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joosthead · 3 months

Note

SMUT PROMPT 2 PLZZZ

just too soft for all of it || j.k. f!reader

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 2S) crying crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over & 3F) gently pushing their hair behind their ear to see their face better

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, no pronouns, reader gets referred to as his “favourite girl” one time. notfamous!reader lol also does not speak dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 4.4k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (fingering, piv), a good amount of negative self thought (i may have gone overboard—feeling inadequate as a partner, reader is very hard on themself and quite sensitive), mentions of anxiety/stress/being overwhelmed, a very fluffy and healthy joost :( aur i love him anyways, pls heed the prompt cuz that in itself is a content warning teehee, 🧀🧀🧀alert i can’t lie!!, a variety of dutch terms of endearment i'm not sure i’m using right but it’s for the sake of no y/n

₊˚⊹⋆ track of the fic: "sweet nothing" by taylor swift

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i resonate heavy with this 🙃🙃 had the worst last few weeks of this uni year but i’m FREE!!!! thanks for requesting this, i combined this with a few other asks stated above! happy first juno joost fic to meee yippeee

rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it!! you've been warned. please do not repost this on any other platform.

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni.

To say the utter least—it had been a hard few weeks for you.

The whims of life carried you away like a tsunami to your normal routine—work and classes and friends and family and life, life that you couldn’t ignore or get away from like you wanted to do, nothing to do except doing it. And you’d been doing it, just fine for the most part, but one thing led to another, and the last week was a whirlwind of commitments, obligations, your procrastinating on all of them, somehow. You got yourself into a mess of your own making.

It certainly didn’t help that your boyfriend, Joost, was away for his own life: a festival performance in Canada, one in Belgium, one in the Netherlands but not one you could attend easily with all of the work you had for yourself. After that, he worked on the new album in Germany, putting the final touches on his 9th project, filming new content and preparing for his upcoming tour.

He left around the beginning of when your life started getting busier. If you added it up—23 days you hadn’t seen him in person, but it’s not like you were counting (you were counting, and sad the entire time about his absence.). It felt like the same amount of time you hadn’t even seen or talked to him, through the phone, on Facetime, even texting each other.

Voice memos in the bathroom at work, always apologizing for how rushed you had to be; leaving him on delivered for hours as you studied, or had an event you needed to be at, or had a person you needed to talk to, someone else who needed your time more than Joost needed yours, and it was too much. All of it was too much. Too much for you to handle easily, every second taken by someone else.

You felt like a terrible partner, not being able to speak to him as much as you wanted. Seeing all of his messages, the reassurance that he understands how busy you are and that in the end, you'll always make time for each other…his ability to be such a good partner held up next to your perceived inadequacy made you even more stressed.

In the end, it’ll all work out—today, Joost flew back home, though you still had a number of commitments and assignments to get to and couldn’t pick him up from the airport. Your mutual friend picked him up, and you bit your nails at every update given; willing the time to go slower so you could tidy up more, work on that one last piece of paperwork so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, make sure everything is perfect so Joost can have a good welcome back.

In the nick of time, you were able to get everything done, but it still felt as if there was something missing, like you'd be hit with a missed deadline in the midst of your time back together, and it would all come crumbling down.

As you opened the door, right as your friend pulled up to your street, you tried to put it aside, and you did—for now. Late afternoon and you stand at the top of your townhouse steps, watching in nervous excitement as Joost unloads his luggage from the trunk. Your friend closes the trunk and waves at you.

You wave back, but your eyes are on Joost as he gathers the two suitcases and starts rolling them to you in a sort of disorganized frenzy, just as excited as you are; you would come forward and help, but it’s cute to watch him, clumsy and stumbling over his long pants and tote bag and everything—your Joost, finally back with you.

He wears a heavy black jacket, sunglasses, a black cap that he takes off and shakes his hair out of; the sun shines off him, and you can't help but smile at the sight. His hair grew out a little, the darker blonde roots growing in. Those jeans are ones you’ve never seen before, new glasses, new clunky boots that look greatly uncomfortable but perfectly his style. Evidence of the time passed, and for some strange reason, it brings a pang to your chest that you try to ignore as you come down the steps of your house.

“Come here, come here, come here, baby, I missed you,” Joost exclaims, arms open and leaving his bags behind him to come meet you halfway, laughing.

You say as you hug him around his neck, his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick—”

“Don’t worry about it, I know you were busy.”

You nod as he moves his arms around your neck and you go around his waist, Joost pecking your cheek several times and making you laugh. “I still feel bad I couldn’t pick you up.”

“Never feel bad, you’d still be the best even if you left me on the side of the road.” You give him and his compliment a weak smile as you pull away.

—

The first time you get a moment to yourself in a month: Joost’s head lays in your lap as you both watch some cartoon on the couch together after eating.

You cleaned most of yesterday and some of today; you cooked most of last night since you knew you had more time, preparing Joost’s favorite meal—it was the best you could reasonably do, considering all of the other obligations you had in these last two days.

As he ate, you pushed around your own food; would’ve made it fresh, could've had a nice table setting for dinner, should’ve prepared more for all of this. You still gave him a sheepish smile as you watched him happily eat the microwaved meal you warmed up for him, no indication at all that he’s disappointed or unhappy like you are with yourself. You shouldn’t feel like this, but you do. It’s getting increasingly difficult to shake.

The colors and lines dance across the TV, spouting raunchy jokes that you can half understand with the few years of Dutch you have under your belt; the air conditioner is on, and you can finally rest. Joost is changed out of his airport outfit and into some shorts and a shirt. He’s home, and you did the best you could do, and now he’s in your arms again.

You don’t even mean to, but you sigh, perhaps louder than usual, because Joost looks up at you from your lap, brushes a lock of your hair out of your eyes, says, “You’re the best, you know?”

It catches you off guard enough that you shake your head almost instinctively, not fast enough to hide…whatever feeling this is you’re feeling. “I don’t feel like it, Joosty.”

“You don’t?” He gets up from your lap, sitting next to you, and brings his face close to yours. “You should, because you are.”

Your noses are brushing, and even in the midst of your racing thoughts, you can't help but smile at him. His face grows into a smile, and you come forward and kiss him, deeply; you know it takes him by surprise, how he takes a little to kiss back, like trying to learn each other again. Nonetheless, he kisses back, holding your face in his hands, grinning into it—he's so pleased, so content, you know it by how sweetly he holds you.

The TV becomes background noise to you, the air conditioner no use with how hot you feel when you move to sit atop him in his lap, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your ass as you grind down on him, licking into his mouth.

“You're so tense,” Joost says when you pull away, thumbs rubbing into your back where there are sure to be knots in your muscles.

You roll your eyes. “Can you blame me?” you snicker and he smiles.

“I’ll relieve some tension for you, then.”

Nothing but a few layers of clothes separate you—he smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good that you pull away, run your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his warm body, his stomach. You move to take it off of him, and he’s a step ahead of you, taking it off himself and attaching his lips to yours again, like a magnet.

“You’re not wasting any time,” he says as you rest your hands on his chest and kiss down his stubble covered jaw to his neck, on top of Lola Bunny and back up again.

“I need you, Joost,” you breathe in between kisses, and he pulls back and groans which makes you giggle, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You can't just say that, oh my god,” Joost whines, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “That’s so hot,” he laughs, and it makes you laugh too, how ridiculous he is. “Fuck, I love you.” He comes back in for one more kiss before he shifts so you can lay down on the couch, and he's on top of you, kissing again. He helps you shimmy down your shorts, your underwear, and in no time—his hand is between your legs.

“I would have taken it slow but—I’m too excited,” he breathes. You palm his hard cock through his shorts, coaxing a sigh out of him. Joost hovers above, leaning on one elbow and using the other hand to run his fingers through your slit, wetting them with how aroused you are. Involuntarily, your legs twitch, your breath catches in your mouth, and Joost gives you a soft laugh. “You’re so sensitive, schat.” Fingers still touching you so gently, he noses at your cheek—you’re a hairpin trigger, how reactive you are to him. “Has it been that long?”

Breathless, you nod as he presses his thumb to your clit, petting at it. “Too long, I was waiting for you.”

“I could say the same for you.”

You sit up, pushing up against him, still kissing like you can’t bear to be separated from him, but he pulls back from you—brings two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his spit, and the sight brings your heart to your stomach with how arousing it is.

Sure, Joost sends videos; yes, you have…homemade…videos of your own between the two of you; his deep voice through the speaker in your late night Facetimes, talking you through it or his incessant compliments when you send him some pictures of your own.

Nothing compares to the real thing—the smell of his cologne on his collar even after he’s taken a shower; his blonde hair in your eyes as he kisses you; holding onto his strong arms as he fingers you, the wet sound music to your ears though normally, it would make you sheepish at how filthy this all is.

Sometimes it makes you laugh that the random guy you met with a Crazy Frog tattoo on his forearm is now your boyfriend, but it feels so serious now more than ever. You realize now how much you’ve missed him, and how much you’ve pushed down that feeling in favor of everything else.

Joost crooks his fingers inside of you and you moan into his mouth, which he smiles at. “You like it?” he asks, both of you knowing the answer. He knows you so well, inside and out. Knows that spot inside of you that renders you unable to speak, how to hit it just right like it’s muscle memory to fuck you with his fingers. He rubs your clit at the same time, using his spit and your wetness to do so, and God—you wish never leaving this spot was an option.

Your climax fast approaches you; Joost kissing at the side of your lips, your chin because you’re too lost in your pleasure to kiss back. With a few more pumps of his fingers, he brings you there, a choked moan tumbling from your mouth as you cum, almost falling into him as he takes you through the last waves of your orgasm. “Thank you,” you breathe, pressing a deep kiss to his lips again now that you have the ability to.

“Thanking me? Nothing to thank me for,” he says, but you shake your head.

“I disagree,” you say quietly, palming over his erection once more now that you’ve gathered yourself. “I have everything to thank you for,” you think, but can’t say out loud. You move so you can be on your knees on the ground in between his legs. It’s been quite a bit, enough so that the program on the TV is completely different now, the AC has turned off—he’s still so hard, still hasn’t been taken care of.

You're about to lower his shorts, take him into your mouth, but Joost takes your hand and says, “Can we skip it? I wanna be inside of you, lieverd.”

Almost a whisper, you reply, “Whatever you want,” nodding, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“You’re so quiet today. Is anything wrong?” He can read you like a book, the furrowing of your brow at his suggestion an easy giveaway.

“Nothing’s the matter,” you lie, but he still looks disbelieving. “I just wanted to give you something back.”

“This is something back and more, baby. Lie down.”

You do, too tired to argue for your side—the side that wants to give Joost everything you have and more, pay him back for the time you’ve been so absent, so distracted from your relationship and all the things Joost had been doing in the time away. It’s not as if you don’t want to lie down and have him fuck you—it’s just that you feel that you haven’t earned it yet.

Your body language gives you away—“Still so tense, lieverd,” he says, squeezing your shoulder as you adjust, legs on either side of his thighs. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Of course I do,” you purr, because of course you do, reaching into his briefs—Joost Klein branded, of course—and pulling his cock out, jerking it a few times and making him groan with the sensation. “You're so sensitive,” you quote him from earlier. “Has it been that long, schat?”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; a month away, hard work on his album and music videos, content and marketing, coming back home to his favourite girl gazing at him starry-eyed with a hand around his dick and ready to take him inside. If you peered into his mind, this is what he’d be thinking. No thoughts match your worried thinking about how you may or may not have let him down—you didn’t. That would be impossible, at least to him.

“Much too long.”

You rest your head on a throw pillow that Joost has laid for you, and he lines himself up with your entrance. Fingertips on his stomach, you stop him for a few seconds from coming forward, and you wrap your hand around his shaft, swiping it through your slit a few times, collecting your wetness and his pre-cum on the head of his cock.

Loudly, he swears in Dutch, and the latter half sounds more like a strangled whisper than any real word. “You…fuck, my god…you are evil,” he laughs, even though he’s now rubbing the head of it against your clit, making you mewl.

“You ready for me?” he asks, and you nod, licking your lips, trying to control your breathing. Your initial apprehension is long gone, though it could creep back every second—who cares? You’re finally together again. “You’re so wet,” Joost breathes as he eases the head of his cock into you. The stretch is something to get used to after so long away, but he gives time for you to adjust—seems like he might need it more than you do, how he sucks a breath in through gritted teeth, the snail’s pace he's going at. “I might cum right now.”

“You promise?” you tease, watching the slow slide of his cock inside of you, watching just like he is.

“I might have to promise with how this is going.”

“You can do it,” you giggle and then moan because he's managed to fit half of his length into you. “I believe in you.”

“Yay,” Joost smiles as he bottoms out in you, then gives you a kiss. “We did it!”

He holds his hand up for a high-five and you laugh—”I’m not high-fiving you while you're inside me.”

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

Rolling your eyes, you give him the high-five he so desperately wants and he beams at you with a toothy grin. “Never, I guess.”

“Never,” Joost repeats, and then straightens up. You look up at him through your eyelashes—his mullet is mussed from the tangles of your fingers through his hair, his chest moving steadily up and down with the exertion of this all. He moves your legs so your left ankle rests on his shoulder, the right wrapped around his hips.

His hand creeps up your shirt, and you do the rest, exposing your tits to him. Joost is normally so clumsy, so heavy-handed—what a contrast that he can be so calm dragging his fingertips around your nipple, making it pebble in the cold.

He cups your cheek after you moan, then runs his tattooed knuckles down it, slips his thumb between your lips and hooks it on your teeth momentarily—you chase it, but he continues down your chest and to your belly until his thumb is finally back on your clit and circling it slowly.

The drag of his cock out of you is wonderful, so wonderful it makes you shudder when he does it, combined with his terribly slow treatment of your clit.

“My baby, did you miss me?” Joost says softly, kissing at your calf, your ankle as he sinks back into you. The sensation robs you of a response, a sigh tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it, but he takes it as a response enough. The smile on his face—the beauty mark under his lip, those deep dimples so prominent—you could never tire of it. “I missed you more, schatje.”

It feels so good, it feels like heaven being with him again. He comes back from such a busy time in his life, where you’ve done little, and all he has is praise and warmth and affection for you—fingers you within an inch of your life and doesn’t even ask for anything in return, just takes care of you in the way you need most.

You know that he benefits from this just as much as you do—this isn’t so one-sided. But your brain is so frazzled from this last month, the nerve endings fried and in want of a fuck up to cling to like they have been whenever you’ve made a mistake at work, in class, in your relationship.

