#i wrote it with the intention of trying out a different pov and It Fucking Worked

[wandanatskitten]

I Want To

18+ Minors DNI

Synopsis- The Maximoff’s were both pining over you and eventually it became too much till Wanda snapped and took you as her own.

Includes- Possessive!Wanda, Bottom!Reader, strap-on usage, overstimulation kink, squirting, vibrator, cheating

A/N- I wanted to try something different so I wrote it in Wanda’s POV. I hope y’all enjoy!!! Lmk if you’d like more stories in the love interest’s pov

Words- 1.7k

My husband has had his eye on you a month into your working for us. Obnoxiously prowling at your figure as if you were a mere piece of meat. And every shameless glance he tried to hide, I saw. What he lacked was the ability to calculate me having the same desires.

For almost a year Y/n was our personal assistant. Our intentions preoccupied by continuing to uphold our title as Best Selling Authors, we needed an extra set of hands around.

I don’t know where or when the lines blurred but the same competition our marriage held in our respective fields merged into our relationship with Y/n.

And even further down the line, my infatuation of you grew deeper till I despised the idea of Vision anywhere near you and was sickened by thought that you would ever be less than the siren that pulled me into your waters.

The idea of having a full life lived without you is how I put us in this position. You were mostly professional, but you never knew just how badly you were tearing apart this house. Not till I tore you from the possibility of being with anyone but me. And I was fine to risk it all. How could I not be with your perfectly pneumatic form calling out underneath me.

Your pretty little whining draws a feral groan from me. The thought of fucking my pretty pet how I want, claiming you for the rest of the night and ensuring you’ll never forget the feeling of having me inside of you.

You desperately calling my name, it being barely audible from how breathless you are draws me deeper into my possessive hold over you.

“Wanda-“

“Oh if you could see yourself right now, darling. I’ve been watching you for quite some time and this is definitely my favorite view.” I can tell how enthralled you are. Obsessed with the way I slowly stroke your sensitive walls. Grinding my hips to test just how you like to be fucked.

You couldn’t care less about what I say when I move one of my hands between our bodies. The sound of a pleasant and intentional buzzing not catching your ears till you feel the light vibrations on your clit.

“Oh god…fuck….” The sound of your thoughtless words while you throw your head back tells me no one has touched you the way I have now. Watching how good I can make you feel is surreal but a different way you react to me really catches my attention. I noticed the way your hips grind to the rhythm I’ve set every time I whisper to you. You don’t know just how observant I can be, so it’s only right to let you know.

“You don’t think I see the way his hand lingers a few seconds too long on your waist? Or the way he tries to touch you when there’s plenty of space to walk by? Or maybe even those low cut shirts that draw his eyes lower than they should be?”

A shaky “no” is released from you.

“I know you’re innocent my love. So oblivious to your own angelic appearance. Something as simple as jeans and a T-shirt pulls my eyes and unfortunately Vision’s too.

“Please Wanda…” Of course I hear your pleas, feel your legs tense, watch the tear fall from your eyes. It’s beautiful, and I’m glad it’s mine to appreciate.

“I know I should be the angry wife Y/n, but I’m not. I’m jealous of him, I always was…” I have you here, writhing and whining below me. There’s no where for you to escape while I voice my painful truth in this moment of intimate vulnerability. “

“No one should be able to touch you except me. The way Vision eye fucks you, imagining these beautiful curves and the way they’d feel under his finger tips.” I tell you the sins in his mind as I get to experience them myself. Tracing the length of your body. Touching the heat under my skin, soft and delicate, as I feel you pulling more of my weight onto you. Tensing and moaning when I pause deep in your core, reaching all the delicate spots you willingly allow me to discover.

“But you know what really gets under my skin, Y/n. If he did get to live out his fantasies, he’d actually be able to feel the way you clench so tight every time I pull my strap out, begging me to keep my cock buried in your velvety walls. He’d know just how greedy this wet pussy begs to be fucked by the way your legs keep me in place. Although I couldn’t imagine he’d have the stamina. Just for a moment he would be able to feel you more than I can.”

“I’d never-“

“I know, beautiful. I know.” Whatever worthless plea you had was cut off and bandaged with an apologetic kiss. The feeling of your lips against mine, hopelessly trying to keep up between your panting and crying, slowly made my insecurities melt away. Your taste overcoming me as I fade deeper into my desire to have everything you are.

My head pressed against yours after removing my lips from your own. Our breaths mingled from the close proximity. More meaningless words spewed like a whining puppy begging for more.

And you got your wish. Neither of us saw it coming. The sudden tension of your legs would later bruise my waist. Your hands pushing me away. And a higher pitched scream tearing from your throat as you finished with an overpowering gush from your core.

I was breathless, as you were, but for a different reason. You twitch with an incapable act to calm down. Oxygen running in and out of your lungs as a pleasurable tingling struck through your core, making you hyper aware of your over-sensitive clit.

I, myself, was in awe. I was proud of myself and mesmerized by the wetness that covered both our thighs and the previously clean sheets below.

“You…are..wow.” I was hypnotized as I reached forward slowly. Touching your abused and puffy core lightly, hushing you when you flinch away and whine.

I don’t know if I was escaping or coming closer to reality. Either way I didn’t care. My mind began to wander again, speaking to myself more than you. Whether if these words were grounding me or lifting me higher into the intoxication of your body, I could decide later.

“He’ll never see you like this.” I spoke mindlessly testing just how sensitive you were. Questioning how deep into vulnerability I buried us together.

“Tell me Y/n.” It was suppose to be an order but it almost sounded like a question from my own needy claim of you. I teased your hole. You were soaking and tighter than when I first pushed past your entrance. Using my fingers to feel your swollen walls squeeze me even in your now relaxed state. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

“I’m yours Wanda. Please. Please, I’m yours.” Relief consumes me with the belief of your words. It’s different…hearing the prayer of your need for me as if to ground you from the overwhelming sensation.

I inch closer so you can hold me as if I’m a God made only to be with you. Contemplating what you deserve and I’d never deny you, let alone myself, the opportunity for you to cum with my strap teasing your dripping center. I replace my fingers with the thickness of my strap once again, causing you to hiss in return.

“Please Wanda, no more…I can’t.” Your breathless lungs tell me one thing but the dramatic stinging on my back speaks a louder volume. I crave to watch you cum once again, just as bad as you crave to feel the fullness of my cock inside on you.

“Just one more, beautiful. I promise.” I beg you, not knowing if I could stop even if you really want me to. And when my hips slowly meet yours you nod in agreement.

I guide my hips to yours slowly, completely aware of how responsive you are. Keeping my pace slow and intentional knowing if I go any faster it would hurt you instead.

“You’re perfect, Y/n.” This time I turned the vibrator up a level and the sound caught your attention. All of your senses were hyper aware but your body was too spent to stop me from committing to the act. Sure a small protest left your lips but you didn’t know you wanted it until you realized you needed it.

“Wanda…wait, I can’t.”

“It’s okay baby. Just one more time for me.” I whisper. And that was all it took. A string of praises and moans that came from deep within you rang out. You couldn’t decide whether to curse my name over and over or to sing it like a muse made to deliver you to heaven. The sound was glorious, but the sight between your legs was ethereal.

Whatever deep possessive hold you have over me was intensified when I saw your body squirt below me. One final orgasm drawn from you brings us both a shattering pleasure to the mind and body.

“He’ll never see you like this.” I practically growl. “Wetting our sheets, corrupting my love. You’re mine, Y/n. And I’m yours.” Staking my claim on you and abandoning everything I vowed to another. Because no one will ever look at you or touch you the way I have tonight. No one will love you or please you the way I will. And no one will get in the way of me having you in every and any possible way.

[theheartmold]

The Wigmaker Job

Notes and Thoughts - Part 3

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5 | pt6 | pt7 (FINAL)

DISCLAIMER: These posts I'm doing are my own analyses and are done with the intentional eye to examine the relationship between Lucanis and Illario. I try to source all my assertions from what the text is giving me. This is not Lucanis critical nor should it be taken as such.

Going to be a shorter post today because I have things to do this morning!

Starting off strong in the next scene with me… loving on the fashion notes <3 So glad to know that we get stiletto heels clicking against cobblestone. Surely hoping that no magister twists their ankle and falls and breaks their fucking neck because their shoe got caught in a gap!

Also, velveteen is in? Someone who knows fabrics weigh in and tell me if that would be an appropriate material for the climate.

"So the Wigmaker. Tell me about him." / "He's weird." ← Lucanis goes on to say that he 'finds the moment before a job crucial for focus, but Illario was never one for comfortable silence'. To me, that beggars the explanation that the following passage is Illario goading him a bit.

I: "Specifics, cousin. No one hires us to kill normal people." L: "I gave you a dossier." I: "Yes, but I want your assessment." L: "I wrote it. It is my assessment." I: "Humor me." L: "You'll see soon enough."

There was a little bit of debate in my previous post about whether or not Illario actually read Lucanis's dossier. I don't think that the text supports that interpretation, but everyone is allowed to interpret what they want.

I'll argue that Illario has read the dossier: throughout the story up until this point, Illario has made comments about the job that implies he has SOME understanding of what they are doing—even going out of his way to make arrangements with a tailor so that he can be prepared for the part of the contract that Lucanis asked him to help with.

He knows that they need to be in Minrathous, at a party, facing a 'premiere wigmaker', and aware of the fact that they're up against Venatori. He knew they needed to be at a mansion and all of this comes up previous to this point when asking about Lucanis's assessment.

Additionally, asking for more clarification on something that someone else wrote is actually normal when the plan has clearly changed several times. Illario has increasingly expressed confusion on how the navigation is being handled, and, when asking for more information, is specifically asking after the Wigmaker himself, not the entire plan.

Also, the narrator is telling us that Lucanis prefers to be quiet while Illario likes to talk. It was pointed out to the me that this is close third POV, so why would the narrator bring that difference up, and not reference the idea that Illario has a tendency to not read documents?

(A few paragraphs later, while balancing on the rooftops, it's stated that 'At least Illario was too busy concentrating to ask questions'.) ← I wonder why he'd need to ask so many… I'm not trying to be snarky, but I am trying to make a point and using the text to support it. This also is NOT Lucanis crit and I'm worried some people are interpreting it as such.

The commentary from Lucanis about the previous Minrathous parties is insane btw. Retching vases? Acrobats? An orgy? No wonder they kept us in Dock Town in VG… (shakes fist)

First mention of Lucanis's sensitivity toward the Veil. "The backs of his eyeballs itched like he hadn't blinked in days". I think he says this primarily about blood magic at some point in VG? Which tracks and keeps up with WMJ.

"Something's wrong." / "Yeah. We're up here, away from the fun." ← insane of illario to say this i'm sorry. bro there are blood mages down there.

L: "Focus." I: "I am." L: "On the job." I: "To be fair, you never told me the plan."

You guys get it at this point. (That last sentence loops back up to my previous point… Illario has read the dossier. He knows the contract. He does NOT know how Lucanis is going to HANDLE it beyond what he's been asked to do re: getting Lucanis inside).

Lucanis shrugged. "Find Ambrose. Slit his throat." "Sounds complicated." "It will be. The Veil's thin here. Thinner than I expected."

Illario seems pretty fine with this explanation so I am not going to keep dragging it out. I do like how in-tune Lucanis seems to be with his abilities! I wish we could've seen more of that in VG; iirc he doesn't comment on the state of the Veil or magic very often?

This is the part of the story where we get to see their back-and-forth and how Illario is a bit of a rake! Which I personally enjoy. I love a manwhore (*said affectionately). Sorry.

"Plenty of time for some good, old-fashioned debauch—" I think he's funny. And maybe a bit distracted.

The narrator describes Ambrose as 'of average height and build' which is a description that pisses me off when fanfic does it and published works are not immune to my ire. What the hell is 'average'. That's so subjective.

The rest of the description is nice, though: hawkish gold eyes and a jaw that could break teeth. ← I know I said this was a breakdown of the brothercousin dynamic but I need to weigh in on other things sometimes. <3 Heart.

"They're never what you envision, are they?" Illario noted. "What did you expect?" "Hair, for one. Maybe a funny little dog." That got a chuckle out of Lucanis, if only briefly.

Stop being funny!!! I do like this banter back and forth because this feels like it's the least… leaden with underlying, complicated dynamics? I like it a lot and it feels natural for them.

Making notes on the fashion of the guard-captain. 'She wore an emerald gown with a high-waisted, low-tiered skirt and a fitted tulle bodice studded with champagne-colored crystals. Metallic body paint shimmered on her exposed arms and legs'. ← Fascinating.

It sounds like it might be a reference to the women's fashion from the Tevinter concept art. Bit gaudy.

Also it's described as silk-brocade. AGAIN PEOPLE WHO KNOW FABRICS WEIGH IN.

[shrek meme] she's not even wearing velveteen.

Lucanis "I need those keys" Dellamorte and Illario "your wish is my command, cousin" Dellamorte you will always be famous to me. Also it says that Illario 'flipped forward' which . why are we doing all that

Quotes are either paraphrased or taken directly from The Wigmaker Job, written by Courtney Woods.

[nothingmancy]

y'all mind if i ficpost

i'm writing several au's rn. none are alike in dignity etc. they are:

this guy, which we in the biz (me writing the fic) call charlieverse: i don't understand how or why this got so long except that i think it is my queliot thesis though it can't quite be that because several key things are different about them in this universe. like 1. no magic, normie time 2. no mosaic 3. they are older and well not that wiser and still fucked up with settled careers, it is hopefully emotionally pretty different yet legible. still i think i kind of managed to Address some Issues. and also i have experienced gay marriage/love and i have a lot to say about it, and i got really off or on track (depending on ur pov) about the experience of building a relationship and life with the person you love. girl i'm mushy as shit. i was also legitimately for five or six or whatever years considering it and trying to figure out how to continue it, because my idea for after the almost-make-out-charlie-break-arm-semi-intentional-but-not-for-that-long-cliffhanger was that they had to have some kind of miscommunication issue and then that the getting together would be the fic's near-ending, but trying to write this every time i was like, oh wow this sucks. and then also i hated writing on and off for a long time and also my life was insane and i was real depressed. so that was also an issue. but then i read this romance novel where the couple just got together early on and stayed together and i was like oh.....wow.........that's an option i'm so dumb. also they're not married in this fic yet but like all queliot there are elements of marriage. anywayyyyy. oh also charlie is very dear to me as my eliot's daughter who i made up.

severance au: i started this before i watched the finale for some reason then i watched the finale so i felt like i had to reconsider it but not really. but i think in principle fusion au's don't need to be 1:1 so eliot is kind of like the petey to quentin's mark if he didn't die and then also alice is a rogue severance scientist and everyone else is stuff also. quentin being a baby boy who was just born 2 days ago and is upset about it is extremely canonical and i am a brain genius. in my opinion

ANOTHER vampire au: so i wrote this one with collaboration and gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous art from leading queliot scholar rebecca tumblr user yourtinseltinkerbell, an incredible co-creator and person!. when i wrote it i did try to think about quentin turning into a vampire but i think as a classical gothic horror-anne rice conscience kinda vampire meld quentin would literally just d*e. my idea for another vampire au where quentin could be a vampire and not d*e immediately is that he is a modern vampire, nearly totally provided for by julia, who is basically having a 24/7 panic attack about being a monster and eliot is a blood delivery guy. we have fun! i'm joking about censoring die i say it all the time dont worry

small boy auteur director directing a huge comic book movie/stuntman au: i can't say much about this one i'm just being silly at this point. but it does compel me. quentin is the director idk if i have to say that...........bro.

i think that's it......godddddddd.........i should write regular magicians not au again someday. or maybe not. maybe not.........as always: why this in 2025? Who is to Say

[a-e-redacted]

I kind of always wondered in your fic why Eda has let Moon live in the owl house when it makes King sort of clearly uncomfortable and puts him in an inherently unsafe position. I know Eda also can’t really take Moon somewhere else and I feel that but I think King is never 100% safe if Moon is just there. I think Moon could totally kill King (again) thinking he’s getting a rise out of him and only realize what he’s done after the fact, and IF he managed to bring King back through some means he’d never be allowed near him again.

