers (im not pointing finger on myself idk what you talking about pgphpphph) are little gremlins that leaving comments once in a decade....................

have fun time reading!! <3

btw im working on a little fanart rn............. (expressing my deepest grattitude to ao3 johmichael writers 😳🔪)

#jonmichael #jondistortion #tma michael #tma jon #tma #fic rec

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merakiui · 2 months ago

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MERA!!!! I have no one else to ramble/rant about this to since I fear it's a pretty uncommon experience, but have you ever read a wonderful piece of work by someone who unfortunately ended up deactivating/leaving most socials? ;ª;

There's this one darker Tweels fic called "Aphotic" currently listed on ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124492/chapters/66236443 link for good measure)- which if im not sure if you've ever read, but oh. My. God. It's such a great fic that really hits the spot for darker content of the tweels. The characterization of Jade and Floyd are absolutely my favorite in this fic as they're just *incredibly* mean to the reader but in a tasteful way. Bonus points also go to how the author wrote the mc(reader) as well, everyone in this fic is just equally fucked up and reading through this story is just one incredible rocky ride..there are only two surviving chapters and one of the two is Floyd focused, but I don't wanna spoil the main plot of the fic for anyone that may be interested in reading just please take the warning that when I say the tweels are mean, they are MEAN..

unfortunately the fic is not only unfinished but as I mentioned earlier, in a devastating turn of events the author of the series completely deactivated D: they were also on tumblr once I think they went by twstedworks? But there's no longer any way to see any of their works on this platform anymore which is just so unfortunate,, I get an intense feeling of past-felt-fomo knowing I wasn't able to see any of their other stuff while they were an active writer knowing that they seemed to be active in 2020(?) Which was a time I wasn't really reading any written works for twst... but regardless of whatever reason they chose to leave the platform I do hope they're doing well now.

I'm sad that I'll never be able to see the jade centric part of Aphotic, or be able to see any of their previous dribbles or works since they've all been completely wiped. I have followed good yan/dark twst writers and blogs in the past that have deactivated or moved on for whatever personal reason in the past but it does really suck in this case not being able to at least, in the slightest , have been able to experience other stuff this author may have wrote which im sure was delightful orz...

Reminder to readers and consumers of fanfic on here to always show support and motivation to your favorite writers!! You never know when you'll never get the chance to read anything from them ever again :( and thank you esp Mera for being one of my favorite twst blogs of all time on here!! Your interpretations of the tweels have always been my favorite from any blog and the way you choose to write these characters in general never disappoints ✨️

If this does get answered, being as this is my first ever formal ask, may I be 🪆 anon? Or 🍮🥄 if that's taken ^_^

Hi hiii, 🍮🥄 anon!!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I know that experience... >_< it's happened to some of the stories/authors I followed. It's always so sad when writers deactivate/leave the platform or fandom/etc, but everyone has their reasons. I can only be grateful I was able to behold such enjoyable works!!! :D "Aphotic" sounds like such an interesting story!! I love mean tweels. <3 I'll have to check it out!

I think I've read some writings from twsted-works before they deactivated! It was so long ago (before I even had a tumblr account), but I remember adoring the way they wrote Octavinelle. I hope they're doing well wherever they are!!

And you're so right!!! It's always important to show support and love to artists, creators, writers, etc! Most, if not all, writers love to receive feedback on their work. Even something like a keyboard smash or a dozen heart emojis is very flattering to us because it shows us that you've enjoyed the work. Whether you show that enjoyment by commenting, liking, reblogging, or sending an ask on here, it's always lovely to spread appreciation for the hard work and time that goes into crafting wonderful stories!!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Thank you so much for your sweet words!! I'm just happy to be able to write and share stories!! It's a huge honor you would consider me one of your favorite twst blogs. I'm beyond flattered!!!! ♥️✨

#chit chat #🍮🥄 anon

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ofmermaidstories · 4 months ago

Text

some bnha thoughts, on this sunny monday morning (or lunchtime, by the time i finish typing sdlkfjdlsk):

💥 got walloped with a return of the post-362 grief, with the latest episode of the anime lmao. unfortunately this means i am currently in my feelies, so thank u for bearing with me as i cycle through them in the form of shitposting. 🥹

💥 speaking of the anime, i’m sad they didn’t adapt one of my favourite panels from 360, where bakugou (or shiggy? it’s never really stated, but tbh i’ve always kinda assumed it’s shiggy imagining it LOL, maybe they both are? a joint moment of horror/delight where everyone knows exactly what’s about to happen 🥹) are imagining bakugou being torn apart by shiggy’s gross giant maggot fingers sdlkjlsdjflksdjf. i mean, i get why bones didn’t adapt it (bc they’re cheapskates and and also bc it is a show for children LMFAOOOO) but it’s a really cool example of how hard hori’s art can go, and also what im chalking up as his secret wish to write a horror story lmaoooo.