Joost interrupts your thoughts: “I was so happy to see you on the steps, I could’ve sprinted to you if I wasn’t wearing those damn shoes.”

All of the times that you forgot to reply to Joost, getting a text saying your name and a sad face right after; the times where you were too distracted to give him your full attention and could only hum your acknowledgement to him, having to be reminded about what he said later; that one time just a few days ago you fell asleep on call with him in the middle of him excitedly speaking about a breakthrough with a bridge on the most important song of the album.

The pleasure you felt earlier is now overshadowed by your racing thoughts.

“I wrote a song about you, you know?” Joost says, his voice so gentle. I was only going to let you know when the album came out, but I can’t keep a secret.” Rocking against you, his pelvis rubs against your clit and it makes you cling to his shoulders. “The voice memo I sent you earlier—it was my first draft, just me. Did you like it?”

“You…you wrote a song about me?”

Only now do you remember the voice memo Joost sent you in the morning when you were still cleaning, the one that you saw and made a fleeting mental note to reply to later on, which you promptly forgot as you vacuumed, dusted, folded.

Such misplaced priorities, and now you're paying the sad price.

“Joost,” you say, eyebrows screwing up, that all too familiar pulling feeling behind your nose and eyes—you realize quickly that all of the emotions bottled up inside of you from the past month have come out with vengeance at the new knowledge of Joost’s song about you. The knowledge wouldn’t have been new if you just paid more attention.

You try to hold it back, pushing down the feelings again, but it just won’t work. All of it spilling over at the worst possible time, tears streaming down your face before you even know it. You fail to wipe the wetness from your cheeks—Joost stops his movements, asks in a panicked and concerned voice, “Oh my—are you crying, schat?”

Attempting to pull it together once more, you cover your face with your hands and shake your head silently, but your already sniffly nose sells you out. Your shoulders shake with your crying. Too far gone now.

“I wanted—“ you sniffle, and he hands you a tissue from the side table for you to blow your nose into as he stumbles out and off of you. “I wanted to be with you tonight, but I just—so much—I never—I never listened to your memo, I couldn’t, I had to finish so much before you got here and I couldn’t and I feel so bad, like, you wrote a song about me and I didn’t even have the time to listen—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Joost coos, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you sob. “Baby, please.” His expression is so concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he pats your back. “Wait, shit,” he says, getting up from the couch and looking down at his still bare bottom half. “Let me put everything back on, I’m sorry schatje, give me—“ In a hurry, he puts his underwear and shorts back on, tripping over himself and almost falling over. “I just can’t do this naked, I’m sorry.”

That brings a laugh out of you and a laugh out of him, and you start explaining as he sits back down next to you, rubbing your arm. “I don’t—I don’t deserve you.” You shake your head, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. “I should’ve listened to what you sent me, I should’ve been there more.”

“Bro,” he deadpans, beckoning you to come and sit on his lap.

You do, still trying to get the tears out of your eyes as you settle into his arms. “Shut up, don’t call me bro while I’m crying,” you laugh, voice weak but lighthearted.

“Bro. I will do it again.” Joost gives you a second to let it out more, to breathe as he smooths his hands back and forth on your back. “You did everything perfectly, lieverd. Perfectly. We were both so busy, and you still made time to call me and text me. I would have been lost without you, I know for certain.”

You shake your head. “I forgot to reply and pick up your texts so many times, Joost, I felt like such a bad person for doing so.”

“You did? I didn’t notice. All I cared about was that you replied. You’re not a bad person at all,” Joost says, and the sweetness of his words just make you want to cry more. “I appreciate more from you the effort that you put into everything, into what we have. Not what you couldn’t or didn’t do.”

“You’re so nice,” you whisper, sniffling. You can’t think of a better compliment with how overwhelmed you are, so you kiss him, instead, and he kisses back. Even with this, you can tell how gentle Joost is holding your cracked pieces back together.

“I’m nice?” he asks, smiling. “Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” For a little, you both sit there in the silence together. “How about this—tomorrow, we can have a day to ourselves. You can lounge and study by the pool, and I’ll be your little butler or whoever and we can just relax for a bit, hm? Order food, drink, smoke, whatever.” Pausing, he grins. “We can even listen to the whole album, if you want.”

“You finished it?” you ask, sitting up more and incredulous. That’s complete news to you.

“This morning, right before I flew back here,” Joost says, nodding proudly. “I also texted you, but duty calls, no?”

“You texted me?” He texted you? And you missed it?!?!? Again, the new information makes you cry, and he holds you tight as you do. “You should be mad that I didn’t see it,” you say in between dry heaves into his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I could never be mad at you, lieverd, and I’m sorry I made you cry again,” he says, rubbing your back, petting your hair. “I just wanted to let you know when I did it—it was just a timestamp, that doesn’t mean you needed to know right that second.”

“But I wanted to know.”

“You know now, and I know how proud you are of me. That’s enough, that’s even more than what I wanted.” You trust him and his words so fully, every passing second with him is another way to help you feel better. “I love you,” Joost says your name so seriously, a punctuation to his love letter. “I mean it.”

“I love you too.” You kiss him, deeply, moments passing that you use to thank everything you can that he’s so good with your worries, your anxieties. “I’ll take you up on that offer for tomorrow, Joost,” you say, finally calmed down enough. Your eyes are incredibly bleary—you didn’t know that was possible. But at least you aren’t actively crying anymore. “Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you for giving me something more to look forward to, schat. Now—let’s go run a bath together and listen to my song for you.”

#joost klein #joost klein smut #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost x you #joost klein x you #joost #joost smut #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfiction #juno's fics #answered prompt #smut prompts #juno’s smut

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heartofwritiing · 11 months

Text

and you just can’t say goodbye.

paring: (zombur) William Godwinson x fem!reader

summary: Wil gets bitten, and angst ensues.

authors note: HUGE thanks to @ax-y10 for the help because originally this fic was gonna end a lot more agnsty but then they gave me an idea that was more on the happy side! I've never written a zombie apocalypse setting before so please excuse anything I get wrong. I've only watched other people play The Last of Us and I've briefly seen one episode of The Walking Dead so you can see how this will probably go. lol. The Sorry Boys zombie video is brain-rotting in my head rn I've watched it about four times now. yes. I love Zombur, so here's a drive-by of me throwing this fic at you and then skirting off with smoke from my tires. enjoy the brainrot :p (I'm so sorry this took me so long to get out, I've been procrastinating finishing it because I'm having some self-doubt at the minute but I hope you guys like this anyway even though it's a mess lol)

warnings: zombie apocalypse au, angst, death, violence, swearing, lots of kissing, characters use guns, the writer doesn't know anything about how guns work lmao, sort of happy end? super unedited!

"shit! I'm out of ammo!"

You pulled the trigger on the handgun once more, but nothing. It was luck that you had even found one. Even so early on in an apocalypse. A month had gone by since the first day of the outbreak. Though it was likely that you should've died on the first day, you don't know why you've survived this long. you should be dead.

At first, you thought staying in your apartment was the best chance you had of surviving. Big mistake. That strategy turned south when your front door was barged in after four days of no disturbance from any outsiders. Your boyfriend Wil had grabbed everything you could carry, and you hadn't stopped moving ever since.

Now, you and Wil found yourselves trapped in an alley with no escape. A pack of infected had cornered you, slowly closing in while making menacing noises. Wil bravely stood between you and the horde, fighting them off to protect you.

"Climb up the fire escape!" he shouted back at you.

You looked around until you spotted a ladder conveniently placed on the side of the building within reach. Infected were dropping like flies as Wil's shots echoed through the air. The ladder shook as you climbed, heart pounding in your ears. You glimpsed down to check and see if Wil was following, to find he was surrounded on all sides by infected. Your heart dropped when you saw one of their mouths was too close to his wrist. By the time you called out his name, it was already too late.

'Fuck!' Wil screamed as the infected bit through his skin and charred his flesh. Blood gushed down his arm and around the infected's mouth. You cry his name as he reeled back his fist and punched the infected repeatedly until it staggered off of him, but it was too late. Your eyes were fixed on him as he quickly climbed up the ladder, gasping for breath as he did so. He seemed in immense pain as he pulled his body up the ladder, slightly struggling.

Upon reaching the roof, you found a roof access leading to a floor with multiple doors, revealing it to be an apartment complex. Wil was already feeling the effects of the infection. His skin was sticky with sweat, the bitter taste left in his mouth tasting the blood rising in his throat, and the sudden vertigo he got just by rushing down the stairs was enough to make him nauseous.

You came to the floor with all the apartment units and quickly kicked in the door of the closest one. It took a few attempts to kick the door, and then bam! The sound of splitting wood and the door bouncing off the wall made a delirious Wil jump.

You entered the small room, helping Wil through the doorway, and setting him down gently before closing the door. You searched around for something to barricade the door with. Just in case of any infected find you. The only thing that looked heavy enough was the dresser tucked into the corner. Using all your muscles, you pushed the object across the room with the bottom of the dresser scraping against the wood, grimacing at the loud noise.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you knew you were safe for now. You dusted your hands off and turned back to Wil who was slumped against the wall on the floor, clutching his bitten arm. Wincing and squirming from the heat burning through his skin spreading throughout his veins.

The room was dim, and you noticed the sweat beading down his forehead. You quickly took your backpack off your shoulders and strode over to him. Taking out the first-aid kit you had for emergencies, you pulled out the tiny bottle of anti-septic cleaning solution and the roll of bandages.

You gazed down at his wrist, which was curled against his chest, shrouding you from looking at it. The ring of teeth marks oozing out the color of maroon as black vines protruded around the area, extending over his skin. His head lulled to the side as he let out a moan of pain.

"No, baby, keep your eyes open," you tried to lure him back to consciousness. Take his hand and position it palm up in your lap. He whines like a wounded animal in response.

Unscrewing the cap, you quickly prep the cotton pads. Then you quickly realize you should've put on gloves beforehand. Muttering curses under your breath you shake your head at the thought, There was no time.

"What are you doing?" Wil's voice slurs. He sounds groggy, like something is trying to creep up his throat to escape, not him. It scares you. You refuse to look at him.

"I have to clean the wound before it gets infected," you say nonchalantly.

With the little strength he has left, Will reaches out his unbitten hand to catch yours. You stop your movements in disbelief of his actions, tears brimming in your eyes as you try to save his life, but he stops you again. You both know what's inevitable, you just can't accept it.

"Wil-" you try to pull out of his grasp. You reach out to touch his wrist again this time, he is the one who pulls away.

"Look at me," he pleads. You can't bring yourself to shift your eyes to his, knowing this was inevitable. You had to try. He had to let you try.

"just stop."

Wil tries to grab the items from your hands, but you move too quickly for his shrinking reflexes to keep up. Moving beginning to be too strenuous.

"I can't- Wil-" You struggle to fight against him, too scared to hurt him. Though he's already dying.

"Stop, honey..." he quivers.

"Just let me save you!" you cry. It echoes through the room. The air is tense, and you finally meet his eyes. His skin is sickly pale, eyes bright with red veins and glossy. Purple hues outline under his soft doe eyes as they peer into yours. He fists the hem of your shirt, inviting you closer. Your breaths mix together as he presses his forehead to yours.

The words hang between you, but you bite your tongue. You want to tell him how much you want him to stay and not give up. Deep down, you already know it's not enough.

"It's too late for me darling, leave me here.”

“I'm not leaving you,” you say sternly, shaking your head.

You were determined to stay with him, no matter how difficult things got, you were unwilling to abandon him.

“Please, I don’t want you to see me turn into a monster.” his voice wavered. Your heart sank. No matter what, he would always be your Wil. Sweet, caring, and lovable Wil. Whom you adored with every fiber of your being.

You reach up to cup his face with your hands, but they feel cool against your clammy skin. His cheekbones are slowly becoming more prominent. You stare into his eyes, but the urge to tell him to be quiet becomes harder as anger festers in your chest. However, it's not anger towards him, but rather frustration towards the universe.

Instead, you snuggle up next to him to demonstrate your lack of fear and your trust in him. You want to be by his side and provide comfort. You understand that it's unrealistic to expect him to recover from this infection given his history of being sick and having a weakened immune system. It's best to accept the inevitable outcome.

It's unclear how much time has passed while the two of you remain in that position. His arm securely around your shoulder holding you close, with your arm laid across his lap where your fingers provided soft circles against his hip bone. The room grows darker as the sun sets. The air feels eerie yet comforting all at once with Wil by your side. Nothing but the sounds of his raspy breathing and occasional coughing fit to surround you. He whispers through the dark against the crown of your head with horse words. Sweet nothings, promises that make you curl into him further so he can't see the single tear you shed.

He lifts his hand to gently cup your cheek, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Selfishly, he leans in for a soft kiss. You whine at the metallic taste in his mouth when he groans to part his lips so his tongue finds yours. It makes your head spin like a top how this man makes you feel. His lips are chapped, rough, and fast as he indulges in you for maybe the last time. You gasp and reach up to tangle your fingers in his locks to reel him closer to you. His hand finds the underside of your thigh, digging into your flesh. The mere touch of his hand sets your body ablaze and sends shivers down your spine.

It's frantic and passionate, your love for him shown physically. When you disconnect, suddenly remember you need to breathe. his eyes are hazy and his pupils are blown. You are sure you look like a flustered mess.

"I love you," he says sincerely, and you believe him.

It stings in your chest, you can't stand it.

"I love you more," you reply.

You tuck yourself into his neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and outdoors, and it's calming. Wil rests his head on the crown of your head. You neglect how his breathing has slowed as you drift off to sleep.

The next time you open your eyes, the sun peeks through the window, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. Your bones crack when you sit up to stretch from sleeping in the same position all night. You knew you'd regret it later when you had back pain for days. You turn to Wil, who doesn't stir when you move. Your heart dropped when you noticed something different about him.

Around his eyes were a darker color than the previous night. His cheekbones were completely sunken in where you could almost see the bone. his lips were a blueish color and his chest was rising and falling.

This was your fault. You should have stayed awake.

Tears streamed down your face as you called out his name, gently shaking his body, but he didn't respond.

"Wil!" you wailed, begging for him to come back.

You slumped forward, cradling him against your chest, pressing kisses to his temple, and muttering apologies against his cold skin. You felt your heart break as you realized he was gone, and tears rolled down your face as you held him close to you. You felt a deep emptiness settle in your heart. You knew you would never fill the void his death had left. You sobbed, gripping him tighter, and whispered your final goodbye. You held him close, cherishing holding home one last time. Knowing that you would never be the same again.

You're too distraught to move. You don't want to leave him here, but you don't have any other choice. The urge to keep on and survive was slowly fading now that you had no one left in this cruel world.