I think it’s a combination of being too far into bringing Moon into the family by now, along with an (un)healthy dose of denial on Eda’s part. She has good intentions and is a fierce mama witch but that doesn’t mean she’s thought everything through or makes the right call in every case. While Eda isn’t intentionally repeating the patterns of her mother, she might do well to be a bit more cautious.

Now that King and Moon have had a bigger fight, it’s an issue she’ll find harder to ignore.

And I say this with all the love and affection in the world for Eda Clawthorne. She’s one of my favorite characters of all time in any media ever, I relate to her a tremendous amount and most of this fic is from her POV.

But MoonShadow was never meant to be a clean cut story of morally pure characters doing morally pure things. It’s a messy story of flawed people doing their best to navigate life in unstable circumstances. Sometimes they succeed, sometimes they fuck up.

Not gonna’ lie, I wrote and rewrote the latest chapter (64) multiple times over the past five and a half months, trying to get just the right amount of nuance. It’s a different dynamic than we see in a lot of portrayals of King and The Collector and I worried that I might upset readers by their antagonistic interactions in this chapter.

Moon and King are foils to each other, and I wanted to stay true to the complexity of their relationship in the MoonShadow verse. Since the fic was drafted before season three, the Archivists aren’t really a component of the story of the Titan Trappers. Their inclusion in canon drastically changes The Collector’s position in the conflict and simplifies the redemption process.

Without that aspect in MoonShadow…it’s a lot messier.

I do think Moon has a few more inhibitions than they did since they did experience King dying once before and were traumatized by it. That, along with the house rules helps keep Moon in check somewhat, but their extremely volatile personality does have a tendency to get the best of them at the worst possible times.

Unfortunately Moon still hasn’t quite learned the concept of compassion for others. How they treat Starfishie is especially indicative of this, I think.

Moon’s “concern” for King’s well-being is strictly because of how it makes THEM feel personally. Their protectiveness towards the Owl Family is possessiveness of those who make THEM feel cared for and provide THEM with affection. It’s still all based on what Moon is getting out of it.

King has some extremely valid concerns and reservations about sharing his house and family with The Grand Huntsman themself, but he doesn’t necessarily hate them - despite his recent outburst.

He’s as fascinated by Moon as he is afraid of them, and he does feel for and relate to them. After all, he did release them for a second time, bringing them physically to the Owl House. However he’s also aware that this would be considered unbecoming for a Titan, and he’s desperately trying to live up to his legacy.

King has always been someone with a penchant for extreme dramatics (he actually has this in common with Moon) and it stands to reason that this would manifest in different ways as he moves into adolescence. He has a lot of complicated emotions regarding Moon and it was simpler just to attack them and yell at them (again, for reasons that are very much justified).

Now, however, at the end of the chapter, King is starting to rethink some things.

And WOW, this got long. But thank you so much for the ask. MoonShadow has been such a fun story to write and it makes me happy to know that it’s made you ponder things enough to take the time to share your thoughts!

[little-annie]

Genuine Leather

8.4k E Complete

Steve's belt keeps disappearing and when he does manage to find it, he's discovers much more than he expected to behind Eddie's bedroom door.

Or, a little bit of pining and some filthy smut

Or, a piece of fanart had me drooling and I felt legally obligated to write a fic to go along with it

[Roommates | Bondage | Breath Play | Improper Use of Steve's Belt]

Licorice Ice Cream

3.8k 2/?Ch T WIP but chapters can be read as stand alone

It's damn hot in Hawkins Indiana and of course the Munson's AC is busted. But at least Starcourt Mall has functional AC and an ice cream shop and what is that? Steve Harrington in a Sailors Costume?

[Eddie's POV | Scoops Ahoy | Supportive Uncle Wayne | Heat Wave]

Ghostly

3.6k 2Ch E Complete

"It started in the nights where he'd awake from the horrors of his nightmares to a sudden chill that'd linger at his side. An eerie but oddly comforting feeling that'd press against his body with intent. Pressure at his back and wrapping around his waist, a touch he'd longed for but never had the chance to experience. A touch he'd been desperate for since spring break of 86'. A touch he'd wish to experience in the aftermath of hell but never once had the opportunity before it was taken away and left to rot in the barren wasteland of the Upside Down.

A touch of a man he knows he could have grown to love."

OR Steve falls in love with Eddie's ghost

...but I was high on cold medicine when I wrote this lol so don't expect too much

[Post S4, Ghost Fucking, Happy Ending]

Something More

3.8k E Complete but may add to later

Steve Harrington's not gay.

He just needs more.

And well, 'The Freak's' more.

Or the start of something more between 'The King' and 'The Freak.'

[Internalized Homophobia | Public Blow Job | Steve's First Time With a Man]

In this Lifetime

2.4k T Complete

Years down the road Steve asks Eddie to help plan his proposal, specifically what to say to his future fiance and well, things don't go quite as planned when Eddie's the one who ends up down on one knee.

Or, Eddie never bothered coming out to the ragtag group of monster hunters and so Steve had always thought a future with him wasn't in the cards.

Or, they inevitably sort their shit out and realize they're in love with each other

[Roommates | Post S4 Eddie Lives | Requited Unrequited Love | Panic Attack]

Figured it'd be Different

9.7k E Complete

He has a big fat crush on Eddie and Steve Harrington's never really been good with words so he hoping his actions might spur Eddie to take charge and do something about it.

OR Steve decides to make Eddie jealous by sleeping with people while he knows Eddie's awake and has no choice but to listen.

OR Eddie goes half nuts trying to figure out if everything Steve's doing is intentional or not, he finally clues in when Steve tells him word for word what he's doing any why.

[College | Exhibitionism | Accidental Voyeurism | Fluff and Smut]

They Have to Tell Them

2.6k 3Ch T Complete

Eddie and Steve have been together for a while and they think it's finally time they tell their friends.

OR They come out to Dustin, Robin and The Party on three separate occasions and it's quiet hilarious

[Coming Out | The Party | Secret Relationship]

Closets and Dill Pickle Chips

11.8k E Complete

Steve comes out to Robin a few times whether he means to or not. When he finally does it sober, she helps him devise a plan on how to win over Eddie.

OR From Steve's Bi-Awakening, to Bi-Panic to figuring out he loves a boy.

OR A glimpse into Steve's self discovery and getting the boy of his dreams

OR The first time in years Steve allows himself to cry, is the first time he makes love to Eddie Munson

[Coming Out | Eddie is Steve's Bi Awakening | Friends to Lovers | Bi Panic]

Art by @ahhrenata

Mission: A Very Steddie Christmas

21.6 E Complete but may add to later

The Party and Robin are sick and tired of Steve and Eddie dancing around (read: being hopelessly blind to) each other's affection. So, like any good friends, they set out with a plan to have the pair coupled up before Christmas. Shenanigans and scheming ensue and sooner than later we find the boys giggling and entangled under the Mistletoe.

[My 1st Complete Steddie Fic | My First Time Writing Steddie Smut | Xmas Fic | The Party | Friends to Lovers | Fluff | Eventual Smut]

[the1975attheirverybest]

I'm the anon that asked you about the hypothetical 75 song about Palestine and all that.

First of all, thanks for answering me, I like to read your takes on this stuff, that is why I asked. I think it's generous of you to answer these asks, cause you have no obrigation of educating anyone here but still, you do, and I am grateful cause I learn a lot from you.

I only said my reasons to disagreing with you are not important because I know and respect yours, so I didn't think my reasoning would contribute to this debate. Also, I didn't want to sound confrontative, so It was the contrary of acting in bad faith.

Since you asked my vision on this matter, I think it's an oportunity to mention that I know it's diferent from yours because I'm not American. Even though you are palestinian-american, you live in the US and you guys tend to have a very self centered point of view on things.

Last year, I asked you something about this same issue, I think It was about the boycott on Starbucks and Gabriette, and you answered something like "must be good to be white", 'cause I didn't know about that.

I didn't answer at the time, it made sad, but I understood where you came from, It is your reality. But I must remember you that not everyone here is from US and people in other places have their specific issues to deal with.

Where I live, for example, more than 50 black people were murdered by the police for no reason last month, during the pandemic our negationist president promoved a genocide against indigenous people and right now we are dealing with major floodings, there are cities underwater and you don't see It on the internacional news. You don't hear about any of this and I don't call you anything derrogatory just because you don't know about this things, I get that, I think it's normal not knowing about every nuance in a conflict that I don't deal with directly.

This is not me trying to compete over the worst catastrofies, or who suffers more, It's just a comentary on the fact that SOMETIMES (and I underline the SOMETIMES) you presume the worst on what people ask you here.

I know that this may come in such a bad timing because of what is going on with another stupid anons but not everyone in here is out to get you! I like you, your takes and your writting and I wrote this with the best of intentions, ok?

Don't let the bad people get so much under your skin, that you miss or mistreat the good ones.

I hope you stay! ❤️

Ohhhh that was YOU? Okay bro I owe you an apology because at the time there was another non-white person tryna ruin my life behind the scenes and when you said you’re not white, I assumed that you were that person. Lmao. Like for all the hate that I do get on here, there’s even more stuff I don’t talk about that happens on my personal accounts etc. but yeah that was my bad sorry oops.

Also, I think you’re right, like, I spoke to someone young, (like 21 or 22) who’s in Europe and their coverage and news is different and gives them a different pov. I think I assumed since, in this instance, both conversations and libs are super Zionist and Islamophobic, that it would be the same across the board. So that’s why I said that at the time.

Ironically, that’s also kind of why I think people with power, or platforms, should say something. Like you’d think 7 months in, we would all agree on the bottom line facts but every time I have a conversation with someone on here it turns out that not even the timeline of events or the facts are established. Which indicates that folks are either not caring enough to look stuff up or are just getting a 1-sided narrative.

I don’t know how to feel about that. Cuz I get that I don’t have nearly as much power or influence. And I know that sometimes people come on here to exclusively get a rise out of me or fuck with me or whatever. But also on the other hand if the conversation helps to move the needle a little bit, then maybe it’s worth it? Idk man. Like I guess I’d thought it would be easy to measure a “general consensus” at this stage, but I think I’m wrong on that.

[monstersinthecosmos]

Hey! So I saw you wrote a bit of meta about my fic and I wanted to marinate on it for a bit before I responded but it’s gone now lol. It still got me thinking so I wanted to say a few things.

Without getting into an entire essay about media criticism vs transformative fanworks, I do want to just pin the idea here that the moment we start creating transformative fanworks, we begin to own little ideas and universes and timelines and make them ours. I think a lot about these diagrams from @goodboydummy about different TYPES of fanfics, and the ways in which we are playing with the original text -  

I could similarly make a diagram of types of fic writers when it comes to how much or how little we decide to transform the text, and this kinda leads into the idea that all fanworks are inherently analytical about the original text, even if we’re being silly. Like, even the silliest domestic fluff slice of life oneshots, or the most depraved kinky PWPs, or the tropiest AUs that are so very removed from canon all still tell us something about how the writer feels as a reader, right? A PWP can be 1500 words and not reference a single event from its canon and we are still left with the simple truth that the canon gave somebody blue balls and they had to write porn about it, you know?

So anyway like, while we’ve all discussed criticisms of VC to death and we’re all equipped to give the TED talk about all the problematic and questionable messages, as a fic writer & general Fandom Loser I feel like we dissect things a little more than normal, because as a fic writer I want to really have a 360° view and really really understand how the characters feel. I wouldn’t feel confident writing their POV if I weren’t putting in this thought work and really trying to analyze it at this very molecular level.

But that sort of comes with deciding where to meet the text, and this is where transformative works can vary. You can meet the text where it’s at and analyze it in completely good faith, and you can also choose to meet it halfway where you take what you need and leave the rest. I don’t have a problem analyzing in a way that says “I think Anne Rice’s bias leaked in here and it doesn’t make sense to read it as an intentional character beat”.  There’s so many things about Lestat and David in particular, too, where I don’t have a problem criticizing the writing and not completely buying into the characterization as “the canon”, and while we as readers can create several versions of the text based on all these different reads/frameworks/lenses, as a fic writer when you sit down to write a story you have to sort of make intentional decisions about which version you’re playing with.

IE: Do you read Marius as an unequivocal villain and child abuser? Or do you read him as an imperfect guy who is operating within the rules of his own universe, with the moral relativism of the author’s bias? Even things that are not bias and are intentional, like for example, do you think Anne Rice was a gross creep for exploring how repressed she’d felt as a teen or do you accept Armand’s versions of events that he’s a grown up who can consent? How do navigate those concepts inside the worldbuilding of your fic, and the specific lore you want to build upon? Do you change it?

Going back to the types of fics—to me, an ALTERATION doesn’t always have to be a timeline thing, or change of events—I’m also happy to think of that in a more conceptual way. I would actually argue that fics that portray Marius as deeply manipulative, hateful, abusive, etc, or portray Armand as deeply traumatized by Venice are alterations, too. These authors are going “Wow TVA was really fucked up, I wish Anne Rice had acknowledged Marius as a child abuser” and they’re creating transformative work to express that.

Gallows Bird, on the other hand, is somewhere in the middle for me. I don’t think TVA is as deep or literal as a lot of people make it out to be, especially if you’ve read Anne Rice’s other porn novels. I hold space in my mind for several reads of TVA but I also kind of default on it being erotica brand contamination, and the BDSM tropes read to me like she was writing a kink book. I think TVA readers should try reading her Sleeping Beauty books, for example, because it would lend a really powerful context to her writing style and her approach to non-diegetic BDSM. The use of age, consent, power imbalance, discipline, etc, are all used in her erotica to heighten the stakes and make it HOTTER, and taking them too literally kind of misses the point. (I’ve talked about this a bit here so I don’t want to ramble on about it.)

There ARE a lot of spaces in VC that I wish she’d been more intentional or sensitive to writing about trauma!!!!! And like, it’s fine if that’s not what the books are about!!!!!!! But for me personally, indulgently, I would’ve enjoyed seeing more of it, or more honesty/realism about it. Because I can read TVA and see all the ways it’s stuffed to the brim with porn tropes, and while I enjoy that experience as a reader, this comes back to how I think all fanfic is really a commentary or an analysis. Gallows Bird, to me, is going “What if we kept all the kinky stuff but had some more realistic and sensitive discussion about sexual trauma?” And whether or not that came across, idk ! I’m not a professional writer, I did my best LMAO. If I have to come on tumblr and explain the joke as it were, my bad! But my alteration of TVA for this fic, and my commentary on the canon that I wish we’d seen, is “What if TVA had been a little more sincere about Armand’s sexual trauma, and been a little more diegetic about the BDSM?”

There’s so many fanfic tropes that are so so popular—shipping non-canon ships in general, and fluff, and domesticity, and porn!—because sometimes a piece of media doesn’t make time for those things, and when we get so deep into obsession it’s what we WANT to see more of! Like TVA is erotic and whatever but I do want to see the PORN. I want MORE. And in the process of wanting more, and wanting to really sit with it and marinate in it, I do want to do all that thought work and create it as a  360° space and be intentional and sincere about how the characters feel! HOW DOES THIS MAKE ARMAND FEEL, REALLY? How does he behave! How does it affect him on a day-to-day basis? HOW DOES IT APPEAR FROM MARIUS’S POINT OF VIEW, WHEN ARMAND HIMSELF IS NOT IN CONTROL OF THE NARRATIVE?

So yeah the fic is like, about all those questions I had, but also I tried to be intentional about how I write Marius, because I think deeply about Marius, and I have to decide which version of Marius I’m bringing to the table in a fic. Like, I don’t have a problem criticizing Anne Rice’s worldview and how it sometimes tainted the text, but if I’m going to be the one writing, I have the freedom to discard things that I don’t think really make sense.