🪱🧵 i am biting my nails the closer we get to the end of the manga. chapter 428 was fun—bakugou and todoroki hiding behind iida as iida gently berates their newfound fangirls was so cute, lmao. also the revelation that edgeshot is slowly… regenerating? is….. interesting. i’m disappointed that hori didn’t kill him for a couple of reasons: the first one is my most selfish, and it’s bc i planned on edgeshot being dead for my halloween fic lmfao, now i gotta rework that whole angle. 💀😪 but the second reason is more pressing and that’s bc hori is a COWARD who NEVER kills off ANYONE that has INTERESTING CONSEQUENCES. and also bc he only likes killing off girls 💀 (we’ll circle back to this point). idk, i mean, for as much as i act like the grim reaper and whinge about mha not being depressing enough (lmao), the story that hori’s been writing has always been like, pretty easy to understand. hope connection blah blah blah (i say that lovingly).

HOWEVER,

💚🍵🩸 there are a few deaths i’ve always kinda expected, in the series, with the top of that list being shiggy and dabi. i was like, hopeful toga wouldn’t die, mostly bc i wanted hori to prove me wrong with his GIRL MURDERER AGENDA, but. 💀 cue the clown music, ig. and hey, maybe toga isn’t dead—maybe she’s just in a coma or in prison and ochako’s being emo bc she wants the world to see toga as a teenage girl and not a blood-sucking murdering psycho, and i HOPE that’s the case!!! i do!!!! like, are you seriously going to tell me dabi is somehow still alive (for now, anyways. do NOT come for me, that man got deep fried in the deepest oil vats of McHell!!!!) but toga gets the chop? 😒 like i actually fully expect tenko to come stumbling back (literally!!!) so you cannot tell me you save the dustpile AND the deepfriend mctodo just to axe the blood sucker!!!!! let them all live if ur gonna be a coward about it, hori!!!!! this is what i mean about interesting consequences. 😔 the only consequence we’re getting so far is deku and ochako both kinda 🫤🥺😦ing their way into a confession LOL. i’m being mean—i think the next chapter will be them both confronting their guilt over like, not being able to “save” their villains, and that if we do get a confession of feelies it’ll be something like ochako saying, “i like you deku, and/but i want to be a great hero too, to save people like toga in the future”. 🥹 maybe??? guess we’ll see. 🥺

🌇💀 my pet theory for the vaguely-tenko shaped rando that’s stumbling through the rumble is that it is indeed tenko, and that deku will somehow find him to help him and that’s how deku will get his powers back. and if he doesn’t and hori ends the series with deku being quirkless i will actually, and i mean this very sincerely, stop writing fanfic LMFAOOOO. ok im maybe like, half joking. 😒 but i have never been a fan of the quirkless deku ending and now im getting scared that’s what we’re gonna get!!!!! 😦 in one of his latest interviews, hori mentions something about wanting to strip away labels from people (characters) to see the human underneath them? soooo i guess we’ll just have to trust in him and these next two (TWO) chapters. 🥹

for all my whinging i do like bnha lmao. i whinge because i like it, and tbh i probably wouldn’t change a thing of it. 🥺 all the frustrating gaps—like those perceived consequences i keep getting worked up over the lack of—are what makes it fun to write and read fic for. 🥹 and it’s been fun watching the characters change!!! i was in a bookstore, yesterday, picking up a copy of volume 38 and the girl at the counter and i started talking about the series—the pros and cons of binging it vs keeping up weekly, the change in bakugou’s character and how reading over fics with him and his older characterisation can be kinda hard, now. how scary it was that it’s coming to an end!!! she and i have talked before—when i was buying volume 36 lmao—about whether bakugou could be canonically read as queer vs asexual, and like, idk any other series that has such a mainstream reach that you could have these outside conversations with other people in your day to day, outside of a twitter or tumblr sphere! that’s the power of my hero. and im glad to be here for the ride. and no matter how it ends, it’ll be fun, and worth it. 🥹

#just some thoughts #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers

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ariseur · 5 months ago

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Hello there! Thank you so much for addressing my request...I'm new to Tumblr app so I hope I'm messaging your inbox! So yes! I hope...this isn't too demanding. I anon requested zack x fair reader...and I'm gonna let it all hang out with you:

I simp for zack fair very very hard...and Im HUNGRY for fluff..all the gentle kisses, hair playing ...jawline holding, couch cuddling, sweet compliments, rainy days...holding...waist clutching, skin contact, lips grazing coffe sippinng...deep eye dinner dates, jokes , teasing silly ...I can handle!!! I don't do smut or too overly steamy. I'm too old for that shit