Wil felt heavy in your arms to the point where your arms were falling asleep, but you refused to let go. If you were to leave now, you may be tempted to never return to the person you once were. Allow your sorrow to consume you. The one good thing left in your life was gone.

You suddenly felt hands grab your lower back, causing you to yelp in surprise. Fingers gripe harshly at your skin through your clothes. Wil's chilled breath glides up your spine as he lets out a deep groan against your collarbone. He was alive? How?

His lips ghosted across your collarbone, pressing his nose directly into your pulse point. His hot breath fans across your exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your body. Then, you feel his teeth nipping at your skin, and your eyes widen realizing his intentions.

You jerk away and shove him off you roughly. Crawling backward, quickly shuffling away from him, your heart pounding, until your back hits the opposite wall with a thump. You wince in pain from the impact and notice Wil gradually beginning to crawl toward you. A fixed gaze over his sheer white eyes, almost glowing like moonbeams. Chills ran down your spine as you gazed at your former lover, unrecognizable.

You froze as he approached, shrinking in on yourself. His body lazily dragged itself across the wooden floor, scrapping and groaning with every floorboard. Once he was close enough, his hand unexpectedly reached to grasp your ankle, and you screamed in fear. Nails harshly dig into your skin and create recent moon shapes that make you cry out.

He yanked you with a surprising strength until you were laid beneath him, overbearing you. You are powerless as Wil, or not Wil's body leaned over you and cadged you with his arms. Tears flow from the corners of your eyes and into your ears as his face inches towards you.

"Please," you whisper. Again, he tilts his head in curiosity at you.

"William?" Your eyes bore into his, trying to find some trace of life left in them. You observe his eyes returning to their natural color and a look of terror crossing his face as he regains consciousness. He staggers back and moves away from you frantically, clutching his chest and struggling to breathe.

You both sit on opposite sides of the room against the wall, he stares into the floor burning holes into the wood, avoiding your eyes. You just blink blankly at him in shock, knees tucked against your chest again.

Wil cradled his skull, clutching fist fulls of his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, and heaving breaths of panic puffed out his mouth. Mumbles of "I'm sorry," repeated like a mantra over, and over out shakily.

You let out an unsteady breath, His eyes quickly flicked over to you and fear flooded your senses once again.

"Darling?" he tries, his voice hoarse. He moves towards the center of the room, positioning himself a safe distance from you. “I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me..." his voice trails off.

He noticed your tense reaction upon watching him inch closer to you, and it broke his heart to see you trembling in fear due to his prior actions. He could never forgive himself for causing you such distress.

"is it really you?" you asked.

"I don't know," he says honestly. "I don't feel like myself, It's like I'm trying to grab hold of a stearing wheel and fight for control right now."

Your heart sank at his words. You let them maul over in your head for a moment. It sounded like your Wil, but you hesitated in reaching out to him. So, was he alive? He didn't look it, his skin was still deathly pale and almost decayed. Nose now dripping with dried blood that ran down his lips.

His head hangs low as he silently sobs. He didn’t want this. Now he was dead and was leaving you to defend yourself. He swore he would always protect you and he’s failed. He knows its selfish to ask you to stay with him, you should just leave him here to rot. Still, he begs you.

“Please, darling dont leave me,” You shake your head and crawl towards him. He might be an undead zombie now, but you still loved him more than anything else is this life. You would do anything for him. You take his face in your hands to tilt his head up but he avoids your eyes. “look at me,” his eyes shift to yours.

“I wanna help you baby, and im sure as hell not gonna leave you, not now, not ever.” you proclaim. “So don’t you dare ever try and push me away, because im staying. No matter how complicated things get.”

You bring yourself to kiss his forehead, your warm lips making him sigh out from the touch. He holds you for what feels like hours. Eventually you both know you’ll have to leave this abandoned apartment, whether you run out of food or more zombies show up. move on, then figure things out. Whatever it takes you would stay together, no matter what.

taglist: @trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @scenefaez @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @drop-of-void

#wilbur soot x reader #fanfiction #zombie apocalypse #sorry boys #wilbur soor x fem!reader #agnst #x reader #writing #fanficton #zombur #zombur x reader #zombie au #c!wilbur soot x reader #outbreak au

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queerweewoo · 2 months

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okay this is very long and mostly just for me to get some stuff of my chest and out of my head therefore anybody tagged pls don't feel as though you have to read it all (like obvs you know you don't have to but you also hopefully know what i mean lol):

so i've had some quite heavy stuff going on in meatspace recently, and then i went to see i saw the tv glow two nights ago which was beyond brilliant but fucked me up entirely on a personal level. then, just to be a bit (read: incredibly) stupid, i for some reason (read: bc i'm a masochist) decided to delve into reading waaaay too many of my first 'eddie losing his shit over christopher leaving/summer of sexuality queer crisis' fics, which i've not dared let myself do before now bc it's all very close to the bone for me i.e. my own queer (trans) crises—yes, plural, they keep coming—and stuff that's not a million miles away from the shit going on with my eldest son (bar kim lol). why tf my brain chose the worse time possible is just another one of life's mysteries (read: i'm just insane [see above]).

(btw my struggling hugely with issues of repression plus my son hating/not hating me aside, THIS FIC is the insanely brilliant piece of art that kicked off the binge. it's from the astonishingly talented @wildehacked and is one of two parts which are possibly the best buddie fics—or even just some of the best fics, period—that i've ever read. seriously, check the tags and if you're a buddie lover and it/they seem like your sort of thing you should 100% go save/read it/them!)

anyways, after all that i'm now just kind of spiralling a bit tbh aha. i'm not fine, not rn, but i will be fine at some point soon sort of thing. like, i'm okay and nobody needs to worry etc i'm just trying to do one if the countless things that i'm absolutely bloody terrible at which is reaching out. but not because i need anything from anybody it's more just for me to be able to say “i'm going through some stuff right now and i might or might not disappear for a while” because i don't usually manage anything at all like that when i'm in the trenches and instead just retreat into my shell and go radio silent—and the thing is, i know some very lovely people who have shown concern when i've done that in the past and i'm therefore trying to be better. friends old and new alike such as @shealynn88 @sharkfish @greyhavenisback @raisesomehale @doilooklikepeople @woodchoc-magnum @buddiebeginz i'll absolutely be getting back/chatting to you when i'm able to interact with a bit more—well, when i'm a bit more, i 'spose xp

also tagging lovelies @novemberhush for the usually well-loved procrastination tag game stuff and @inell and @kitteneddiediaz (and possibly @veronae-buddie and @daffi-990?) for the WIP games i've been kindly tagged in but not responded to. thank you and sorry! like, i know it's absolutely fine and nobody really cares about stuff like that, but i'm just very much feeling like i need to say these things right now. and more apologies if there have been tags i've missed from other lovely folks; not being round these parts for 48+hrs = horrendous notifs situation (you know how it is).

on the writing front, i don't know if it's both completely dumb and ridiculous to start this by saying, “hmm, i'm unsure if it's related or not?” but as well as everything else i'm simultaneously having one one those Everything I Have Ever Written Am Writing Or Could Write Is Utter Fucking Dogshit sort of moments (like, i know i'm not a great writer—which is not derogatory and just fact and 100% absolutely fine—but i'm usually at peace with the strange little oneshots i puke out, y'know?) which is yet another reason for me to disappear off here for the time being as i sadly have one of those unhealthy irrational relationships with fandom that's like I Don't Deserve To Be Here If I'm Not Being Useful—which i know is dumb af and i would absolutely try to coax anyone else out of if it were them saying it and not me, but alas poor yorick. thing is, i used to be incredibly prolific in making fanart, for loads of different fandoms, and that too has dwindled considerably over the last year or more (god, is it that long?) therefore it's just a double whammy currently with the writing now also taking a hit. and i know, i know, whomp whomp poor me etc etc i just—i fear whenever i disappear, i won't ever be able to make it back... bleugh horrid lol

obviously i can't seem to be normal about anything ever so i'm sorry if this is a weird way to respond to nothing happening that nobody asked about (there is no 'if'; it absolutely is weird but i'm afraid it is what it is) and i truly don't need anything from anybody, i just think me posting this and saying how i'm feeling will probably be doing me a bit of good. honestly, pls feel free to ignore, this is just cathartic for me. but i guess, at the same time, as well as those things, me being on the spectrum means i'm not skilled at keeping friendships going, which makes me very sad, so this is maybe me voicing those fears in an attempt to combat them becoming a reality? i think? it's just that i've already drifted away from too many lovely people here due to the affects of these things and i'm therefore just—i think i'm just really trying in my own odd little way.

anyways i'm gonna go rewatch some sense8 and sob out my own weight in tears and snot and just keep on keeping on with existential crisis #4793 for the time being until something shifts in me and then i'll be back at some point? yeah, i think that sounds about right.

love you guys big much (one of my son's isms from when he was little) <3

ps just realised i wrote this on my buddie blog and really can't be arsed copying and pasting it over to my main @all-or-nothing-baby... so anybody who was wondering, yeah it's me yer boi cassidy xp also if you read this far you're insane and i love you even more for it <3

#i actually hadn't decided whether i was going to even post this or not then accidently pressed the post button so here we go i guess lol #personal #and i guess #911 spoilers #just in case

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littleplantfreak · 2 months

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~Mari's 100 Follower Event~

Hi! I made it to 100 followers which is quite the feat y'know. So although I don't normally take requests I figure it'd be refreshing to try it out! I'll just cut it off at 15 requests (if I even get that many lol) and I'll post to let everyone know when I've reached that number. Otherwise I'll just end it on Monday with however many I get.

Here's the do's, don'ts, and won'ts!

My blog is primarily Wind Breaker, so although it's silly for me to have to say, I'd like to be safe and specify that currently it's only for Wind Breaker characters

I can write for any character, but I don't excel in all of them and if it's one I'm not used to writing, it may take time (please be patient with me I'm so slow even with normal writing)

I can write SFW and NSFW and I'm pretty fine with most kinks (except for maybe scat, incest, or something extremely non-conish. Dubcon is new for me to write but I can try my best)

I don't really feel comfortable writing too much about self harm, miscarriage, other kinda sensitive topics like that, because I don't always have the ability or experience to properly handle them. If there's one you want to ask about though, by all means ask because i may not know if I can write it until you tell me what you're looking for.

I can do either headcanons or just plain writing a scenario/scenes/fic/drabble. If you don't have a preference I'll just pick whichever seems like it'll work for that specific prompt.

If you can't think of anything to request, you could always ask for a sequel to something I've already written or with characters i haven't done that prompt for before. Or you can get on my ass to finish something I've talked about writing but have been procrastinating >_>

I'm always up for AUs.

You could also just bring up something about a character and I'll yap about them if that's want you want. If you didn't already know from following me, I never shut up.

Oh! If you're asking for headcanons please limit the characters to 5 maximum and if it's a longer writing piece maybe 3 max. Otherwise it'll take me too long to go through everyone else's requests :(

I'll have a special tag I keep this event stuff in, and it'll be linked in the masterlist as well.

If there are similar requests, I might pair them up

Sorry I wrote so much! And thank you guys for being so sweet and awesome all the time. You really make it tons of fun to write and chat here, so even if you don't have a request, my DMs and inbox are always open!

#mari's events #i think thatll be it #and before you ask? i absolutely meant to use that gif its fucking hilarious to me #if theres typos here? idc im tired bro #its my birthday and im taking my sister and her friend to nyc so ill be not here most of the day #im getting XLB tho so even though its not MY birthday celebration its still good im so in love with food

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sparrow-in-the-field · 5 months

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I haven't shared any random Bobby/Don ideas lately and I'm procrastinating working at my job rn I have several for "Don away at/immediately after the war" that I'm not convinced I'll ever write into a full fic because I have a weak heart (cries, do not separate them!).

I figured I might as well share them here, since otherwise they may never see the light of day (that being said, maybe if y'all like them enough, I can be convinced 👀).

Anyway here we go, my Bobby/Don war times head cannons:

Before Don leaves, Bobby gives him a ring to wear. He had his father make a pair, with "Moch" and "Hume" engraved on the inside. Bobby keeps the Hume one and gives Don the Moch one. He asks Don to wear it on his ring finger and claim to be married while he's away.

They write letters to each other obviously, and Bobby always just signs his as "B.", so the content can still be lovey/candid and Don can claim the letters are from a girl with a B name if needed.

Because I am weak of the heart, even in my head cannons, I imagine Don doesn't really see much of the actual war front because his engineering skills are what is put to use (I think that was a thing irl?). He has mixed feelings about this, some guilt, some frustration that he's essentially just doing his same job but forced to do it far away from home/Bobby. Bobby is grateful that Don isn't facing any danger, even if he realizes it's selfish.

Similarly, Don very selfishly is glad that Bobby couldn't join the army because of his health issues.

Bobby relies on friends a lot for support while Don is away. Joyce of course, because it's me, but also some of the other guys who couldn't enlist. They all know about Bobby and Don's relationship at this point.

I have an idea that is pretty much the closest to an actual fic plot of Don figuring out that another guy in his unit is gay and they befriend each other. It would include letters between Don and Bobby of them talking about it discretely.

Now, when Don returns when the war is over, nsfw but I imagine the two of them just fucking ravish each other. Like Bobby at one point is like "you better not expect to leave this house, this bed, for at least 3 days."

Related to above but the bullet was getting to long: They keep swapping between really hot/horny "meaningless" sex and super emotional lovemaking. They figure out early on that they have to decide/tell each other which it's gonna be so they're both on the same page lol.

After the war they still wear the rings :') maybe they have to switch them to the middle finger or right hand instead, since they live together and clearly not with wives, but still, they know what the rings mean.

I think that's it! Sorry for any heartache if you're like me and thinking about it for too long makes your heart hurt 🙏 knowing me, even if I ever wrote it I'd somehow manage to turn it into fluff lol.

#the boys in the boat #bobby moch x don hume #bobby moch #don hume #coxstroke

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bangrychannie · 3 months

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Stray Kids Fic Recs

Hello! Recently I have become a stray kids fan and have fallen into a rabbit hole of fanfiction. Various pairings bc I don't care what the pair is just that it's stray kids related lmao. Added a line break bc there's a lot. Also feel free to rec me skz fics please bc I'm always reading

the book of us; electricity: (Seungjin | 10/10 | 84,966 | teen and up)

HJ @hyunfortunately 5h ;-; i was at the store and this song was playing over the speakers and i tried to remember some lyrics so i could search it up later but i can’t find it this is TRAGIC HJ @hyunfortunately 5h it was in korean and it’s kind of got rock-pop-balladish vibes and the first line of it was “neoneun neo neoneun na” if anyone knows it PLEASE tell me Seungmin doesn’t like to interact with other people on Twitter, but the questions seems almost aimed to him. He hits reply and types, “Try Hi Hello by Day6.” [Seungmin falls for Hyunjin from 2000 miles away. He expected that it would be inconvenient. He didn't expect quite how much Hyunjin would change his life.]