The social construct stuff, for example-- I don’t specifically weave in Marius's racism because it doesn’t make sense to the vampire lore and you’re right that it doesn’t make sense as a random social construct that they’d hang onto. However, Marius as a traumatized atheist who was murdered by a cult? Very important to me! His xenophobia in the books IS often tied to distrusting religion and zealotry. Even when he wakes up in the Dark Ages in Europe, he's like, oh my god fuck this, this place sucks, and he goes back to sleep lol. He is so much happier when he finds time & space in secularism.

But still, I think we all have to trust each other when we post fic, like, fanfic is its own creative medium and part of that is your audience already knowing the broadstrokes of the characters, and part of that is also expecting the audience's fic literacy to understand tropes. Like, if you post an AU you expect the readers to know what an AU is. And for me with VC fandom in particular, I’ve always hoped that people around me in fandom as well as people reading my fics are all coming to the table with the same understanding that Anne Rice could be pretty atrocious at times, but that all of us enjoying the books aren’t endorsing every single thing on the page, or every single thing she ever did or said. I mean, fuck, I gave up on her for years after the Blood Canticle tantrum and after the fanfic bullshit! I assume and trust people around me to be grown adults who know that the cheesy vampire kink book from the 90s is not a moral guidebook, and I hope people understand if my enjoyment of the characters comes with some transformative caveats. I have to trust that readers understand the premise I’m building, even if my skill isn’t there yet or I miss the mark and it’s not obvious enough.

HAVING SAID ALL THAT LMAO sorry for the rant even though I opened up by saying I wouldn’t write an essay oops – I find your read really fascinating because I am very intentional when I write Marius fics about keeping him as canon compliant as possible, to my own interpretation. I love Marius and want to celebrate him, I haunt VC fandom because he’s my favorite literary character ever!,  and my goal as a fic writer is to sort of soak in all the things I love about him.

At the same time, I want him to feel plausibly in character.

Everyone’s free to write fics that alter the canon, like “TVA if Marius wasn’t a baby having a tantrum” for example LOL, and I think fandom can be quick to judge fic writers’ skill levels when we try to untangle these types of concepts. Like, maybe you read a Marius as being horrifically OOC and way too saccharine and it’s like, maybe the fic author’s skills aren’t sharp enough yet, or maybe they’re intentionally writing a fic “TVA if Marius was way too saccharine” and the beauty of it is that all of these versions are welcome ! Fanfic is for us, it’s fine!

But personally I WANT my Mariusses to feel sort of book-flavored and organic. Even if I tweak some details or emphasize something that I found too subtle in the book, my goal would be that if a Marius Hater read Gallows Bird, they would still think he was in character. I’m not trying to change him too radically, but I do want to add some extra texture or context to tilt some of these ambiguous areas from canon. It’s possible that I fucked up on that lmao.

So it’s really fascinating to me that you get some of these messages from the story!!!!!!! It really was not within my intentions.

I’M REALLY EXPERIENCING SOME DEATH OF THE AUTHOR RIGHT NOW AND ITS ME IM THE DEAD AUTHOR

But if that’s how you read canon Marius, I’m glad that my fic complemented it in a way that made sense to you. I admit that I often struggle with religion in VC because I, like Marius, am a staunch & traumatized atheist with little patience for religious practice. I see TVA & B&G as religious and anti-religious bookends of each other, the sort of mirrors of Faith vs Belief, or Spirituality vs Institution, etc. Anne Rice spoke at length about her struggle with the Catholic Church as an institution, even when her faith in Jesus never wavered, and ironically I think we get this SO deeply in Marius’s POV as the token atheist. He struggles so much to trust anything except what he can see with his own eyes. Even in the fic, Marius still needs to go pray to Akasha because she’s a real thing that he can see and visit, and not a silly invisible concept dictating rules about morality.

The ideas you picked up about Armand’s ethnicity in this fic were not intentional—I was poking at his religion, and the way Marius sort of humors him and tolerates it but can’t wait to teach him better. While that can overlap with someone’s culture and heritage, for me it still comes back to Marius as a creature older than Armand’s religion in the first place, who has this aerial view of it being a huge scam. And I think conversations with this get into a gray area between respecting someone’s culture at all costs or identifying religious institutions as oppressive structures that can cause harm.

And tbf even Ivan didn’t want Armand to be part of the cult ! Marius having daddy kink is more about Daddy Kink and not trying to erase Ivan’s influence in that regard—Ivan didn’t want Armand in the monastery either! So I mean also like, as much as this is focused on rape recovery, I did want to weave in some stuff about like cult recovery/religious trauma—Marius reminding Armand that it’s okay to enjoy sex, blah blah. And the irony in the end (just like in the book) that like Akasha to Marius, Marius winds up just replacing the god figure in Armand's life, instead of dissuading him all together.

It's an interesting thought experiment to see if Gallows Bird fits in line with other reads of TVA that I don’t necessarily subscribe to. For example, conceptually again: Do you think Anne Rice was a gross creep for exploring how repressed she’d felt as a teen or do you accept Armand’s versions of events that he’s a grown up who can consent?

Armand’s age and ability to consent become such an important linchpin of people’s reads of TVA, as is Marius’s sexuality (or lack thereof) vs his nature as a vampire & apex predator, and today in this fic in particular I am offering on the table that Armand can consent and that Marius is asexual.

Like as a fan, I don’t WANT to think of Marius as horrible abuser, and I don’t want to think of Armand as a victim. That’s not what this fic was. Consider it a transformative work. This is a recovery fantasy. Like, I want to see some intention and sensitivity about Armand’s trauma, but I want to add some nuance, too. Like, as a 17 year old in the 1490s, who gives a shit LMAO it’s fine. And I need to trust the readers to meet me here and understand it’s the universe I’m working inside.

And like, is it messy and imperfect? YES! Because I don’t want to see therapy speak in my 15th Century gangbang fic. Is Marius well meaning but sloppy? Yes! They don’t negotiate first, and Marius assumes he’ll know if Armand needs to stop, and there are times when he’s wrong! There are times they do take it too far and Armand isn’t okay! Marius doesn’t understand Armand as well as he thinks he does, and he will always see him as sort of a pathetic human who doesn’t know what he’s talking about! Marius is being generous and thoughtful to the best of his ability but he will ALWAYS believe he knows better, and when writing from Marius’s POV the intent vs outcome doesn’t really matter !

But ultimately this fic really is about recovery! It’s about Armand having agency, and wanting to try something, and Marius helping him!

Marius isn’t lending him out for his own benefit, he’s accompanying Armand to explore his sexuality and trauma, and to recreate dangerous situations over and over so that he can have control this time. Marius isn’t lending Armand out to his friends, he’s murdering rapists.

This is such a tricky part of the book, too, like Marius WANTS Armand to go out and have human experience but he still gets jealous about it! He still gets frustrated! And Marius can’t have sex with him, anyway! It’s not about sex!

This is why asexuality in VC matters to me so much and why I always keep it in my fics, like, these are two different species who experience eroticism differently. Armand wants to FUCK and Marius wants to MURDER. In canon, it frustrates Marius to the point of having a meltdown!

So like their outings in the fic are such an exercise for both of them—Armand gets to fuck and Marius gets to murder AND Armand gets to be rescued and Marius gets to jealously kill Armand’s lovers.

I wanted it to be mutually beneficial ! It’s supposed to be healing !! Armand gets to process things that happened to him in a safe space where he’s not in danger anymore! He eventually grows the courage to do the deed himself!!!!!!!!!!! Marius wants to teach him to let go of his old religious shame and live in his body !

There’s always going to be a framework where this can be read as more nefarious and evil than it’s intended to be, because that’s the canon, like, no matter how you slice it, Marius adopted a human and never gave it a chance for a normal life. That’s the nature of the story, though. He’s a monster, he’s a vampire, he eats people, he’s lonely and wants a companion. And he’s a bit of a goober and a fuckup and doesn’t always make great decisions.

But that is what it is, man, like, it’s a monsterfucker book, what do you want from me. If he isn’t a monster what’s the point.

So !! Anyway SORRY FOR WRITING A HUGE MANIFESTO LIKE A SERIAL KILLER !! It was really interesting that you got so much meaning from the fic, I’m really glad that my attempt at keeping Marius canon compliant meant he was also subject to these other criticisms, even though it made me a little sad that my blorbo is once again on the stand lmao.

I STAND BY MY PROBLEMATIC WIFE !!1 😭

Anywhoo asdfgasd thanks for reading im glad it was effective for you!!!

Daddy Kink in Gallows Bird

[read on AO3]

CW: Incest, noncon, TVA stuff !

Okay so. I’m in the middle of writing another meta about Daddy Kink in VC/TVA/B&G so please forgive me if this post or the other winds up being redundant, but in the middle of all the deep thinking I’ve been doing about that topic in canon, I also had some interesting convo in the comments of this fic, so I wanted to park this somewhere as well. I’ll try not to be too repetitive and I’m going to try to keep the convo focused a little more on the fic than on canon (to the best of my ability since they overlap so much!) because I wanted to talk specifically about the train of thought that informed the fic, and just take it with a grain of salt because it does veer into headcanon territory at times when I’m filling in gaps from canon.

Anyway so I brought Daddy Kink/father themes up a few times in this fic, here’s some examples (this might be all of them actually, I forget lol):

During Amadeo’s dream about being raped, that the smell of wine subliminally reminds him of his father, even though he can’t quite put it together.

Matteo commenting that Marius is Amadeo’s father (during sex, and implying that Marius fucks him).

The man at the party towards the end who is thinking about his own son while he eats Amadeo out.

Marius telling the men in the final scene that he and Amadeo are named Ivan and Andrei.

BONUS POINT, less obvious: Marius musing about Rome, the fatherland, and Roman storytelling trying to paint forefathers in a better light.

I admit that on some level this is not that deep lol it was just being horny and indulging in daddy kink, but like I do want my fics to make sense when it comes to meta and I did want it to be plausible with canon.

So off the bat we have to say like, VC vampires exist above social constructs anyway. Marius isn’t someone who’s going to get grossed out by crossing a boundary like this, in the same vein as Louis and Claudia or Lestat and Gabrielle. As vampires they do not exist inside familial structures anymore. So I think this is extremely present in the Venice portions of the books, that there’s this blurry line around father/mentor/maker/lover.

I also think about this part of B&G every day of my life:

And I, with all my power, and all my blandishments, could not replace Amadeo’s father in Amadeo’s mind. Why was I so jealous? Why did this knowledge sting me so much?

BONUS LINE IN NEXT PARAGRAPH: I loved Amadeo as I had loved Pandora.

I WANT TO BE HIS DADDY BUT ALSO HIS DADDY. I WANT HIM TO BE MY CHILD AND ALSO MY WIFE.

There’s just so much going on here!

Anyway so in TVA I think like, not knowing Marius’s POV at that point, Marius is having lots of mood swings, he can be hot and cold, at times sends Amadeo mixed signals. But in B&G when we get the insight, we learn how often he struggled with whether or not to turn Amadeo as he began to love him. (I think also a lot about when he tells Armand at the end of TVA that he sees Armand loves B+S more respectfully than Marius ever loved Armand!!)

And I want to like, balance this against Marius’s inherent selfishness with how he treated Amadeo, how he treated him like a pet or like a project. I don't think (in canon) he saw Amadeo as a full person, and it's why he interrupts Amadeo so much in the fic. Amadeo at this point in canon exists for Marius's own needs.

(Sidenote, when I was working on this fic and kept struggling with like, the POV of a Marius who doesn’t actually see Amadeo as a complete person, I kept using how I feel about my cats as a reference lol. Like I love them to death, I would die for them, but they don’t have a single fucking thought in their brains, they are little babies that I take care of bc they’re cute and I like having them around.)

I talk a lot about how I love Marius because he’s a flawed person; I find his flaws and missteps to be so human and relatable, like I too do my best to be reasonable and kind and patient and yet I do have a petty side. I can hold grudges. I think all of us are capable of acting selfishly.

Because like, his love of Amadeo is conditional, it’s like having a pet. In the book he keeps changing his mind if he should turn Amadeo or let him free to have a real life and we don’t know what his ultimate decision would have been because Harlech forces his hand. The question is: Would he have ever let Amadeo go?

He specifically chooses Amadeo because it’s someone he sees as a blank slate, A FUNERAL SPIRIT, someone on borrowed time. Marius considers Amadeo’s life over already, so this is all bonus for him. There’s never a question of rescuing him out of goodness and returning him to his home. Marius specifically chooses him to groom as a fledgling because he’s lonely, and he doesn't see Amadeo as a human with a potential life anyway.

So in the fic I tried to make this clear, all the times Marius wonders if he can keep Amadeo, even begging Akasha for a clue, and by the end he realizes he has to keep Amadeo because this experience has ruined him. He’s never going to be able to live a normal life now, and Marius knows it*. AS FAR AS THE FIC UNIVERSE GOES, we could ask the same, like, will Marius still turn him in this fic timeline if Harlech doesn’t show up, but I think he would.

*also as an aside, I wrote this fic to be like backwards engineered Devil's Minion, so I bring this theme up a lot in my Armand/Daniel fics, and the entire thesis of The Lotus Eater is that Armand was careless with Daniel and broke him, which is what Marius does to Amadeo.

Anywhoo, back to the daddy stuff.

Like sure yeah it’s just there to be horny because I think Daddy Kink is absolutely present in canon, but Marius is enjoying this game they’re playing, too, even if he’s a little too proper to admit it. He likes taking Amadeo out and getting to protect him. He likes indulging in the kill when Amadeo is fucking wrecked, like it’s a sex act they can share. He likes that their victims think he’s Amadeo’s father. It makes him feel powerful.

And towards the end, when they’re talking about stoicism and whether or not you can simply turn your emotions off, it also leads into whether or not Amadeo can make the choice to remember where he comes from.

Canon doesn’t explicitly say this so this is where fic headcanon comes in, but I wanted to make it that Marius can see into Amadeo’s dreams, and I implied that he knows perfectly well exactly where Amadeo is from. He knows about the monastery, he knows about Andrei’s home life and his parents, he knows their names! So every day that passes in Venice where Marius doesn’t offer this information, or bring him home, is another day he’s chosen to keep Amadeo, and is ultimately selfish.

On the other hand, especially once the fic starts and Amadeo’s memories start coming back to him, Amadeo knows that Marius knows, and he never asks.

This is of course like, dubcon territory of like, SHOULD AMADEO HAVE TO ASK? Is Amadeo’s fragile mental state a clue that he cannot consent or make informed decisions? Is Marius behaving badly by allowing this wounded child to make his own decisions, or as the adult/immortal, even as the mentor/father/lover, should he guide Amadeo to do what’s right? And what exactly is the right decision?

But from the moment Amadeo realizes that Marius knows more about him than he reveals, Amadeo never asks, which means he’s making a decision to stay in Venice. And like, the morally correct thing is not really relevant here when Marius’s moral compass is so far removed from human sensibility, but it also affirms his desire to be wanted. He’s happy that Amadeo wants to stay and wants to be his pupil and his baby boy, so he’s not going to challenge it.

And that’s why he drops the names Ivan and Andrei in the final sex scene, as a climax to all of this. It’s serves both as one final way to challenge Amadeo, to ask if he TRULY doesn’t remember, but also serves to take on the ROLE of Ivan. He wants to be Amadeo’s Daddy. And even though the men in the room are teasing him about how he’s not actually going to sell Amadeo, how Amadeo must be his favorite, how he must be a freak, etc, he still owns Amadeo in this sense, and it allows him another level of release along with Amadeo’s sexual release.

WELL. I hope that makes sense!!! It made sense to me at the time when I was writing it. I love these two dweebs, please talk to me about them any time!

[heartingw]

If you're too shy (let me know) - Ellie Williams

Warning: adult content even if not explicit; pining!ellie and pining!reader; ellie being lowkey a tease; kind of invasion of privacy; praising; making out; dina being a good friend; jesse is reader's brother, but reader's physical characteristics is not implied (safe space for all women); ellie being so damn in love with reader; heavy petting; joel is not dead here; a little bit perverted, but mostly romantic; maybe typos and bad writing since i'm not an english speaker; both pov's, but you'll know; also me being fucking cheesy, so if you don't like it, don't read the final 'letter'. I'm a romantic, sorry.