Maybe perhaps...on the opposite spectrum, zack boyfriend scenario, comforting s/o with anxiety...drying of tears, wiping tears away, consoling cuddling...hearing him hum reader to sleep...mentions of heartbeats being felt through chests....feeling of voice vibrations through MUSCULAR chest...comfort bare muscular arms , tender kisses...goosebumps...ok I'm sorry too demanding...if I'm blessed and you create chapters of like simple one date, fun.."friends to lovers" type of thing, casual playstation gaming hangouts, cooking dinner as friends...thinking of each other while away ..to eventually relationship and consoling s/o anxiety....full on love date..that close intimacy (i,crave safe for work) I'd wait FOREVER, however long it would take you to write chapters of joy....you'd be my hero!!!

I stress his scar (in my own ramblings i always place my finger tips on it, i kiss it gently, we discuss who gave it to him, how he feels about it).. Our first date I wear some tight fitting dress his favorite color, but as he gentlemanly removes my peacoat for the evening he notices I'm covered in tattoos, and he's memzmerized (I do have quite the collection of ink irl) he smells of sweet sandalwood and is wearing the black suit in that turks mod for remake... his eyes. I make my own feeble attempts at fanfic but I'm TOO new and insecure to really write anything as I REGULARLY indulge in AI chat and it proves so many USEFUL fever dream instances for me to write but for now...I let the experts handle it.

Should you accept, thank you for bringing JOY into my life....

Please do take your time...I know you amazing ppl are BUSY and mine isn't the only request and might even not be too interesting.

But I thank you so so so much...I've been searching for weeks ..no replies.

EPHEMERAL - ZACK FAIR (CHPT. ONE)

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes - omg!! i’m so sorry this has been sitting here for so long!! i’ve been trying to go about this and since i’m not that experienced with creating chapter fics, i decided— what the hell?? why not try it?? so— i hope i did somewhat of a good job and stay tuned for some more!!

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ warnings - none except one mention of suicide ( but like in a ‘social suicide’ way ), intended lowercase, you spar with zack as kids ( cardboard swords ) lmk if i missed anything 💕!!

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ word count - 2561 words, 13990 characters

STRENGTH. that was what mattered most in this world.

strength was a word you had learned in the first grade, sitting next to a snot-nosed kid babbling to his friends as he completely took up all your attention with his nasally voice in your ear. the teacher seemed to pay no mind, only engulfed in tapping her stubby chalk piece against the board, stained with dashes of residual white from the previous words that had been written earlier today, as she barely looked back at the rest of you.

you remembered it so vividly, the smell of the sanitizing wipes she had used during the twenty minutes recess you always anticipated, eager to escape the boring rants of mrs. ozaki and her slow paced curriculum. you remembered the knock you felt on your chair from behind you, soft as to not alert the teacher — as if she couldn’t hear the noisy kid blabbering next to you known as ono, although you only referred to him as, “booger-face.”

craning your neck and grabbing ahold of the side of your chair in order to turn further, you looked behind you only to see the half-toothless, sanguine kid you knew as zack fair. his dark hair, slicked back with only a few strands sticking out, probably from all the activity he did during your break at recess. you two had met earlier this year as he had defended you from the previous, aforementioned offender— ,”booger-face.” you had remembered the way zack stood over you, hands on his hips as he surged forward at the boy to stop him from pushing you around. his eyes, always so bright and lively, squinted at you with his smile as he helped you up and helped dust off your skirt.

after that moment, zack fair had started hanging around you more and more, inviting you to play around with his friends on the merry-go-round’s or hanging out with you after school, running around and playing with rocks or cardboard swords before your parents’ both called you in for dinner, to which you would hastily say goodnight run to your guys’ houses awaiting dinner.

removing his hands from your chair and placing them neatly on his desk, he beamed at you, “you still up for some training after school?”

you rolled your eyes as your lips twitched upwards into a small smile, “duh,” you said. you turned your body completely in order to to fully face him. “near the water still?”

he chimed in agreement, “duh,” his eyes crinkled with the way his grin widened, identical to the day he had practically saved you. he chuckled a little bit before fixing his posture and sitting upright in his seat, the wooden chair creaking as he readjusted his position. your eyebrows knitted together before you heard a stern shout of your name.

you flinched, whipping around back to face the front as your face burned hot with embarrassment. upon your turning of the body, you were met with the stares of your classmates and the hard glare of your teacher, fixated on only you now. her arm was no longer raised up and scribbling nonsense of vocabulary on the board, instead it hung low and remained against her thigh as she impatiently tapped the piece of chalk against her knee-length skirt. her lips, a light pink as they contrasted with the darkness of her tied hair, were pressed into a thin line before she asserted, “pay more attention, first warning.”