Genuinely one of the best fics I've ever read. It reads like a love letter to high school in the best way possible.

so this is what love is by dwaekinz: (Seungjin | 4/4 | 43,743 | teen and up)

seungmong_22 Hi, Hyunjin! My name is Seungmin. I'm Felix's friend, I hope he's mentioned me before…? Ha. We met online two years ago. I know it's unexpected But I kind of need your help hyuntothejin Me??? After 2 years of online friendship, Seungmin has finally found the time and saved up enough money to visit Felix for his birthday. In order for the surprise to work, he recruits the help of Felix's brother, Hyunjin, and together they spend the next three months forging a plan as well as a friendship of their own— or maybe something more.

So cute and fluffy no notes

Endgame by Raesan (Minsung | 9/9 | 150,840 | Explicit)

Jisung didn’t mean to procrastinate, but he didn’t think that all the clubs would be full in just a week. He sighed, seeing that only one club still had availability. Too bad he didn’t know shit about chess. Or what happens when Jisung, captain of the college soccer team, meets Minho, the number 2 ranked chess player in the country.

This fic is genuinely SO GOOD lol I think about it every day

reply hazy, try again by mrehk (BinChan | 1/1 | 14,951 | Explicit)

Changbin’s calculus tutor is Bang Chan. Smile wide, eyes shining, curly hair wild around his head. He’s got his backpack slung over one arm, those fuck ass chino shorts with a five inch inseam that make Changbin’s mouth water— and, goddamn, he’s wearing a fucking cropped t-shirt. Jisung and Seungmin are going to string Changbin up and have their way with public humiliation when they hear about this. (OR: solving for the derivative of l+o+v+e)

Funny and cute, I love idiots in love and that's what this is

Also mrehk is a fantastic writer so if you like this fic there's way more where that came from

i will protect you (gothic font) by mrehk (Minsung | 1/1 | 16,661 | Explicit)

Seungmin ignores him, smacking the folder onto the desk, flipping it open without looking, sliding it across the surface towards Minho. “It doesn’t matter. This was in the lease. You signed, right—” he taps the bottom corner, Minho’s initials perfectly legible. “Here.” “Excuse me?” Minho leans forward. “Paragraph nineteen subsection C,” Seungmin says, not even looking down as he recites the document word for word. “Lease is not voidable in the case of suspected paranormal activity.” He pounds his finger on the period. Minho laughs. A short, barked thing, completely disbelieving. “You’re kidding me.” “I’m really not,” Seungmin’s face pinches up into the sort of fake, squinted smile someone gives when they’re being an asshole. No remorse. (OR: Minho has ghosts, Jisung hunts ghosts)

Another funny one by mrehk my beloved

one day to fall in love (countless ones to love you) by whatifidbeenthatauthor (Minsung | 1/1 | 22,018 | Mature)

Minho stopped in his tracks. He turned to face Han Jisung. He looked unbothered, still going on about his way. “You didn’t say Hi,” Minho said, forcing the voice to come out of his throat. “You always say hi, hyung.” Jisung turned to look at him, a smile playing on his lips. He looked amused. Minho’s mind wasn’t keeping up. “Today’s different, I guess,” Jisung shrugged. “I went with a variation.” Minho would have found him insufferable, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to process the frustrating sensation that usually accompanied Jisung’s presence. Minho blurted out something that might have him sent to a madhouse. “No. I’ve lived today six times. You- you always say hi, hyung.” He felt crazy. More than usual. Jisung laughed. “What the fuck,” he said, and Minho knew he sounded insane, but could this kid please not be so arrogant? “Me, too. I thought I was the only one,” he continued, and he changed Minho’s life. *** Minho's life is boring, predictable, borderline uneventful. Until he gets stuck in a time loop. And, with him, his friends' friend, Han Jisung, a crazy dude who's only into skating. And whom Minho doesn't necessarily like.

I love time loop/time travel fics if anyone wants a list of specifically those lmk lmao

(never) have your fill of me by lolainslackss (Minsung | 3/3 | 36,028 | Explicit)

“How often can he possibly be having sex that it’s disturbing you this much?” Hyunjin asks, disbelieving. “He has sex, like, every day. And then again at night, sometimes.” Jisung makes a noise of distress. He drags his hands down his face before balling them into fists beneath his chin. “It’s just . . . so distracting, Hyunjin.” “Distracting,” Hyunjin repeats, giving Jisung a meaningful smirk. “Oh, I bet it is.” “Aw,” Jisung whines. “Why’d you have to say it like that?” “Like what?” “Like you think I wish I were the one he were fucking, instead.” “Because you do, don’t you, or are we pretending we both don’t know that?” Hyunjin’s gaze flits over to Minho before it swiftly cuts back to Jisung, all-knowing. “You’d let him do anything to you. Am I wrong?” - In which PhD student Han Jisung unleashes a succubus from a magical book, winds up living with him, and then forms a sex pact with him.

I also have a lot of demon fic recs so lmk

36 Questions That May Lead to Love by bluecalicocat (Minsung | 1/1 | 17,282 | Teen and Up)

generic username @realhanjisung yo my friend wants to be a therapist, can someone pls fake date me so he can practice counseling couples? i have 3 cats @leeknow deal

This fic is so funny

Searching for My Heart in Yours by lk321 (minsung | 5/5 | 36,995 | General)

When Jisung moves to Miroh, a town in the middle of nowhere, all he’s looking for is some peace and quiet. Instead, what he finds is a prickly witch for a neighbor by the name of Minho, who accidentally spills a potion on Jisung and forms a psychic bond between them, opening Jisung to whole new world of magic. As Minho tries to find a cure for their predicament, Jisung finds himself pulled into Minho's lively and magical life. It's not the peace and quiet Jisung was looking for, but as Jisung gets to know the witch through the emotions they're forced to share, Jisung realizes that the answers he’s searching for in life might just lie here in Miroh, in places he least expects.

Feels like a warm hug

the long game by floraii (HyunSung | 1/1 | 16,045 | Teen and Up)

“Anyway,” he continues, voice still sultry, “I’ve been seeing you in class, and I was just wondering—” he moves his hand to curl around a strand of his hair. “Could I get your number?” Han Jisung’s big brown eyes blink again. His gaze darts to his lips, then to his notebook, then up to his eyes. “To study?” “Yeah,” Hyunjin blurts without thinking. What the fuck? Study? What is happening? Why is he agreeing?

Hyunjin has a type. It’s not usually shy boys in his Intro to Statistics class with big round eyes and glasses, but Han Jisung is different.

This fic was so funny I was actually laughing out loud

I have plenty more where that came from! So there will be more recs soon

#fic rec #skz fic recs #fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #minsung #minho/jisung #hyunsung #seungjin #binchan #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #skz fics #minsung fic #minsung fics #stray kids fics

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earlgreytea68 · 3 months

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I admire your writing SO MUCH. What is your writing routine? Or do you have any writing tips you might like to share?

Awwww, THANK YOU! That is really so lovely to hear!!

My writing routine changes from time to time, which I mention because sometimes it's worthwhile to switch up your routine if it stops working for you.

I always advice trying to write at least a little bit every day, even if it's just a sentence or a paragraph. And rather than framing it that way -- a sentence, a paragraph, a hundred words -- I set aside time to write. Even if I only sit down for five minutes and spend the whole five minutes re-reading what I wrote last time, keeping the story there in my mind is useful to me.

Because I think you should try to find time to write every day, I try to have a time set aside each day to write. When I was younger, I used to write at night. Then two things happened: (1) I got busier, which meant I was sitting down later and later at night for my writing time; (2) I began to be so tired at the end of the night when I finally got time to write. I didn't really notice that I was tired, what I noticed was I was having a hard time writing. The stories felt like slogs and I wasn't getting anywhere.

So! I read somewhere about someone who used to get up early in the morning to write. Look, I am not a person who's waking up at 5am to write. But some mornings I wake up fifteen to thirty minutes earlier than I need to, and I sit up in bed and I write, and this has worked really, really well for me. My brain is much more awake at the beginning of the day and the words have come more easily and it's been a nice way to ease into the day. The problem is it's not a very long period of time, but it's better than nothing. Again, when I was younger, I used to find the time to write for hours. Life happens. Rather than lamenting the loss of marathon writing sessions, instead I cherish the time that I get.

With that said, you might be like, "Hang on, sometimes you very quickly turn around a fic right after some event has happened, how are you doing that in 15 minutes at the beginning of the day?" Oh, don't worry, I'm definitely not. Because this is my other piece of advice: Sometimes you get an idea that just, like, goes, and when that happens, I write. Now obviously you can't do this if you have other commitments, but anything that I can procrastinate to the next day in favor of writing a fic that feels right there, I do, and I do it without guilt, because I can do it the next day, and who knows if the fic will be there the next day. I don't know if that's exactly advice, because I know I have a much more flexible schedule than many people do, but I did want to explain that I promise I'm not lying when I say usually I only write 15-30 minutes a day lol

So that is my "routine." As for "tips," my main writing tip is to write what you would like to read. If it interests you, then it's done its job. For this reason, I think writing is very personal and there are almost no universal "tips," because different things work for each person. I, for instance, cannot outline and hate to do it; it messes me totally up. I start with a vague idea and a first sentence and I go from there. This works for me. I'm unbothered by not having a plan. It wouldn't work for everyone, so if that idea freaks you out, make an outline! But if you feel like you get stuck at the outline stage, this is permission from me to ignore it entirely and just write.

Other things that personally work for me: I try to trust my characters. If I'm struggling with a story, it's probably because it's wrong, and I need to figure out what I did wrong. Like, the characters are in the wrong place and don't want to do what I'm trying to make them do, that's why they're fighting me.

I try not to write "boring" parts. Like, if I'm bored by what I'm writing, I assume everyone else is, too. Just skip to what you want to write and write that. The "boring" part can't be too important to the story if it was boring.

If you're writing a love story, give your characters time to fall in love. That is not the boring part, I promise. If they had a good date, tell us what they talked about on the date. Write the actual dialogue. Whenever I find myself writing, "They talked for hours," I stop and think if I can put some of that conversation in. That, to me, is the important stuff.

I happen to be an auditory thinker, not a visual one. I think in words, not images. For this reason, my first drafts tend to be a lot of dialogue. When I read them over, that's when I add in beats here and there to pause the flow. A dialogue tag can be a nice beat to make the reader pause and not be overwhelmed by the conversation. If you're struggling with dialogue, sometimes I try it out loud, playing both parts.

Identify what writers you admire do well. Not just "writing." Like, I think some writers write excellent descriptions of kissing, for instance, and I wish I wrote better descriptions of kissing. Once you identify the more specific thing they're doing that you admire, really study how they're accomplishing the effect that you like. What makes that description of kissing so good? Thinking about what makes something seem "good" to you can help you to think about using those same tricks in your own writing.

My only universal rule of writing: Resist epithets. You almost never need them. Just use their name or a pronoun. It will read better, trust me.

I hope some of this is helpful!! I will say that I got a comment recently (I read ALL of your comments and they are all wonderful and also so deeply helpful to me in your reactions to things, even if I'm often terrible about responding to them, they are lifelines for me, please know I read and appreciate so much EVERY SINGLE ONE) and the comment said something like, "I used to read your Sherlock stuff! I can't believe now you're in FOB fandom! Your Sherlock stuff was fantastic, but your writing has gotten EVEN BETTER!" I put this in not to brag about this comment lol, but to say that I agree with it, I think I am a better writer now than I was ten years ago and a better writer than ten years before that. You're always getting better, because you're always practicing and learning for the next story. You might not feel like it's happening -- it's not like I'm like, "Let me go PRACTICE writing now!" -- but it will!

#long post #writing

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bigskydreaming · 3 months

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So, been awhile! Apologies for that - took a step back from most social media sites for a few months because the accumulated stresses and everpresent urgency to most things I've been dealing with for the past five plus years finally caught up with me and I kinda just....crashed, and needed some time to get my head on straight. Or whatever the non-obvious-pun version of that might be for a Known Bisexual. Everything was getting to be too constantly 'stop and go' for me, if that makes sense.....like I'd TRY to be more present on here, TRY to work on things like my patreon and fic and meta and stuff like that because I've really wanted to get back to creating actual stuff that people enjoy instead of being like My Issues: The Latest Installment and the like, but then something else would crop up and kill my momentum before it even really got going and I'd have to duck away yet again, and rinse and repeat.

HENCE! I took a more dedicated, extended leave to try and get into a headspace and build a buffer that better lends itself to me getting back to the kinds of posting/writing conditions I've thrived under in the past. It took longer than I thought, but I've never been good at accurately estimating things lol. I've still been on twitter somewhat sporadically, since a huge part of why I hate that site is its format makes it all but impossible to really get to ranting at length...y'know, as I do, my tried and true time-suck method of procrastinating...and with everything going on in the world these days I didn't want to disconnect entirely even though I did need time to work through some shit. BUT I DIGRESS.

Point is, felt like I needed something more substantial than the optimistic-but-lacking-in-actual-energy-and-planning measures I've attempted in the past couple years in order to get on top of things and achieve a measure of consistency and stability again. Less shooting for the moon because I just WANT to be back to my older, happier/more content patterns, more....putting some actual time and thought into how I can realistically make that happen instead of just trying to will it into existence through sheer stubbornness. Because obviously, THAT always works.

ANYWAY. It'll still be a couple days before I get back to regular posting/reblogging patterns or much of any of that at all.....don't be confused if you see some blink and you miss them temporary posts from me over the next day or two. I'm testing out the formatting and layout of a bunch of posts and graphics made for my patreon and original fiction stuff, since the preview post function doesn't always work with read mores in a post and they're all gonna need that lol. If anyone's up for it, I am finalizing the price/reward tiers of my patreon and could use some thoughts on the different levels - I think I have them mostly figured out but wouldn't mind some additional perspectives on how I broke things down and if I'm missing some alternatives. Just message me directly if you'd like to weigh in or lend me your thoughts!