Words: almost 3k.

A/N: I hope it's not bad and too rushed. If you see anything weird in the writing, please let me know and I'll fix it immediately. I don't have a beta reader, so…

♥ To be Ellie's patrol partner you had to know that she often went on patrol looking extremely tired from spending hours of the night strumming her guitar, drawing, or writing songs.

Jesse and Dina were already used to trying to hold some kind of conversation with her - or gossip, Ellie loved a good gossip - to keep her awake and alert all the way back to Jackson in those days. But it was a little hard to do that all the time, since most of the time they didn't have much knowledge about her personal hobbies. And neither of them were particularly good at drawing or creative enough to write song lyrics.

That's why Ellie ended up, somehow, getting close to you.

Since you're Jesse's sister, she's known you pretty much since when she arrived in Jackson years ago. A shy girl who only answered when you were spoken to or when Jesse forced it out of you. Ellie never minded. In fact, she hadn't even paid much attention to you at first. Living in Jackson, having a peaceful life after the hell she and Joel had gone through had left her a little bewildered for the first few months.

Honestly, she only started talking to people because Dina decided that they would become best friends whether she wanted to or not and started talking to the green eyed girl at any opportunity. And Jesse, as a good boyfriend, went along.

Ellie was 16 when you heard her playing guitar at dawn on the porch of her house.

Though still a little shy, you apologized and immediately recognized the song Ellie was playing, one Joel had just taught her. Smiling and singing the rest of the lyrics that you had interrupted. And even a little embarrassed to have been seen playing outside, Ellie couldn't help but be intrigued by you for the first time in two years.

Over the time, the friendship grew as well as an internal conflict within Ellie.

She found that you liked several different types of music and sometimes hummed the lyrics to her. That your brother had found a music player that still worked and that you were able to charge it and since then you always listened to music before bed. That you, just like her, liked to write, but you never showed anything you wrote. Ellie didn't mind that much, tho. After all, she never showed anyone her private notes either.

She had noticed that you always had a soft smile when she played any song for you. That you had the habit of biting your lower lip and that you lifted your eyebrows while talking to people, giving them full attention.

She noticed that you rejected all men who approached you with the intention of flirting. And that you never looked at any of them with any kind of desire. Ellie also noticed how much you liked her hands and that your eyes always went to her mouth when she wet her lips with her tongue.

When Ellie realized how much she paid attention to you, she understood how fucked she was.

Jesse's sister. The girl she knew who had grown into a fucking beautiful woman. Who had also become a close friend. Who liked music, liked to write (God knows what), and that seemed genuinely curious when Ellie spoke some random curiosity about space.

Suddenly you had become the reason Ellie wrote romantic lyrics and poems during the night.

On your 22nd birthday Ellie found out she wasn't exactly discreet about her feelings for you. Her eyes widened when Dina sat next to her in your small party and asked if it was that year she would finally take her chance and confess to you.

Ellie didn't even know if you were into women, she wasn't going to spoil your friendship like that.

After most of the people had left the party, Ellie approached you. You looked fucking pretty in a summer dress and Ellie was feeling like crap for having to force herself not to look at your legs and breasts.

"Hey, I have something for you."

You interrupted what you were saying to Jesse and turned fully to her, a cheerful smile on your face. "Oh, so that's why you brought your backpack. I was wondering why you came here with it."

"Did you really think I wasn't going to give you anything for your birthday?" Ellie asked you with a side smile and teasing voice. "So much faith on me, I see."

She pulled a notebook out of her backpack. The cover was adorned with constellations and symbols of zodiac signs - Ellie had told you how people used to relate the day they were born to personalities and you had become obsessed with it.

Your eyes widened, delighted with the gift and your hands slowly moved towards the notebook, picking up gently while whispering her name like you couldn't believe what you were seeing. In the blink of an eye you already had your arms around her neck, hugging her tight and putting your face on her neck.

"Fuck, Ellie, thank you so, so much! I've wanted a new one for so long and Jesse never brought me one from patrols." Your voice was charged with emotion as you thanked her in her ear. Ellie knew that writing was like therapy for you – you'd already mentioned this several times –, she also remembered when you complained to her you had already filled out all the pages of your notebook and Jesse never brought a new one, but always brought something to Dina.

"Maybe I didn't give you one so you wouldn't write those things anymore, can you imagine if our parents read that?" Ellie's eyes turned to Jesse, who was smiling and teasing his sister with no real malice involved. "I didn't even know you knew those things. So intense that I blushed."

Quickly you turned to slap your brother's arm, your ears and cheeks red, and mouth slightly open with shock. "You weren't even supposed to have touched that notebook, let alone read it!" Your voice sounded high-pitched.

"My little sister, now a woman. Writing p- ow!" Dina pulled on Jesse's ear, causing a groan of pain from the man who then burst out laughing and gave you a bear hug. "Chill out, I'm just joking."

Ellie watched as Jesse laughed and you tried to get out of his embrace still trying to slap his arm weakly. Dina also laughed as she told her boyfriend to leave his sister alone.

If there was one thing Ellie was very proud of about herself, it was that she always minded her own business and respected others' privacy. But what her friend said was like a vortex in her head. Jesse asking what you would do if your parents read what you wrote. You, all red and embarrassed.

What the fuck do you write in your notebooks? ♥

It was one of those days that Ellie went on patrol extremely sleepy.

It wasn't something she was proud of, but this time it wasn't her fault. It was yours. What do you usually write? She thought maybe it was something like horror, but Ellie knew you were fearful and didn't like to be scared. And horror wouldn't leave that fucking beautiful red color on your cheeks.

Could it be something naughty?

God, Ellie fucking knew you had a perverted side that you let slip once or twice, but you're not as open about it as her or Dina. Did you write dirty stuff in your notebook? What would you write about? About characters you created? About people you knew? About yourself? Ellie scolded herself at the thought you could write about her.

If you were to write about her, what would you write?

"I hope there won't be any infected today or we will die in less than 2 minutes," Dina said with a teasing voice. "What got you so distracted today?"

Letting out a sigh, Ellie decided to trust Dina. It's not like her friend is going to tell Jesse what she was going to say anyway. If there's one thing Dina believed in the 'chicks before dicks' code. Honestly, Ellie needed to unravel before she went crazy.

"It's just," she cleared her throat. "I can't fucking stop thinking about what Jesse said at the party. About the notebook."

"Oh, that," the brunette let out a low chuckle as she shook her head. "Well, I might know a thing or two, but I won't tell you."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Thought I was your best friend." Ellie's voice sounded playful. "C'mon, throw me a bone."

Dina felt bad she was having so much fun at Ellie's expense, but she couldn't help but find it funny how the auburn-haired girl wanted to know anything that was related to you. As she got older, Ellie had become a more closed off person and disinterested in other people outside her personal circle. Seeing her grow closer to you was impressive to say, at least. Dina liked you much better than Cat.

"Look, Jesse didn't give many details, but that day he seemed a little dumbfounded by what he read," Dina spoke as she led her horse to go slower. They were arriving at the patrol building. "He commented something about how he didn't imagine you'd write those things, but that he should have expected it by now, since you're an adult."

When they arrived at the building, Ellie and Dina got off the horses and grabbed their backpacks. As they walked up the stairs, Dina wondered if she was doing the right thing by telling her friend what she knew, but she was tired of seeing the two of you obviously crushing on each other without doing anything about it.

"Listen up, I didn't tell you anything. You don't know anything! But Jesse said you wrote about girls. Intimate letters about girls. Now can you stop making excuses for yourself and try to get your fucking dream girl?"

Ellie was not religious, but she thanked God at that moment for the opportunity. You liking girls was a victory. Now she needed to convince you that the two of you would be fucking awesome together.

♥

If Ellie thanked God earlier, now she was cursing him. If he really existed, he was doing some kind of cruel test on her.

A simple and very organized room. It was easy to see what you liked when she walked in. Your books, your posters, your desk with some pencils and pens lying around. The slightly open drawer that Ellie could see the notebook she had given you as a gift inside.

She couldn't hear you in the bathroom, since it was downstairs. She didn't even know if you would take a long time in the shower. But her eyes were glued to the drawer and her fingers were itching to pick up the notebook and read at least one page of what you wrote.

"Fuck," she whispered as she got closer to the drawer. "I'm such a fucking bad person."

And it was at that moment that she, without making a noise, opened the drawer.

♥

Even with the world pretty much ending, you loved the fact that Jackson allowed people to have a little bit of peace. This allowed you to dress more comfortably - you were not one of the people responsible for patrols - so wearing dresses, for example, wasn't a problem for you. And you liked it.

Which led you to wear a dress today. Today, the day Ellie had arranged to watch a movie with you. In her house.

With limited resources, you had to make do with the basics of personal hygiene. Soap and a simple shampoo did their best to keep you clean and smelling good. And you had to admit you used it a lot to always make a good impression on Ellie.

The girl with a freckled face and green eyes you've been in love with since you were 14 years old.

But today Ellie was acting differently. Ever since you came out of the bathroom, already dressed, she was acting weird. Not a bad weird, but weird all the same.

You could tell Ellie was touching you more than usual. Her hand guiding you by soft touches in you back while taking you to her house, sending shivers down your neck. Her whispering things in your ear as if she was telling you a secret and 'unintentionally' touching her lips to your ear while sitting on her couch during the movie. Her voice sounding hoarser than usual. Jesus Christ, you didn't even know someone's voice could sound so hot.

Ever since you met Ellie, she had never spoken or acted like this to you. Maybe it was because you were Jesse's sister or she wasn't attracted to you. The only thing you had was your imagination. And you imagined a lot of things with Ellie Williams.

Your notebooks were proof of that.

What you weren't expecting was a scene of a couple kissing deeply in the movie. It was a suspense movie you didn't even remember the title. The chances of those characters dying were high, but at that moment, the man was pulling the woman by her hair while devouring her mouth. Fuck, you could see their tongue inside each other's mouths.

With your body rigid with embarrassment and your throat dry, you could feel your face heat up as you took a deep breath. Then you felt Ellie's eyes on you. Her hand slowly reached yours while she got closer, her shoulders touching your when she slightly leaned forward staring into your eyes.

"Hey," her voice low, she was so close you could feel her breath hitting your cheeks. You didn't look in her direction. "You alright?"

The guy took off the woman's blouse while kissing her neck. The woman let out a moan as she tried to rip off his shirt. Your eyes turned to Ellie's and you gave her a faint smile. "Yeah, I'm good."

Emerald eyes stared at your mouth. Her face tilted slightly as she moved closer and closer. The hand that had previously touched yours was now holding your chin lightly not allowing you to move your face away from her. Not that you really wanted to. "Bet you are."

Her lips were like a phantom touch, making you crave for her. Her nose lightly caressing yours. Ellie could get you mesmerized easily. The moans became background noise. "Ellie..."

"Let me kiss you," she sounded almost desperate. You wondered if she wanted you as much as you wanted her. "I promise it'll be good. It's going to be so fucking good."

Kissing ellie was hot as lava.

♥

Kissing girls has always been good. They were soft everywhere, and it felt so good to feel every bit of them during the kiss. Their arms around her neck, the soft waist that Ellie loved to squeeze against her. Their weight on her lap and their breasts pressed against hers. The moans they let out against her mouth. Kissing women made perfect sense to Ellie.

But kissing you was a fucking whole new experience.

Maybe it was the feelings involved. Ellie remembers that Dina had mentioned how special it was to be with someone you really loved. Now she gets it. She understands the way you kiss her back so enthusiastically, as if you've been waiting for her all your life. She understands because she's been writing songs about what it would be like to feel your mouth against her.

Her hands ran down your back and arms until they stopped at your waist, pushing you against the couch. Your body didn't reject hers, you obeyed Ellie's silent commands without a second thought. Your hands went to her neck, pulling her against you. Your legs wrapped around her waist, making your pretty dress slip up to your hips.

Every piece of clothing that came out, Ellie was more sure that you were everything she ever wanted. Your fucking delicious moans, your warm skin against hers, your mouth demanding hers, your hands running possessively down her body, you whining her name. The way you fucking begged her.

The way you fucking tasted against her mouth.

You, with a thin blanket of sweat on your skin guiding her to the ground, climbing on top of her, kissing her body in every way. Using your tongue to send shivers down every part of Ellie's body. Calling her beautiful, while kissing her stomach and lightly squeezing her breasts.

"I've always dreamed of this." Your voice came out fluttered as you made your way between her legs.

Ellie fucking loved space. And she felt you show her the whole fucking universe with your tongue.

♥

"If your freckles spread over the rest of your body like on your face, I would kiss and caress each of her with my tongue. Did you know that? All I can think about at night is your husky voice saying my name as I imagine you lying next to me in bed. Your fingers dancing through my body and your mouth glued to mine as if you can't ever let me go. And I wouldn't. Not where you can't reach me. I wonder if I would ever have the courage to hand you these letters. If I'll be able to taste you one day as I always write on these pages. Holding you in my arms while I drink everything you can offer me between your legs. I wouldn't let you go until all you could think about was me.

I don't know if I'd be enough for you, Ellie.

But I would give everything for you to love me as I love you. To kiss me like you kiss me whenever I think of you while I make myself come in my own hands."

[esther-dot]

Fans are stating that Jaime killed the Mad King. So how he could go back to another Mad Queen. Like as if Cersei wasn't his twin sister, lover and mother of his children for years. Also Jaime killing Night King was way different than what he is in books now. Plus he killed Aerys to protect his father Tywin who sacked KL and killed Elia and her children. Also why was there rage when he going to kill another Mad Queen. Do they forget that Dany wanted to kill Jaime for killing her father?

Men killing their lovers is gross and I keep saying no one wants to read /watch that, but it isn't true for this fandom, is it? They were very enthusiastic about it and wanted it, just for some women, not others. They wanted Jaime to strangle his sister/lover/mother of his children, declared it character assassination when he didn’t, but then said it was sexist that Jon killed Dany to stop her from carrying out her stated intention of attacking other cities/castles. 🤦🏻‍♀️

As for Jaime's morality regarding "mad kings" and "mad queens," I do think the books and show made it pretty clear that Jaime wasn’t exactly a picture of virtue. I mean, he was fucking his sister, he was down for a little kid killing (sorry, Bran), even though his big dishonorable act is revealed to have actually been a good thing, it doesn't change his characterization over-all. I don't remember anything specific that made me believe it, other than a general, "born together, die together" idea, but I always thought he would die with Cersei. When that happened on the show and fans had a major meltdown, I argued he was a better man for trying to save his lover than if he hadn’t. And, I appreciated it too, because, as riddled with nonsense as s8 was, what made the show (more so, ASOIAF), compelling was that the characters weren't standins for us. They surprised me because what they did wasn't what I wanted, but what they wanted. Jaime's feelings for Cersei were real, the lust, betrayal, anger, obsession...it made for an immersive experience because I couldn't project or predict. I treasure that. I admire that aspect of Martin's writing so much.

Let's think of it this way, what is the point of a POV story unless we accept that every character has a personal history and limited perspective which will impact the choices they make? It made total sense to me that people in Westeros would reject Dany, she's invading! So, Jaime deciding to try to take her out makes sense not only because he must keep up his tradition of Targ killing, but also, who would welcome someone who shows up with monsters who can just...burn an army alive? Destroy a city in a few minutes? Why would you think that person has good intentions? Why would anyone think, "I don't know, maybe they'll be nice." Add on the fact that her dad was intending to burn women and children, it isn't plausible that Jaime would think well of Dany, not when he just witnessed her burning countless men alive. Attempting to kill her makes an awful lot of sense for him.

And, I should add, I don't take issue with Dany wanting to have him executed either! The fascinating part of having a huge cast, having people with histories that have them on opposing sides is to allow them to interact in that context, not to dismiss it as soon as it will make things interesting. I can't defend how D&D wrote any of this, we've all criticized it endlessly, but tbh, a good portion of the fandom had worse ideas. Worse interpretations of the characters, far more cliché ideas of everyone getting along, far, far more insulting dream endings.