you nodded shamefully as you ducked your head down, grabbing your small wooden pencil and gripping it in your hand, as if you’d use it to jot down notes of whatever she was talking about— although it lay unused and useless for the remainder of class, only a placeholder of a ‘what if’ factor your teacher always liked to use when she began the period.

skeptically, she let her raised brow drop as stopped tapping the chalk against her leg, turning around and beginning to explain the curriculum planned for tomorrow again.

you tried to ignore the feeling of holes being burned at the back of your head, multiple pairs of eyes staring at your fork while you made your attempt at keeping your eyes forward and your mouth shut. you ignored the small, boyish giggles emitted from behind you, you’d ‘kick his butt’ outside of school, you thought. you’d get your payback, but for now — you sighed. keeping your hands interlocked, your faced your palms on another area of the desk, the foreign spot now cold against your warm skin. trying to act somewhat proper and behaved, you waited out the rest of class ( which was only presumably about twenty minutes ) just to find that sublime feeling of escaping the torturous ‘h-e-double hockey sticks’ that you referred to as school.

and you held up to that promise of kicking zack fair’s butt — watching as he stumbled backwards with his hands flailing in the air, a flimsy cardboard cutout of a sword gripped tightly in his hand as he let out a loud, “woahh—!”

you giggled, “what’d i tell you about that stance, zack?” you put a hand on your hip as he yelped in surprise. his foot slipped in the body of water, making an animated sound while he skidded across a rock, luckily able to catch his balance in time. you could hear the small chattering of the people near you, the rivers of gongaga rushing as your laughs continue and rise up into the quiet air.

“that’s not fair—! no water knocks!” he exclaimed.

you shrugged as he approached you once more, “you never said that before we started,” you chided. he charged forward at you, being blocked as you held your sword up in a protective expression. stepping backwards, your arm raised and lowered with every hit that the dark-haired boy threw at you, his confident face flashing between every brown whoosh of the cardboard weapons.

he heaved, “you know how mrs. ozaki kept talking about strongness or whatever?”

“you mean— strength?” another blocked hit, this time you tried to kick him and sweep the leg — unfortunately, you underestimated zack a little more than you had thought as he kept a firm hold in the cold dirt, digging his shoes into the ground.

“same difference, yeah?”

“what about it, fair?”

he pursed his lips as he tensed his body, waiting for you to strike again. you held off for a second, flinching as if you would hit in order to try to keep him off balance. zack decided to speak again in this momentary pause of your sparring. “i’ve been thinking about those SOLDIERs and.. i want to be strong— hey!” he exclaimed as you landed a surprise attack on him, barely grazing his not-so-ironed-anymore jeans before he deflected your hit. “now, that’s really uncalled for, c’mon.”

“finish your thought before i hit you again.” you quirked a brow.

he wore a smug look on his face, putting his hands on his hips while he shook his head at you. “didn’t hit me but ‘kay,” that smugness didn’t last long as you feigned waving your sword at him, only for him to let out a small yelp and jolt backwards. you smiled, quirking an expectant brow while he groaned in exasperation. “i wanna be strong too, y’know. have some— strength,” he said; and that was almost the end of it . . until he had managed to mutter a quick hiss of, “unlike you.”

you watched as his arm raised, the sleeve of his uniform’s button-up lifting up a little to reveal his tan line that he had obtained after being outside with you for so long. his hand gripped the thin handle while he went overhead to try and strike you from above. making haste, you took one more step back as your hands flew up to catch his attack with your own sword. in your imagination, with the collision of your toy weapons, you envisioned a loud, ‘clank!’ as they clashed with each other — it felt much more awesome-r to imagine sounds of iron versus the soft flap of refraining yourself from putting too much pressure on the thin material of the cardboard.

you grinned at him, watching as his determined face managed a crack of a smirk while he tried scaring you and randomizing the amounts of pressure he’d put in an attempt to try and catch you in a daze. however, the swiftness in which you jolted to the side and flipped your sword flat so that the tip faced outwards, thrusting the faux weapon and jabbing it into his chest caught him off guard, rendering him the loser of that evening’s battle.

you watched as zack carefully looked down at his stomach, then finally bringing himself to peer back up at you. he placed a hand on his chest while he acted like he really was injured, even going so far as have spit dribble out of his mouth and act like it was blood.