I've never wanted my tumblr to be all about fic or just original content or anything like that, so the patreon's meant to kinda keep all that separate beyond just generalized update announcements on here. The blog will remain just a regular multi-purpose smorgasboard of my reblogs and thoughts on other posts and meta about my various fandoms and all that jazz. The patreon discord will have spaces having to do with my various fanfics, but they'll never be exclusive to it in any way, and every fic update I make will still be on my blog same as always. I've been building masterlists of all my Dick Grayson meta and all my Teen Wolf meta, as well as headcanons and writing snippets/scenes that never got posted elsewhere because I didn't consider them full fics, and I'm starting a series of posts that lean directly into my tendencies to be an Overly Opinionated Asshole who - historically speaking - has never been, uh, shy, shall we say, about Having Thoughts about various fandom patterns or trends.

So....look out for the upcoming "Kalen Vs Fandoms" post series. What? It sounded catchy to me. First up:

"Fandoms' tendency to pick one character per fandom to have every other character introduce as the dumbest person they've ever met, but no its okay, they're actually really fond of them and universally defaulting to a judgmental or patronizing shot at their intelligence every single time they're the topic of conversation among other characters just naturally happens to be part of every single other character's love language - is this perhaps NOT as endearing or affectionate as fandoms tend to treat it as?" Aka "How many people can actually say they'd be comfortable with the idea of every single person in their family or friend group leading with "I genuinely think they're stupid but I love them anyway" each time they talk about them to someone else, and if you don't think that's a normal conversation starter for people to have about a loved one, why do so many fandoms attempt to treat it as such?"

.....the length of post title should not be taken as an indicator of how long each post is. If people want to draw their own conclusions about post length based solely on the fact that they're, well, by me.....I mean. That's totally your prerogative. Nothing I can do about that!

Post topics will run the gamut, if for no other reason than gamut is an amazing word that doesn't get used enough and I wanted to use it. From "Its totally valid to project onto characters and use fic as a way to work through various issues via that projection but how much does this have to do with how defensively people react to the slighest criticism of character choices in their fics as though personally attacked - discuss" to "Criticizing and condemning the writers of source material for specific things - to rave reviews from followers - only to then do the exact same specific things in your own fics - to rave reviews from followers - while claiming that the mere fact of being a fan not getting paid for writing those specific things somehow makes them less worthy of criticism.....are we all seeing the problem here."

There's a slight chance those titles are perhaps....somewhat unnecessarily asshole-coded, but like, in a whimsical way! I think. Whatever. I'm sure it'll be fine!

Will either rhyme OR reason be involved in the order of post topics? No. Not even a little bit. Next question.

Aside from "Kalen vs Fandoms" I've been putting a lot of thought into what other topics or content I can expound upon at length, to the possible interest of people. I'm good at writing and editing and analyzing narratives. Not claiming to be the best, just not trying to fish for compliments or anything. I think my analysis of narrative and character choices has generally been of interest in most fandoms I've been in, but when I'm IN a fandom, I do personally invest in favorite characters and stories that inevitably put me in opposition to takes from fans of other characters and stories within that fandom, and when that happens, the Horseman of Discourse inevitably follows and I....do the discourse. Look, I am who I am. I see the discourse, I engage with the discourse. Unless I don't care about the topic of discourse, in which case I don't, because that discourse doesn't matter. Obviously.

SO! In the interest of posting about narrative analysis and breakdowns of writing choices, character arcs and the like but WITHOUT engaging in The Discourse, I'll be making an easy-to-find post of fandoms or source material whose characters and narratives I'm familiar enough with TO have opinions or analysises of, but for whatever reason, the fandom has never clicked for me and I've never actually felt a desire to be part of it. Thus I'm not likely to be invested or compelled enough to follow up on anyone disagreeing with my personal thoughts or analysis or various character arcs or narratives, because its literally just like, my opinion man, presented for no other purpose than to potentially be of interest to anyone who might be interested in it. No actual follow up needed on my part because I'm not particularly chuffed if people have different takes, they're totally valid, mine don't exist for the purpose of being defended there, they just exist because Opinions, I Had Them, Here Look. Or Don't. Its Totally Whatever.

Because I don't feel as strongly about these pieces of media as I do fandoms I'm personally invested in, it is trickier to come up with a comprehensive list of ones I can weigh in on. So please feel free to hit up my inbox with any fandoms, narrative or character arcs you're curious about my take on, and I'll let you know if they're fandoms I consider myself a participant in, and thus not really right for this series, or if they're something I'm just not knowledgeable about.....but if they're not an actual fandom of mine and I AM familiar enough with them to have an analytical take or response, I'll add them to the masterlist/post as a potential topic.

This series will be called and tagged "Kalen Vs Writing Choices" (That I Personally Don't Like Or Think Could Be Better). The parenthetical part is there solely to be a disclaimer clarifying that my ego is not so great that I think that My Subjective Take on the writing choices made or not made is the only one that matters. I mean, I don't intend to include the disclaimer as part of the actual tag and will mostly leave it as y'know, like, something IMPLIED, but the disclaimer still exists and thus counts. That's totally how that works.

And that's how I've chosen to awkwardly segue into the final intended-of-three post series.....Dramatically Abrupt Tonal Shift Ahoy!

This next part will get long, but I would truly appreciate it if you gave it a read despite its length and even if - especially if - the next topic isn't one you typically look for my take on, or even avoid my take on, because I don't think I'm likely to ever express my thoughts on this matter any more genuinely or directly than this. Like I'm not trying to guilt anyone or anything like that, its more I'm just trying to say if you ever read ANY single post of mine when it comes to the next topic or pick a post to base your decision on whether or not TO wade into something I have to say on this subject, I would appreciate it if you made that this next part here, as I think it best conveys where I'm coming from when it comes to most any post I make along these lines.

So. The thing is....most people who've followed me long know that in the past I've frequently been extremely vocal on topics of rape, incest and abuse, specifically through the lens of being a male survivor. These absolutely are personal for me. This has led to me having a lot of Overly Opinionated Takes on these topics and how they're talked about, depicted and treated within fandom conversations, fics, and social media spheres and conversations at large. I've also pretty obviously not posted on these topics nearly as much in recent years as I once did - but not because I feel any less strongly about them.

And that's one hundred percent because it's frustrating as hell to see a very good portion of the posts I make about any OTHER topic in my usual fandoms go on to accumulate hundreds of notes....while NONE of my posts on these topics ever break out of my direct circle of mutuals. I don't say it to be egotistical - look how many notes I get on stuff - I say it because its literally objectively factual, and the disparity is dramatic, and the disparity is a PROBLEM. Especially given how much the topics of male rape and abuse - in SPECIFIC - tend to be, within most of my past fandoms.

This disparity has a very clear reason for existing too: people have never been shy about citing that they refrain from reblogging or referencing my posts on these topics because they feel like I act like I'm the only opinion that matters on them, the sole authority to be listened to here, that I use my status as a male rape survivor as a cudgel, to shut down opposing takes or points of view.

Which I would totally be fine with or understand if not for the fact that I've always gone out of my way to express that I don't want or expect my opinions on these matters to be taken as anything other than my personal opinions born of my personal experiences, which I cite because they're relevant. I don't think that survivors should have to disclose their status or personal history or details in order to have their opinion heard on these topics, but I deeply resent how often survivors making the choice TO disclose their personal history or relationship with these topics in order to directly unpack how that informs our perspective....is weaponized AGAINST us, in order to shut down and discredit OUR takes even while literally accusing us of only disclosing in order to do the exact same thing to others.

Something that I've posted about a LOT in the hopes of getting it spread throughout fandoms that regularly talk about male rape is for literal decades I've seen people harp on about how men can be raped too, believe male survivors, don't believe the myth that men can't be raped, etc. Which like, I appreciate the sentiment, but the thing I've tried to express for years is that in my personal experience, and those of a lot of other male survivors I've talked to - this is not really the biggest or even ONE of the biggest issues most male survivors face.

And the fact that for all that there are many survivors in fandom who have made the difficult choice to be open about their traumas and recoveries - which I ALWAYS respect, as that is never easy for any of us - a huge part of why I've always made a point to disclose my own history as a male survivor is because there just flat out aren't a lot of perspectives from MALE survivors in specific, being circulated in pretty much any of the fandom spaces I've ever been in over the past twenty years. I don't even slightly think I'm any more of an expert or authority on topics of rape or abuse - beyond how they pertain to my own personal experiences - than any other survivor. But as long as the topic of MALE rape and abuse in specific, how men are affected by these things, how society reacts to us and treats us in the aftermath....as long as these are the topics explicitly being discussed.....I do think my perspective as a male survivor is pretty fucking relevant, and admittedly, I tend to get pretty heated about pushing BACK against attempts to invalidate it or shout it down as though I somehow have LESS of a stake in or right to be heard in these particular conversations. And I get how this has at times come across as attempting to dominate a given conversation.

But like.....I'm also going to point back up to the part where I said earlier....I'm an Overly Opinionated Asshole. I say it somewhat deprecatingly, for the lulz, but also not. I'm very passionate about conversations and topics I feel strongly about and I don't make apologies for it. And for the most part....this has NEVER stopped people from reblogging or liking posts I make about pretty much any other topic....despite me not really coming across that differently in most of them, compared to how I come across in most of my past posts on topics of rape and abuse.

See....I'm in complete agreement with everyone who emphasizes that rape isn't a gendered issue. That it can and does happen to individuals of any gender or identity. But the reason why I've always found the focus on 'remember that men can be raped too' more performative than helpful is because for almost twenty years, I've been posting on these topics in various fandom spaces and trying to express that in my personal experience, something that REALLY deserves to be talked about more is the fact that rape is not gendered. But rape CULTURE very much IS.

Like it or not, we live in a very gendered society still. While yes, men can be raped too.....for a number of reasons - most of them born of sexism and misogyny in specific - the conditions, catalysts and reasons for men being raped are NOT interchangeable with those at work in instances of women being raped, as an example. Because the way society treats men and women in pretty much EVERY situation is different. Similarly, the way society REACTS to men and women disclosing they've been raped is different. And so on and so on.

So 'remember that men can be raped too' has some basis in societal claims that men can't be raped or that rape IS a gendered issue....but not as much as I think most people tend to believe. And twenty years after I first started searching out perspectives of other male survivors in online fandom spaces, beyond just real world physical support groups, I'm STILL hearing 'remember that men can be raped too' dominating all conversations about male survivors just as regularly and repetitiously as it was twenty years ago....as though the world has not changed at all, and the needle on this particular facet of male survivorhood hasn't changed an inch in the past two decades when no, actually, it very much has.

The reason why I feel so strongly about offering up my perspective as a male survivor in a relative absence of seeing other male survivors' perspectives circulated is I honestly believe the reason this is so consistently upheld as the biggest problem facing male survivors is its a carry-over from women attempting to be heard and believed when disclosing....which makes sense and is completely understandable....as long as there's a complete absence of male survivors offering up any perspective that's to the contrary.

But the fact that we live in a gendered society where rape culture, not rape itself, still very much IS gendered due to being a product of....living in a gendered society....means that the differences in how society treats and reacts to men and women affects every aspect of how society treats and reacts to men and women survivors. And that starts with disclosure itself. In my personal experience - and fully acknowledging that I don't speak for any other male survivor in this moment, and I absolutely do believe there are those who have experiences to the contrary, and that matters too - MY experience, which also matters, is that not once in the twenty years since I've started disclosing about my own rape, or the csa I experienced as a child - have I actually had an issue being believed.

With full acknowledgment of how unfair it is, how gross, the reality of living in a sexist, patriarchal society where male privilege very much exists, is that while men can be raped too, this traumatic thing that happened to us does not in any way actually invalidate or negate our male privilege. It doesn't turn it off for the duration of our experience or any time its relevant to our experiences going forward. We carry that privilege with us through our recoveries and the rest of our lives just as much as we did before it, because its an inalienable result of being in a society that allocates privilege solely on the basis of being born a man who identifies and presents as a cis man (with respect to trans individuals having another axis of experience that very much differentiates all matters pertaining to rape culture, in comparison to cis men, just as much as in the case of cis women, albeit in different ways).

And the gross unfortunate reality of our society is that it ALWAYS prioritizes believing men over women, in all matters......especially cis white men like myself.

So the simple fact is....even the act of disclosure - and the likelihood of being believed when voluntarily choosing to share the information that we've been raped - means that a cis white man like myself does not receive the same reaction as most women receive when attempting to share that same information. Society preconditions a lot of people to be more receptive to taking cis white men at their word, comparative to affording anyone else that basic respect.

Getting people to believe me when I say I was raped has never been the issue for me that other individuals face.

But that doesn't mean that my disclosure doesn't result in issues for me.

Because while being raped never invalidated or negated any of my cis white male privilege, neither did having cis white male privilege negate the possibility of me being raped - OR the fact that society ALSO preconditions people to be really fucking shitty about survivors.

(Hell, ANY kind of living victim....with this also being very relevant to abuse survivors, survivors of physical assault, etc. Much like people can be overflowing with empathy for unborn children who can't offer up any take to the contrary to whatever people want to say "in defense or support of unborn children," only to turn around and cease caring about most of those babies the second they're born, people tend to be just as overflowing with empathy for deceased victims of abuse, rape, assault and the like....who, y'know, also can't offer up any take to the contrary of whatever they say or claim about what they WOULD want, what they DO deserve, etc. Present those same people with a living child or a living victim who can and DOES have an opinion that doesn't match what those people feel it SHOULD be? Watch attitudes shift VERY quickly, as allllll that empathy hurriedly flushes down the drain as though it was never there).

But the point is, my cis white male privilege is always here regardless. But that doesn't mean rape culture isn't shitty enough that it can't find a way to circumvent even that in pursuit of discrediting/invalidating/ignoring survivors, just like that privilege can be circumvented in order to create the situation where a man is raped in the first place.

Its just....the gendered nature of rape culture means HOW those attempts to discredit/invalidate/ignore male survivors manifests.....doesn't look the same as when it leads to just outright disbelieving other survivors when they attempt to disclose.

And that is how I can be listened to and reblogged on most any other topic, no matter HOW I go about presenting myself in those posts or conversations - ironically in no small part BECAUSE of my cis white male privilege - while only getting crickets when I post on these topics, BECAUSE people only choose THOSE posts to make my presentation or level of intensity a dealbreaker, and thus their very reason for ignoring anything I have to say there. Not because they don't believe me, but because the WAY I say it is too aggressive, too biased, too emotional, too intense....its an attack on their autonomy, an attempt to override whatever they previously thought or believed about the subject and just force them to adhere to my take.

Because the thing about living in a sexist, patriarchal society is.....that IS a thing that cis white men often do, and a lot of society is structured to make it easier for us to achieve this in most instances, frankly. This just happens to be a rare exception, because for a lot of reasons that would make this post even longer - and that again, I've often posted about before - upholding and reinforcing rape culture on a society wide level supersedes the usual focus on accommodating INDIVIDUAL cis white men in having their opinions heard and circulated.