But, I suppose that was largely a result of how D&D were playing games. They didn't understand that emotionally manipulating your audience into siding with (or against) characters by undercutting or rewriting characters at whim would result in absolute confusion about the moral framework of the story.  You can't have a satisfying ending if that ending supports ideals you've deleted from the story and condemns the ones you've been celebrating all along.

[blorbocedes]

Please! Director’s Cut for Monza maxiel 🥺

ohoho 😈 okay, so. Monza 21 is the one fic I knew i HAD to write, as an homage to the winner's room trope that we talk about on this blog, and specifically the one sided maxiel dynamic. both of it going hand in hand.

I've actually never done a director's commentary below so uhh spoilers below:

I had a lot of fun, since we're writing from 2022 to add in some references and future gutpunches~ like~

this whole interaction with Zak, and then the "this would not be his final win in Formula One" 💀💀💀

Daniel POV is really fun in this cause he's a proper unreliable narrator 😭 he's so delusional

this whole paragraph is like...... girl he is Not waiting for you 😭😭😭 i hope it's evident in the fic that the reason daniel keeps rmbring 2016 is cause wanting max is a representation of wanting his own redbull slay era back, and he's clinging on this win like his last resort -- and the hint of resentment towards max now, for winning, for finally having the car that was promised to Daniel

I actually debated a lot about a particular scene that could go two ways.

1, they do a shoey in the hotel room, before everything else. Daniel being super into the ritual aspect and harkening back to The Past and max not being super into it but Daniel obv brushing it off

2. daniel wants to do the shoey after but max leaves and DR is like okay whatever we'll do it at Abu Dhabi/when the championship is won and max picks ME

didn't go with 1 because -- I already wrote the cognac scene and daniel pouring more for max, which is an intentional detail that would go remissed in a shoey AND cause champagne doesn't really get you that drunk. plus pathetic + delusional are the character notes I wanted to hit, so 2 really sealed the deal

I wondered what to put on Daniel's sex playlist, just to make it gross. so obviously John Mayer's your body is a wonderland ~~ ye, the weeknd, drake, pitbull but 2010s club fuckboy music. and ofc the CBAT Reddit song but sadly this fic is in 2021:/

I was actually debating how dubcon to make it. In my head I was turning a dial -- too dubcon/not dubcon enough. I knew I wanted Daniel to say, "it's tradition" but in a "hey, don't make me Say the situation we're in dictates the winner gets to fuck who they choose but hey I'm a Good Guy" way but I had to figure out how to get there. if max says No or I don't Want this, we go into full non con territory, if max reciprocates it's not dubcon Enough. truly I was in my Google docs like 🧪👩‍🔬⚗️

there's some Nico mentions, to highlight Daniel is thinking of 2016. but also because I was like 😈 why not

He remembers one time after Nico had blathered on and on how full-body Brazilian waxes gave him that millisecond edge over Lewis; Max and Daniel wanted to try out the body hair hypothesis. Max had been the giggling, willing subject completely hairless in the face so it wouldn't be too suspicious as Daniel went to town on the electric shaver. Arms, back, the soft fuzzy happy trail leading downwards… The coarser, darker curls nestled around the base of his dick, aroused and alert, as Daniel cleanly shaved it off; Max’s choked off little gasp as Daniel got to the balls, careful and hyperfocused. Daniel had eaten him out there, against the sink, Max shivering and sensitive everywhere and Daniel couldn't help but run his fingers over the smooth, hairless skin. Max had a mechanical engine failure the next race, and they chalked their hypothesis off to inconclusive.

this was important cause the baby maxiel WAS reciprocal!!! max used to be super into him!!!! so that the readers can contrast their past dynamic to what's happening now 🫣 also a ref to mondaycore's shaving carlando mafia au

Maybe Kelly prefers him like this, smooth like a baby. And obviously, good for them or whatever, but that age difference was a little suspect – cougar going after someone much younger. Daniel ignored that he was the same age as her, or that his girlfriend was the same age as Max and focused on the task at hand.

out of pocket, honestly. writer doesn't believe in subtext they're gonna spell it out.

“Condom?” Max yelps, a little panicked. And Daniel grins, proud of his little lion for learning about safe sex. Hopefully, that means he's not putting a baby in that girlfriend of his. There was a time when Max would beg him to bareback, cause he saw it in porn and wanted to try it; and as hot as the idea was, finishing inside Max, watching his hole desperately try to hold and spill the come it can't hold, Daniel was a single man back then and getting way too much pussy to even consider it. Although… if Max had been safe with his girlfriend, and he wasn't fucking anyone during his Winner’s Room picks…

this entire section was . i wanted to punch Daniel in the face. this is also incredibly delusional of Daniel to assume just cause Max is playing video games with Lando meant he wasn't fucking anyone (cause ooooobviously he's not picking Daniel so who would he been fucking?)

the part where Daniel's staring at him in the mirror in the bathroom is I think a good breather from everything that just happened, sort of post nut clarity lol. Daniel thinking Max will pull his share of the weight in the shower, since Daniel just did all the work now. It's not like he's keeping score except he totally is

Seeing Daniel, he looks a little guilty, like he got caught scrambling out as fast as he could,

Daniel even identifies it correctly, but refuses to acknowledge it for what it is.

They've crossed the minimum allotted time for the FIA, and he can't actually stop Max from leaving.

this is a throwaway line but it's so fucking telling. skull emoji. 💀 also a bit of world building for the WR rules

“I'm not 19 anymore.” Max says pointedly, and what does that have to do with anything? Max shrugs his polo on and when Daniel doesn't say anything or try to stop him, softens. “Listen, this was…” Max searches for an adjective that does not come. Daniel fills it in his mind, ‘great’, ‘mind-blowing’, ‘simply lovely’, “Yeah. Congrats again on the win, Daniel.”

so many things were happening in this paragraph!!! but mostly Daniel filling in the blanks and Max not saying anything is SOOOO shjdjfjdk

then to soften out daniel, he says he believes in max WDC. And he does! and maybe there was a time when max would've needed to hear this, but now it's just a nice thing to hear. he doesn't need Daniel like that anymore

someone in the comments was like "noo I feel so bad for daniel" and i was like 😭 why...... he's completely absorbed in his own ego and trying to ignore his flop era (that's why the lando mentions!!!), and when he has even a modicum of power (race win), he feels entitled to it. if anything the ending to Me is comeuppance. but I also respect once it's out into the world; everyone has their own interpretation of the fic.

i can go on and on, but it's already embarrassingly long. uhh I listened to Drake's Find Your Love like a million times to get into Daniel POV.

I'm more than just an option, refuse to be forgotten

I'm really happy with the fic, I think it's what I wanted the monza WR to be, and it's still fun to read despite The Horrors

[thedawningofthehour]

Now that you've said how long this story is gonna be, can you say how much of it did you have planned before either writing or uploading it? Could you share your process for plotting everything out and all that?

When I first started writing? I had jack shit planned. I literally had an idea in my head of Donnie being captured by Draxum and being a little fucking shit and wrote that out for funsies. I do this a lot-I have a lot of projects in my Google Docs where I wrote 2-5, maybe 10k words at the absolute most and got bored. I just didn't get bored with this one. I kept having ideas and refining them in my head while in the shower/trying to go to bed. I had written most of Donnie's table content and I'd say the first two-ish chapters of Leo's POV? before I really considered posting it.

By the time I started seriously revising with the intent of posting, yeah I had a general series of events solidified in my head and was vicariously imagining the 'big scenes' before bed like a Netflix show. (For writers following along, every writer has a different approach to plotting and it's really more of a matter of finding what suits you best, but do have a general idea of what's going to happen next and where you're going. Don't go "oh, I'll figure it out as I go along"-ya won't. You can always change the destination if you do think of something better, but don't rely on having a brilliant brain blast moment at 3 AM) I have added more as time went on-Bella was seriously supposed to be a super minor side character where it would never even be stated that she was Draxum's niece, (I was actually going to kill her off-screen) and she just took life and beat me over the head with my keyboard. And I did alter arc 2 a bit to give Mikey a bigger role because I do love him, even if I shaft him a lot, and his philosophy is going to play a major role in everyone else's character development. (that's gonna be my excuse, this is all about character development! And Mikey is perfect the way he is)

As far as my process for plotting...you guys seem to be under some impression that I'm the captain of this ship. Buddy. I am a stowaway watching and listening and frantically writing it all down. I do not steer the ship. I do not even guide the ship. At times I whisper to the characters and suggest they move in a certain direction, and a good portion of the time they tell me to fuck off and do what they like. I know I'm literally the author but I have no control over these things. Certain things just Happen. I don't plan it. It just pops into my head and won't leave me alone.

[fathertaurus]

A Nate Jacobs Blurb part 2

A/N: Here it is! The long awaited part 2 I’ve had so many of you ask for lol. I want to mention before reading that the opening scene takes place after an hour or two into the party scene and kinda just opens up on a random scene. I didn’t feel like there was any real need to make this super long as I only wrote the most definitive moment for these characters to carry the storyline along.

I hope to continue this story as I do have many ideas but anything I post will probably just continue to be written as installments such as this and the one previous to it, as I don’t want it to be my main line of work. I’m always coming up with new ideas and I don’t like simply having one on the forefront as it places to much pressure on writing.

Regardless I hope you enjoy!

a disclaimer: If you have seen the show Euphoria you know what the character Nate Jacobs is like and what he’s done. This is not me condoning the actions of this character--in fact, I urge you to view him as the bad guy he is when reading this. That’s how I wrote it, that’s what I wanted to portray because I’ve yet to write a character as such. Though his actions may not come off as terrible when reading this remember who he is written as and try and read it in that way. 

WARNINGS: alluded sexual assault, foul language 

The crystalize haze taking over her entire perception of reality right now was almost near blinding to what was happening. The alcohol and whatever that asshole had slipped into her drink had truly and officially taken its toll on her physical being, her vision and balance being hit the worst. Her body laid skewed across the pile of blankets and sheets, having little to no strength to even shuffle through them and find her way up. 

She couldn’t determine though if that was solely for the obvious roofie or also from the shock of watching Nate barge into the room—practically snapping the door off it’s hinges, and ripping Chris from atop of her before (with a speed she had never witnessed in her life) wrestling him out the door and down the hallway. 

Through it all though and the now busted open door she was able to make out the figures of everyone still filling the living room from her placement on the guest bed, the energy to move no longer permitted in her body but simply her eyes which watched with as much intent as they could muster up.

There was yelling, screaming, and a series of other loud noises, all echoing back to her a million times louder than they probably actually were. Figures moved in flashes and the lights burned into her skull as they danced across the catastrophe spilling all over Elias’ parents’ living room wood. Her hands were on her temples before she could even feel them, body making the intent of covering her ears to attempt to silence all the overstimulation.

Bleary eyed she breathed a deep sigh and tried to find herself, but that moment being ripped away as another set of yelling broke out, the shrills emitted from Nate himself. 

He was in the dead center of it all, hands (from what she could tell) wrapped around the throat of Chris Daniel’s as he looked to be throwing him to the floor. Followed by more commotion, a body hitting the floor—it looked to give the tall brunette new access to whomever’s torso, as he barreled his foot into it repeatedly. 

If only she wasn’t swimming her own vision, her own thoughts, maybe then she could truly make it all out. But the way that pill made her skin ripple over her bones and her own brain pound its way out of her skull was too much, focus was lost on her. 

Before she even had a choice to say or do otherwise her eyes slipped closed and she sunk into the abyss of her body again.

Though she was nearing unconsciousness her ears pricked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were distinctively heavy and almost mismatched—like the person was stumbling over their own two feet. 

Crossing the carpet until they were near her own body she could hear mumbling above her.

“God dammit.” 

Even in her current state she could recognize that voice, the one that belonged to the person who was just moments ago beating the life out of someone. Nate.

“Look at you.” He whispered. 

The feelings of hands along the sides of her hips heightened her senses for a split second, a whine rolling from the back of her lips as to protest. 

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay it’s okay.” The fingertips grasped at the length of her dress and slowly they pulled it back down-- the whole movement now familiar to a piece of her memory somewhere in the back of her mind, “You’re okay I promise.”

There was a brush of her hair out of her face, the touch cascading down her face to her shoulders where she could make little notice of her sleeves being pulled back up. 

Within seconds the same arms were now wrapped around her form and she was being lifted from the bed. The rocking of her motionless figure was the only distinctive thing she was able to recognize before sleep finally took her under in one vast swoop of both of her eyes shutting close. —————————

(POV SWITCH)

Swaying gently back and forth on his feet Nate turned the hall into her bedroom, careful to watch her head as he shuffled through the door. 

The memories of their infamous night flooded back to him instantly, but now as he carried her unconscious body to her bed, he was able to take in the details surrounding them. Her room was a light shade of blue, decorated with huge posters starring various artists and movie stars. 

It triggered a memory from a month or so ago. Sat around a lunch table only one over from her own he could vividly remember overhearing her and April Denavive discussing that Timothée Chalamet kid and how Y/N had such an affinity for him. 

”He was so incredible in Little Women, I swear I’d give anything to just hold his hand or something.” Nate from his seat could see that her rambles caused April to snort into her fruit cup, the red head shaking her head at her friend.

”God Y/N you’re such a virgin.” 

She made sure to swat at April’s arm, poking her finger into her side for sure measure, ”Oh fuck off.” 

April laughed aloud once more as she pushed back before managing to maneuver her arms around her friend, squeezing her in a tight embrace before pressing kisses to her cheeks. 

”No no no, it’s cute!” She gushed, “It’s cute how much you want to fuck that French boy but can’t work up the nerve to say it.”

”April! God--He’s American his dad is just French--oh you know what never mind I hate you.” “N-Nate?”

Returning back to reality Nate was almost startled at the sound of another voice, completely forgetting where he was for a moment. Drawing his eyes downward he found himself back in Y/N’s room, still hovering over her side.

“Shh,” he cooed, fingers tangling in the ends of her hair as he brushed them off of her forehead, admiring the array of glitter from her eyeshadow decorating her skin. It made her shine even brighter than how he always saw her. “You’re safe now..sleep.”

She rustled amongst her blankets, nose curling and eyebrows furrowing as she struggled, a huff following.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, instantly taking notice of her discomfort. She whined innocently, sitting herself up with her eyes still wired shut and began to tug at the sleeves of her dress. 

“Itchy,” She breathed another huff as she tore at the seems, “Need it...off.”

Nate’s entire demeanor shifted. He watched her meticulously as she pulled at the material until it was up and over her chest—but the poor drunk girl seemed to lose all momentum as her arms suddenly dropped, the dress now a mess sagging off of her neck. 

Another shrill moan echoed from Y/N, not having the energy to pull the rest of the dress off and expressing her frustrations. Nate waved her off.

“Shush, I’ve got it.” Reaching forward he pulled the rest of the dress up and off of her figure, careful to not get her earrings or hair caught, before tossing it to the side just shy of her hamper he noticed upon entrance into her room.

A deep, noticeable breath expelled from her lungs before she fell back amongst the pillows, body now severely bare to Nate—the only thing keeping her covered being her bra with a pair of matching panties around her hips. 

It was pink, the bra, lace yet exuded softness with its subtle tone of color and petite bow in the middle to add a touch of innocence. Her underwear resonated in the same way; they were different than Nate had pictured when his fingers grasped at them earlier that night. He was expecting something more revealing as was common with most girls at parties like that, or in high school in general. But they weren’t—they were form fitting, far from raunchy and bore a soft pink hue like her bra, which was different than the deep red he once imagined.

And it all looked so right on her.

Y/N had seemed to finally settle in her sheets, sleep overtaking her whole figure as she noticeably sank deeper into the mattress. Nate took that as his moment to breathe in, truly, the sight before him. 

His eyes nearly followed her every move with adamancy, in an effort to note every singular detail possibly manufactured by her sleeping frame that he could then later remember at his pleasing. 