“gross—!” you exclaimed, pushing him as he fell on his back in the dirt and raised a dramatic hand to the sky. you laughed while he let out his ‘last dying breath’ before ceremoniously lolling his head to the side.

with some more giggles, you judged him with your foot as he magically arose from the ‘dead’ and beamed at you, reveling in your laughter. although, in that moment he wouldn’t tell you. he didn’t want to admit his growing crush on you, he didn’t want cooties. that was practically suicide. you extended a gentle hand out to him, throwing your sword to the side as he took your offer and hoisted himself up. zack brushed the dirt off of his pants while you cleaned his back up, still laughing about the whole encounter.

you claimed victory for a long while, even when you both had sat by the water and skipped rocks onto the cerulean river, now being painted a harsh lilac as the sun began to set and the heat of the sky began to cool, a soft breeze coming to rest upon your bodies rather than the draining, blistering sun.

you let a small beat of silence pass over the both of you, spinning the cold stone in your hand before chucking it into the water. your chest began to tighten, for a reason you don’t know why but you could feel it— crawling up your throat as it engulfed your esophagus. it creeped up the inside of you. almost as if you were gonna throw up, the pit in your stomach began to settle. you felt it, twitching on your tongue as it settled, trying to escape its enclosure from past your lips. you held it in for so long, fighting this battle you were so determined to win as you tried to focus on anything; the birds chirping around you, the rushing of the water, zack’s stone skipping across it. you tried to hold it in until—

“do you really think you’ll become a SOLDIER one day?”

the rock he had grabbed remained lifeless in his hands, his fingers tightening around it while he contemplated his options. he turned to you— dirt on his face and his smile, gapped with all the recent teeth he had been losing. he never faltered with that smile, you thought to yourself; and you never forgot what he had said to you after you asked that, “i’ll make sure of it.”

you smiled back at him, before it dropped once you had heard the calls of your name coming from the huts above the creek, where both of your homes had been located. with not another second, zack had already gotten up and running. he swiveled back to face you, waving a goodbye with his lanky arm before he shouted, “i’ll see you tomorrow!” but, of course, he wouldn’t be zack if he didn’t get hurt every now and then, you thought, as you watched him trip over a small rock. but— you realized, he also wouldn’t be zack if he didn’t get up afterwards. still, he turned his head to make sure you didn’t see only to discover you had ( much to his embarrassment ), before getting up and running back home again.

you laughed under your breath, “dork.”

and now, you’re still you. sitting in a bakery in nibelheim, you had almost never changed. well— besides the fact that you grew a couple of feet and wore a wider range of clothes than your school uniform and an old, colorful your grandmother had gifted you when you were five. you wore your hair differently and went out of your way to try and make a difference in the world; specifically by starting and doing some jobs around town and seeing if anybody needed help with those.. things — that would appear around town. the day zack left for midgar had stained your brain permanently, his hug leaving a mark on your body as you knew you might not see him again— even if you chastised ( or more so threatened ) him that he stay in contact with you no matter what.

although it was a few years ago already, you never forget about it, your mind always traveled back to that day at the river. grabbing another hold of your pastry, you admired the vibrant frosting as it created the symbol of a chocobo, not even able to take a bite in fear of ruining the perfect design. you watched the simple villagers of nibelheim float around their daily life while you stayed under the canopy in front of the shop, seated at a little table with the shade covering you from the heat of the sun. you remained bored as you tapped your foot and listened to the bustle of the small town before you heard pairs of assertive footsteps and the, ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s of the people.

tilting your head upwards, you only assumed maybe a few flat footed people or some kids running around was the answer but no— you’re met with the sight of a long, silver haired man with wide, white should plates while a shinra infantryman accompanied him along with another SOLDIER, only this time in black armor. you had watched the town guide, and even with your fuzzy memory you think you had recalled her name was tifa.

you squinted at them, watching as the SOLDIERs looked around at the small village. you gasped as the SOLDIER with the darker uniform turned his head, those eyes were all too familiar, and that familiar cowlick that peeked out from his thick, black hair was all too distinct. putting down the pastry, your eyes narrowed even further almost as if you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. you watched as he turned his head, his full face on display as he beamed at the environment— his smile still the same besides the fact that all of his adult teeth had grown in and his jaw became more defined.

you sat upright, your lips quirking upwards as you felt that childish wonder grow as it had all those years ago like when you had first met him, brave and confident as ever when he had defended you.

“zack?”

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reonnex · 5 months ago

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Wesper Fanfic wip

This is a wip of a wesper fic I had been writing! I know I should be updating my own fic but I was kinda stuck on the next chapter and decided to write something else for a break as that has been the only thing I've been working on since middle of April :)

Note that this is not edited at all and only one small section of it! (Minor cw for mentions of the tonics Jan Van Eck gave wylan and his not so great parenting skills)

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jesper laughed after a joke Wylan had made, setting the bottle of vodka down on the table infront of them as the night continued on.

Jesper and Wylan had just finished a report on the lastest stocks and had been able to sell some new business that they had been stressing about the past few weeks, which they had to celebrate the fact.

Marya was staying away a few days visting Plumje and Alys who Marya viewed as family as well. She didn't see her as a daughter but did family even need a label?