I'm trying to be as frank as possible here about the intersection of privilege and experiences of being a male survivor because I don't believe its to anyone's benefit to be disingenuous about it, and I do think that it doesn't actually supplant the fact that male survivors do have just as much right - and NEED - to be heard and listened to about our experiences with rape and perspective there, and have those ACKNOWLEDGED, as anyone else.

Its just....the existence of privilege and how that differentiates most experiences in a gendered society matters, and thus.....it needs to be part of the conversation rather than just treating all responses to rape and survivors as agendered, just because rape itself can and does happen to people of all genders.

There's actually a fair amount to get into when it comes to differences in a lot of mens' disclosures vs womens' in my experience, but just as an extension of what I'm talking about here, one of the specific elements in my experience is that men often don't have a problem being believed about having been raped or abused.....but one of the predominant responses is society is heavily preconditioned to view male rape and abuse survivors as almost inevitably feeling they need to exert a similar power over someone else in order to claim back their own feelings of pride and safety in their masculinity. Effectively.....most every male rape or abuse survivor I've ever talked with at length shares a similar experience of being believed when they disclose about being a survivor....but noting a clear and direct shift in how whomever they disclosed to interacts with them....with EVERY expression of anger or outrage - particularly in the matter of their rape or abuse - being viewed as evidence of us being ticking time bombs who are inevitably primed to explode and take out what happened to us on someone else.

There's being cautious around cis white men, for example, because we're cis white men, which I totally get and am not expressing an opinion on. I'm just saying even with that acknowledged, there is a SHIFT in how people interact with me after I've disclosed to them personally, in how they....scrutinize me, for lack of a better way of putting it, in very noticeable ways and areas. Like its consistent. And think about how its not totally true that media doesn't portray men as being capable of being raped or abused, typically. Think about how often you've seen procedurals where the backstory of the rapist or abuser of the week is specifically THAT they were a rape or abuse survivor themselves, usually in childhood. Its NOT that society doesn't believe or accept that men can be raped too. Its that society is primed to default to viewing the very act of men being raped as an indicator of the shift from them being a man to being a man who is likely to become a predator themselves.

Rape appears all the time in regards to male survivors in media. Its just it usually just appears in the context of men who arent presented AS survivors, but rather as predators or aggressors themselves, and their past victimization treated as a catalyst rather than a trauma. This is not to excuse any such character or depiction of course, its simply to emphasize that the very angle from which male survivorhood is approached in most contexts is different from that of other survivors. Just like the angle from which their survivorhood is approached is different from that of male survivors. And thus the issue most men have with disclosing in my experience is NOT that we're afraid we won't be believed....its that we're afraid once we disclose, we'll be viewed as inherently more dangerous because our victimization primes us to be that much more likely to inflict ourselves on others in some attempt to reclaim our masculinity.

And its categorically NOT about any group of survivors having it better or worse than others, which is why I LOATHE people saying variations of 'you wouldn't say that about this if it happened to a woman' because anyone attempting to pit male survivors against other survivors en masse is NOT doing so for my benefit or with my endorsement. The point is just that each way society and rape culture interacts with a different group of survivors presents different problems and issues that need addressing, and aren't interchangeable.

There is a REASON why the subject of Dick Grayson's anger - usually in the context of things that have happened to him - is so important to me, specifically in terms of ensuring that its treated as something he's allowed to have....rather than an indicator that he's going to messily explode his life in a way that impacts everyone around him negatively.

Now.....if you've never considered that aspect of rape vs rape culture and how it can differently affect and shape the experiences and recovery of cis male survivors versus trans male survivors and nonbinary survivors and survivors who identify as women.....I ask that you consider what else my perspective might be able to add to actually productive, meaningful conversations about rape, rape culture and survivorhood, that you never would have thought TO think about before, without male survivors bringing it up based on it having played a role in personal experiences.

And then I just ask that you please think about the implications of someone known for being a vocal presence in certain fandoms, with a fairly sizable number of posts widely circulating throughout them......never having posts about male rape and survivorhood circulated to any noticeable degree, despite writing DOZENS of them, in all kinds of different moods, ways and intensity levels.....and all of them while active in fandoms where male rape is regularly discussed or focused on due to certain characters or storylines......and ask yourselves if it maybe seems a little off for the disparity to be THAT large. Again: I have written DOZENS of posts on this topic. All with less than twenty notes. I'll be composing a masterlist of them in the near future as well, but for now I'm just saying. Please just think about that.

While I'm going to make an effort to be more deliberate in how I approach this topic in posts going forward, tonally and in terms of word choice, I do have a right to be just as passionate about it as any other topic, and it is FUCKED UP to think that my personal experiences here should be pointed to as the very REASON I should need to be LESS passionate than I am anywhere else, in order to be heard or listened to. Still. I am not actually trying to override anyone else's viewpoint, present myself as some kind of ultimate authority, or shut down other survivors in any way....I'm just trying to uphold the relevancy and importance of adding my own perspective to the conversation.

I don't want to be the only voice listened to here. But as long as my voice is relevant, and I don't see or hear a lot of other voices speaking from a similar standpoint, I would like to be a RESOURCE on topics of male survivorhood, rape and recovery, from that particular standpoint. And even if and when other male survivors might perchance add their own perspectives with experiences and takes contrary to mine....I welcome that! Because mine is not the only one, cis white male survivors are no more a monolith than anyone else, and none of that will in any way actually invalidate my own perspective or experiences or render them no longer relevant at all.

Being a resource on a topic that has always been everpresent in most fandoms I've gravitated to - which has often been a reason FOR me gravitating to those fandoms in specific.....that has always been my ONLY goal with these kinds of posts. NOT an authority.

So, having my posts - which for all my willingness to write them, has never been easy for me and probably never will - reframed in such a negative way, dismissed and even weaponized against me - has over the years demoralized me and made it harder to find the energy TO tackle these topics, as much as I'd like to. But I do feel that I've found a second wind when it comes to this and think I'm ready to wade back into being Overly Opinionated on these topics as well.

So that's the third of the three post series I'll be starting, "Kalen vs Topics of Rape, Rape Culture and Survivorhood As Perceived Through A Singular Personalized Cis White Male Lens, Presented By (and With) My Middle Finger At Any Attempts to Subvert Or Undermine My Thoughts On Them By Reframing Them As Me Trying To Gatekeep Male Survivorhood No Matter How Many Times I Use The Words IN MY EXPERIENCE or IN MY OPINION, Which I Do A Lot, Because This Has Been Happening For A Very Long Time, And I Am Tired, But Still Very Opinionated, And Still Very Here, So Bite Me I Guess."

.....I'm still workshopping that one's title. Its a process.

ANYWAY. At the moment, I'm aiming to make one post of each once a month, and if I do more than that great, but not trying to pressure myself to do any more than that at the moment in the interests of Realism. We'll play it by ear. If I have more free time or energy than expected, maybe I'll do more. Its not like I have a shortage of Very Opinionated Opinions, after all. You've met me.

BUT I DIGRESS.

So in the interest of not making this long ass post any fucking longer, not that anyone really expected otherwise from my first post back in months, like could I REALLY even claim to ACTUALLY be back if all I had to show for it was some weak little lackluster drabble that wasn't even 3,000 words? Methinks the fuck not -

Well, have an abrupt and anticlimactic finish that comes out of nowhere despite giving myself literally 4,900 words to build to something appropriately profound or meaningful or whatthefuckever. Y'know. Your standard Kalen Classic. The abrupt and anticlimactic wrap up I mean, not the profound and deeply meaningful one. Eh. You get it.

Did ya miss me? I missed you!

PS - I was Informed that we are almost to the end of Tommy T's Tenure, is it almost safe to come back to Nightwing comics? Does anyone know when his last issue is? Have we planned the party yet? Who's on balloons, we definitely need balloons.

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wishcamper · 7 months

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Heavy Lies the Crown: Rhysand, greatness, and the pressures of power

Or: the librarian’s daughter, former playwright, licensed counselor mashup of my nightmares dreams because I am vast, I contain multitudes.

No content warnings and no real HOFAS spoilers, I don't think, other than that he's in it but I feel like you know that by now. Spoilers for Breaking Bad (lol).

---

In working on my current fic (on ao3 here!) I've been thinking a lot about Rhysand and how he really goes off the rails in ACOSF and HOFAS. It's easy to chalk it up to poor writing, but I like the challenge of trying to make it make sense. What are Rhys’ motivations, truly? What would explain the vast array of heinous shit he does the text tells us is justified?

Rhys is shown over and over to be quite Machiavellian ('ends justify the means' dude, who was maybe writing satire). It's easy to list the times he shows this. The 50 year Velaris hostage situation. The bargain UTM with Feyre. The Weaver's cottage. Stealing the Book from Tarquin. CLARE BEDDOR. Infiltrating people's minds. Torture. Assassination. Allying with Kier. Concealing his wife's medical information. Being an ass to people in general. According to Mr. Machiavelli, any action is warranted if it the goal it achieves is morally important enough.

It seems like Rhys can justify anything to himself if he believes it will serve the greatest good at the end of the day. He does so many things with the air of “it’s for your own good” or “you’ll understand why one day” but that day never.. comes? Not yet anyway, which begs the question: is he that unself-aware, or is there a longer game he’s playing that all of these minor skirmishes are leading up to? What if he knows what's coming? And what kind of cause or threat would feel so great he could justify everything he does up to this point?

Okay I'm gonna talk about Aristotelean literary structure, please don't leave me.

The idea of a tragic hero is a character whose downfall is inevitable but who fights against it anyway. Hamlet is a classic example of a tragic hero, Oedipus being the de facto first, Walter White from Breaking Bad a more modern version. We see Walt learn he’s going to die in the first episode, in the middle he does a bunch of stuff to prevent his physical death (cancer) and metaphorical death (failure/obscurity), and then both his body and reputation die in the last episode as a direct result of his attempts to avoid fate. It’s blissful Aristotelean symmetry. *chef’s kiss*

Every tragic hero has hamartia, more commonly known as a ‘fatal flaw’. In Hamlet, his fatal flaw is procrastination, and his delays create space for all kinds of the fuck shit he was trying to prevent. It’s important to note that hamartia is by design a neutral term - not so much a flaw, but a trait, motivation, or decision that sets off the chain of events the character is trying to avoid. Tragedies have occurred equally from too much love as too much hate, and doing nothing is just as much a decision as doing something. The word itself comes from the Greek for ‘to miss the mark’. To try and fail, the backbone of tragedy.

One of the most common hamartia is hubris, a modern synonym for arrogance but which more specifically means an outsized belief in one’s ability to affect and control the future. Well-known tragic heroes taken down by hubris include our boy Walter White, Tony Soprano, Viktor Frankenstein, Achilles, Jay Gatsby, Kendall from Succession. It exists in real life, too: Lance Armstrong is a perfect example of a modern tragic hero brought down by hubris. And what do all these men have in common? Power, via money, fame, strength, the state, intellect, violence etc.

I’ve been enjoying looking at Rhysand through this tragic hero lens because while it doesn’t really make him more sympathetic, it does make his actions easier to understand logically, which is its own kind of humanization. If Rhysand is aware of a prophesied or fated event sometime in the future and is pulling the cosmic strings now, it must be incredibly important, like annihilation-level important, which is so much pressure.

So he grows to maturity with an understanding that he will one day have to face this intense evil that could completely destroy his world, and it plants in him a hubris. He believes that his immense power grants him a certain amount of influence automatically. And honestly, is he wrong?

And this is where it’s important to think about how power makes people weird. Power gives people a false sense of confidence in their actions and choices, because their status and privilege protect them from so many more consequences. In this way it’s easy to see how someone can get a big ego - no one is stopping me, so I must be doing well! Or: everything is going well for me, so I must be really killing it! I know I feel that way in the first tingles of hypomania, but hypomania is fundamentally a distortion of reality and I believe so is power.

Power not only gives people confidence but also access to make decisions for others. They begin to think they should share the success they’ve found by leading and guiding others to see how great it can be if you do what they say. Just look at one of those cringe 'billionaire morning routine' videos to see what I mean. It’s a very patronizing form of altruism, because the leader genuinely believes they have the people’s interest at heart. And I use the word patronizing intentionally - leaders have often referenced feeling paternal towards their people, Winston Churchill + FDR, 'God the Father'. Power and fatherhood have been linked for a long time. And direct from our girl Wikipedia, "paternalism is action that limits a person's or group's liberty or autonomy and is intended to promote their own good".

I was talking with a girlfriend of mine recently about how I think some men don’t have the experience of other people depending on them in a significant way until they get married and/or become fathers. Like, afab and femme people learn very early to be considerate of others, to think about how others feel, to act in ways that keep others happy, etc. This plants in us a sense of duty to perform in ways that please others, to smile, to create comfort and provide caretaking in every environment we enter. So by the time we get to marriage and motherhood, we already know how to put others’ needs before our own because we’ve been doing it from the jump.

For men, however, this can be a completely novel experience. And it seems like it's SO HEAVY FOR THEM. George ‘Father of his Country’ Washington just wanted to go back to Virginia the whole time he was President. So many men talk about the pressures of being a provider and their families depending on them in a way women don’t, and I think it’s because for the first time others truly depend on them and they don’t know how to handle it.

In response, they either shove down their emotions as patriarchy demands and have a midlife crisis, or they abdicate that responsibility and go completely absent physically and/or emotionally to continue living for themselves. (Obviously there are good men and dads out there, and bless you if you’re lucky enough to know, have, or be one.)

And this aspect of power feels relevant because from the text it seems like Rhysand is unraveling. Between Feyre, the baby, the Trove, Nesta and being threatened by her power, Koschei, Bryce, the whole High King shit - I think he’s starting to crack under the pressure. And honestly, I’m kind of surprised it didn’t happen before now.

According to Aristotle, the tragic hero must:

Be significant (virtuous/capable/powerful/important etc.)

Be flawed

Suffer a reversal of fortune.

Rhysie boy definitely ticks the first two. I wonder what it would look like to get to three? I don’t think Sarah has the balls, but it’s definitely enhanced my reading experience and given me a lot of interesting things to think about.