“You are so,” his fingers traced down the length of her arm, watching as the touch triggered a wave of goosebumps even as she was unconscious; He smiled, “Perfect.” 

Drawing back he grasped at the blanket before tugging it up and over her body, covering her up to her chest. Tucking in the sides of the cover to her skin he rustled them until he deemed her absolutely comfortable and then took his place  at the flank of her bed once more. 

“And you are all mine.” -------------------------

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, send requests for more if you liked!

[sineala]

Captain America: The Great Gold Steal

I wrote this up last week because I did not have access to my usual comics files but I figured I could review something that was just a book. So here is a review of the 1968 Captain America novel Captain America: The Great Gold Steal by Ted White, with an introduction by Stan Lee. I really liked it, actually! It was surprisingly good!

This novel features: Cover art of Captain America holding his shield in one hand and a very large gun in the other! A scene where the villains dramatically unmask Captain America and have absolutely no idea who he is! Captain America being extremely, extremely depressed about being in the future! Captain America dropping acid!

(I'm not kidding about the last part. In this novel there is a lot of LSD use. By Captain America. Talk about something the Comics Code wouldn't ever let you put in a comic book. Thank you, 1968.)

Faithful readers may remember that some time ago I posted reviews of Marvel prose novels from the 1970s. There was a line of prose novels featuring everyone's favorite Marvel superheroes, published by Pocket Books in the late 70s; I have reviews of the Iron Man, Captain America, and Avengers entries in the series; I liked the Iron Man one best, and I also have a Doctor Strange one I have not yet read. They're all short and action-packed paperback reads, of varying quality; the only one by anyone you might have heard of is the Avengers one, which was written by David Michelinie, who was actually writing the Avengers run at the time. That one was, um. An experience. 

(Yes, it's "prose novel" because otherwise the assumption is "graphic novel.")

Marvel still publishes prose novels now, of course, also of varying quality; some are new plots and some are straight-up novelizations of comics arcs, which I guess is useful if you want to, say, read Civil War and not look at pictures at the same time. I also have a bunch of those that I could probably review if anyone wants. But, anyway, I personally am particularly intrigued by the older Marvel prose novels, both because the stories are all original and not retellings, and also because I often prefer the characterization found in older comics. And the older prose novels of course use the then-current characterization. So reading a Marvel prose novel from 1979 is like getting to read a brand-new comic from 1979, and that's a whole lot of fun for a nerd like me. Also do you know what's not subject to the Comics Code? Prose novels. So things can happen in these that definitely could not happen in comics of the same era.

This brings me to my current prose novel, which is something else entirely. I mean, okay, not really, it's still a Marvel prose novel. But it's not part of the same line. It's actually a lot older.

Bantam Books actually published Marvel prose novels in the late 60s. Yep, a full decade earlier. They published exactly two, so I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that they were probably not bestsellers. The first one, which I do not own and now sort of want to track down, was an Avengers novel in 1967, The Avengers Battle the Earth-Wrecker. And then in 1968 they published the novel I am currently holding in my hands, Captain America: The Great Gold Steal by Ted White.

(I am still not sure why no one involved in titling this book thought of the word "theft.")

Judging by the back copy, it appears to be about Captain America foiling the villains' dastardly plan to steal gold from the Federal Reserve. Oh boy. Fun.

So this book is from 1968. The modern Marvel universe had kicked off just a few short years ago! Captain America was just getting his own solo book after the end of Tales of Suspense! And here's a novel about him, back when certain elements of his characterization were perhaps a little more flexible than they are today, by which I mean that the cover art -- which the internet informs me was painted by Mitchell Hooks -- is a striking full-body portrait of Captain America, head held high, shield in one hand... and a very large gun in the other. Hell, yeah. Not gonna see that in today's Cap comics, are you? It's amazing and I love it.

(Okay, you might see that in Ults. I'm pretty sure I have seen that in Ults, actually. But this is still cool.)

So the cover art is a definite plus, and apparently it's one of the few reasons anyone has ever heard of this novel. The other reason -- and the reason this is more expensive than the later novels, I assume -- is that Stan Lee's name is slapped on the cover, because he wrote an introduction. (I think I paid about $30 for this. The others were definitely under $20.)

All right. Here we go.

The first page is actually a brief summary of Steve's origin story, but not a version I was familiar with. Steve was born July 9, 1917 (yes, I was surprised too), was orphaned at a young age, and was a student at Columbia University (!) before Rebirth, which in this version is a gradual process that is also extremely body-horror. Steel tubing was inserted into the marrows of his bones. He was fed "high-protein compounds." Then they gave him a chemical that "gave him complete control over every nerve, muscle, and cell in his now-magnificent body." Sweet. Where can I get some of that?

The blurb also confirms his control over his own metabolism as well as his healing factor ("wounds would heal in half the normal time"), which is nice, because sometimes I wonder if canon even remembers the healing factor.

(I don't know why Marvel has this kink for filling people's bones with metal, though. It's not actually empty in there, guys! You need your bone marrow! How else do you want people to make new blood cells?)

The book is dedicated to "Jack Kirby and Stan Lee, without whom there would be no Captain America." Hey, Marvel, Joe Simon would like a word with you. I'm just saying.

The Stan Lee introduction is three paragraphs written in Stan Lee's, um, inimitable, distinctive and extremely florid narrative style -- if you've read any of his work, you know what I mean -- and making the point that Captain America is incredible and you will like him. If you are just discovering him for the first time, you will definitely like him. Okay. Thanks. I guess.

Oddly, the writing style here is substantially different than any of the other Marvel prose novels I've read; it doesn't immediately front-load you with exposition and a cast of colorful superheroes. It opens with a sort of James Bond spy-novel feel, running through a series of unnamed villains and bystanders, and a man who wants nothing more than to talk to Captain America but is killed before he can. Steve comes in halfway through the chapter, and he seems to be written for a reader who doesn't necessarily know who he is, and he isn't introduced as Captain America with his shield flying ahead of him to smite evildoers, or anything like that. He's just a tall, handsome blond guy who is reading a bunch of novels and is unsatisfied by all of them because all he can think of is the past. It's definitely an attitude I would expect from Steve in this era -- he is very much a Man Out Of Time here -- but it's also not how I expected the book to introduce him. You wouldn't even know he was Captain America by the end of the opening chapter, which then ends with a digression about the history of NYC subway tunnels. It's like it wants to appeal to someone who has watched a bunch of Man from UNCLE and just wants to read a cool thriller. Which is not at all what I was expecting.

By the beginning of the second chapter, of course, we discover that Steve is Captain America, as he changes into his uniform. The narration refers to him as Rogers when it's in his POV, if anyone is curious. He apparently keeps the cowl off in the mansion, because the cowl annoys him.

It was not so much that he needed to conceal his identity these days, because for all intents and purposes he had no other identity. Steve Rogers was officially dead, and had been for almost twenty years. Captain America *was* his identity. It was only when he donned the tight-fitting blue uniform with its shield chest-emblem, the red snug-fitting leather boots, and the heavy, yet pressure-sensitive red-leather gauntlets, that he began to feel real -- a complete human being.

Steve? Buddy, are you okay there? You're really not okay, are you, huh?

You see what I mean? They're really hitting the early-canon angst. Hard.

(Also it sounds like his uniform is a few sizes too small.)

We then get an expanded version of the backstory from the beginning excerpt. In this version of canon, Steve actually has an older brother, Alan, who is handsome and athletic and basically amazing, and when they are orphaned they are raised by their aunt and uncle. Steve gets TB twice as a kid, nearly dies from it, and when the stock market crashes, ends up separated from his brother and in an orphanage after his uncle loses everything.

(Honestly if I were writing this book, his brother would be the secret villain. Chekhov's Gun!)

Steve has glasses, gets bullied, is a nerd and an honor student, and studies law at Columbia because he wants to help stop fraudulent business practices and also fight organized crime. Legally, I mean. In a manner relating to law. I guess he's sort of like Daredevil. The lawyer part of Daredevil.

And then he joins Rebirth, and this is the part where I had to put the book down for several minutes, because Erskine's secret chemical, the key to making super-soldiers... is LSD.

Oh my God. You should see my face right now. My expression is, I am sure, indescribable. I'm trying not to wake the dog up laughing.

I just. Holy shit. This book is from 1968 in a way I definitely was not expecting. What the fuck, Marvel?

This project was headed by the brilliant biochemist, Dr. Erskine. His work with the endocrine system, and chemical body control, was well beyond that of his contemporaries. Only he, of all his colleagues, had fathomed the secrets of the Swiss Dr. Hoffman's 1938 discovery -- the mind-controlling LSD-25.

Let's just pause here for a few minutes and contemplate this.

I will point out that Albert Hofmann (yes, the book spelled his name wrong) didn't actually discover that LSD was a hallucinogen until 1943 when he accidentally tried it, but I am positive that 1968 here was a time when Some People were convinced LSD was a wonder drug. I'm still laughing. As far as I can tell, legal manufacturing of it stopped in 1965 so I am pretty sure that the author did not just decide to name a drug that had an ostensible legal therapeutic use, because it wouldn't have still had one by '68.

Anyway, in this version of events, Rebirth is a month-long process that involves a lot of vitamins, physical conditioning and training, and, yes, putting metal in his bones like he's the next Wolverine. They're filling his bones with stainless steel rods to make him stronger. That doesn't seem like a great idea to me, but I am also not sure about dropping acid to gain superpowers. Clearly I am not a genius scientist. Also Erskine knows what DNA is, apparently, because he's just that great. Anyway. Other than the metal, those all seem like relatively normal interventions. So far.

Now Steve has become fairly big and strong (and I guess he still has metal in his bones? this concerns me!) but they need to make him superhuman, so, yes, really, it's time to drop acid. Several pages of this book are devoted to describing Steve's acid trip. His acid trip is amazing and he discovers that he has conscious control of his entire body down to the cellular level. He can control the adrenaline in his bloodstream! He can tighten his muscle fibers! And when he's done tripping he still remembers how to do this, if not exactly on a conscious level, but he can still access the abilities. And that is how you make a super-soldier. It's LSD. Remember, kids, drugs are awesome! Do drugs!

Let's maybe take a few more minutes to think about this.

I just. I have no words. How did anyone at Marvel agree to print this?

I think for the most part superhero origin stories tend not to involve real drugs because people are generally aware that drugs they've heard of won't make you into a superhero. I guess this is what it looks like when you invoke the names of real drugs. They probably wanted something that sounded more realistic but somehow I don't think this was the best way to go. (Radiation, of course, will definitely make you into a superhero but I feel like most people have accepted that as one of the conventions of the genre.)

Anyway, after that Erskine gets killed by Nazis, of course, and Steve goes to war, and for some reason this book contains footnotes by Stan Lee himself listing the comics you can read all of this in. Just like the actual comics do!

We are introduced to Bucky, who for some reason is also from the LES in this version, although not anyone Steve knew before the war, and there is of course a description of Bucky's tragic death and Steve's subsequent icing.

They are really, really stressing the Man Out Of Time thing here:

No other man could have survived so fantastic a voyage through time. And no other man could feel so displaced by time.

He was a man twenty years in his own future. By rights, he should be nearly fifty years old -- nearly twice the age of his fellow Avengers. Yet his mind and his body were not yet thirty.

When the Avengers had brought him back to New York with them and insisted that, as an honored hero of the past, he join them, he felt a sort of melancholy homesickness for his own time and world.

We then get a few paragraphs with the usual being sad that he let Bucky down and got him killed, and also that he misses his family, and that Steve Rogers doesn't exist anymore, and that nobody is alive who remembers him, and that war is hell.

Hey, Steve, maybe the drugs you should do are antidepressants. Just a thought.

Also, this book is 118 pages and we're not out of the origin story flashback until page 34. I think there are some pacing issues here.

Actually, I lied, the flashback keeps going, but now we're up to the Avengers finding him, and I have to say that the list of things Steve finds strange about the future is kind of charming when the future is 1968. Men have long hair! Women have shorter skirts! Everyone is kind of blasé about rocket launches because there have been so many space missions now. (Oh, come on, you haven't even landed on the moon yet, 1968! You're not that blasé.) Color TV! And, excitingly, LPs! You can now listen to 36 minutes of consecutive music. (I actually don't know what previous standard he's describing that is a ten-inch record that holds six minutes a side because I don't think 45s are that big. Yeah, no, I just checked and 45s are seven inches in diameter. Hmm. Oh, never mind. He means 78 rpm, doesn't he? In my defense, the record player my family had when I was a kid didn't play those.)

The description of Steve coming into New York for the first time is definitely written by someone who knows New York, which is fun. There is generally a lot of local flavor to the setting of this book. That’s one of the best parts.

There is a brief summary of Steve's feelings about all the Avengers -- he is most impressed by Thor, which, I mean, fair, he's an actual god -- and Hank telling him all about how he can live in Tony's mansion. With Jarvis. Who Hank says is actually from Flatbush. Apparently Steve spent a lot of time at the NYPL branch at 5th and 42nd trying to catch up on history. And then of course the Avengers ditched him and gave him the Kooky Quartet, and for some reason they're not here right now either so it's just Steve being sad and alone and dealing with this mysterious dead guy. I think probably the book is also done explaining fiat currency now. This is definitely the weirdest Marvel novel I've read.

Anyway, we have now returned to what is ostensibly the actual plot. Steve shows up at the New York Federal Reserve Bank (I guess the theft is happening here and not, like, at Fort Knox) with the gold bullion that the dead guy from the beginning of the book had on him -- I think I got distracted by the LSD bit and forgot to mention that part, but the dead guy was carrying some US government gold -- because the actual plot is that villains are trying to tunnel into the bank vault and steal gold. Steve discovers this after he gets the bank manager to give him a tour. The bank manager tries to refuse, citing security concerns -- Captain America could be anyone under that mask, after all! Steve just smiles and says, "If I removed my mask, would you have any better idea of who I am?" and I guess that's a flawless argument because he gets his tour.

(I'm sorry, all I can think of is that one gif from the JLA cartoon where Lex Luthor bodyswaps with the Flash, announces that now that he's in the Flash's body he's going to discover the Flash's secret identity, then pulls off his own mask, stares at himself in the mirror, and says, "I have no idea who this is.")

Given that the theme of Steve's interior life in this novel is "Steve Rogers died twenty years ago" it seems even more sad that Steve is just walking around basically saying, yeah, well, I'm nobody. And apparently that is being reaffirmed for him by the narrative.

So Steve goes down the tunnels, takes out some of the bad guys, and gets himself knocked out and buried in a collapsing tunnel. Don't worry, he's gonna be fine.

A lot of this book, by the way, is from the POV of random people, like this bank guard who went with Steve into the tunnels:

He had wondered, briefly, if a man like Captain America ever knew the pinch of too many bills, had ever felt desperate over the arrival of yet another mouth to feed. But, of course, Captain America had no family, and would hardly concern himself with such matters. It didn't occur to Thompson to wonder if this in itself might not be something for which to pity Captain America.

Rude. I mean, come on, do we really need random characters telling us Steve is a sad sack whom nobody loves? Steve's already got that covered!  (Also, how does this guy know Captain America has no family?)

Anyway, thanks to the power of LSD, Steve is going into a trance, amping up his metabolism (he loses "several pounds" in a few minutes), and making himself super-strong so he can dig himself out. Hooray. This is definitely how human bodies work. Also LSD. This is definitely how LSD works. Yes.

Steve then finds out that a couple of the guards who were with him in the tunnels died down there and he goes home and eats dinner while stewing in miserable guilt because he was responsible for their deaths. He's really not okay. I'm not sure the book actually understands how not okay they have made him. Then someone from SHIELD is on the phone for him and he is briefly cheered up by the thought that it might be Sharon although I think we should also note that the narrative makes it clear that at this point in canon Steve still doesn't know her name. Remember when that was a thing?

Alas, it is not Sharon; it's just a random SHIELD agent who happens to have information about the plot and asks to meet. Then, as Steve leaves to go to the meeting, we get two pages of exhaustive description about the mansion layout and how it's built relative to the surrounding buildings. It feels like this book was written by a frustrated city planner. But anyway, the meeting is a setup and the villains capture Steve.