Wylan had been worried about how Marya and Alys would get along, but he had nothing to worry about! Sure there was a little tension at first. Marya being Van Ecks first wife he tried to kill and Alys having to deal with Van Eck now in Hellgate. But after just a few hours the two became inseparable. Gossping and grinning like friends who kne each other for years.

So naturally, Jesper and Wylan had the night to themselves.

Like school boys breaking into their parents wine collection, Wylan had grabbed a few bottles from the wine celler a laughing giggling mess as he handed one to Jesper.

About only thirty minutes in to the night, Wylans cheeks were bright red now with a lopsided smile and his eyes seemed a bit unfosued.

"Im just saying-" Wylan giggled as the drink sloshed in his hand. "Think about it! Talking is just so interesting! Me just moving my mouth is sending vibrations through the air- Soundwaves- like how does thay even work? How can my body store information in my brain and I can transfer that data out by vibrations so perfect that they form sounds? Or words? For that matter why cant an instrument make words? Why can't an instrument talk to us!" He asked with full seriousness.

"Saints Wy you're such a lightweight." Jesper had laughed shaking his head. "You haven't even had a full bottle yet."

"Psh- I've drunk before! Drank...? I am drunk but I have drank plenty of times."

Jesper laughed out again. He could feel the tug of the acholol on him as well, and was definitely starting to feel drunk right now.

But definitely not as drunk as Wylan.

"You went to mercher parties growing up. How are you this drunk over not even one bottle?"

Because the ones they served at those parties are weak!" Wylan snorted. "They're like- sparkling water. And for your information Jesper Llewellyn Fahey." He teased. "I was too young to drink anything there before my father stopped taking me out in public. " He chuckled, as a unsettling feeling crept into Jesper at that comment. "The barrel though. Now this is drunk material." He held the glass up to the sky. "If this was given out to Merchers then...they would pass out. No one would be able to hold their liqueur. Maybe Kaz should replace them all next time if he wants to know secrets so badly."

Jesper laughed and shook his head again as he drank from his own glass, amused by Wylans rant.

"I used to hate drinking." He said after a moment.

"Im shocked." Jesper replied, gesturing to the now empty bottle sitting on the table infront of them.

Wylan shoved him playfully, resulting in Jesper snickering.

"Im serious!" He slurred out. "Did you know that acholol orginally was made up from rice, honey, and hawthron fruit?"

"I did not." Jesper smiled.

"Yeah! Though it could of just been grapes but it was found in residue clay pots in Shu-Han like- thousands upon thousands of years ago."

Jesper could listen to Wylan ramble for hours.

"Well technically acholol is just the name of a whole rang of molecules that are formed when oxygen and hydrogen atoms bind with an atom of carbon." Wylan explained as he drank more from his glass, frowning when nothing came out before looking back to Jesper. "But in alcoholic drinks, acholol is just the specific small molecule, ethanol." He replied.

"The ethanol....ethanol..." he snapped his fingers as if trying to find the word before finally continuing on. "Taste reminded me of my medication."

What?

"Medication?" Jesper frowned. This was not the direction he expected this coveration to go.

"Yeah!" Wylan smiled out. "Couldn't stand the smell of it for like the longest time. I would get nauseous and worry the doctor my father hired would give me more." Wylan said with such little care.

"Slow down what medicine?" Jesper asked, moving to place his drink down before leaning back on the couch, looking at Wylan worriedly.

"You know! The medication to cure me. To...to try to fix my brain to get me to read? I told you about it didnt I?"

No. No Wylan didn't.

#wesper #drunk wylan can and will talk for hours on end #so will sober wylan #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #wip #my writing #shadow and bone #six of crows #loosely inspired by a text post meme

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kat1nkulta · 3 months ago

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Writing a masterpost of my silly fic as a trick to make myself want to finish writing the thing

A summary post about a nameless doll and the fanfic ”Fish inside a birdcage” they star in

(Genshin Impact OC)

Tags:

OC & Scaramouche, OC & Nahida, OC & The Traveler (+Paimon)

Hurt/Comfort, Blind character, Pre-canon/ canon adjacent, sibling bond, identity discovery, very unfrequent updates Im so sorry

Link to the blasted thing I forgot to include originally

Summary:

”Fish inside a Birdcage” is a fic inspired and named after a song of the same name by a band of the same name as well.

The story stars a nameless protagonist stuck in a dream realm where time is stationary.

The character in question is a (yet unnamed in the story) prototype for Ei’s archon project. This prototype is one of the earlier ones, and as such is much cruder work. They are missing parts, and were never meant to wake/ gain a soul at all. Just a test on how a wooden vessel would withstand an Archon’s essence; a forgettable hallmark amongst ”the countless attempts” in creating a worthy vessel

This test was successful, but by error and unbeknownst to their creator, that essence trapped the poor thing in a singular moment inside a dream. Luckily for them, they aren’t alone and soon meet another unfortunate soul in form of their successor: another nameless puppet going by the title Kabukimono

This fic was largely based on Ei’s second character story talking about the building of the Raiden Shogun, as well as my then very time consuming fixation on Scaramouche.