Okay that's all I've got. Love ya, see ya soon xx

#prythian university #acotar #acosf #rhys critical #sjm critical #tragic hero #lit crit #i love thinking way too deeply about things

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caitylove · 6 months

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20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @holy-ships-x-red-lips! Thank you so much for the tags. You have given me a lovely way to procrastinate right now. :)

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? Only 16, but there are also fics out there on LJ that I was too lazy (or were just too bad) to find on the group events I posted on and port over. There are also some other ff.net fics on another account that I forgot about, but were from when I was in high school so totally not bringing those over either.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 78,839. I expect that to drastically change once I start publishing my one long wip...

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently I mostly write Battlestar Galactica (spaceparents ftw) and some The Closer/Major Crimes (I'm a Brenda/Sharon heathen. ) But in the past I wrote for Rizzoli and Isles and Grey's Anatomy. There's also some X-files fic out there and a CSI one somewhere.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Caffeine (Rizzoli & Isles): What happens when Maura consumes an excessive amount of caffeine?

So major note this fic is literally like 12 years old. And super short. And honestly not good lol.

Break All The Rules For You (The Closer/Major Crimes): Sharon Raydor has a list of rules she lives her life by. But Brenda Leigh Johnson very might be the catalyst for her to break each and every one.

This is actually my current active posting WIP. I'm amused it got so many kudos so fast. Guess I'm not the only heathen out there. :)

Frak Me Red (Battlestar Galactica): Wanting Laura to feel good about herself, Bill finds her the perfect gift and they spend an exciting weekend away on shore leave aboard Cloud 9.

Part of my Cosmetics Series. This was a blast and like 70% pure smut.

Pain Management (Battlestar Galactica): Dealing with pain during her cancer treatments, Laura is suggested an unorthodox treatment plan.

This was actually my first fic back after a ten year writing hiatus... :) Never let anyone tell you that you can't return after a long time away.

Spray and Stay (Battlestar Galactica): Laura has a secret addiction that is slowly running out and she can't help but show off her addiction to Bill.

The first part of my Cosmetics Series. Also 50% smut. :)

5. Do you respond to comments? Absolutely. So, I work from home and like responding to them instead of working sometimes.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? So I don't have a ton of angst honestly. So I guess the ending of Auburn Sunsets, Starlit Nights (Battlestar Galactica) is the angstiest? (Or meanest?)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? So like 80% of my stuff is smut... so they all have HAPPY ENDINGS. *snicker*. But I guess I'll go with Frak Me Red ?

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really. Probably did on some of my old FF.net stuff but don't care enough to go back and look.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes. Like thats half of what I write. :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Not in a long time. But once upon a time I wrote a Grey's Anatomy Zombie fic that had a Doctor House appearance. Its somewhere on LJ. It was BAD, but I am so tempted to find it now for my own amusement.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I am aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. Feel free to reach out if you want to tho.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but definitely open to it.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? So probably Bill/Laura(Spaceparents) from BSG. But Also have a soft spot for Sharon/Brenda (The Closer), MSR (The X-Files), Swan Queen, Janeway/Chakotay, Femshep/Garrus, to name a few.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Love Games. My 12 year old the Closer fic I never finished. May rewrite it one day but I will never just finish it as it exists today.

16. What are your writing strengths? I like to think I do a lot of emotional introspection well. And Smut. I can do smut.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Honestly, I struggle with dialogue.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? As long as its translated or explained, I'm fine with it. Probs would never do it, cause my language skills suck, but wouldn't mind reading.

19. First fandom you wrote for? CSI! I wrote a Grissom/Sara fic back in the day. I was in like High School.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Thats like asking me my favorite children! My favorite is one I am still writing and haven't published yet, The Symposium of the Stars. One day it'll make an appearance.

But for published? I really loved Auburn Sunsets, Starlit Nights. I have a soft spot for it.

Tagging: @lavenderknivess, @mimine666, @madelineusherspearls. @ofhouseusher, @cryscal, @fracktastic, and anyone else who feels like it :)

#20 questions for fic writers #tag game #fic writers #20 questions

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spaghoffee · 10 days

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Small update on what's been going on in my life atm under keep reading!! (Also have this doodle of the autismos in their spring fits to make up for my inactivity lol)

I have a Secret Project™ going on irl that involves Victor, so it's been keeping me from continuing the comic that I started about a month ago at this point SDKJFJLSKDF I'm just really fixated on the Secret Project™ and I need to finish it before anything else (cause that's how my brain works unfortunately) so yeah no properly rendered art until then! I WILL ALSO POST ABOUT THE SECRET PROJECT™ WHEN I'M DONE WITH IT, I PROMISE!! I'm pouring my life and soul into this shit, started it months ago, dropped it cause of dumb uni business, and only got the motivation to actually finish it this past week

I've been asked by a couple people about my commission details already and I'm just gonna be fully transparent about how I've been procrastinating on getting my shit together when it comes to that;; I've never done comms before and I don't even have my bank account set up yet so I've really gotta get started before the month ends (hell, it was supposed to be my goal last month but yyyeah it's hard to get the will to do big stuff like that sometimes >m<;;;) I WILL start taking comms eventually!! Though I kind of already have a waitlist I guess lol I'm nervous, haven't even planned out my prices yet

I've been writing several short spaghoffee fics in the past couple weeks as well, and I even have a masterlist doc of my written stuff; I might post the masterlist when I'm done with this one mainline story idea I had? Hrmmm we'll see

I'm really happy to be making more sdv mutuals and all but aahhh I'm really worried that I'm boring to talk to cause I get really nervous to start conversations myself wahaha... no wonder I end up talking to other people through someone else 👁️👁️ But yeah I'm sorry for being bad at interacting!! guhh

#stardew valley expanded #sve #stardew oc #stardew valley oc #sdv oc #stardew valley even more expanded #sveme #spaghoffee #kyle bezera #victor sve #sve victor #stardew valley victor #victor jenkins #if anyone can correctly guess what my secret project is i'll ermmm give you a high five #idk LMAO #victor is supposed to be sitting down in the drawing shiiiit i forgot to draw the chair whatever idgaf anymore

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chiefbeifongcanrailme · 6 months

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⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hi Mochi! I'm so sorry I'm taking forever to get to this ask- but it's totally your fault- you know I'm indecisive- I'm a Libra and I couldn't choose which fic to go with🫠

So after much procrastination, I have picked: Somebody Come Geeeeeeeed Her She's Dancin' Like A…

This is my stripper!Lin fic.

Spoilers below. Be warned.

I had a lot of plans of continuing this- prequel, sequel, multi-chap the whole shindig but alas, the world is cruel. Although, just answering the ask is giving me a fantastic idea.

Anyway, coming down to the fic- a 20-something year old Tenzin is reluctantly taken to a strip club by Bumi where he is completely smitten by one of the strippers. Convinced that the woman wearing close to nothing on stage is Lin, Tenzin abandons his brother to go find her and see if it really is Lin. But whether or not this woman is his good friend, Captain Lin Beifong, Tenzin is experiencing love at first sight.

I'm laughing as I'm typing this, but we all know Lin's hot as balls and to have her be a stripper would be everything. As I was first writing this fic, I kinda decided that the stripper would actually be Lin's doppelganger from the bronx south side (known to be a shady area of Republic City) and Tenzin would feel like he's being gaslit. Jade's boyfriend would be Lightning Bolt Zolt while Tenzin's friendship with Lin keeps getting tested over this. But then I changed my mind, and decided to go with undercover Lin who's working with one of the up and coming triads based in the south side- of course, this has to be secret and nobody other than Saikhan knows about this. He often covers for her and ever since Tenzin discovers Jade, Saikhan has been working overtime lol.

But coming to the fic itself, where I got to include none of this, I wanted to establish just how attracted Tenzin is to Lin. He supposedly falls for Jade and that's only because as Jade, she gives him the time of day while Lin doesn't. Lin enjoys being Jade because that's the only time Tenzin will properly shoot his shot- with Lin, he's too tightly wound. And well, while Jade may a boyfriend (Lightning Bolt Zolt), for convenience (and so that she can be trusted by the triads), Lin secretly is in love with Tenzin.

And it's funny cuz Tenzin loves Jade, Jade "loves" Zolt, Zolt- who sees Lin at the RCPD once is obsessed with this more high strung, difficult, stick-in-the-ass version of his girlfriend- and therefore into Lin, who in turn, is into Tenzin who just won't make a move!

RIP to all my good ideas. Unfortunately for its audience, this director only publishes the very pretty, pointy tip of her icebergs.

#lin beifong #chief beifong #linzin #lightning bolt zolt #linzolt

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pinkcrocss · 6 months

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Limoreau #2: No Two Sides

A/n: Yay! Another One-Shot while I continue to procrastinate on my multi-chapter fics lol

This one ended up being waaayyyy longer than I wanted and I'm not really that happy with it, but if I don't post it now, I literally never will. Anyway, here's my second fanfiction ever.

The initial premise was "Villain!Marie", but it turned into something else

Think, Jordan and Marie on opposing sides

4,400 words

Dodging the path of the laser beam headed towards them, Jordan felt sweat drip down their face as they sent another pulse blast towards their would-be attacker. Knocking her off-balance, Jordan slid across the ground, swapping back into their male form just as an ice-shard was hurled towards them. Checking the perimeter of the room, Jordan could see the bodies of Vought’s security forces strung around as well as one or two incapacitated rebel Supes.

Initially, the fight had begun at the entryway of Vought tower, when they had been ambushed by members of a supe rebel group.

Well, an “ambush” was far from what it truly was, as Vought actually received intel of the imminent attack a few days prior. That’s why they had seen it fit to ensure that Luke, Andre, Jordan and the other remaining members of the Seven would be in Vought tower that day, as well as beefing up their security forces around the perimeter.

The group, Bloodbath, had been slowly growing in popularity and notoriety over the past several years. At first, Vought had tried to obscure any knowledge of the group’s existence. A group of rogue supes, turning on the very company that created them wasn't exactly a good look. But after several high profile attacks on both public and secret Vought facilities, it had become an impossible task. With a campaign of freeing all the imprisoned supes from Vought facilities like Elmira, Shady grove and even the recently exposed “woods”; their aim to “expose Vought’s true corruption”; as well as a charismatic leader, Jordan could almost understand why so many dangerous/unmarketable Supes had begun gravitating to the group.

In all honesty, Vought had probably viewed the upcoming attack as a PR win. An attack from a small group of dissatisfied, defective supes that they could paint as supervillains, defeated by the Seven on their home turf. This was much needed in the wake of homelander’s recent “retirement”. After having subdued him using the strength of the re-awakened Soldier boy in order to stop Homelander's plans for supe domination at the White House, what remained of the seven seemed a weak imitation of what it had once been. Led by Starlight as the new team captain, the remaining ranks consisted of A-train, Silver Kincaid from the UK, and 5 new grads essentially plucked from the top rankings of God U; which just so happened to include Jordan, Luke and Andre. This was the exact PR event Vought needed to highlight the strength of the new Seven. Unfortunately, what they hadn’t counted on, was her.

Jordan was sure that the other members of the Seven were still preoccupied fighting off the small, borderline army of rogue supes infesting every corner of Vought tower. It was becoming more clear that that was the plan all along.

Initially the attack had started at the entrance of HQ. A barrage of rogue supes going after every human in the vicinity. But as reports started coming in of similar attacks at every major entry and exit of Vought tower, two things were made clear: (1) Vought had severely underestimated exactly how many supes this group had at their disposal and (2) This was a much more coordinated attack than anybody had anticipated.

The chaotic coordination of the whole thing was what raised Jordan’s suspicions. There didn’t seem to be a goal. They weren’t targeting anyone in particular, nor did they seem to be moving towards any place in particular. It almost felt like a distraction. And that was what led Jordan to branch off on their own and head to the basement, where they knew the archives were held. It would be the most difficult area to infiltrate, seeing as there was no direct entry from the outside.

And that is where Jordan found themselves now, facing off against a more elite delegation of the attacking supes, that had been dutifully attempting to take down the barriers that sealed the Vought archives, for whatever reason, Jordan couldn't fathom.

The security personnel for the archives had already been defeated, and Jordan had managed to take down two of the rogue supes, leaving them to face off with the remaining three: the girl with laser eyes, the guy with ice powers, and a third one that hadn’t done much of anything yet.

Laser girl was once again rising and Jordan had switched back to their female form so they could dodge the projectiles being sent by the Ice guy. Quickly switching to their Male form as they sensed another laser blast coming from the girl, they didn‘t have enough time to avoid the ice sheet that the other supe had created on the ground behind them, before they fell on their back. Slightly disoriented, Jordan attempted to get up, only to feel the ground around them begin to warp. They felt a sudden sharp heat as if they were being surrounded by hot magma.

Thankfully, being in their male form kept them from taking any physical damage, but the pain could still be felt. Jordan looked up to see the third supe, who until that moment hadn’t been doing much, carefully maneuvering their arms. At the same time, the metallic ground around them started to change shape and wrap around their torso, arms and legs, essentially sealing them to the ground.

Jordan hastily tried to maneuver their body up in an attempt to free themselves, but as they had assumed, they were well and truly stuck. For now they would stay in their male form to hopefully withstand the barrage of attacks soon to come their way, as they could only pray that one of their team members would have the foresight to also check down in the archives.

As expected both laser girl and ice guy immediately started laying into them with a flurry of attacks. Jordan’s male form could withstand it for now, but they knew eventually the damage would start to bleed through.

Quickly they closed their eyes to block out any errant ice shards from the bombardment of ice projectiles hitting their torso. They tried to ignore the mounting pressure of the Laser beams at their chest.

“What the hell?? Nothing's working!” Jordan could hear a raspy voice complain. Probably the ice guy, they thought.

A more feminine voice chimed in, “Just keep going. He can't hold out forever.” Laser girl.

Just as Jordan was beginning to lose hope in any actual help arriving in time, they felt both the ice attacks and Laser attacks suddenly come to a stop. They had just enough time to briefly open their eyes before their ears were assaulted with a piercing screech.

They could blearily make out the shapes of various Vought security forces rushing into the room, having finally picked up on the security breach in the archives. The idiots were blasting the high frequency supe repelling alarm, that while having incapacitated Jordan’s three attackers, was also giving them the sensation that their head was going to literally explode.

Unable to maneuver their arms or body in general, Jordan was quickly reaching their breaking point when they saw a sudden flash of red. Turning their head as far as they could, they could see that the Vought security officer that had been holding the alarm device was screaming while bleeding out of a severed arm, the other half laying on the ground, still holding the awful device.

He could see fear and panic on the faces of the security guards that didn’t have their masks lowered as a figure stepped into the room, followed by two other rebel supes. She strode in confidently, arm outstretched towards the currently bleeding guard. Her long, dark red trench coat swished by her calves, she was wearing her locs in a complicated braid going down her back, and of course the red lipstick Jordan always associated with her on her lips.