They knock Steve out, drug him, take him to their hideout, and tie him to a chair. Except, once again thanks to the power of LSD, the tranquilizer they're using wears off way sooner than they expected and so Steve feigns unconsciousness and listens to them discuss their evil plans.

And then the villains unmask him and I swear it's exactly like that JLA gif:

Rogers heard footsteps scuffing across a thick carpet, and then Sparrow's voice again, almost directly over him. His ears still buzzed, but he fought to catch the elusive familiarity of the man's tone. He wished he dared open his eyes.

"This is a moment which I, personally, have long awaited," Sparrow said, his voice rising in triumph. "*The unmasking of Captain America!*"

Then, his nails scraping along Rogers' face, Sparrow dug his fingers under his cowl, and ripped it back. Rogers felt air strike his exposed cheeks and forehead. Then fingers clutched his blond hair and pulled his head back. "Behold!" Sparrow said.

Raven was first to speak. "Well, I dunno about you, Sparrow, but it rings no bells with me. I never seen him before."

Starling agreed. "His face means nothing to me."

"He could be anybody," said Robin. "What good does this do?"

Sparrow let Rogers' head fall back to his chest, and his voice when he spoke was defeated. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I always wondered. I felt, if these guys -- these costumed heroes -- wore masks, it must mean something."

"Captain America was missing for twenty years," Starling said. "That could mean the first one died, and this one took his place. He looks awfully young."

"Perhaps. It doesn't really matter. Let's get going."

(Yes, the villains all have bird-themed codenames. I have no idea why.)

This scene just makes my day. I love dramatic unmaskings. I bet they'd have been a lot happier unmasking Iron Man.

The villains then leave Steve and go to a power plant, where we switch POVs to one of the plant employees and get two entirely unnecessary paragraphs about his racist and anti-Semitic thoughts about his coworkers before the villains murder him. Great. Thanks.

Anyway, the villains cause a blackout, while meanwhile they've left Steve alone with the girl villain, and Steve is busy trying to persuade her that crime doesn't pay. He's moved from the "do you know what they'll do to you in prison?" theme onto "how exactly are you going to spend a billion dollars in gold bullion when it's illegal for civilians to possess? who are you going to do business with?" and then points out that gold is heavy and hard to transport, which is when she gets out a a knife.

The bad guys are off to steal the gold, and Steve has now successfully turned the girl they left him with, because she frees him. Of course, the first thing he does is put the cowl back on.

"Why do you wear that?" she asked.

"The mask?" He smiled. "It gives people something external to concentrate upon."

"But..."

"Without it, I'm just another ordinary-looking man. With it, I become a symbol. For some people it creates awe; for others, fear. Look at me. I'm different now, aren't I? With the mask on."

"Yes," she nodded. "You look -- bigger, somehow. Stronger. Fierce, implacable. You look a little scary."

"Exactly. You no longer see me as a person, but as a thing -- an Avenger. It can be a potent psychological weapon."

"They were so disappointed, when they took your mask off. As though underneath they'd find a famous person."

"Maybe that goes on TV -- handsome playboys, and all that. But I've been anonymous all my life. Even my real name would be meaningless to you, to them. No, the mask is part of the uniform, a psychological device. That's the whole story.

Now: let's get out of here. You have a good deal more to tell me yet, and we can't waste more time."

Bwahaha. In a few years, Steve's going to be pretty surprised about who superheroes are, I think.

STEVE, now: Superheroes definitely aren't secretly handsome playboys! That would be silly! STEVE, after Molecule Man: fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK I'm such an idiot

I'm definitely looking forward to that.

Also, not that the issue of Steve's psyche actually recurs after this, but he's once again having the narrative vindicate his belief that Steve Rogers is dead and whoever he is under the cowl doesn't matter. Steve, I don't think this is very healthy.

Steve then tracks down the villains stealing the gold, has some geopolitical thoughts about where the gold could be going (he thinks either South Africa or Russia for the best laundering potential) and then hides himself in the villains' trunk while they drive to Staten Island, which is where they're taking the gold out of the country from.

During the final confrontation, Steve finally gets to see the villains, and he discovers that the one in charge is in fact the director of the Federal Reserve Bank who Steve met at the beginning of this book. Gasp. But that's not all! He's also... the Red Skull!

Honestly, I was kind of surprised; I didn't think this was the kind of book where we'd get any known comic villains, but I guess it's always gotta be the Red Skull. I think he's the only one of Steve's big villains who likes to disguise himself; Zemo has obvious disguise issues and I imagine it's also hard to cover up Zola's Teletubby-esque television body.

Steve shoots one of the villains, because I guess that's what he does in this era of canon.

So the plot wraps up in, like, two pages, because for some reason all these early Marvel novels wrap up very fast. Red Skull, of course, attempts to escape and then disappears and his body is never found. The end.

Well.

That was definitely a book. That I read. Believe it or not, I actually think it was the best of these early Marvel prose novels that I've read so far, even if it was also the absolute weirdest; I thought the thriller-style plot was entertaining, I liked Steve and his Extremely Sad characterization, I obviously enjoy all the identity themes, I liked how very detailed the New York setting was, and I do like how they tried to treat it all seriously. I mean, sure, this did lead to LSD in the super-soldier serum in presumably the name of realism, but I felt like the book was trying to present superheroes in a way that didn't feel silly and also didn't really take for granted that the reader would automatically accept superheroes.

It felt like a book that was written hoping that people who weren't superhero fans would read it, if that makes any sense. And I thought that was interesting, because most modern superhero work that I can think of assumes they've got complete audience buy-in and everyone is willing to suspend their disbelief and we all know the genre conventions and are expecting people running around in brightly-colored spandex. Whereas this is more like a James Bond novel if for some reason James Bond were called upon to defend his decision to wear brightly-colored spandex instead of bespoke suits. But I assume no one read it, because Bantam never published a Marvel book after this one.

If you can actually find a copy of this one for a price you're willing to pay. I recommend it. It was delightful and way more solid than I thought it was going to be.

Also, come on, you know you want to read about Captain America's acid trip.

[buckyownsmylife]

white winter hymnal - tom hardy smut

The one where you’re Tom’s PA and you two get snowed in.

Warnings: smut, boss/employee relationship, dirty talk, kind of sexist remarks?, that wasn’t my intention, but maybe that’s how you’ll see it, so I should warn you about it, reader is very sex positive in this fic, idiot in lust, PA!Reader, jealous!Tom, kinda possessive! or maybe asshole!Tom, again it wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to write some dirty talk, use of the term cockslut and another that I can’t remember, or maybe it was cockslut twice

A/N: I’m not really satisfied with this collage, but this will have to do 🤷‍♀️ Anyway, here’s another anon request I received a while back. Please take everything Tom says as nothing more than dirty talk. Also, I did that thing where I wrote a pre-POV intro, idk if it’s any good but when the inspiration hits, I just roll with it ✌

Y/N wasn’t having a good week at work. It wasn’t that something wrong had happened - actually when you considered the cold facts about what had left her feeling so high strung that a simple touch almost made her moan, anyone would think she was crazy. Those were nice things, good situations that she’d found herself in.

But she’d disagree emphatically. There was nothing nice about the fuck-me eyes with which Tom, her boss, had regarded her when she arrived on set with the pencil skirt that she knew made her ass look great. There was nothing nice about the way he’d commented on how she was out to get him, making his life more difficult because of the way she was dressing. There was nothing nice about how he had kept on complimenting her, telling her how pretty she looked with her hair down, or how he joked about how it must have hurt when she fell from heaven.

And especially, there was absolutely nothing nice about the subtle, fleeting touches he’d decided to shower her with, leaving her burning and more aroused than she cared to admit, considering how innocent they actually were. Tom had been flirting with her ever since her job interview, it was nothing new and she should have gotten used to it by now.

But the truth was that she didn’t, she couldn’t. And who could really blame her, when every day it seemed like Tom stepped up a notch, making it harder and harder for her to ignore his advances and keep things professional between them?

Especially considering just how badly she needed to get off and just how attracted she was to him and his stupidly perfect body and damn hypnotizing smirk. She was only human, after all. A human woman with healthy desires that seemed to revolve exclusively about her boss.

God, she was pathetic. At least, she could always count on Saturday nights. That was the time she managed to escape the acting world and the craziness of the set where they had been filming for the last month to go to the bar and find someone who’d take her home and help her deal with her growing levels of horny.

If it weren’t for random strangers who knew what to do in bed, she wasn’t too sure she wouldn’t have succumbed to Tom’s spell and climbed him like a tree already. And that’s where she was headed, just after she stopped by his rental house and went over their schedule for the week ahead.

She’d get through this, she thought as she made sure her coat was tightly wrapped around her waist before exiting her car and running towards the front door, ignoring the snow that had been lightly falling since that morning. Just two more hours and she would be on her way to drowning her needs in another stranger’s body, just to pretend that she didn’t think about Tom during the entire act.

Yeah. She could totally do this.

Tom was screwed.

He had been since he first laid his eyes on her, some five months ago, just before they moved to this fucking freezing country to start filming for his next movie. He knew even back then, he should have thanked her with a smile, explained that she wasn’t right for the job, and asked her out. The fact that she was the best person for the job shouldn’t even have counted, because he was head over heels for her in that first meeting, how the fuck could he keep himself away when she was supposed to be working by his side every minute of every day?

In the end, the idea of having to wait until the end of filming to actually get to spend some time with her made him take the impulsive decision that led him to this situation. Having her so close, but nowhere near what he wished for.

It was hell on Earth. Especially since he knew she felt the same way, he could see it in her eyes, in the way she squeezed her thighs together every time he so much as looked her way. If only she wasn’t so unbelievably professional.

“Tom?” He heard her sweet voice calling out from downstairs and casted a glance at the window. The snow had been gradually building up since that morning, it was a surprise she had managed to reach his house in the first place. But of course, she would never let something as silly as the weather keep her away from her responsibilities.

With a low chuckle, he made his way to the living room, rubbing his hands together to create some warmth despite the heaters that were working overtime since he arrived at that house. It didn’t matter, it was still too fucking cold.

“Ready to go over your schedule?” He trailed his eyes over her body, taking notice of the dress she was wearing over the warm leggings. What day was it? Oh, right. Her day off started the minute she finished this one last task, and then she’d be off to…

He knew where she’d be off to. Thinking about it made him see red, especially since he didn’t have the opportunity to do the same where they were. He envied her, but he envied the lucky bastard that got to fuck her tonight even more.

“Of course,” was all he said, assuming a spot on the seat next to hers on the couch. She visibly tensed, but then threw him a small smile that seemed to try to ease her own nerves, to which he returned with a grin of his own.

“What are you all smiley about?” It was nice to see her more laidback, it was clear that the prospect of letting off some steam tonight was relaxing her. Tom could work with that. In fact, it just made his plans that much easier.

“I can’t imagine how someone could be near a woman as beautiful and not be happy, sweetheart.” Her smile immediately dropped, her eyes growing twice their size as he maintained his grin. “But let’s get on with it, shall we? I have a lot to plan out with you.”

She raised an eyebrow at his lack of interest in continuing to mess with her but shrugged it off before opening her planner. They did have a lot to talk about before she could finally leave to the nearest bar.

Tom chanced a glance out the window as she tried to locate their current week on her faithful notebook. This might just turn out the way he needed it to be.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Aaaand… I guess this finalizes your schedule for the next week,” I commented as I made sure to correct the time for a phone interview Tom would be having on the following Friday, before glancing up at him. He’d been mostly quiet for the last few minutes, a stark difference from how he had behaved during the entire meeting. Through all my time working for him, it had been the first time he was actually really present for the scheduling of his following week, making changes and trying to be sure that it would go as smoothly as he wanted it to be.

It wasn’t an unwelcome change, but it sure was peculiar. And by now, I knew him enough to get that there was definitely a hidden reason for him to be behaving this way. Still, I couldn’t yet grasp what it was that he had planned, so I resigned myself to getting through with what I intended to do for the day, and thankfully, that was now done.

“Well, if you won’t be needing me anymore, I’ll be getting out of your hair now.” I smiled softly down at him when I left the sofa, making quick work of my scattered papers and random pens before straightening out to say goodbye. “What?” I had to ask since he was looking at me like he was trying to contain his laughter.

“Well, first of all, sweetheart, I always need you. Perhaps not in the way you’re supposed to help with, according to your job description, but it’s the truth.” I had difficulty maintaining eye contact after that, opting to stare at the mountain of documents in my hands while I fidgeted from one foot to the other, feeling the arousal inside of me sparkle before starting to burn even more intensely. Why did he have to be so honest about wanting me?

“Second and perhaps most importantly… I think you’re stuck with me for the rest of the evening, love.” That made me look at him again, desperate to find any signs that he was only toying with my emotions, anything to show me that he was only playing. But all I got was a nod of his head, pointing towards the windows, and that’s when it hit me.

We were snowed in.

A lot of different feelings took over me at the realization. First, there was despair. What would I do now that I couldn’t go to the bar? Then, there was anxiety. How the fuck was I supposed to survive spending the night with my boss - to whom I was attracted to - in a house with a single room in it?

Finally, sheer panic set in, making me shake my head in frustration. I’d never be able to find enough control to resist him without the release that my weekly escapades granted me. And by the way he stared up at me, with those darkened eyes filled with lust, I could tell that he knew.

I watched with a trembling body as he slowly rose from the seat and made his way to me until we were chest to chest. His eyes ran up and down my body until they finally settled on mine again, and I had to bite down a whimper. 

That’s how weak I was for him. He could reduce me to a wanton mess with a fucking stare.

“You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question. Both he and I recognized it as a fact. Still, I whispered into the air between us, “Yes.” Immediately, he pressed on. “Of me?” I almost melted at the sight of such a burly, strong man, towering over me and devastated at the prospect of threatening me.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I waited for her answer with a heavy heart, but the hopeful expectation that she did actually feel just the same as I did: scared at the prospect of what could happen between us, but equally excited. 

“No.” I tilted my head at the word, curious as to what was her explanation, then.

“Then what?”

“Of what could happen if I let go of my control. Of what I would become.” Slowly, a smile took over my face, and I finally felt confident enough in her feelings to feel like I could touch her. So I raised my hands to hold her hips, rejoicing in just how small she was in comparison to me. It felt like I could very easily pick her up and take her - in whichever way I wanted. And there were a lot of them.

“Let go,” I whispered in her ear, having leaned down so I could compensate for our difference in height. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you without that precious control of yours.”

Goosebumps had spread all over her skin at the difference in temperature of my breath and her skin. I watched in fascination, following their trail, rubbing my nose across her jaw before finally, her lips were inches from mine. And then they were mine.

I possessed her mouth just like I’d fantasized for so long, desperate to make up for the lost time, for all the nights I spent alone thinking about her while she was off with someone else. And she responded just in kind, her arms barely able to embrace my body, but her palms were spread over my back, pulling me closer, and that was more than enough for me. 

For now, at least. Now that I’d captured her on my web, there was no way I was letting her go before I fulfilled each and every one of the dirty, dirty dreams I had about the two of us. I was going to ravish her. I was going to ruin her.

She let out a tiny whimper when I pried her lips open with my tongue, before melting in my arms as I explored her mouth, basked on her taste. “You know there’s no way I’m letting you go now, right?”

By the way she looked at me with hazy eyes, it was clear that there would be no resistance from her whatsoever. She was pliant and soft in my hands, easily following when I picked her up and climbed up the stairs to my room with her in my arms. And then, when she was on the bed, there was just no way I could control myself anymore, not even long enough to take off our clothes properly. So I just flipped her skirt up, before ripping apart her leggings and finding her underwear absolutely drenched for me.

“Fuck,” I whispered, already reaching out to rub my thumb over her nub, making her gasp and cry out for me. “I can smell you dripping through the fabric, sweetheart.” To my pleasure, she didn’t seem coy about it at all. 