The nameless doll (OC):

As the story is incomplete and is focusing on the OC’s self discovery, I will keep the name to myself for a little longer. It has been decided a good while ago however, and is mentioned in post fic art dump chapter

Disclaimer: This character uses they/them pronouns, however in the first chapters, they, as well as the narration refer to themselves with it/its pronouns as a form of self objectification. This could be a sore topic for some, so I want to specify this now!

(Looking back I probably chose too many heavy topics to tackle in my first ever writing, so please feel free to let me know if I handle this or the disabilities I represent in a lackluster way! I will be eternally grateful)

Moving onto design

This is the closest thing to a character sheet I have drawn, it’s what I use as my drawing reference. The no eyes look is based on dolls of course, as often eyes are the last things glued in for the doll head. Working eyes are hard to craft even for an archon, so many of these ”meant-to-be-souless” prototypes lack eyes or other harder to craft extremities. The second artwork is what I use as a reference for their hands so I included it here

Interractions with Kabukimono (Scaramouche for the unitiated)

These two had a nice bond before the Tatarasuna Incident, so whenever I’ve drawn them together in the past, I focus on the time before that.

All of these drawings are quite old (outside one), I feel bad but I have not drawn this poor thing since them so they will suffice🥲

Aand that’s all for now!! I think!!

This is more for myself than anything so if you are reading this, thank you? And feel free to drop any comments, I don’t bite (anonymous asks are welcomed as well)!!

Back to regularly scheduled Loop slop see you next time

#my art #genshin fanart #fanfic infodump #<- hopefully wont become a tag on intro post #genshin oc #genshin fanfic #this author does not update regularly btw #scaramouche #wanderer #scara fans be nice i’m very sensitive

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quinnyundertow · 2 months ago

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I feel like I can’t write anymore JJK until it’s done with at this point. I really hope it’s over next week. Im tired of being anxious about what’s going to happen because you literally never know where you stand with Gege. Usually you have some sort of expectations when it comes to an author you enjoy. All I know regarding Gege is he likes to throw plot twists in at the detriment of the story continuity.

The weirdest part is I’ve never been this invested in a story and its characters before. That isn’t to say JJK is my favorite series or has my fav characters of all time. It’s the not knowing, the dragging my emotions into it over and over and over for the same character.

Manga spoilers discussed below

Gojo’s story has made me cry in JJK zero, when he met Kenjaku and was sealed, when he died. It’s just tragedy on tragedy with his storyline and he’s genuinely such a kind and caring character. I want him to be happy. I want him to pull through. His death is literally why I started writing fanfics.

I liked it better when we thought everyone was dead because at least I knew what to think. I had zero expectation of Higuruma or Nobara coming back. There was no indication of Nobara’s survival. Higuruma’s death made sense even if it wasn’t the outcome we wanted. Now here they are. So even though I think Gojo and Choso are dead I need a final confirmation. A funeral, some mourning, hell even a passing mention in the final chapters??

I’m tired of the chokehold this show has on me.

#bleck #thoughts #quinnyspeaks #Quinny needs to stfu #jjk rant #ignore me

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eldritchamy · 3 months ago

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omg i completely forgot about the grand folia hotel. i read it when it came out, it rewired my whole dang brain, and then i moved on. aaaa im gonna go reread it right now even though I've been up all night and need to sleep (there aren't any plants around to stop me from making self-destructive sleep cycle decisions muahaha). thank you for your post about it! also if it's alright to offer a recommendation, Hospitable Takeover on Readonlymind.com was the second ever HDG fanfic and in my opinion greatly informed the tone of the setting in 2021 and 2022. It's also just super cozy and comfy and a perennial favorite of mine ^w^

You're welcome for the brainworms!

I understand completely, I'm not sure WHAT chapter 10 did to me but I think my brain is a torus now. I didn't THINK I had a free use kink (I PROBABLY still don't, at least as a participant), but I didn't think I had a PETPLAY kink either until this fucking universe started turning me inside out a few days ago.

I'm already rereading The Grand Folia Hotel myself because I feel like given the plot there's a lot more to get out of it by reading it through a second time (somehow I didn't realize that Phoebe was basically in a perpetual lesbian bluescreen from the moment she stepped into the garden in chapter 1).

Plus it was just EXTRAORDINARILY HOT and I can't wait to watch Phoebe/Amaranth get broken all over again.