The leader of the rebel group bloodbath calmly strode further into the room until she was right next to the guard that was still clutching what was left of their severed arm. She then cooly stepped onto the alarm device, destroying it. As she slowly pulled out her ear plugs, even Jordan gave a relieved sigh at the blissful silence, though they knew the danger was anything but lessened.

There was an eerie stillness in the room as the Vought security personnel began full on panicking, terrified to make a single move. Jordan could hear anxious whispers and mutters around the room.

“That's her isn’t it?”

“...Bloody Marie? That’s what they call her!”

“Shit! I heard she can turn a person inside out and strangle them with their intestines…”

Glancing up at her face, Jordan caught Marie rolling her eyes. “Are they still calling me that dumb-ass name?” She sounded almost exasperated. “Honestly, at this point I’m fully blaming Andre.”

The other formerly incapacitated, rogue, supes began to slowly rise as they recovered from the auditory attack of the anti-supe alarm. Seeing this, the Vought guards, having broken out of their stupor, were quick to point their weapons towards the immediate threat in the room, Marie.

Seeing a flash of rage on Marie’s face Jordan tried to prevent the inevitable, “MARIE! NO!”

It was already too late as the room descended into a cacophony of head explosions. The guards were running and ducking in panic, some attempting to shoot her with their weapons.

Marie would simply cause the arms of the guards pointing their guns to explode before turning her sights to more of her victims. Jordan could do nothing but close their eyes as they tried to dissociate from the screams of agony and fear.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, there was quiet. They could hear heavy breathing and the sound of liquid dripping. As they opened their eyes and took a look around, they could see how Marie’s little group truly lived up to their name, Bloodbath.

The entire area was awash in red blood. Dripping down the walls and pooling around the bodies on the ground. Glancing at Marie's face, she looked completely out of it. Staring ahead as if she was in another place at a different time. Just as suddenly she seemed to snap back into herself, glancing around the room with obviously feigned disinterest before turning her eyes back to the other occupants.

“Mel! Jacob! Great job clearing the scene.” She was smiling and speaking to Laser girl and ice boy.

“Why don’t you head out and stay as lookout while we finish up here. Make sure the corridor stays clear for at least another fifteen minutes.”

The two supes nodded in deference, before quickly stumbling out. Still reeling from the after effects of the noise attack.

Seemingly satisfied that she had the appropriate lookouts, Marie walked over to join the other two supes she had brought along with her.

The first was a thin, small mousy looking young girl with Dark skin and big round eyeglasses. The other was a rather stocky, heavy set white guy with limp, brown hair and freckles all over his face.

Marie was looking at the girl, a gentle hand laid on her shoulder. “Hey, Aisha. You got this okay? Just like we practiced.”

The girl who had been staring at the ground nervously, looked up at Marie with pure adoration. You would think Marie had hung the moon in the sky.

“Okay…” she answered in a quiet, shy voice, before bounding over to the keypad that granted access to the security doors of the archives. Jordan watched as she gently placed her fingers on the keypad before her eyes started to emit a bright green glow and she almost seemed to fall into a trance, muttering an array of fast moving words and equations that Jordan could barely make out.

Turning around to the other Supe, Marie angled her head to gesture towards the locked opening of the main archives. “Marco, you know what to do.”

Giving an affirmative nod, Marco, the bigger supe, calmly headed off to stand where Marie had indicated.

Jordan immediately felt when Marie’s eyes landed on them. The weight of Marie’s gaze had become a familiar sensation now. Of the various encounters they had had when dispatched to handle yet another Bloodbath attack on a Vought center, it was a sensation they always seemed to seek out. Sometimes they felt it, sometimes they didn’t.

In the time that they had been lost in their own head, Marie had managed to saunter over to where they were still melded into the ground. Now she crouched down and gently looked over them.

“Jordan…So sorry, you had to get caught up in this.” Her face slipped into a gentle smile.

“Although, I shouldn’t be surprised you were the only one who saw through our little distraction play.” She let out a humorless chuckle.

“Marie.” Jordan plead. “You have to stop this. Look at all these casualties.”

Here they tried to angle their head towards the dead bodies scattered all around the room. “This can’t be worth it.”

Marie’s face looked blank. Jordan thought back to all the glimpses of her they’d caught over the years as Bloodbath had been growing into a bigger threat. Ever elusive, Jordan and the rest of the seven were never able to pin her down as she and her fiercely loyal cohorts would destroy more and more of Vought's detainment centers, leaving behind mass human casualties and adding more unstable supes to their ranks. Those same supes pledging themselves to Marie with a devotion that bordered on spiritual.

Just as quickly, a different glimpse of Marie flashed through their mind. A young, fresh-faced, doe-eyed Marie. Freshly enrolled in God U, fawning over Jordan as if they’d hung the stars up in the sky, desperately excited to join Brink’s crime fighting course and make her way into the seven.

Jordan hadn’t even thought twice about rejecting her. No social media presence, unmarketable powers, she was probably just some overly entitled freshman, Mommy and daddy’s perfect little hero, Jordan had thought. Probably never heard no before in her life. If only they had known…

If they had known, would it have changed anything? If they had known about Red river.. If they had known brink was gonna frame her for the accident at the Vought tower party… if they had known about Elmira, about the woods, about Brink… would they have intervened? Could they have prevented what happened?

Jordan was brought out of their thoughts by a scoff from Marie. Looking up, they caught sight of glaring at them sideways.

“Jordan… Vought has to be brought down. Whatever sacrifices have to be made will be worth it.”

“Really?!” Jordan was frustrated now.

“Is this what it’s about? Some kind of vengeance kick by just aimlessly slaughtering humans? You think that’s gonna help anybody??!”

Marie actually looked dumbfounded for a minute. “Aimlessly… Ugh, Jordan! Oh my god, I’m not Homelander! This isn’t some fucking supe-supremacy shit. This is about bringing down Vought! I’m not just going after innocent humans.”

Jordan thinks back to that fateful Night at Godolkin. The blood and bodies all over the front entrance to the freshman dorms. As Vought had reported, one of the new freshmen had gone crazy. Lost her mind they said. There were reports that she had been causing a disturbance threatening other students, and when Godolkin had sent security to check it out, she had murdered them in cold blood. 12 innocent humans. Their bodies eviscerated so badly, it was borderline impossible to distinguish them from one another. Then she had supposedly run off, not to be heard from again until a month later when there was a violent break-in at the Elmira Adult facility.

Jordan could remember the somber faces of the family members of the victims at the Vigil that was held at Godolkin. That was a sight they would never forget.

They looked Marie coldly in the eye. “Is that why you senselessly murdered those 12 people back at Godolkin? In cold Blood??!”

“Senseless… In cold bl-” her mouth gave a sardonic twist.

“Wow, Jordan. And here I thought you were one of the smarter ones. You truly drank the Vought koolaid, huh? Was it worth it? Kissing ass? Ignoring what was right in front of you so you could get that cushy little spot in the Seven? I can’t believe I actually..”

Here she seemed to stop herself. Jordan almost questioned her before she suddenly turned to look them square in the eye. Jordan could see nothing but rage in her eyes.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHERE I’D BE IF I HADN’T FOUGHT BACK THAT NIGHT?!” The other two occupants in the room flinched, and seeing this, Marie tried to compose herself.

“Innocent people? Please.” Here she gave another eye roll.

“Vought sent those thugs to kidnap me. To take me to Elmira since your precious Brink kicked me out. You never questioned why they sent Vought security to handle an “out of control student” instead of campus security? You never questioned why they were wearing tactical gear? You never noticed the fucking van at the crime scene?”

Jordan tried to ignore the growing anxiety they could feel at the back of their mind. Because yes. The story had always seemed a bit convenient. But what else did they have to go off of?

“They would have kept me there indefinitely. I would have never been free again. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, huh? I mean, you let the woods happen right under your nose.” At this Marie sent them a sadistic smirk.

Jordan felt their face go hot. They recalled when the woods had finally been exposed. Marie and her cohorts had broken into the school. Freeing the trapped kids and revealing all the sick and twisted experimentation that had been happening. The newly freed inhabitants had immediately set upon the school, desperate to enact their vengeance.

At the end of the day it had been an aptly named bloodbath. The students at the school and Marie’s group had lost people on both sides. Including Luke’s brother. Luke had been inconsolable.

At the end of the day, Brink, Shetty and a Dr. Cardosa had all been implicated when everything came to light. Jordan had been heartbroken. Contending with the fact that his only father figure as well as moral compass had been mixed up in all of that.

Marie was still speaking. “I mean, when I got there do you know what they were doing to poor Aisha?” At this, she sent a gentle look to the young girl who seemed to be communing with the unseen computer codes within the archive’s security system.

“They had her hooked up to all these devices, trying to see if they could overload her with all the information on the world wide web! She was catatonic for WEEKS after we rescued her!”

Jordan tried to imagine it, and their heart broke a little.

“Jordan.” Marie went on. “This all begins and ends with Vought. Homelander, Soldier boy, Shetty, Brink, me… there’s one common denominator. All the lies, all the corruption, all the bloodshed. If the rest of the world knew what Vought truly was, maybe everyone else could have a chance. Maybe all this misery could actually count for something.”

Now her eyes were looking into theirs imploringly. Jordan tried to think of what to say but was quickly interrupted before they could.

“Marie! I’m in!” Squeaked an excitable little voice.

Marie turned around, a proud smile on her face. “Aisha, that’s amazing! I told you could do it! Now stand back a bit. Marco, you know what to do.”

The girl, Aisha, did as she was told just as there was a muted BOOM sound.

Jordan flinched, but Marie gently reassured them. “Don’t worry about it. Marco’s gotten really good at controlling the range of his explosive output.” You could almost think Marie was just an older sister cheering on her younger siblings at some kind of school competition.

Glancing up, Jordan could see acrid smoke around a hole in the center of the archive doors. Just as quickly Marie got up and began making her way over. Pulling some kind of device out of her pockets, she handed it to Aisha, gently murmuring some instructions to her and sending her off.

Jordan was starting to feel panicked.

“Marie!” They called. “Marie! You can’t do this!”

Marie gave a pause but kept walking.

“I’m sorry!”

That made her stop.

“I’m sorry! Okay?” Jordan continued. “I’m sorry I rejected you from Intro. I was shallow and I made some dumbass assumptions about you. I’m sorry we left you behind at the Vought tower party. I’m sorry I bought into Brink’s bullshit; that I didn’t realize he’d make you take the fall. I’m sorry I let Vought almost take you. I’m sorry I was so fucking blind okay? But please, Marie. I’m begging you. There has to be another way.”

Marie, who had been frozen up until that moment, sighed, looking almost defeated. Slowly, she made her way to Jordan and crouched down again.

“Jordan… you don’t have anything to be sorry for. My fight was never with you or the other supes, or even the Seven. This isn’t about humans vs. supes, this isn’t some personal vendetta, this is about Vought. All of us are just pawns in the system, and the only way to end this, for our kind to be free, is to bring down Vought.”

She made sure to look Jordan straight in the eye. “You're not a person to them Jordan, you’re a product. I’m trying to save you. Us. All of us.”

They were both looking into each other's eyes. Neither willing to break their stalemate, before Laser girl suddenly came bursting into the room.

“Marie! We tried to hold them off but they’ve figured out we’re down here. I think they’re bringing reinforcements.”

Marie turned to face the door to the archive room. “Aisha?”

The timid girl gave a nod. “I’ve downloaded everything we need.”

Marie gave a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

Turning back to Jordan, she gently stroked the side of their face. “Jordan, at some point you’re going to see Vought for what they truly are. And when you do, I’ll come and find you. Believe it or not, I always had a spot saved for you, right by my side.”

And with that she bent down, softly brushing her lips on Jordans cheek before getting up to join the rest of her crew.”

Jordan could only watch her lean figure strut confidently out of the room, feeling something like a pang in their chest. They’d have to address that some other time.

As they lay in their grounded prison, waiting for reinforcements to come and finally release them, they could hear shouting and commotion out in the corridor. The reinforcements must have run into Marie’s group. For some reason, this time as they listened to sounds of screaming and agony and fear, all they felt was a cool numbness.

The Next Day

“Tonight breaking news! As new leaks expose decades of violence and corruption from the highest levels of Vought international. Reports detailing the debauched and downright violent behavior of some of Vought’s most beloved heroes, including years of cover ups. Furthermore, the FBI will be investigating accounts of Vought institutionalizing and holding supes against their will in various-”

Ashley quickly paused the news report as she turned to the members of the seven seated around the table in the meeting room of Vought Tower. All of them were in various states of repair as they healed from battles they had fought the day prior.

Jordan for their part had their arm in a sling, from where it had been bent at an uncomfortable angle for too long and had caused a strain. Other than that, most of their superficial wounds had already healed up. On their cheek, they still felt the ghost of Marie’s touch.

Ashley was in full panic Mode.

“We’re so fucked! Okay, we gotta figure out how to spin this. Homelander’s not around anymore, so we can definitely try to pin the woods and Elmira as his doing. I mean they can’t prove otherwise, he was the face of the company for years!”

Jordan watched as she absentmindedly pulled out a thin chunk of hair.

“Shit! But what can we do about the insider trading and the russian arms deal? Jordan!”

Jordan looked up, the other team members also looking in their direction.

“Jordan this is perfect!” Ashley barreled on. “We need to make sure the younger generations aren’t spreading the mainstream narrative on social media, so that’s where you come in! We’ve been thinking up a new pride campaign for you, you know since pride month’s coming up. This will be a great distraction. You talk about your gender identity, how accepting your parents were, how Vought gave you the confidence to-”

Jordan tuned her out as they watched her ramble with an almost manic smile on her face.

“You’re not a person. You’re a product to them.”

Those words still rattled around in their head.

All Jordan had ever wanted to do was be a hero. But more and more, they were realizing that they no longer knew what that meant. They’d accomplished their biggest dream. They were in the seven, and yet they realized they hadn’t felt heroic even once the whole time they’d been here.

The feeling of this revelation reminded them of how they had felt when they had learned the truth about Brink.

“...at some point you’re going to see Vought for what they truly are. And when you do, I’ll come and find you.”

Jordan recalled those words, as they stared out the large windows of Vought tower, dissociating from the meeting still happening around them.

Perhaps they could take a walk tonight, they thought. To clear their head. No thoughts, just simply see where their feet would take them.

#It's embarrassing how long it took me to write this #You can see the writing quality dip like halfway through lmao #I just wanted it done but it kinda kept dragging out #gen v fics #gen v #jordan li #marie moreau #limoreau

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