Oh, no. My little assistant, the picture-perfect of professionality was licking her lips, frantically nodding to my indication. “For you, I’m always dripping for you.” A smirk took over my face at her confession, my cock hardening even more at hearing that while I was suffering silently all that time, so was she.

So I ripped her underwear to shreds, spreading my hands over the inside of her thighs to get the perfect view of that pussy that had been haunting my dreams. “Shit, I can’t wait to eat that.”  And with only those words as warning, I dove right in, attracted by the sweet smell that made my mouth water.

She was just as sweet as I thought, but the sounds with which she filled my bedroom were what drove me crazy. I couldn’t close my eyes to fully appreciate her taste, too transfixed by her beauty, unable to believe that I finally had her, that it was her pussy I was currently lapping.

“Damn, look at you,” I hummed against her clit, making her jerk and try to pull away for a split second before I threw an arm over her hips to secure her position. “You fought so hard against your instincts, only to end up right here, spread open for me.”

With each word that left my lips, she seemed to get closer and closer to her release. “And to think you could have had my mouth on you all this time. Tell me, darling, do you think a stranger could make you feel better? Were any of the people you fucked, trying to ignore our connection, this great at making you cum?”

I could feel her muscles quiver under the soft skin of the inside of her thigh, and I doubled my efforts on her pussy, determined to see her cum at least once before I finally got my cock in her. It was throbbing now, begging for any sort of attention, but I was too transfixed by the sight of her reaching her high, the way her chest heaved as I quickly rubbed her clit with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth.

“Gimme your cum, baby. C’mon. Been waiting so long to get you in my bed…” She came as I hummed against her, the sensations obviously flipping her over that edge. “Fuck, you’re sweet.”

I kept on slowly cleaning her up, mindful of not hurting her, as she struggled to get her breathing in check. Despite her sensitivity, I couldn’t get myself to part with her taste just yet, even considering the possibility of eating her out some more, making her cum one or two more times before I fucked her properly.

But that was all before she fractured my control with two simple sentences. “Want some help with that? I’ve really been looking forward to getting your cock in my mouth.” I hadn’t even realized that I had been grinding against the mattress as I pleasured her, just to relieve my needy member at least a little bit.

What I knew was that I most definitely would not be able to hold back enough to feel her mouth around me. At least this first time. So all she got was a growl as I pounced on her, forcing her to taste her cum as I kissed those gorgeous lips and held her knees open to accept my weight between them.

“Right now, I’m gonna fuck this little pussy until you’re sobbing for me, okay, love? If you beg nicely, I might let you taste me later.” She whimpered in response, and a smirk took over my face. “Wow, you really are cockdrunk for me, aren’t you sweetheart?” The whine I got only made me laugh, giving me a little bit more control to tease her some more.

“You think you’re ready for me?” I asked, pressing the head of my cock against her clit, rubbing it with my member. “Are you sure you can handle my dick, darling?” Watching her thrash around the bed in an effort to get me to push into her was something I never thought I’d get to see. It made that moment of victory just that much sweeter.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was trembling in anticipation to finally have him inside of me. To feel that fat cock stretching me open, filling me up like I’d always wanted it to. It was enough to drive me absolutely crazy with desire.

“Yes, yes, please, I can handle it. Please, stop teasing me,” I begged, my hands not able to choose what to hold as I struggled to keep myself from losing my mind over my boss’ cock. From the depths of my desire, I took notice of the way he smirked, one eyebrow raised up as he stared down at me, still slowly running the head of his cock between my pussy lips.

“Teasing? This isn’t teasing, love. Teasing is what you did to me, every single day since we met, parading everywhere with those fucking skintight skirts.” And with those words as preamble, he finally slid home, only stopping when he was completely inside of me, hitting my cervix and difficulting the now herculean task of remembering how to breathe again.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be this tight. I just fucking knew it.” Those were the last things I heard before he started pounding me against the mattress, barely having given me any time to get used to his thickness. 

If I thought I was losing my mind before, it became clear from the way he was bruising my insides that there was no possibility of me ever leaving this bed as a sane woman. Tom had managed to reduce me to a blubbering, stupid mess. He truly had turned me into his cockslut, I realized. I’d do anything just to keep being filled by him, over and over again.

“See? This is what you could have been having this entire time. Me and my cock. Instead, you just had to leave me for those random men. And while you were out, having your fun, all I had to keep me company was my own hand.” Tom never stopped the torturing pace with which he kept on fucking me as he slowly drove me crazy with his words. It was just unbelievable how great he was at dirty talk, I felt like I could cum already from the rhythmic attack on my sweet spot and the filth he was spilling. 

The mental image he elicited of him touching himself didn’t hurt, either.

“You’re so egoistic, sweetheart. Wasn’t it your job to serve me? Instead, I had to get off all by myself.” Despite the teasing nature of his remarks and the still brutal pace of his thrusts, his touch over my body was gentle, as he gathered my hair away from my face so he could bury his head in the crook of my neck.

“You… You could have had anyone you wanted,” I managed to remind him, starting to mirror his movements, fucking myself up on his cock. “You could have had anyone at all.” Abruptly, he stopped hiding his face against my skin, pushing away just enough to watch my expression - or maybe to show me his, in all of its seriousness.

“The only one I wanted was you. This was everything I wished for, since day one.” Tom raised himself slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts in a way that had me gasping in surprise, while also preventing me from being able to figure out what I could possibly say to that. So he continued, slowing the movements only a bit, but fucking me deeper, his eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t pinpoint. 

Tom’s P.O.V.

She gasped, finally giving up that last little bit of control and allowing herself to relax against the mattress as I did all of the work. “But now I have you, huh? And this is where you should be spending your days, with my cock deep inside of your pussy, keeping me warm, keeping me happy.” I kissed her before finishing, “Keeping me fulfilled.”

With a moan that electrified every single cell of my body, she came and prompted my own orgasm, and I spilled inside of her with a roar, momentarily losing my strength and falling on top of her body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, darling. Let me get out of you.” But she stopped me from leaving her arms and her pussy, hugging me to her chest until I had no other choice but to cuddle her.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers lightly running through my short hair. “I like it.”

I fell asleep that night happy because I understood that was her way of saying that she was satisfied with this development in our once strictly professional relationship. And I couldn’t wait to wake her up with another reason why she shouldn’t regret this.

[munstysmind]

G'day again!

You asked for this! 😈

B, D, E, H, I, M, N, P & R

Just have to chuck this in, cause fuck why not?! Look at that swagger 🥵

OK, ok…

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

Unfortunately… yes. The emotional abuse and manipulation Travis imposed on Maddie is very much based on my personal experience with a family member. I actually started writing MADDISON as a way to vent and process. I had ZERO intentions of posting it until my bestie read some over my should one night and encouraged me to. You have Emma to thank for Maddison being posted.

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?

I don’t really have a playlist that comes to mind for Maddison but I do have a few songs. Mostly for Maddie’s recovery, mental health ect.

E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?

I’m toying with the idea of doing a sequel to Trapped that would deal with the major fallout from the fight between Henry and Hannah.

H: How would you describe your style?

Chaotic. I’m all over the place. I can’t actually pinpoint a specific style. I just write what my brain gives me. Although I very much prefer writhing in the third person. It gives a much broader writing range and I don’t have to deal with a bunch of different POV’s because that shit confuses the crap out of me whenever I try to write it

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Dark Fics. The darker the better. I cannot recommend @darkficsyouneveraskedfor enough. Ever single fic they post feeds the sadistic gremlin in my brain.

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you'd care to share?

Well… I’m roughly drafting out a Sebastian Stan series that takes place during the 2020 lockdown and I’m currently writing a chapter of Maddison where Travis gets back at Maddie in a HUGE way, although we don’t realise it’s him until later on.

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

Yes. I’m in the middle of writing my submission for the 4k Follower Challenge that @dadplease is doing. If someone could come extract it from my brain for me that would be amazing. I’ve hit a massive wall.

P: Are you what George R. R. Martinwould call an "architect" or a "gardener"? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

I’m a bit of both. I very much plan out the general idea of what I want to happen with each chapter and how it will flow with other chapters but when I actually get to writing I usually just take it where my brain goes as I’m writing. Sometimes I’ll have a few lines or a specific event in mind and I’ll actively write to include it. Two very specific ones that come to mind are in He Broke Her “He broke her… in a way I didn’t think was possible. The happy carefree Maddie we love is gone… she may never come back” and You Are Safe “If I have to put him in the ground to protect you I will” that line is a personal favourite

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

@sillyrabbit81, she gets me every single time. If I had to choose specific fics “Syverson & Vixen” is my favourite. I reread it all the time. And her “His Tuition” series 🤤🤤🤤

@theycallmebecca, her Chris Evans fluff makes my heart feel all the feels. I wish I were a fraction as good at writing fluff as she is

I guiltily admit I haven’t had a chance to read any of yours yet. It’s been pretty hectic my end the last few weeks. I’ve barely had time to write. I’ve got a whole week off next week and my plans include not wearing pants and reading through your entire masterlist.

And that GIF…

I love it 😻

[defilerwyrm]

⭐️ Bei Mir Bist Du Schön

FIC SPOILERS AHEAD!

Bei Mir Bist Du Schön on AO3

He opened his mouth to thank Essek but what came out instead was, “Deine Augen sind wunderschön.”

Essek stared at him, perfectly neutral save for the subtle rise of stark white eyebrows. “I don’t speak Zemnian,” he said, flashing his customary, placid little smile.

This is early Essek, well before c2e097, so this is a fully calculated move. That stare is him running simulations in his head, as it were, weighing his options, and he finally decides that he can learn more about Caleb if the guy thinks he doesn’t understand these little asides.

And boy did he ever just learn something juicy.

The second time, he was feeling petulant. Essek was normally a very patient and talented teacher, but there came a time when they butted heads over the best way to work a spell: Essek’s experience and Caleb’s contradicted each other, and neither was willing to admit that he was wrong because they weren’t. Caleb couldn’t have said why they were getting spirited over it. It was unlike them to lock horns this way, and the condescension chafed fiercely.

To my understanding, Wildemount never—at least post-Calamity—had a continent-spanning culture like the Roman Empire that would standardize learning across regions, and the Empire and Dynasty have utterly lacked in cultural exchange pretty much throughout their histories; so I reason that their approach to magic must be very damn different right down to the fundamentals. But, I also reason, magic is like math, in that there’s more than one way to come to a given conclusion—so the same spell cast by an Imperial mage might use different theory and somatic/verbal components with the same results.

I love fic that plays homage to cultural differences, so I figured that there must surely come a point where Caleb and Essek quibble about how to do a thing, with the crux being that they’re both right.

In a fit of pique, he muttered, “Du hast Glück, dass du abartig schön bist, denn du bist so ein Arsch.”

Essek’s head whipped up so fast that, for a moment, Caleb thought maybe he understood after all—but Essek just squinted at him without recognition and said, “I beg your pardon?”

Essek’s poker face is doing triple duty here because Caleb just said he’s hot af but also a dick, and this isn’t a sentiment Essek hasn’t heard before, but it hasn’t really gotten under his skin like it does this time.

Caleb passed a hand over his face and scratched at the beard he desperately needed to shave off. “Nothing,” he lied, “just annoyed with myself. This should be a moment of discovery, now that we know this can go either way. A door has unlocked and we’re both pulling it shut. Can we start again?”

The slip, and Essek’s reaction to it, made Caleb realize that they were both being dillweeds about the whole thing and it wasn’t going to move them forward at all.

It was—of course, of fucking course the intonation mattered. “A tonal shift,” he breathed. He took Essek by the lapels of his robe and shook him gently, and blurted out, “Ich könnte dein Gehirn küssen und dann deinen Mund.”

“What the hell is going on,” Nott squeaked at the same time as Essek chuckled almost nervously, “Caleb, I don’t—”

Hot boi damn near let the cat out of the bag right here. It’s certainly not that he specifically did not want to be smooched at all, but more that 1) Nott was RIGHT THERE so it would be mortifying, 2) he’s still very D: about physical contact and this point, and 3) he’s still very privately going “fuck fuck fuck WHY a HUMAN” about his own attraction to Caleb. There is very much a part of him that Wants That, but the rest of him is just not coping with it at all just yet.

The following morning, though, all he could think about was Dein Bett wäre besser and Essek’s careful fingers touching his face.

Both of them are fully mortified with themselves. They’re ridiculous. I see Caleb heading back to the Xhorhaus with shoulders bunched up, brow furrowed, and wide eyes glued to his own feet as his brain screams “DEIN BETT WÄRE BESSER” at him, mockingly, over and over. Slipping up and confessing your attraction to your crush is relatably horrifying (gods, I’ve been there, it’s awful) and Caleb is predisposed to beat himself up to begin with. Add in the rest of the party making a big deal over the fact that he spent the night over at Essek’s towers and you’ve got an abject storm in that little ginger head of his.

It did not help matters that no matter how much he insisted that nothing happened, the Mighty Nein were dead set on believing that he’d slept with his mentor, and they spent the next three days teasing him about it, none of them aware that he was simultaneously tormenting himself.

Okay so I try to be good and not talk shit about my own work these days, but that sentence just landed in a belly flop for me. I’m not sure it actually gets across what I’d meant, which was that Caleb was beating himself up for a different reason than what they all thought.

In the midst of a messy ambush by three of the wolf-cat eye-beasts, one of them managed to get the drop on Caleb, and it pinned him, screaming, to the ground. Its claws dug fiery punctures into either side of his chest. He thrashed, trying to get both hands up to cast, but it would be too late—his reflexes weren’t good enough. His body had never been nearly as sharp as his mind, and he was about to pay the price in the form of massive, dagger-like fangs lunging towards his throat. He screamed again, chest nearly frozen with fear, when—

Adventurers are generally made of tough stock, but I really wanted to dig into the POV of someone who’s being attacked by a terrifying cerature intent on ripping them apart. “You take 12 piercing damage and are knocked prone” is mechanical and dry; I wanted to show the full in-character implications of those mechanics.

Another fic that represents game mechanics narratively to absolutely stunning affect is Hard Mouth by road_rhythm, which I cannot recommend highly enough. I wrote Bei Mir before Hard Mouth started posting but had it been the other way around, it 100% would have been an inspiration in that regard.

He could not help but murmur, “Götter, ich bins so verschossen in dich.”

Fun fact: I got myself the book Talking Dirty German specifically for writing Caleb dialogue, and it really came in handy here. This idiom is from that book, as did abartig schön. The literal translation is “Gods, I am so shot into you,” which coming to think of it sounds a wee bit dirty but is figuratively very sappy.

Speaking of sappy….

“Das Gefühl ist Gegenseitig,” came the warm and sleepy reply.

Part of this is Essek being barely-conscious, but the bulk of it is this—and this is basically giving away the whole way the fic progresses: pretending not to know Zemnian began as a manipulation tactic to get intel, then became a game of “Let’s see how long it takes you to figure this out, smart boy” as their bond grew and Essek stopped deliberately trying to throw Caleb off, and finally when they were a couple he figured it would be cruel and pointless to keep up the ruse, especially since he’d been growing to appreciate pet names in their mother tongues.

Caleb took a deep breath, set his tea aside, and launched himself at Essek, who yelped, laughing, and danced out of his grasp. Essek led him on a merry chase around the kitchen and held out as long as he could before crying mercy at Caleb’s vicious tickling.

You know, I probably shouldn’t point this out in case my readers hadn’t cottoned onto it yet either, but it wasn’t until like a week after publishing this that I stopped and thought, “WTF happened to Essek’s teacup? Did he take the time to set it down? Did it get dropped and shatter? Did he show off and levitate it?? Did he bring it with him and get tea all over the place and himself?!” Smh…. Choose your own explanation, I guess, lmao.

The rolls were a little burnt that morning, but Caleb had no regrets.

Part of me feels like this is kind of a weak ending, but I justify it to myself by remembering how hard Caleb regretted his slip-ups over the course of the fic. He spends a good bit of copy beating himself up over them, so ultimately I think it fits, even if it kinda lacks punch.