It's a shame the story didn't keep going into the ongoing corruption and implantation past her initial surrender, the characters had such good chemistry with each other that I'm really craving more of them. Would have LOVED a chapter or two (or six) of newly implanted pinnates, especially with how amused Celosia was by the fact that they fucking tricked her into taking them at all. Celosia and Phoebe are fucking perfect for each other.

Her revenge must have been DELICIOUS.

And GOD Becca must have been so fucking smug about it once Phoebe was ACTUALLY a floret. I need to know the teasing that happened once she got her real implant.

This is what I meant in a previous post when I said I was "frothing at the cerebellum" to read it again. I'm going actually insane.

Which, as many new people are I'm sure rapidly learning about me, means it is Once Again Infodump Time, because I suffer from a terminal case of Someone Needs To Shut Me Up With A Kiss disease. (I am also a long sufferer of Capitalizes Letters For Emphasis syndrome.)

I'm like the free use kink of infodumping, a bunch of people seem to have figured out how to make me do it almost on queue, and they do it, because they think it's cute. I don't DENY that it's cute, but god does it seem to cost me a lot of the time that I meant to spend reading about the good little florets.

I CAN'T keep taking an hour to write every goddamn post I make about HDG. WHEN WILL I SLEEP? More importantly, WHEN WILL I FINISH REREADING CHAPTER TWO? It took me four extraneous paragraphs to even mention that the read more continues exactly from the train of thought I left off on an aforementioned four paragraphs ago! God, I need help.

AND Phoebe never even saw herself in a mirror ONCE in the story! I want to know what happened the first time she saw what the Class Gs were doing to her! (Do you think Celosia put her in Doll Mode and made Amaranth pose in front of a mirror and be perfectly still, watching her own blank expression obediently while Celosia and Jazz just relentlessly caressed her with every imaginable affection? Do you think Phoebe's wake up trigger was Amaranth saying "Good dolls know they are deserving of love. I'm a good doll and I am worthy of love"? Do you think, beyond the moment when she accepted she was meant to be broken by Celosia's will, that that was the moment she understood what it meant to be put back together, and it was the moment she truly felt, and for the first time could not deny or run away from, that she was the happiest she'd ever been? Because I DO think that happened. And I need it.)

It even would have been nice to see INDRA further along in her own corruption later on. Altiss seemed like a good influence on her, it was really sweet that she had that nice moment with Phoebe at the end of the Matinee.

I'm STARVING for more of that specific story, it was SO good. (Keysmasht, if you ever see this somehow, how much of my soul do you want for a few more chapters? I'll beg.)

Hell, I might beg for permission to write those chapters MYSELF someday. That story is too good for there to not be more of it.

Anyway.

Thanks for the recommendation! I can't BELIEVE I've never heard of this setting before now, it's extremely my shit (apparently) and I'm loving the discovery of new, interesting content that I can not fucking put down. Judging by the tags on my posts, and a friend on discord, flinging myself headfirst into all of this has inspired a few other little seedlings to follow me into florethood.

Recommendations from people more familiar with the setting and stories are definitely welcome, though I can't promise I'll get to any one particular story soon.

Abscission and Divaricated come up in a lot of recommendations for lore reasons? But I've been putting off some of the longer stories like those and Dog of War because they're HUGE commitments and it's so hard not to consume as many stories as possible.

Except, of course, for the fact that I keep rereading the ones I've already gone through because I like what they did to my brain.

I'm struggling not to make TWO other ones I've already read (the original and Inosculate) the next ones on the list after rereading Grand Folia.

Hospital Takeover sounds like an EXCELLENT recommendation, I LOVE cozy and comfy stuff within a primarily kink setting. I'm SO glad the second one I ever read was A Normal Grocery Run During Which No Domestication Occurs. I adore the way SapphicSounds writes dorkier more nervous Affini, and I'm glad I got to see THAT QUICKLY how much of a tonal range there was in HDG stories.

Sleepy Bitch also sounds cute, so I wanna do that one soon.

Also the reading of any particular one is slow going because unfortunately my brain is absolutely churning with ideas of my own. I'm VERY tempted to do a pinnates one because I'm absolutely HOOKED on that concept in particular. I already know one of their names and I just came up with a great title for the story while ...rather vividly imaging a very intense domming scene.

I do want to read a fair bit more before I try my hand at writing one, though. While I've got enough domme in me to feel like I could do some of the Affini taunting justice (seeing Akash in the first story use almost the exact domming style I go for was... enlightening, to say the least; now I know why I get such good keymashes out of my teasing victims), I want to have a bit more confidence in the world itself first to make sure I get it right.

But it's far from the first time I've considered writing erotica. I definitely have the brainworms for it at the moment.

#HDG #human domestication guide #floretposting #is it just me or is every post I make about HDG a huge infodump #gimme the Class Ws so the part of my brain that makes language can turn off and I can go back to reading

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